Cadence (Langston Brothers Series) Read online

  Craig followed suit and then turned to his younger brother. “You’re a married man now, Curtis, I’m sure you’ll figure out what it’s about soon enough.”

  “I’ll bet he wasn’t complaining during the fun part,” Curtis grinned conspiratorially at Davy.

  “That’s quite enough,” Genie’s voice rose above the brotherly jesting.” I think this conversation is becoming less than appropriate for present company.”

  “Come now, Genie? We’re all adults here.”

  “I’m leaving,” Craig announced taking a resolute step toward the door. “And for the record,” he raised a hand as though addressing a jury, “I am not miserable. I just value my good health.” Even Robert smiled good naturedly at that, though he refused to look directly at Curtis as the trio took leave.

  Once they’d safely passed through the front door of the manse Craig turned to his brother, “How did it go with Pa?”

  Curtis shrugged, “About how I expected.”

  Craig just nodded in response. “Do you two need a place to stay?”

  “No, we’ll stay on the ship for a couple of days until I can find a house.” A wicked smile crossed his face. “Of course after what I just heard I don’t think I’d want to stay at your place.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Apologies.” Curtis smiled, obviously enjoying the jovial sparing with his brothers. “Cheap shot.”

  “Yes it was. But anyway, Dr. Rowe is covering my office tomorrow and I have the day off so I want you two to stop by.”

  “We will, Craig. Thank you again.”

  “Cadence,” he placed a brotherly hand on her shoulder. “Welcome to the family and don’t worry about my father. He can be a beast, but he is all bark and no bite just like that old excuse for a dog he keeps around,” he gestured to the hulking yellow lab flopping his tail on the porch.

  She smiled warmly. “Thank you, Dr. Langston.”

  “Oh, none of that ‘Dr. Langston’ business, it’s Craig, and I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

  “Is your family always like that?” Cadence asked with the slightest touch of amusement.

  “Always.” Curtis smiled, wrapping an arm about her shoulders. For a long moment their eyes locked. His grew soft and for a moment Cadence would swear that he—like she—was picturing a home of their own just like it…

  Surrounded by the familiar scents, sounds, and motion of the Heavenly Mistress Cadence finally felt safe. The day had been wretched, she felt wretched, and now it just felt good to escape the prying, judgmental stares of those who’d once been her friends. Flopping onto the bunk in her cabin she stared at the golden planks and allowed a heavy sigh to escape her lips, she turned to see Curtis standing with his shoulder against the doorjamb, one thumb linked through his trouser band, watching her.

  “Today was awful,” she said, rolling onto her stomach and propping her head on a hand.

  Glancing downward, he didn’t say anything for a long time, crossing his arms over his chest he shrugged nonchalantly. “It was about what I’d expected.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just what I said; what happened today is exactly what I would have expected.” He stepped into the room and ran his fingers across the heavy oak desk. “My father reacted exactly as I thought he would, I knew my brothers and Genie would be supportive, and I figured the sheriff wouldn’t have enough evidence to arrest you on the spot.” He paused. “If he’d tried I had the crew standing by to make sail.” He smiled then, his real smile, the devilishly irresistible one that sent mischief dancing along the lines of his face. “I have enough artillery on board this ship to sink a man ’o’ war if necessary.”

  Biting her lower lip to keep from grinning, she rolled over and squinted. “You wouldn’t have dared.”

  “Oh, yes, I would have,” he sat on the edge of the bed, placing his arms on either side of her.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, as he leaned in until their body heat flowed like electric current.

  “Why?”

  “I’m sorry your father is so angry because of me.”

  “Oh, Cadence, it isn’t you he’s angry about.” Curtis flashed a devious grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s me. You see, my dear, I have been the bane of his existence for years.”

  “Oh, no, I’m sure he doesn’t think that.”

  “Those are his exact words.” Curtis rolled onto the bed beside her. “You married the family dunce.” While his tone remained light the flicker of disappointment remained, haunting the depths of his eyes.

  “What are you talking about?” Her heart quickened as he snared a curl and wrapped it about a finger. “Why do you believe you’re the family dunce?”

  “Because I am the family dunce,” he pulled her to lie alongside him on the bed, “of four children someone had to be the disappointment, and I fell quite easily into that role years ago.” His fingers slid from her hair to the scalloped lace at her bodice. “In any case,” he murmured, “I am the one who should be sorry.”

  “For what?” she breathed, licking her lips.

  “Because I can’t remember the last time I kissed you.” Even as the words came from his lips he brushed the corner of her mouth, gently, cajolingly.

  “Curtis, what has been going on between us?” She arched as he traced his lips down the slender curve of her neck.

  Without answering he began to unfasten the tiny buttons of her green day gown. “Why did you buy this dress again?”

  Thrown by the comment she stilled. “What are you talking about? I think you picked this dress out.”

  “Impossible.” He began pulling the heavy petticoats upward. Tiny ripples of pleasure shivered up her spine as his hands traced the curve of her thigh, inching ever higher. It had been so long since he’d touched her this way, made love to her.

  “What do you mean?’

  “I never would have bought a dress that is so damned difficult to get off.”

  She couldn’t help but giggle and shifted to assist his efforts.

  “In the future I simply must be allowed to accompany you into the fitting rooms.” He finally managed to wiggle the garment away from her breasts, and captured one in his palm prompting a throaty gasp. “As a means of scientific study and experimentation of course.”

  “Scientific?” She tugged the sailing sweater over his head. “I’m sure that will be a convincing enough argument for the dressmaker.” Her hands traced the paths of his well-muscled back. She would never cease to be fascinated by his incredible body. Realizing he’d been successful in distracting her from the original question she, warred for a moment with the wisdom of pushing this particular issue, but she needed answers. “What is going to happen to us?”

  “We’re going to be fine. I’ll always take care of you.” He kissed each of her eye-lids in turn and traced his lips along her cheek to the corner of her mouth.

  “Oh, Curtis,” she breathed, and even as she knew she should scream no and demand answers, she couldn’t help but melt into him. “I love you.”

  He said nothing, though for an instant his gaze clouded before he took her lips once more.

  Twenty-one

  Lawless Langstons had been the title of Kathleen Morris’ gossip column that morning, and between the woman’s gossip and the perpetual fighting with his insufferable father who so easily made him feel a complete failure, Curtis needed time to vent his frustrations. After entrusting his wife to the very welcoming and kind hands of his stepmother and sister-in-law he’d set to work in one of his two Charleston warehouses. Physical labor had always been a favorite outlet for his anger and while he had not grown into the towering giants his brothers had, he was twice as strong.

  With sheer brute force he hauled a heavy barrel away from the east wall of the warehouse. That woman, that bitch, he mused, would have the whole of Charleston, including his father, believing his wife was a murderer and the Langston family was using their good name to coerce a cover up! The whispers t
hat he and Cadence had been in on the murder together were already soaring. Kathleen’s gossip column would do nothing but compound the suspicion.

  He should never have come back.

  Hate was a strong word. Hate was a word he didn’t use lightly, but Kathleen Watson-Morris was a woman he was truly coming to hate. He’d always disliked her. While Curtis may have acquired a miserably black heart, he was not intentionally mean spirited. Kathleen, he’d been convinced for quite some time, had been born without a conscience. It was a conviction he’d come about during his school days with her…

  School had come easily for David, Craig and Jacob Langston but not Curtis. And in truth he wasn’t bothered by this. He was forever in trouble at home it had been a natural transition to be trouble in school. The trouble had begun his very first day and all for his being left handed.

  What was wrong with being left handed anyway? Apparently it was very wrong because each of the fourteen teachers he’d run clear out of the job with ruthless, if terribly clever, pranks had been far more concerned with rapping his knuckles for refusing to write with the “correct” hand, than realizing he couldn’t read.

  Truth was, he hadn’t learned to read until he was sixteen years old, hell, even eight years later he struggled to read the newspaper headlines. He usually had to read a sentence three times before it made any sort of sense, and even then he couldn’t be sure if he was reading the words correctly. Sometimes the figures looked backward and other times letters looked exactly the same! E’s and C’s proved particularly troublesome for him…

  Numbers were different. He could calculate large sums in his head faster than most people could sign their name to paper. He could build things too. See things in his mind and then make them happen. It was an ability which had proven especially useful in outmaneuvering the Yankee fleet and enemies in battle.

  To Miss Watson’s credit he’d tormented her in the classroom and she’d been the first teacher not only to last more than a matter of weeks, but to discover his secret. Not that she’d helped him. She’d laughed until her face was blue and tears streamed from her eyes. She’d capitalized on Curtis’ established reputation as a hell raiser and made a public example of him for her own selfish ends. By speaking out against the Langston’s she’d found herself in the sudden favor of any who’d resented the city’s famed family for even the smallest of perceived slights or infractions. Now, years later, she was out to do it again, only this time it was Cadence swinging at the end of Kathleen’s rope.

  And, the hanging would be anything but a metaphor.

  He finished stacking the crates and strode to the water barrel for a much needed drink. Gulping a swallow of cool water he splashed the rest of it over his face, letting it wash the sweat and stress of life from his face.

  “Hello, Captain Langston.”

  As if he’d conjured her up by his musings. Curtis could hardly suppress an audible groan. Wiping the water from his eyes he looked across the dim warehouse. “What do you want, Miss Watson?” he crossed burly arms over his chest.

  Her eyes hardened. “Have you forgotten? It is Mrs. Morris now.”

  “If you say so.” he shrugged indifferently.

  “You were never much of a gentleman, Curtis. I see the years have done little to change that.”

  “No, but you’re not much of a lady, so in that respect we may as well accept each other as we are.” He was tempted to spit on the deck right in front of her but thought better of it at the last moment. Kathleen Watson-Morris never failed to bring out the worst in him. “What do you want Mrs. Morris? Or are you fishing for more scandal for your gossip column?”

  “What you call gossip, I call an interesting take on the truth.”

  “The truth?” he shook his head wryly. “You must be joking.”

  “You don’t seem to understand that I hold a great deal of power in this community.”

  “Anyone who reads your hogwash isn’t worth a barrel of saltwater,” he said, “and what you call power, I call corruption.”

  “Think what you will, Curtis, but people do read my column.” Her tone grew defensive. “People who matter, and like it or not, I am the one who holds the balance between burying you and your little wife, or setting her free.”

  Curtis chucked a length of line into a corner and stepped forward, Kathleen was always about power, and control. “What do you want?”

  The conniving woman smiled as though she had him right where she wanted him. Curtis hated feeling maneuvered.

  “I asked what in the hell you’re doing here, and what you want. I am smarter than you’ve ever given me credit for, Miss Watson. I know you’re fishing for something. What is it?”

  She sashayed forward, a seductive smile toying at her lips. “Isn’t it obvious?” She splayed a hand across his chest, “You’ve always kept me on my toes, Curtis, and don’t you feel the fire between us?”

  Fire? “No!” he took a hasty step back.

  “Oh, but we could be very good together.” She continued to move slowly forward, her fingers tracing the hardened lines of his chest. “You’ve always been so easy on the eyes. I knew it was only a matter of time before you became some woman’s guilty pleasure,” she paused. “Why not mine?”

  Curtis gulped at a total loss for what to say except. “I’m married.” His back hit the wall. Cornered.

  “As am I.” Kathleen canted her head and half closed her eyes, parting her lips in a manner meant to be inviting that he found revolting. Her narrow facial features reminded him of a mouse.

  He swallowed hard. “But I actually lo- er-care for my wife.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” She ran both palms over his chest and up around his neck.

  “You hate me,” he reminded her, feeling no less trapped. He understood she wanted to control him.

  “There is a fine line between hate and passion.” Her fingers feathered the hair at his nape. “I think we could be very,” she paused to savor the word, “passionate together.”

  Grabbing her upper arms Curtis shoved her forcibly away from him, “Get the hell away from me.”

  “Defensive,” she clicked her tongue as though to scold him and flashed a coy smile. “You wouldn’t be defensive if you didn’t want this too.”

  “No, I really don’t want this, or anything else to do with you. Now go home to your husband.”

  “That doddering old man could hardly do for a woman what you could,” she toyed with the buttons at the front of her jacket. “What do you say, Curtis, should we try to be more than enemies?”

  “Get out of my warehouse.”

  Kathleen mistook his quiet tone for weakness and came brazenly forward once again parting her lips against his.

  He jerked his head back. “I said out!”

  Stumbling back with a start the devious woman recovered quickly and bristled at the blatant rejection. “Well, it’s your funeral. Or should I say, it’s your wife’s funeral.”

  Returning her malevolent glare stare for stare he said, “So, if I give you what you want you will write flattering things about my innocent wife and sway the favor of society in her direction?”

  She chuckled and narrowed her eyes. “You are smarter than I give you credit for.”

  “I am not going to bed with you as a means of helping my wife.”

  Her mousy brown eyes narrowed. “You never were one to mince words.”

  “No. Now get out.”

  “This isn’t over, Curtis, and you will regret it.”

  “Regret you? Never.”

  Twenty-two

  Seated in the plush parlor of Craig and Marissa Langston’s home, Cadence threw a tense glance to the oversize grandfather clock along the wall. Eleven-thirty. Over two hours ago Curtis had deposited her there with strict orders not to leave.

  As if she would be foolish enough to venture into Charleston alone. The scene at the Sheriff’s office the day before had brought the reality of being a murder suspect crashing down on her
. During the brief jaunts through town with her husband she’d grown acutely aware of society’s scrutiny. Every eye on the street turned to her, whispered behind her back, shunned any friendly wave of her hand. She would have been perfectly happy to remain holed up on board the ship, out of sight out of mind, but Curtis had worried over leaving her without family to look after her welfare. Truth be told the only times she felt safe was in Curtis’s sheltering presence.

  Her eyes drifted from the clock, to her hands, to the faces of her mother-in-law and sister-in-law. The conversation for the last two hours had been strained. Cadence knew it was her fault. Concerned with the bad blood between her family and Curtis’s, panic had nearly consumed her when he’d announced his intention to leave her there, alone, while he checked his warehouses.

  Though Genie and Marissa had displayed nothing but welcoming kindness throughout the morning, Cadence felt on edge. Surely the doctor and his wife would not remain so accepting without Curtis’s buffering presence. Four years prior her mother and sister had contrived to trap Dr. Langston in marriage for his money. Craig had barely escaped the ordeal with his marriage to Marissa, or his life.

  The front door slammed and Cadence’s heart leapt with the hope Curtis had returned. Unwittingly her shoulders slumped as the towering frame of Dr. Langston strode purposefully into the parlor. “I tell you,” he said, forgoing all formal greeting and slapping a newspaper onto an end table, “this is without a doubt the most ridiculous piece of fiction I have ever read. How Archibald Morris can allow his wife to print such unverified slander I will never know.”

  Cadence groaned aloud as her gaze grazed the title of Mrs. Morris’s gossip column, Lawless Langstons, there was no need to read the article, she knew too well what condemning words lay on the page.

  “Cadence,” Craig took a seat adjacent to her, leaning forward, he clasped her hand warmly within his own, “I cannot tell you how sorry I am that you must go through this. Truly I can understand what you must be feeling.”