Richard captured her fingers and pulled them to his lips. "And you, my lovely lady, are a heartless goddess who delights in having everything her way."
They both laughed as Richard moved up the few steps and once again embraced her. Neither seemed to notice the cold, but Hunter suddenly felt it to his very core. He watched as they ended the kiss and ran up the stairs to Jennifer's room, too consumed with their passion even to look back at the garden.
Hunter stood in the shadows, struggling to control his anger. His first impulse was to storm up the stairs and strangle both Jennifer and her whiny lover. But another feeling mixed with the anger, cooling it like an icy breeze. The feeling, to Hunter's surprise, was relief. He couldn't explain why, but a burden he'd been unaware of was now lifted from his shoulders. He'd carried it so long, the weight had gone unnoticed. Now he was free of her, free of the chain of honor that bound him to her. He was angrier at himself for being such a fool than at her for having a lover. He'd always found it hard to talk with or understand women. Jennifer had pushed their relationship inch by inch for years, as if with some detailed plan of attack. She no more loved him than he did her.
Perhaps he should go up and thank poor Richard?
Laughing aloud, he ran to where his horse was tied. As he swung atop his mount a figure moved among the trees. A lean form slipped from shadow to shadow, visible for only a moment. Someone else was in the garden. Someone else had seen Jennifer. And now that someone moved to watch him. Instinctively Hunter knew the other had penned the note he'd received. The informant was waiting to see the outcome of his act.
Kicking the horse into a run, Hunter turned toward home. He didn't want to share his new knowledge with another, be he friend or foe. Tomorrow would be time enough to deal with Jennifer. Tonight he wanted to be alone to sort out his feelings and file them neatly away, as he had done since his mother had died. File them away so no one could touch him, so no one could hurt him.
As he reached the boundary of his property Hunter jumped from his horse. His hand instinctively swung wide to open the stable door and be done with this night and its secrets.
He froze in mid-step as his fingers touched the cold flesh of another hand resting against the door facing.
He pulled the hand toward him and a woman stepped from the shadows. She faced him, unafraid, as though they'd touched a hundred times before and she'd never known fear. The shadows were thick but Hunter knew her. The same woman who always came to him in his dreams. The only woman who had ever touched his life, his heart, his passion.
Drawing her into his arms, Hunter let his mind believe that she was real. She made not the slightest protest as he lifted her off the ground in his embrace. There were a million questions he wanted to ask her, but all he could think about was how her lips would feel against his own. He lowered his mouth to her cold lips and warmed them with his passion. To his wonder she opened her mouth to his hungry tongue without any hesitation.
Hunter's voice was so low, it seemed a thought that passed between them. "How did you know I needed you so desperately tonight?'' He gently stroked her hair. "'Just when I was about to give up on all beauty, all love in the world, you appear again."
He kicked the stable door open and stepped out of the icy wind. The shed was black with night and thick with the smell of fresh hay. He wanted to see her better, but he couldn't bring himself to pull away from her, even to search the darkness for a lantern. "Shall I find a light?" he whispered against the wonder of her hair.
Her answer was in the brush of her lips against his throat. "Hold me," she whispered.
Her small hands slid up the front of his coat, her fingers twisting around his lapels. They needed no light. How many times he'd dreamed of her near, so soft, so willing in his arms. He knew her features by touch as perfectly as an artist knows his model before he paints.
"If you are only a dream," he whispered, "then dreams will be my only reality in this lifetime."
Pulling off her cap, he moved his hands slowly over the rich wool of her dress. Her hair was the silk he remembered, and the curve of her waist was the perfection of which he'd dreamed. "You'll not run away from me tonight, my dream. I need you too much."
She didn't answer but only traced her fingers along the arc of his shoulders, as though she'd longed for the feel of him as dearly as he had for her.
Hunter pulled the ribbon binding her hair and buried his face in its fullness. "Lord, how I need you." He flung her cap over a pile of straw and eased her onto it. The smells blended in his mind with another time, when she'd held him and warmed him as death fought for his soul. He'd loved her then, from the moment she'd kissed his forehead with a prayer for his life.
In the silence of the midnight hour he lay beside her, slowly covering her face with kisses. As he reached the warm flesh of her throat his fingers unbuttoned her dress. The tiny pearl buttons gave way and he slid the wool aside to reveal the thin, silky cloth of her chemise. He spread his fingers wide, loving the warmth of her flesh, with only a light curtain of material between them. He'd always been a reasonable man, but the feel of her in his arms made him know the pure joy of madness for a moment.
He could feel her body move beneath his hand, straining for his touch. He lowered his face to her shoulders, pushing the material aside as he tasted her skin. There was so much that they might have said, but he was starving for her nearness. Touch would have to be his words, and passion the only language spoken between them. He wanted to make love to her more than he wanted life, but tonight he needed the feel of her next to him. He needed not to be alone for a few moments in a life where he seemed always alone.
She seemed to understand, for her hands moved over his shoulders and into his hair. Her fingers stroked his temple, then moved to trace his lips with a feather-light touch. He found himself whispering words of need he'd never told another.
Pressing her body against his, she answered his cry with kisses that knew no restraint. His mind whirled as he felt the beauty of her in his arms, a beauty so great that he knew he'd never find it in reality. He buried his face against her soft breast as his hand slid up her boot to touch the bare leg beneath her skirts. If this was the joy of dreams, the pleasure of insanity, may he never see reality again.
His angel jerked suddenly. "Hunter!" she whispered in her soft Southern voice as she pulled his face close to her lips. "There's someone outside!" He could feel the fear in her body as she curled away from him.
Hunter glanced toward the fence and saw the shadow of a man move in the moonlight. The same shadow he'd seen in Jennifer's garden, a lifetime of emotions ago. Hunter held her trembling hand. "Do you know who he is?"
"I'm not sure," she whispered. "I must go!"
"No!" Hunter answered, but she pulled away and backed into the corner of the shed.
A twig snapped in the shadows and he heard her soft cry of fear. Hunter bolted toward the intruder, resenting this eavesdropping far more than he had earlier in the garden.
He ran toward the shadow. But when he reached the fence, the shadow had vanished. And when he returned to the barn, so had his angel.
Chapter 23
Molly's restaurant opened as Molly's Place during a downpour that should have spelled disaster for a first night, but the dining rooms were packed with the curious. The rumors that Molly was a reformed lady of the streets might have drawn some in, but the fine cooking kept them through course after course.
The room had been freshly polished and cleaned until the candlelight glowed off the wood and silver. The furnishings were simple, almost elegant, in design and the prices were fair. Each bolt of lightning from the storm seemed to bring yet another carriage up the drive.
Luke, now wearing a white shirt and dark suit, stood proudly as doorman. He opened the door and seated each guest with a silent dignity while keeping a sharp eye out for any ruffians.