Cadence (Langston Brothers Series) Read online

  The moment shattered.

  Both of them jumped and turned to see Mrs. Bridger approaching the shop with her first fitting appointment of the day, none other than Kathleen Morris— formerly known as the dreaded Miss Watson—and Charleston’s most notorious gossip.

  “Curtis Langston!” Mrs. Morris practically gushed his name, and canted her head, casting an arch look over him. “It certainly has been a long time.”

  Curtis groaned aloud and gave the woman a curt nod of acknowledgement. “I’m sure it will never be quite long enough, Miss Watson.”

  “It is Mrs. Morris now,” she corrected him, though her smile never faltered cool eyes swept his tall frame… assessing him.

  “Oh, so poor Archie is the bast—” Cadence swiftly elbowed him in the ribs, cutting his jibe short. Mrs. Morris narrowed her eyes, she knew exactly what he’d been about to say. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d insulted her thus.

  “Heavens, Curtis, aren’t we beyond such childishness? A true gentleman would never speak that way to a lady.”

  “Pity I haven’t come into my own as a gentleman yet. A true shame for the ladies.” He threw a wink to Cadence. “Or perhaps not.”

  Goodness! Such a rogue.

  “As if you could ever pass for a gentleman,” Mrs. Morris spat.

  “No more than you could pass for a lady.” He presented her a mock bow and charmingly pleasant smile. “But if there is hope for me, then who knows what it could mean for a woman such as you.”

  Neither Mrs. Bridger nor Cadence was entirely successful in masking a snort of laughter. Be it a blessing or a curse the good Lord had bestowed upon Curtis a fast wit and a faster tongue. While his comments were undoubtedly inappropriate he said it with such indescribable flare and nonchalance one could never help but laugh, or spark with anger, as the case may be.

  Glancing curiously from Curtis to Cadence, Mrs. Bridger appeared to be waiting for a declaration of sorts.

  Kathleen Morris seemed almost oblivious to Cadence as she continued to glare at her former nemesis.

  And Curtis, sensing escape was imperative, cleared his throat. “Good day to you ladies. I’d best be on my way.” He turned to Cadence, whose cheeks grew suspiciously warm, and murmured, “Cadence.” Their eyes locked for the briefest instant.

  Assuming a devil may care nonchalance, intended solely to pique Mrs. Morris, he strode down the steps.

  Biting the inside of her cheek Cadence flashed the women a quick smile, “Well, I have work to do,” and entered the building before they could inundate her with questions.

  * * *

  Striding away from the seamstress shop Curtis was surprised to find himself smiling.

  Smiling!

  Seldom did he feel like smiling anymore, at least not genuinely, and did so more as a requirement of polite conversation than emotion. But, for whatever reason Cadence Jamison had him smiling. And more amazing was that for just a few moments, in her presence, he’d begun to feel like himself again.

  Irritating the school witch and seeing Cadence try to hide her amusement… when was the last time he’d had such fun?

  To hold the power to make him feel this way again Cadence was something… special. A marvel? Perhaps she really was an angel. His angel…

  But women were a luxury he little allowed himself—no that wasn’t true, he didn’t avoid women altogether just romantic entanglements—and Cadence could definitely become a romantic entanglement. He’d learned the hard way that relationships never ended well and his ever developing shipping business kept him more than busy enough to avoid temptation.

  But that was before Cadence. There was something about Cadence, Cadence… “Cadence,” he murmured her name aloud. Shaking his head to clear it he headed toward the docks and the Heavenly Mistress—his only serious mistress. With five days to make preparations he didn’t have time to consider a lengthy involvement with a woman. And he had no desire to find himself trapped in another acrimonious affair…

  Acrimonious… he contemplated the adjective. Yes, he thought, acrimonious was a good word for that particular debacle. A very good word…

  But he feared having already lost this battle. He should never have looked into Cadence’s eyes. Beautiful eyes… startling eyes… eyes that looked like the heavens before a gale.

  “Bloody hell,” he muttered, successfully wiping the smile from his lips. He sounded like a damned poet, and he’d be damned before letting himself turn into a poet because men who recited poetry had a nasty little habit of finding themselves in love. “I have work to do,” he mumbled gruffly. “Best just to concentrate on that.”

  * * *

  “Oh my goodness, Cadence, you must tell me everything!”

  Surprised by the sudden outburst Cadence looked up to see Grace Leven, her dearest friend in the world, flounce into the sewing room and flop onto a cushion across from her.

  “Tell you everything about what?”

  “Oh, don’t you dare pretend not to know what I am talking about!” Grace looked as though she might burst in anticipation.

  Setting her work aside Cadence gave her friend an exasperated look. “I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Grace snorted in a rather unbecoming fashion. “You and Curtis Langston.” Leaning forward she elaborated. “Mother and I saw Mrs. Morris in the general store.”

  Now Cadence understood and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “What did she say?”

  “That Curtis Langston,” she sighed the name from the depths of her throat, “was kissing you on the steps right in front of the seamstress shop this morning.”

  “What?” Oh, but she could kill meddling gossips. “That is absolutely not true. He was not kissing me.”

  “He wasn’t?”

  “No!”

  “Too bad,” Grace harrumphed. “Did you want him to?”

  Cadence opened her mouth but found herself at a total loss for words. Two or three heartbeats later, she managed to retort, “Well, wouldn’t you?”

  Grace responded instantly, “Who wouldn’t?”

  “It was a rhetorical question.” Cadence rolled her eyes and settled her work back in her lap.

  Her friend did not look amused by the less than willing participation in the conversation. “How did you meet him?”

  “What are you talking about? We’ve known him for years,” Cadence hedged, feigning overt interest in her needlework.

  “Oh,” Grace exclaimed sarcastically, “and you’ve spoken to him regularly since the days when we were all in school together?” Her expression was dubious at best. “He joined the army over six years ago and I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen him since.” She held up four fingers for emphasis. “And believe me I’ve noticed.” Again she leaned forward imploring Cadence with ever curious hazel-brown eyes. “So when did you see him?”

  For years she and Grace had shared everything, talked about everything, and for the first time in their age old friendship Cadence held back. First of all she was not entirely certain she wanted her friend to know of her near ravishment by the docks but more than that her time with Curtis was, well for lack of a better word, it was special. And it was hers.

  Grace glared at her, dying to know the juicy details.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake Grace it really wasn’t all that exciting.” Not true, the occasion on the docks had been entirely too exciting. “He only walked me to work this morning.” That was mostly true. “And Mrs. Morris would have it sound as if we were… were…”

  “Fornicating?” Grace supplied.

  “Yes.” Cadence nodded. “In public no less when in truth absolutely nothing happened.”

  “Hmmm.” Grace tapped a thoughtful finger against her chin. “What was it Hamlet said? About protesting too much?”

  “Oh!” Cadence chucked a sewing pillow at her friend. “You’re impossible.”

  “Thank you. I know.” Grace grinned teasingly then sobered slightly. “So you’re abso
lutely serious, nothing happened?”

  With a shrug Cadence gave her a wry smile. “Sorry to disappoint, but no.”

  “Pity,” Grace pouted. “He was always such a rogue, a handsome rogue and you know all the delicious stories about his being a pirate during the war.” She sighed, a dreamy haze glassing over her eyes. “Is he still a rogue?”

  “Yes.” Cadence bit her lower lip to keep a betraying grin at bay. “Although I tell you, Grace, there is something different about him. He was always so,” she scrunched her brow thoughtfully, “so flippant, and now he’s serious, well, no, not really serious, but almost sad.” Settling her hands in her lap she looked distantly over her friend’s shoulder. “I don’t know. I can’t really describe it. There is just something different about him. Something in his eyes, and the way he smiles.”

  Grace watched her with an all too knowing glint. “You’re certain that nothing happened?”

  “Nothing!”

  “Oh, alright, I believe you.” Rising Grace turned at the door. “Although you do realize it doesn’t matter. Half the city reads Mrs. Morris’ gossip column and the day after tomorrow she will have the city believing you and Curtis Langston were fornicating on the city street.”

  No reply was necessary. Grace was right after all, and when the column hit the streets her father would really have something to bluster about.

  “I’d better go before I get you in trouble with Mrs. Bridger.”

  “You know she doesn’t mind when you come visit.”

  “No, but one of these days I’m going to wear out my welcome.” Grace put a hand on the door handle. “You will tell me if something does happen.”

  “You would be the first to know.”

  “With Kathleen Morris about to cut your reputation to ribbons you may as well have something to show for it.” Grace grinned devilishly as she passed through the door. “I would certainly want something to show for it, especially from him.”

  * * *

  Skipping down the stone steps of the seamstress shop that night Cadence had no desire to go home but was not so foolish as to venture toward the docks again. Looking left and then right she sighed and turned toward home. It was best not to anger her father with tardiness again; he’d been worse than usual of late as another of his business schemes had gone awry. Walking through the early evening streets, she couldn’t hold down her soaring hopes whenever blond hair or broad shoulders passed her field of view. It was difficult not to nurture the niggling of hope that Curtis would find her again, but much to her disappointment the broad shoulders and sun kissed tawny locks were never his.

  After three days she gave up all hope that he’d felt anything more for her than a passing concern for a soul momentarily in need of his services. That and the outrageous tale printed by the gossip column had most definitely frightened him off.

  Oh, well, she didn’t want to find a man, not really. All she really wanted was to get out of Charleston.

  Three

  “Please, believe me!” Cadence screamed from a corner of the house. “Nothing untoward occured. The story in the gossip column isn’t true! Don’t, please, Papa. Stop! Mama, where are you? Make him see reason.” The cries were in vain, as usual her mother was nowhere to be found. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut Cadence turned her face from the fist raised to deliver yet another vicious blow. As surely as Kathleen Morris’s fabricated account of her interlude with Curtis Langston had frightened the man away, it had sent her father spiraling into a rage.

  A tremendous crash resounded from the front door and in pure shock her eyes flew open.

  “Curtis,” she sobbed in disbelief, attempting to stagger away from her father’s brutal reach.

  Curtis strode across the room with dangerous intent. His presence as welcome as it was unbelievable… But Cadence would never question by what miracle he appeared that night.

  Grasping her father’s still raised fist in a powerful vise Curtis yanked the older man across the room. “What in the hell are you doing?” His tone was low, menacing, but somehow razor sharp. Pure ice reflected in his eyes. “Do you need a fight to feel like a real man?” He shoved the paunchy figure of her father across the room and sneered. “Why don’t you hit me, Jamison? Come on. Hit me!”

  Her father’s ruddy face contorted with a mixture of fear and rage. “How dare you come into my house sniffing after my daughter? I know what you want, you—you good for nothing pirate!” Her father balled a fist and sent it sailing in Curtis’s direction. Cadence experienced a fleeting rush of panic, she well knew the bite of his hands; but Curtis effortlessly sidestepped the fist, painfully imprisoning the other man’s right arm in a wrenching twist behind his back.

  Curtis’s cool gaze flicked to hers. “Go and wait for me outside.”

  Quickly, she complied, straining to hear the rest of what went on inside the house.

  “Touch her again and I’ll kill you goddamn it.” A chill swept Cadence’s spine. Curtis sounded deadly serious.

  A bit more heated scuffling banged from within.

  “Now go to bed and sleep off that whiskey,” Curtis barked, tone angry and authoritative. A moment later his hulking form stepped into the night. She didn’t know what to say, no one had ever come to her rescue before, and now Curtis had done it twice. Twice in less than a week! The almost visible aura of danger surrounding him was thrilling and in this moment with his broad shoulders and powerfully muscled frame Curtis Langston looked every bit the medieval knight come to rescue a damsel in distress.

  “Are you alright?” he demanded, face a pensive, unreadable mask. His voice was serious, intense and bore no resemblance to the flippant man she knew. She took a reflexive step back and gave a jerking nod.

  “Jesus!” He scrubbed both hands through his hair. “Why do you stay here?”

  Cadence blanched, crossing her arms against his accusatory tone. “And where else would I go, Captain Langston?”

  * * *

  “I don’t know, anywhere but here!” Christ! He was shouting at her. Why was shouting at her?

  Curtis dragged a ragged breath into his lungs, attempting to cool his anger. With gentle fingers he tilted her face toward the meager light of the moon, assessing the reddening welt upon her delicate jaw. Hell, this whole thing reminded him of…

  A cold dread seized him as he stuffed the memory—the screams—deep into the recesses of his mind. Abruptly, he stepped forward, clutching her to his chest. At first she stiffened but after a moment she began to relax, and holding her against him he could feel that she was safe. But more than that, every warm flawless curve of her body melted into him. Her face fell against his shoulder and her arms curled around his neck…

  She fit.

  Curtis buried his face in the soft luxury of her hair. The tantalizing strands tickled his face and her sweet smell—like the fresh jasmine he’d smelled in the orient—danced across his senses. How could he ignore the warm perfection of her cuddled against him? Why, he could lose himself in her arms forever.

  * * *

  From the moment he took her into his arms, Cadence knew an uncanny sense of having found the very thing she’d been looking for. For the first time in… years… she felt safe and sheltered… protected. Until this moment Cadence had not realized the extent to which she had erected protective walls around her emotions and guarded herself from the anguish that existed in her life.

  Curtis cared.

  How long had it been since she’d felt the caring love of anyone? A few years before, during the war, her mother and sister Kirsten had devised a devious plan to trap Dr. Langston—Curtis’s brother—in marriage. Cadence’s small role in foiling the plot had driven her mother and sister to have as little to do with her as possible. The act of speaking up, doing the right thing, had made for a lonely home life.

  After a long moment his cleared his throat huskily and, without releasing her from his arms, looked down intently. “Are you really going to be alright going back in there?”

>   Emotion swirled with reckless abandon through his eyes and she didn’t know what to make of it. What could he really do for her anyway? “Yes,” she answered softly. “Curtis, I will be fine. I am always fine. My father really isn’t so bad. He’s probably already asleep, and I will go inside, and go to bed, and then I will go to work in the morning, and everything will be fine…and…” Her rambling words trailed off. It was true of course, everything was always “fine” eventually, but fine seemed a remote summit, ever more difficult to reach. No matter. She would escape it someday… soon…

  The man raised a dubious tawny brow. “Fine isn’t good enough. Is there anywhere else you can go?”

  Cadence shrugged. “I go to the seamstress shop sometimes, and my sister lives just outside of town.” She didn’t add that her sister hadn’t spoken to her in a little over four years. Curtis seemed so worried, but there was really nothing he could do for her, he was sailing off to faraway lands the day after tomorrow. “And there is Grace of course. Her parents are kind people.”

  A measure of relief seemed to ease the tension from his face and hesitantly he nodded. “Good, please get out of this house,” he said softly. “I’ll worry about you.” His arms tightened around her waist and he stepped so close her hips nestled against his and the tips of her breasts brushed against the expanse of his work hardened chest. It was difficult to hear with her heart hammering so loudly in her ears but she was fairly certain he said, “I’m not going to be here much longer.”

  The words echoed her own thoughts.

  “I won’t—won’t be—” Curtis stopped for a moment. “I’ll call on you when I return from Europe.”

  Gentle as a whisper the back of his knuckles grazed her cheek and hesitantly he leaned in to brush his lips tenderly across hers.

  The touch was not devouring or hungry or even passionate. It was feather light. But it was the sort of kiss that left her flushed and tingling clear to her toes. She hadn’t had many kisses but one didn’t have to be experienced to know that this was a kiss to be savored, remembered. This was a good kiss.

  Then all too soon he was walking away. Leaving. She raised a hand to her tingling mouth watching in wide-eyed disappointment as his back disappeared into the night