Cadence (Langston Brothers Series) Read online

  Walking across the deck it was impossible to look at anything but the graceful curve of her neck or the gentle sway of her slender hips. And watching her he found himself remembering, remembering what it had been like to hold her all but naked in his arms. And in remembering he found himself wanting, wanting to hold her and touch her and see every pristine silken inch of her. And in wanting he found himself dreaming, but dreaming was dangerous because it was in dreaming that she clouded his common sense and left him daring to hope for what he could not have.

  And now she was staring at him with those huge swirling eyes and her expression was almost expectant as though…

  Well, of course she was staring at him expectantly. He’d promised to show her the helm and now that they’d reached the helm she expected for him to say something. With effort he tore his eyes from the glow of her gaze, and excused the helmsman, offering him the chance to warm in the galley with a cup of coffee. When the hand was gone he looked back to Cadence, and coherent thought was lost to him. When she looked at him that way words slipped through his fingers… So it was in silence that he stepped behind her, his chest pressed lightly to her back. His hands slid the length of her arms to her hands so soft and delicate and fine, and then back up stopping just below the elbow. His lips touched her neck and when she sighed he kissed her again.

  * * *

  It was a slow seduction.

  His calloused hands caressed her in a manner gentler than a man his size had a right to be, and while his hands never left her arms she fairly screamed for his touch. Her whole body felt tight and tingling. His hands, his chest, his lips all seemed to meld as one until she melted into him, swayed as one with him.

  “Curtis?” His name tumbled tremulously from her lips. “Are you going to show me the helm?”

  He lifted her hands to place them upon the sleek cool wood of the wheel. “You’ve seen the sextant?”

  The rumbling of his voice reverberated deep and rich from his chest through her back until she could feel him in every fiber and crevice of her body. She managed an affirmative nod. She wanted him to kiss her again. Folly that it may be, she wanted it.

  “If there is no sextant,” he continued softly, his voice washing her in a smooth, soothing caress, “sailors can use the stars as a guide to chart their course.” Electric shivers ran the length of her spine as one of his hands dropped to her waist, then slid slowly up over her breasts, under her chin, tilting her head until it rested back on his shoulder. “See?” he directed her gaze to the star spattered heavens. “There is Ursa Major, the big dipper and, if you look over here,” his outstretched finger, traced an invisible line along the sky, “you will see the little dipper. Now, do you see the brightest star at the end of the handle?”

  She nodded.

  “That is Polaris, the north star. If a sailor finds himself adrift at sea the north star never moves, the point is fixed, and we can follow it home.”

  “And what if there are no stars?” she whispered.

  “Then we’d be lost.” There was a touch of irony in his tone, but she could not dwell on it as his hand wrapped about her waist drawing her back full against the warmth of his broad chest. Her heart leapt into her throat as his lips brushed her ear. “Will you come to my cabin?”

  Her heart lodged high in her throat and for a fleeting moment she was sure to choke on it. Was this a proposition?

  “We need to talk.”

  She nodded, letting him lead her toward the lower deck. As they passed the galley, he spoke quietly to the helmsman, sending him back to duty. Strange, but the moment Curtis had moved away from her she’d felt cold and terribly alone. What magic did he possess to bewitch and enchant her with a single touch or smile?

  Stepping into his quarters, Cadence took in the overall pleasant clutter, the worn furniture scattered about the cabin, and swallowed… hard. Here, Curtis was everywhere. The room exuded his very essence, she could not gaze upon one miscellaneous chart without being reminded of him, which made the fact that he was standing less than a foot from her all the more difficult to ignore. Her eyes fell to the bed and she was reminded of their last encounter in his chamber… she gulped. His cabin was insidiously dangerous territory, it would be best to keep some distance between them. She was painfully vulnerable to his every touch.

  He must know it.

  She glanced up at him. He was looking at her as though he knew it and intended to act on it. But if she let that happen she’d never convince him she was anything but a conniving seductress. Half turning her back to him she remained close to the door looking everywhere but directly into his eyes. “You wanted to talk, Captain?”

  “Captain?” He lifted a hand as though to touch her shoulder but withdrew at the last moment. “When it’s just the two of us you’re not Cam and my name is Curtis.” Slowly he moved across the cabin, pausing to open a deep drawer in the old oak desk. He withdrew a near full bottle of Irish malt whiskey. “Compliments of the Yankee Navy,” he tipped the bottle to her. “Would you care for some?”

  “No,” she murmured, giving her head a quick shake.

  “You don’t mind if I do?”

  Again she shook her head.

  Curtis plucked a thick glass from the drawer, pouring himself a healthy draught. He took a long swallow, draining the glass. Twisting the crystal tumbler between thumb and forefinger he stared at her long and hard, his thoughts impossible to discern. “Why did you run away?”

  “Curtis, I swear I’m not here to trap you. I swear it,” she blurted. “And I’m not here because of some girlish fantasy that you will fall in love with me.” She took an imploring step forward. “Please believe that I want nothing from you. All I want is to go to Europe and disappear forever.”

  He half sat, half leaned against the corner of his desk, and splashed another finger of whiskey into the tumbler. “Why do you need to disappear, Cadence?”

  She hesitated, holding firm to her silence.

  He looked up, crisp blue his eyes slicing through every shred of her composure. “Why?”

  Still she said nothing.

  Anger flared in his eyes, extinguishing the lingering pleasantness of the evening. Downing the potent liquor in a fiery gulp he slammed the crystal onto the desktop. “Damn it, Cadence! Talk to me!”

  She stumbled backward with a start, colliding with a chair.

  “I fail to understand what you are running from. I realize the situation with your father was awful, but this whole charade is a bit drastic!”

  Cadence didn’t know what her next move should be. Curtis had gone from plying her with his kisses to shouting demands and downing shots in the space of minutes. Dare she trust him? Dare she put her very life into his hands? “Curtis,” her voice was remarkably steady, “I cannot tell you everything now, but once we reach Europe I swear you will never see me again.”

  Curtis visibly faltered. He shoved the whiskey bottle away and moved in on her. “Cadence.” he reached for her, but she cringed away, turning her back with finality.

  He murmured her name a second time and it was her undoing. There was no anger or malice in his voice, but moreover there was something pleading, almost broken in his tone. She turned at the door.

  “I’m so sorry, Curtis.” Briefly their eyes locked and it was sheer magnetism. In an instant he was across the room, and she was in his arms, and he was kissing her. And she was kissing him back.

  Who were they to deny the forces of nature?

  Her lips parted, his tongue found hers and had she been able to breathe she would have moaned. One arm circled the small of her back fitting her flawlessly against him while the other dipped beneath her knees. She may well have been floating as he cradled her against the warmth of his chest. Even through the heavy woolen sweater she could feel the well-honed muscles and the memory of him glistening and naked in the lantern light scattered her senses.

  Suddenly she was on the bed, and he was on top of her, and their clothes were falling with alarming speed t
o the floor. She had no idea what she was doing but where she lacked in experience her body made up for in instinct. Without a conscious thought she responded to every kiss and caress. Somehow in the depths of her soul she knew this was where she was meant to be. And she was lost, doomed to be his for eternity. He tasted of whiskey and it burned upon her lips. His broad hand clasped her hip pulling her more snuggly beneath him.

  Her eyes flew open.

  What was that?

  Naive shock washed cold and sobering over her senses as proof of his arousal settled hard, frightening between her legs. Well, she knew what it was, Missy Carson had told her and Grace about it after school one day, but the real sensation was unlike anything she could have imagined. It was so large. So hard. How could it ever fit inside her? “Curtis, no,” she said urgently, struggling to extricate herself from their lover’s tangle. “We shouldn’t.”

  He stilled with a groan, rolling away from her after a long moment. She leaped with lightning speed away from the bed, keeping her back to him as she made a valiant effort to reassemble her appearance.

  “Cadence.”

  She turned, her boy’s garb securely in place, and the driving need for escape reached the boiling point. Curtis sat at the edge of the bed wearing naught but his unfastened trousers, his bronzed skin stretched taut over work honed muscle, and she knew the intense desire to trace the jagged silver scar spanning the length of his chest. “Goodbye, Curtis.”

  Cadence bolted, slamming the door behind her.

  * * *

  “Damn it!” Curtis cursed aloud.

  Raking a hand through his hair he stared blindly through the blackness beyond the porthole. He was in trouble. He wanted Cadence. Nay want was the wrong word. His entire being screamed for her. But what was he supposed to do about it? Thank his lucky stars that the object of his desire had miraculously appeared before him and make passionate love to her regardless of the overall consequences? Or continue to scorn her for the deception?

  Crossing to the desk he retrieved the crystal tumbler and downed another shot of the malt whiskey before dropping the bottle back into the desk drawer. No amount of spirits would numb his senses tonight. The only fix for him would be Cadence.

  So much for talking…

  And so much for his resolve not to let her tighten the noose, at this rate he would hang himself before the week was out. Though in light of what had so recently transpired the thought was anything but unpleasant. She molded perfectly against him, and cut through the cynicism so firmly rooted in his mind. When she kissed him with that brimming adoration shining in her eyes he could almost believe he deserved some good in his life again.

  But could he trust her?

  He wanted to believe she hadn’t been trying to snare him through dishonest means, and slowly he was coming to realize the truth of whatever had sent her fleeing Charleston may prove more devastating than his being seduced by a fortune hunter. What he wouldn’t give to know her innermost thoughts. His brother David was a U.S. Marshal with the ability to convince even the darkest criminals to spill the secrets of their soul. If he’d been born with Davy’s liquid silver tongue surely Cadence would confide in him.

  Covering his face with his palms, Curtis flopped back on his bed. What was he going to do about the beautiful Cadence haunting his every waking moment?

  * * *

  Feeling desperately alone Cadence could not muster the strength to face the desolation of her small cabin. A soft glow drifted along the passageway from the direction of the galley and she sought refuge with old Jack. The hulking man seemed to sense her emotional turmoil and prepared a steaming cup of tea laced with a snippet of brandy. “Don’t you be tellin’ nobody, neither. Only on Captain’s orders am I supposed to lace a man’s tea.” Jack pinned her with his all-seeing stare. “How be de captain tonight?”

  She buried her face in a gulp of tea. “How should I know?”

  “Hear tell he was giving you lessons in navigation.”

  “Oh. I’m not a very good student. The lessons didn’t last long.”

  “De captain is a good man but he is young.” Jack spoke as though he hadn’t heard her, the melodic lilt of his voice incredibly soothing. “Too young for all he’s seen.”

  Cadence ran a finger around the rim of her cup, interest piqued. “What do you mean?”

  Jack sat backward on a chair across from her, linking his burly arms across the back as though settling in to weave a long yarn. “War,” he began slowly, “is a terrible thing, and in war men do things they regret, things they blame demselves for. I have seen a lot of soldiers have bad dreams ‘bout those things. Captain Langston, well he has dreams like that.”

  “What kind of dreams?” she leaned forward in rapt attention, a vision of the branding silver scars upon Curtis’ chest flashing through her mind. “Nightmares?”

  “Oh, now,” Old Jack chuckled, “Captain Langston is not a man who would admit to havin’ those dreams. But old Jack,” he tapped his chest, “he knows. Just remember,” he pointed a serious finger toward her, “he is a good man, and he is de kind of man who would help anyone who needs it.”

  Cadence gulped. If she’d believed Curtis could look into her soul then he had nothing on Old Jack. Jack knew, could see straight through her to her innermost thoughts. Jack could read people, and he’d read her like an open book.

  A short while later Cadence drifted from the warm light of the galley into the shadows and slipped quietly into her own cabin, collapsing wearily onto the bed. Unwillingly, she found her thoughts moving to Curtis… she thought of his eyes, his touch, Jack’s words… It was difficult to muster the protective wall of anger she’d used to barricade herself from Curtis. Just before she slid into the blissful oblivion of sleep she remembered the warmth of his body stretched beside her own.

  A bitter metallic taste leeched onto her tongue. Blood. She must have bit her tongue in her haste to escape this dark alley. But… it wasn’t just her tongue… Blood was on her hands. And her dress. And her shoes. A small river trickled from the toe of her right boot back into the alley… Behind her a portly figure lay deathly still in the rain muddied alley.

  “Papa, no.”

  She tried to scream, but the breath caught in her throat. And then she was surrounded. “Murderer!”

  “Guilty! Guilty!” Try though she might Cadence could not run, she was frozen in place, staring in cold dread as a man garbed all in black strode from the middle of the swarming mob.

  “No!” she cried.

  Large hands seized her and the man in black held a noose…

  “Cadence.”

  She struggled frantically against the man who would drag her to the gallows It was him. It was the man in black!

  “Unhand me this instant!”

  “Cadence. It’s me, it’s Curtis!”

  The haze of sleep oozed away, revealing strong arms holding her in comfort instead of confinement. “Curtis?” She threw her arms about his neck unable to stem cruel sobs. “I’m so glad you’re here. I thought he had come back for me. The man in black…”

  * * *

  Guilt seized Curtis as the realization hit in full that this girl was troubled beyond any measure he’d fathomed. Cadence shook violently in his arms, her tears soaked his shirt, and the pain in her sobs wrenched his heartstrings. Strange, he hadn’t thought his heart knew how to hurt anymore.

  Lowering his lips to her hair he sought to soothe her fears. Curtis had known more than his share of nightmares. After several minutes her sobs quieted, her ragged breathing slowed, and she released the death grip from around his neck. “Cadence, please tell me what is wrong.” Though soft the words sounded more like an order than a request. “Who was coming back for you?”

  Shaking her head against his chest she tried to push away. “It was just a bad dream.”

  Refusing to release her completely he held her away from him just enough to look into the swirling pools of her eyes. “You need to tell me what is going on. Who is t
he man in black?”

  A cloud of tears washed over her eyes. “I can’t tell you.” Her voice broke on a sob. “You wouldn’t believe me.”

  Her words wrenched his conscience to the core. He’d given her no reason to trust him in the past, why should she start now? He knelt on her bunk holding her slight form within the protective circle of his arms and drew her to her knees until she faced him. “Please,” his voice was a whispered entreaty mere inches from her lips, “I promise you can trust me. Let me help you.” As he said the last his lips closed the distance between them, brushing lightly against her mouth.