Saving Grace (Safe Havens) Page 17

  Forcing herself to relax, she gripped his shoulders and buried her face against his neck.

  He surged inside her.

  She gasped in surprise. There was no pain, only a wonderful fullness. He fit her perfectly.

  Adam stilled. “Am I hurting you?”

  Hurting?

  God, no.

  But she was so lost in bliss she couldn’t speak. She rocked her hips up to take him more deeply, telling him without words what she wanted. His hips replied in kind.

  The rhythm he set beckoned her, making everything inside her burn. She couldn’t get enough of him, begging him with whimpers to help her reach the mysterious pinnacle. “Adam. I–I can’t.”

  His lips brushed against her ear. “Come with me, Gracie. Just let go and feel how much I love you.”

  And she did, finding that by letting go and trusting her new husband, she gained fulfillment. Waves of impossible pleasure rushed over her as her body clenched around him, her thighs squeezing his hips as her heartbeat roared in her ears.

  Adam breathed hoarsely before he pushed into her one last time, groaning as his whole body shuddered.

  He stayed inside her a long time as she idly stroked her fingers across his shoulders and down his spine, marveling at what they’d just shared. Even her toes tingled. When he rolled to his side, she followed, snuggling up against him. She couldn’t find the words to tell him all she felt, so she settled for what was in her heart.

  “I love you, Adam.”

  “I love you too, darlin’.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Denver’s Union Station was more crowded than Victoria expected. She’d visited the city as a child, but it had changed more than she thought possible. The noise and confusion bordered on overwhelming.

  According to the conductor, her trunk should’ve been easy to find, but every time she asked for some help to locate baggage, she got different directions.

  Closing her eyes for a moment, she tried to find some calm. The whole trip—her grand adventure—had turned into nothing but a nightmare.

  The worst leg had been the stagecoach ride to Butte. The swaying of the wagon coupled with the multitude of ruts and holes in the barely-there road made her head ache and her stomach pitch.

  Matthew had sat across from her, nagging at her like a meddlesome old woman about going so far away on her own. He threatened more times than she could count to get on the train with her.

  She simply kept reminding him that Adam and Grace were counting on him, but he continued to cajole her into letting him come along. By the time she’d purchased her train ticket, Matthew had almost slipped into begging.

  Leaving him behind on that platform had been harder than she’d feared. Unless he came back to visit his sister or Jake, it was probably the last time she would ever see him. God, she couldn’t seem to get that thought out of her head as he stood there staring holes through her. Her heart was as brittle as broken glass when she’d held her hand out to him to wish him farewell. Putting on the façade of friendship, she’d swallowed the tears that threatened to fall each time she thought about him moving on with his life.

  He’d taken her hand, given it a rough shake, told her to be careful, and walked away as though she’d meant nothing at all to him. Most of the train trip she’d spent stewing and hurting over his callous dismissal.

  Victoria choked down her lingering melancholy and focused on this new path for her life. Her father had wired ahead to the Alvord House for a room. All she needed to do was find her trunk, get it sent ahead to the hotel, and then she could hurry to the hospital to see to Ty’s needs. Once she was sure he was receiving the proper care, she could focus on searching for a job as a governess or a teacher.

  There had to be something she could do to feel useful again.

  “Miss Morgan?”

  Her eyes flew wide at the baritone voice. She gasped, placing a gloved hand over her pounding heart.

  Standing in front of her was a man dressed in a black silk suit and carrying a walking cane with a silver wolf’s head for a handle. “Pardon me being so forward, but aren’t you Miss Victoria Morgan?”

  “Yes, I’m Miss Morgan. Please don’t think me rude, but…do I know you?”

  He doffed his top hat and bowed before setting it back on his head. “Not yet, but I hope to have that pleasure. I’m here on Ty Bishop’s behalf.”

  His eyes raked her from head to toe, making her feel more than a bit uneasy at this strange man making such a blatant appraisal of her.

  “I must say, Ty did not do you justice. You’re much prettier than he described. Quite beautiful, actually.”

  The same type of empty compliments from the men in White Pines hadn’t turned her head. She dismissed this one the same way. “How do you know Ty?”

  “We had a chance encounter late one evening. I stumbled across him as he was set upon by thieves.”

  “You’re the Good Samaritan?”

  Victoria had a hard time not staring. He wasn’t handsome—not in the same rugged way that made her sigh each time she saw Matthew—but he was pleasant enough. He reminded her a little of Jake in size and in the shape of his round face, but this man had raven hair and eyes so dark they were more black than brown. His clothing was obviously expensive, and he bore an air of arrogance common to the wealthy. His smile didn’t seem genuine, but she’d just met the man, so she tried not to be judgmental.

  “Guilty as charged,” he replied. “I routed the ruffians and escorted Ty to my doctor’s home. Since he was injured so severely, Doctor Adams felt it best to have him relocated to the hospital. Ty received your telegram and asked me to meet you here so I could escort you to see him.”

  “How is he?”

  “Improved. His broken arm has been set, but his ribs are still causing him pain. Fractured as well, no doubt. The bruises on his face may take a while to fade.”

  “Oh, my heavens. Poor Ty.” She took in the man’s expensive gold watch when he pulled it from his vest to check the time. “How was it you were there when he was robbed?”

  Shouldn’t the thieves have been more interested in a wealthy man than a poor cowboy?

  The man offered his arm. “I’ll explain on the way to the hospital. May my man see to your baggage?” When she didn’t move to put her hand on his arm, he dropped it, a quick and rather angry frown crossing his thin lips. He nodded at a short man standing a few steps away. “Trey?”

  The man practically jumped to reach them. He bowed to her then turned to the Good Samaritan. “Sir?”

  “See to Miss Morgan’s bags.”

  Those dark eyes turned back to her, and she felt a cold chill run the length of her spine.

  “Might I suggest the Alvord House? It’s one of the nicer places to stay in Denver.” His gaze wandered the crowded station before returning to her. “Not that this town offers much in…amenities. I much prefer San Francisco. That is the city I call home.”

  Victoria shook off the air of unease that seemed to encase her, attributing it to her weariness and the anxiety at being alone in a big city after seldom leaving her home. “I–I already have a room at the Alvord.”

  “Splendid news. Why don’t you give Trey your claim ticket? He’ll make sure your things are sent ahead.”

  Surely letting a man who’d been so good to Ty in his time of need help her find her way to the hospital and hotel would be fine.

  The shorter man held out his hand, and she pressed her claim ticket onto his palm. “Thank you, Trey, is it?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Trey Sullivan.”

  “Move along now,” the Good Samaritan said with a dismissive flip of his hand. “Miss Morgan and I will be taking my carriage.” He offered his arm again. “Shall we go, my sweet?”

  “I don’t even know your name.”

  Not suspicious by nature, she couldn’t help but feel that leaving in a carriage with a man she hadn’t even truly met would be foolish. Perhaps after proper introductions, her nervousness would ease. T
he man had come to Ty’s rescue. That alone spoke volumes about his character, so she swallowed her apprehension.

  He swept his hat from his head and bowed again. “Stephen Shay at your service.” He grinned as if that name should have held some importance to her. “Stephen Shay,” he repeated, adding quite a bit of emphasis to his last name.

  “I’m sorry, but…I don’t recognize the name at all. Are you a friend of my father?”

  Obsidian eyes stared at her, narrowing enough to raise her apprehension again. “I assumed everyone in the country knew of the Shay family. We are quite influential. Although someplace as backward as your home might not know of our reach.”

  His conceit almost forced a sarcastic reply, but she bit it back. “I would like to go see Ty now—if your offer of a carriage ride is still good.”

  “I’ll take you to see him.” This time he offered his arm and Victoria set her hand on the crook of his elbow. He patted it with a gloved hand. “Let us be off.”

  ***

  Stephen tugged at the fingers of his grey glove until he was able to jerk it off. Repeating the actions with his other glove, he yanked his hand free and dropped both gloves on the bureau next to his hat and cane. The bottle of scotch he’d requested sat next to a couple of glasses. He flipped the stopper off the crystal decanter and poured himself a large splash of the strong drink. Only alcohol seemed to ease the constant ache in his shoulder that remained after the bullet had been removed.

  Throwing the amber liquid back with one swallow, he slammed the glass back down on the bureau and poured himself more. This time, he carried the glass over to the window. He sipped his scotch as he pulled back the heavy drape and watched the people moving about the crowded gardens. Couples strolled arm in arm around the maze of flowers and shrubs as the women twirled their parasols and threw flirtatious smiles at their escorts.

  They all made him want to empty his stomach. None of them understood the demanding and driving love that had held him hostage for so many years. He clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth in frustration.

  Victoria Morgan hadn’t been at all what he expected. His detectives had described her physical attributes well, but they obviously didn’t do enough research into her personality. Good money wasted on a report that called her timid and alluded to the fact she was undesirable since she remained unmarried at the ripe old age of twenty-one.

  Given his handsome looks, obvious wealth, and family reputation bending her to his will should have been an easy task. After meeting her and escorting her to the hospital, he’d quickly learned there was nothing timid about the woman.

  She’d ordered the nurses around, demanded the doctor’s valuable time to discuss Ty Bishop’s case, and taken charge of deciding the course of his treatment. While Stephen had been impressed with her almost military efficiency, he frowned at the memory. She wouldn’t be nearly as pliable as he’d hoped, and his careful plans might be in jeopardy.

  No!

  No turning back. Not now.

  Grace was finally in his grasp. He wasn’t going to let some officious spinster stand in his way. He’d have to turn on some of that famed Shay charm and get her to invite him back to that little one-horse town in the middle of nowhere. He would definitely take Grace by surprise and be too deeply involved with her life for her to run away again. Then he’d simply wait for the chance to make his move.

  The older brother might be a problem. The detective had reported that the man was planning to leave town. How fortunate. For once, Matthew Riley wouldn’t be there to help Grace escape. The report said the younger brother—Jake Curtis—wanted nothing to do with her.

  A knock at the door drew Stephen away from the window. “Come in.” He downed his scotch and headed back to the bureau for a refill.

  “Mr. Shay?” Trey opened the door and stuck his head inside. “You alone?”

  Stephen snorted a derisive laugh. “I told you to come in. Had I been…occupied…I wouldn’t have tendered such an invitation.” He gestured to the settee.

  Trey hurried in and took a seat. “The Morgan woman’s all settled. She’s four doors down, so you can keep an eye on her. Had to slip some money to the man at the front desk, but it was as close as he could put her.”

  “Fine, fine. Did you receive any messages from Red Maple?”

  “White Pines, sir. And, yes, I got a telegram. Riley’s back in town. Your detective’s gonna wire us the moment he leaves. How long before the Bishop guy can travel?”

  “Just a couple of weeks. Hopefully, Matthew Riley will be out of our hair by then. Have you seen to the…loose ends?”

  “Yes, sir.” Trey frowned and stared at the hands he was wringing in his lap. “There’s been a–a small..um…change in the situation. Miss Riley has…she’s n–not…” His voice trailed off to silence.

  “Out with it.”

  “She’s not alone.”

  “Of course not. You just told me her brother had returned.”

  His hands twisted and turned as if he was wrapping something around each of his fists. “It’s not her brother. She’s gone and gotten m–m–m…”

  Stephen missed whatever word Trey mumbled. His patience had come to an end hours ago, and his shoulder throbbed. He threw the glass at the wall. It shattered, showering Trey with glass and alcohol.

  “Tell me!”

  “Miss Riley got married.”

  “She what?”

  “Got m–married. To that rancher.”

  Not possible. Not his Grace. She would never take another man to her bed, not after what they’d shared. All the pieces were finally falling into place, and she’d gone and spoiled everything.

  Again.

  Stephen pushed aside the anger that swelled inside him. She might have been foolish enough to try to find another champion, but it didn’t really matter in the end. Grace knew who she belonged to. When he finally found himself face to face with her, she would see the rightness of leaving with him—of finally coming back where she belonged.

  Picking up another glass, he poured himself more scotch. Sipping the drink, he returned to the window to watch the ridiculous people and their childish infatuations. Only he understood true love—the type of love that had given him the patience to pursue Grace for so very long.

  “It doesn’t mean anything,” he said over his shoulder. “They’re playing house. That’s all. When I come for her, she shall know the right thing to do.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking, Mr. Shay, what are you planning to do with the rancher?”

  “He will be…dealt with when necessary.” He turned to level a hard stare at Trey. “Had you done your job in San Francisco, I wouldn’t have had to go to these extremes.”

  “I’m sorry she got away, but—”

  “Sorry she got away? The woman shot me!”

  “Then why do you want her?”

  “Because she belongs to me.”

  Through the years, Stephen had paid a substantial sum in his efforts to find Grace. Sometimes he was able to get close, but then she would find a way to slip through his fingers. His Grace was as elusive as a ghost. He’d never known a person who could manage to disappear so easily and so completely, and just when he despaired over her vanishing yet again, her handwritten message arrived, asking to meet him. He’d rejoiced that she’d finally stopped playing coy and had accepted her destiny.

  That day, he’d found her standing next to the largest of the fountains at Woodward’s Gardens. He’d hoped after all the time that had passed she’d at last come to her senses and realized where she belonged.

  She told him some befuddled story about a long lost younger brother whom she desperately needed to locate, and she made it clear that she was only turning to Stephen because he had the deep pockets needed to help find the boy. His detectives had never uncovered the brother’s existence before she’d come to him, but when given some pertinent information from Grace, they tracked Jake Curtis down in short order.

  At first, Stephen had bee
n infuriated at the request. She seemed to think that he owed her in some way, and it amused him that she saw their past in such a distorted fashion. Of course, he’d quickly promised to help her. If he was able to ascertain the boy’s location, perhaps he could use that information as leverage.

  Leverage meant everything in negotiations.

  When he called Grace to his room to share the information his detectives had gathered, she hadn’t shown her appreciation at all. In fact, when he’d wanted to renew their relationship, she’d up and shot him.

  The injury hadn’t changed his notion that she was still his property, but he would make sure she never attempted anything so foolish again. Ever. No, when the time was right, she would be properly punished. For everything.

  When she fled San Francisco, Grace hadn’t taken the usual care to hide her tracks and had left a distinct path for his detectives to follow. They traced her to some little hamlet in Montana called Red Maple. Or was it White Pines? Some quaint and ridiculous tiny town. Stephen was fed information almost daily as to her activities. They’d obviously failed to tell him one very important fact.

  Grace was now a married woman.

  As if something as trivial as a marriage mattered. Problems like that rancher were easily solved.

  Yes, Stephen would show Grace that she would always belong to him, and his plan had started with the attack on Ty Bishop.

  How easily the man had been fooled. He’d been so grateful for Stephen to “interrupt” the beating, he’d never once questioned why someone had come to his rescue. Now the next part of his plan was slowly shaping up. Victoria would bend to his will, and through her, he could finally get to Grace.

  Stephen turned back to Trey. “Make the arrangements for the trip back. I’ll be escorting the beautiful Miss Morgan and the unfortunate Mr. Bishop back to Montana as soon as he’s ready to travel.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Grace leaned against Adam’s shoulder and fought a losing battle to keep her eyes open. The sway of the wagon lulled her like the rocking of a cradle. Made sense, considering she felt as safe as an infant in the care of a loving family. Being married to Adam had given her so much she’d missed in life.