CHAPTER FOURTEEN

 

Their mouths came together in a fervent clash of desire. Claire wound her arms around Tyler’s neck as he pulled her against him, ravishing her with hungry kisses. They broke apart, breathing hard, then came together again. Claire yearned for more, kissing him eagerly, letting him explore her mouth with his insistent tongue, besotted by his taste and touch.

A far-off cry caused her to break their kiss. “Claire? Sweetie pie, are you out there?”

Tyler pressed her to his chest as he caught his breath. “Don’t answer.”

Claire wanted so much to comply, but couldn’t. “I have to,” she said with regret. “Something might have happened.” Reluctantly, she moved away from him, away from the safety of his arms. “I’d better go back alone.”

Without looking at him, she turned the corner of the building and started across the yard. Her heart pounded and her body still trembled from the tremendous force of her desire. She heard Lulu call again, and knew she should be grateful for the interruption. Her passion had been so overwhelming that she doubted she could have controlled it. How would she have lived with herself? “I’m coming,” she called dispiritedly.

Lulu stood on the back porch, squinting into the darkness. Spotting Claire, a smile of relief spread across her face. “I was beginning to worry, sweetie pie. I’m sorry to bother you.” She opened the back door and they went into the big kitchen together. “There’s a lady here to see you about renting a room. I wasn’t sure if I should take it upon myself to give her one.”

By the tone of Lulu’s voice, Claire knew there was something questionable about the late caller. She also was surprised that a lady would be out at that hour looking for a place to stay so far from town. “I’ll take care of it. Thank you, Lulu.” Starting briskly up the hallway, her step slowed when she saw who was at the door.

The lady smiled arrogantly from beneath the wide brim of her hat. “Hello, Claire.”

Claire stared at her former schoolmate in surprise. Daphne Duprey was the daughter of the town council president. Her mother was a bastion of social functions. They lived in a large house two blocks off of Grand Avenue, but Daphne also had her own residence on Eleventh. Why would she need a room at Bellefleur?

Daphne removed the large, pearl hat pin from her hat, swept the hat from her head, and patted her thick, copper-brown ringlets. “I understand you’re taking in boarders.”

“Yes, I am,” Claire replied, perplexed.

“I’m having my house painted inside and I can’t abide the fumes. I’ll need a room for two weeks.” She paused. “You do have a room available, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Claire replied automatically. She heard Lulu come up behind her and turned. “Will you take Miss Duprey upstairs? Either room at the end of the hall will do.”

Lulu plucked Daphne’s traveling case from the floor. “Right this way, Miss Duprey. Why, that rhymes, doesn’t it? I’m a poet and you didn’t know it.” Her booming laughter echoed in the stairwell as she led Daphne up to her room.

Perplexed, Claire watched them go. She and Daphne had been adversaries for years. Coming into the school at the age of ten, Claire had been unaware of Daphne’s prestigious social position. But Daphne had taken swift and cruel measures to correct that and had never missed an opportunity to remind Claire of her humble beginnings. Why didn’t Daphne stay with her parents, or at the hotel in town? Oh, well -- she needed money and Daphne was a paying customer.

Hearing a slight creaking sound, Claire turned as Emily stepped out from behind the parlor door. “What is Daffy doing here?” her sister asked.

Claire sighed in exasperation. “Emily!”

Her sister puckered her mouth. “She smells so sweet my teeth hurt.”

“Daphne’s house is being painted. She needs a temporary place to stay.”

“Hah! That’s what she’s telling you. I think it’s because Tyler McCane is here. You know what everyone says about Daffy being a loose woman. She’s probably set her sights on him.”

Claire gasped. “Emily! Where did you ever hear that?”

“Sh-h-h! Here comes Tyler.” Emily felt her way along the wall to the stairs.

Claire looked around, but saw no sign of him. “Just a minute, young lady!”

“’Night, Tyler,” Emily called.

“Good night, Emily.” Tyler opened the front door and stepped inside. His gaze moved from Emily’s retreating form to Claire, and immediately she felt the blood rush to her face. He walked over to her, stopping inches away, gazing down at her as though he were ravenous. His hand came up to stroke the side of her face. “What was the emergency?”

Claire stared up at him, wanting to drown in his gaze. “I have a new boarder.”

He cupped her chin in one strong hand and ran his thumb over the contours of her lips. “I’m sorry Lulu interrupted us.”

Claire had to fight her conscience not to agree with him. Hearing Lulu’s heavy footsteps overhead, she stepped back. “I have to say goodnight to Emily.”

Tyler’s gaze darkened as he stared down at her. “Hurry back,” he said in a husky voice. He dropped his hand as the housekeeper started down the stairs. “’Evening, Lulu.”

“Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise? Hello there, cutie.” She stopped to pinch Tyler’s cheek as though he were a little boy. “I’ve been saving a surprise for you in the kitchen -- an apple tart with your name on it.”

“An apple tart.” The thought of it made Tyler’s mouth water. He knew exactly what it would taste like, too. “I haven’t had one since I was a boy.”

She gazed at him for a moment, a sadness in her eyes. “Then it’s time you had another.” Giving him a pat on his cheek, Lulu turned to Claire. “Miss Duprey is all settled in. I told her there were refreshments in the parlor, and I took Mrs. Parks some chamomile tea earlier to save you the bother.” She leaned close to whisper, “I figured you were busy.” Straightening, she started toward the kitchen. “Come on, cutie, before that old limey buzzard finds your dessert.”

With a wink at Claire, Tyler obediently started after Lulu.

Claire watched him go, his tall, handsome form stirring her blood, making her yearn for what she couldn’t have. With a resolute sigh, she headed upstairs to tuck her sister into bed. Daphne’s cloying fragrance lingered in the stairwell, reminding her of what Emily had said. Had Daphne come to Bellefleur because of Tyler? Claire caught herself growing jealous and frowned. She had no claims on Tyler.

Still, she couldn’t help hoping that Emily was wrong.

 

Seated at the kitchen table, Tyler bit into a bite of juicy apple tart. “Delicious,” he said through a mouthful of flaky crust.

“I knew you’d like it.” Lulu propped her chin on her hand and leaned toward him, scrutinizing him closely while he took another bite and chewed it. As though satisfied with what she saw, she sat back with a smile. “Tell me about yourself, Tyler McCane.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Tell me what you’re like.”

He swallowed the food. “I don’t know how to answer that.”

“Are you quick tempered? Easy going? Shy?”

Tyler’s eyes narrowed as he studied her. “Why do you want to know?”

“I’m curious. Just like you were curious about me at supper this evening.”

Tyler grinned, sensing he’d met his match. “You know one thing about me already. I’m curious. And I’m cautious.”

“I could tell.” She leaned back in the chair. “What are your dreams?”

“My dreams?”

Lulu smiled. “You have dreams, don’t you? Everyone has dreams.”

Tyler cut another bite of the tart with his fork. He’d thought having dessert with her would be a good opportunity to find out more about the woman. It seemed she had the same idea about him. “I suppose I do. What about you? Do you have dreams, Lulu?”

She laughed heartily. “Me?” For just an instant, her gaze shifted beyond him and an incredible sadness stole across her features. “I used to,” she said quietly. Her gaze focused once again on him, her jovial face back in place. “And you?”

“Sure, I have dreams. Big ones.”

Lulu grinned. “I kind of figured that. So what are these big dreams of yours?”

Tyler finished off the tart and sat back. “They’re still in the works.”

With a knowing smile, she studied him. “You’re awfully private, aren’t you?”

“I could say the same about you.”

With a chuckle, Lulu stood up and took Tyler’s empty plate to the sink. “Maybe we’re just two of a kind.”

Tyler watched her as she washed the plate. He had a sense of knowing her, yet he was sure he didn’t. And whatever Lulu was hiding, she was very good at it. But there was something so comforting about her that he decided Claire was right. She presented no danger to them.

“I think I’ll turn in now,” Lulu told him. “It’s been a long day. Sleep tight.”

And don’t let the bedbugs bite, Tyler thought to himself. When had he last heard that old saying? Surely not since he was a boy. “Thanks for the dessert,” he called out.

“It was my pleasure,” came her reply.

Tyler wandered down the hallway toward the parlor, hoping to find that Claire had returned. He found Jonas there instead, listening to one of Gunter’s boring stories. “Excuse me,” he said. “Jonas, I need to speak with you.”

He caught a movement from the corner of his eye, and turned around. A young woman uncurled a remarkably sensuous body from her chair and rose, gazing at him with a lazy smile.

Jonas walked over to him. “Ty, there’s someone I’d like to introduce to you. Tyler McCane, this is Daphne Duprey. Miss Duprey is Claire’s newest boarder.”

She held out a well-manicured hand. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. McCane."

Tyler took her hand, gazing at her with interest. Daphne’s hair was a burnished copper, her eyes were the color of golden topaz, and her tawny brown eyebrows arched up over them to give her the look of an exotic jungle cat. Even her dress matched her coloring. "I'm pleased to meet you, too, Miss Duprey."

“We were just listening to one of Mr. Jenssen’s fascinating stories,” Jonas said. “Why don’t you join us?”

“Yes, why don’t you, Mr. McCane?” Daphne echoed, flashing her golden cat eyes at him. “You can sit beside me on the sofa.”

Tyler smiled. Daphne was anything but subtle. “I’d love to, but another time, perhaps.”

Daphne’s mouth formed into a pretty pout. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I’m sure you will.” Tyler glanced at his assistant. “Jonas?”

“Coming. Good night, all.”

The two men retired to Tyler’s room, where he produced his decanter and two glasses. “So who is Daphne Duprey?”

“Luscious, isn’t she?” Jonas watched Tyler pour a measure of whiskey into each glass. “And definitely dangerous. The spoiled, unmarried daughter of one of the town’s best families. On the hunt for a mate, too, is my guess. Seems her house is being painted.” Jonas accepted a glass and took a sip. “Ahhh! Much better. If Jenssen had gone on any longer I would have begun to snore. Nice chap, but he does tend to rattle on.”

“What is Jenssen doing in Fortune?” Tyler asked, turning a desk chair to straddle it.

Jonas removed his shoes and lounged on the bed, his back against the headboard. “He represents some wealthy investors in Sweden who are eager to get in on some oil speculating. Apparently, there are rumors that this area is ripe for development. He was sent to find out if they were true. If so, he has the authority to buy into them.”

“Think there’s anything to the oil rumors?” Tyler asked.

“I haven’t the foggiest.” Jonas sipped his drink thoughtfully. “I wonder if those wealthy Swedes would be interested in investing in a fleet of riverboats.”

Tyler studied his assistant, pondering the idea. “It might be worth looking into.”

Jonas sat forward, swinging his legs off the bed. “Think about it, Ty. You could end your affiliation with Boothe. You wouldn’t need his money if you had theirs.”

Tyler frowned thoughtfully. “You may be on to something, Jonas. I’ve been thinking of cutting loose from Boothe anyway. I don’t trust him anymore, not after the lies he’s told me. I don’t know to what lengths Boothe would go to get Bellefleur from Claire and that worries me, too. If I could get the financial backing from someone else, I could develop this property without Boothe. Then I know she’d be safe because the land would be in my control.”

“I take it you’ve definitely decided to marry her.”

For a moment, Tyler swirled the whiskey in his glass, watching it color the sides. “It looks like I’m heading in that direction.”

“And how was your little rendezvous with Claire this evening?”

Tyler finished his drink and stood up. “Productive.”

“Think she’ll accept your proposal?”

“I’m sure of it. Would I take no for an answer?”

They both looked up as Gunter appeared in the open doorway. “I heard voices. I’m sorry if I’m interrupting.”

“No, you’re not interrupting,” Tyler said, jumping to his feet. “In fact, we were just talking about you. Come on in and have a seat. Would you like a glass of whiskey?”

“Yes, thank you. I would very much like that.”

Tyler poured him a glass and offered him the desk chair. “I understand you represent some businessmen who want to get in on some oil speculating.”

“That is my purpose here, yes.”

Jonas sat forward excitedly. “Do you think they’d be interested in investing in a big riverboat operation?”

“I could ask them. If it will make money, I’m sure they would want to hear about it.”

Tyler exchanged a satisfied grin with Jonas. He found a pencil and paper and began to jot down some numbers. If Jonas’s idea worked, Tyler could get rid of Boothe and make Jonas a full partner. It was time he was rewarded for his years of faithful assistance.

 

Reginald Boothe arrived at the bank early the next morning to find the sheriff waiting for him outside. “Is something wrong?” he asked, using his key to open the thick, wooden door.

“McCane came to see me yesterday.” Simons glanced around nervously, adding in a low voice, “He’s still asking questions about Greene’s death.”

“Damn it! I was afraid this might happen. Come inside.” Their shoes echoed on the polished oak floor as he led Simons upstairs to his office. “All right. Tell me what happened.”

“McCane asked about the marks on Greene’s neck again.” Simons took out his handkerchief and mopped his face. “He knows it was murder, Mr. Boothe.”

“Don’t panic, Sheriff. He doesn’t know who the murderer is. What did you tell him?”

“I said maybe Greene had gotten into a fight that night. Now he wants me to ask around to find out who he fought with.”

“Well, then I think you should do just that.”

Simons stared at him in disbelief. “But there isn’t going to be anyone.”

“Of course there is.”

“I don’t understand. You want me to blame Greene’s death on an innocent man?”

“Unless you can find a guilty one to blame,” Boothe remarked sarcastically.

Simons squeezed his red handkerchief in his big hands. “But I know most of the men in town. I can’t blame a murder on one of my friends.”

Boothe gritted his teeth. He despised the word can’t, and never tolerated it in his underlings. “I’m not suggesting you blame it on one of your friends. There’s a man boarding at the Cavanaugh’s place -- he’s a foreigner, and he was renting a room from me over the pawnshop at the time of the murder. He’s the perfect suspect.”

Simons stared at him unhappily. “Mr. Boothe, this isn’t right.”

“Look here,” Boothe said, losing patience, “if McCane is nosing around, sooner or later others will be, too, thanks to your bungling. And the townsfolk aren’t going to be too happy if there’s a murderer on the loose, are they? They’ll be clamoring for you to find the killer. So I feel very strongly, Sheriff, that Mr. Jenssen may have been in the vicinity the night Greene was murdered. Go down to the Dockside Tavern and find a couple of men who heard him come in afterward, bragging about the killing.”

Simons kept shaking his head. “It’s not right, Mr. Boothe. This young fella is gonna hang for something he didn’t do.”

Boothe lifted one eyebrow. “Better a stranger than you or me -- isn’t that right, Wilbur?”

With a sick feeling in his stomach, Simons turned and headed for the door. It seemed to him that they might be saving their necks, but they were certainly selling their souls to the devil.

 

That afternoon, Claire sat at the table with Lulu and made out a list of all the supplies they would need to finish stocking the pantry. The house was quiet and a gentle breeze wafted through the open windows, bringing with it the sounds of chirping birds. Emily had taken her book outside to read to Mrs. Parks on the porch. Tyler and Jonas were out with the LADY LUCK. Daphne and Gunter had both risen early and left after breakfast.

“Well, I think that should about do it,” Lulu announced. “Want me to go for the supplies?”

“No, thank you. I need to go to the post office anyway and check for mail.”

“Still waiting for that letter from your fiancé?” Lulu asked, her voice heavy with sympathy. “From what your sister tells me, you’d be better off setting your sights on Tyler.”

“Don’t believe everything Emily tells you,” Claire cautioned. “She never liked Lance.”

“How do you feel about him? Do you love him?”

“He’s my fiancé,” Claire answered automatically.

Lulu watched her closely. “But do you love him?”

Claire opened her mouth to reply, but closed it again. She didn’t love Lance -- she knew that now. But she was still committed to him.

Lulu leaned across the table towards her. “If you can’t answer that one, then answer this: how do you feel about Tyler?”

Claire felt herself blush. “I don’t think that matters.”

Lulu stared intently into Claire’s eyes, for some reason reminding her of Tyler with his probing gaze. Then she leaned back. “So why doesn’t Emily like Lance?”

“I wish I knew. She got to know him last summer when he came to meet my father. Lance was very pleasant to Emily, but she didn’t even try to get along with him.”

“That’s young `uns for you,” Lulu said, with a shake of her head.

“Do you have children?” Claire asked.

The question seemed to catch Lulu off-guard, but she quickly recovered. “Do I look like the type of person who’d want babies hanging all over her?” She gave a bark of laughter “Not me. I wasn’t cut out for that kind of life. You, now, sweetie pie, you look like the type.”

“I do hope to have a family some day,” Claire said with a sigh. “I hope to have a wedding some day.”

“Maybe that letter will come today,” Lulu told her, patting her hand.

Claire hitched up the buggy, and Emily decided to go along, chattering nonstop all the way.

Seeing her sister so content was a great relief, but Claire wasn’t sure what to do about school. Would she have enough money to pay Emily’s tuition along with all the other expenses? She wouldn’t be able to make plans until she sold the crops and knew what her budget would be. Yet, even if Emily had to stay home, Claire reminded herself, at least she had a home to stay in.

Half a block from the general store, Claire parked the buggy and helped Emily down. They proceeded along the wooden sidewalk and were just about to turn into the store when a man stepped out in front of them. Claire grabbed Emily’s arm and pulled her back as she stared up into the haughty countenance of Reginald Boothe.

For a moment, he, too, seemed taken aback, as he stared at Emily. But when Claire pulled her farther away from him, shielding her sister from his hideous gaze, he gave her a smirk and tipped his hat.

“Good afternoon, ladies.”

Claire could feel Emily trembling. Keeping a firm hold on her sister’s arm, Claire stepped around Boothe without replying. She watched through the window until Boothe had disappeared from sight, then she turned to her sister, who was pale and quiet. “Em, are you all right?”

“It was him, wasn’t it?” her sister whispered. “It was The Snake.”

“It’s all right, Em,” Claire assured her. “He’s gone.”

Emily shivered. “He smells evil, Cee Cee. He frightens me.”

“I know. He’s an intimidating man, but he can’t hurt us. Let’s pick out some candy to take back with us, all right?” Claire smoothed back her sister’s hair, waiting for her to answer, but Emily still seemed shaken by the encounter. “All right, Em?”

“Can I have some horehound candy?” she asked in a little voice.

“That sounds scrumptious.”

The clerk took their list and began to assemble their supplies while Claire and Emily went to the post office in the back to check for mail. Claire glanced at her sister uneasily. She’d never seen Emily so disturbed before. How telling it was that Emily could sense the man’s wickedness without even being able to see his face. And how sad that it was her own father.

Claire flipped through her mail, stopping in surprise when she saw a letter addressed to her in Lance’s handwriting.

Her heart skipped a beat. He had written at last.