CHAPTER 12
“This is all I have to go on. See what you can come up with. Oh, and I want this kept confidential, understand?”
“Yes, Mrs. Justice. Of course.”
Casey hung up the phone then swiveled her chair until she was gazing out the office windows. Outside, sunshine beamed down on Ruban Crossing, sweltering the inhabitants with a humidity that left everyone limp and weary. A flock of seagulls swooped past her vision, then disappeared around the corner of the building. On their way to the river—on their way to someplace cool.
She told herself what she’d done was for the best, and that no matter what her investigator found out about Ryder, she would love him just the same. But in the following weeks since they’d first made love, she sensed he was holding something back and it made her nervous. What if the revelation of his secrets brought an end to their relationship? She closed her eyes and said a small, quiet prayer. That just couldn’t happen. She couldn’t give him up. Not when he’d become the most important thing in her life.
The intercom buzzed. She turned back to her desk.
“Yes?”
“Libertine Delacroix on line two for you.”
Casey picked up the phone. “Libby, it’s been a long time!” “Yes, darlin’, way too long,” Libertine said. “I would have called about this sooner, but I thought that with Delaney goin’ ‘an dyin’ on us like he did, and then you gettin’ married and all, well—I just thought I’d give everythin’ time to settle.”
Casey grinned. Libertine Delacroix’s southern drawl was too thick to be believed, especially when Casey knew for certain that Libertine had been born and raised in Utah. The only thing south about her upbringing had been the window over her bed. However, after marrying Winston Delacroix and moving to their family home outside of Jackson, Mississippi, Libertine’s speech had become as rich as southern fried chicken.
“How is that darlin’ husband of yours, anyway?” Libertine asked.
An image of Ryder’s face above hers as he slid into her body flashed through Casey’s mind. She closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair, suddenly weak with longing.
“Why, he’s just fine. Thank you for asking,” Casey said.
“Good. I’m havin’ a little party Saturday night. I want you two to come. You’ll be the guests of honor, of course.”
Casey opened her eyes and sat up straight. Libertine had never had a little party in her life.
“That sounds wonderful,” she said. “But what do you mean by little?”
“Oh, no more than forty or fifty. It’ll be fun! Come in costume of course, and be prepared to be showered with belated wedding gifts as well.”
Casey rolled her eyes. Good grief. A sit-down, costume party, wedding shower dinner? Only Libertine would attempt to pull off such a stunt.
“Thank you, Libby, Ryder and I will be looking forward to it.”
Libertine giggled. “I do declare. I hear he’s just the handsomest thing. Leave it up to you to pull the coup of the decade. I wouldn’t have had the nerve, you know—goin’ down in the Delta like that and callin’ Delaney’s bluff. Oh well, see you Saturday night, sugar. Eightish—costumes—prepare to have fun!”
Casey winced as Libertine disconnected. Lord have mercy! Costumes. She hadn’t been able to get him in a chauffeur’s uniform. What was he going to say about this?
* * *
A dragonfly darted past Casey’s nose as she leaned on the fender of the Lincoln, watching while Ryder poured oil into the engine. Still in her work clothes, she was careful not to get grime on her suit. It was an original and one of her favorites.
Ryder didn’t seem to have the same set of worries. He was minus a shirt, minus his hat, and as of moments ago when she’d unloaded the news about Libertine’s call, minus his good humor.
“So, you’re going to put me on parade. I was wondering when this might happen.”
Casey winced. “That’s not fair. I’m not the one hosting this party, therefore I am not the one putting you anywhere. Libertine Delacroix is famous for her parties. She was also one of my mother’s closest friends—at least. that’s what Tilly says.”
Ryder tossed the empty oil can into the trash and wiped his hands. “Step back,” he ordered, and slammed the hood shut with a resounding thump.
Casey followed him into the garage. “Her food is always fabulous. She has the best chef in the county, you know.”
“Can’t be better than Tilly’s,” he said shortly.
“They’re giving us a belated wedding shower. I didn’t know how to say no.”
Ryder turned, and there was a light in his eyes she recognized all too well. “Oh, I don’t know about that. You pretty much said a big loud no to the terms of your grandfather’s will.”
She glared. “That’s different.”
He grinned.
“We’re to go in costume.”
The grin slid off of his face. “Like hell.”
Casey groaned. “Ryder, please. Don’t be difficult about this. I love you madly. You can’t blame me for wanting all of my acquaintances to meet you.”
“Yeah, right, and I’m supposed to remember these people the next time I see them when I’ve been introduced to them in costumes? Let’s see, what would I say? Oh, I know. You were the pirate, right? And you—weren’t you that Playboy Bunny?”
She grinned. “I can heartily assure you that there will not be a single Playboy Bunny present.”
He yanked his shirt from a hook and pulled it on with a jerk. “Well hell, you know that refusing you is impossible. However…just remember you’re going to owe me, big time.”
Casey threw her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the lips. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
The corner of his mouth tilted as he nuzzled the spot just below her right ear. “You’re very welcome.”
Before their play went beyond a point of no return, Tilly stepped out the back door. “Casey, honey, telephone call for you.”
Casey waved to let Tilly know that she’d heard, then turned back to Ryder. “So, what kind of costume do you want to wear?”
He cursed beneath his breath.
“Ryder, you promised.”
“You don’t worry about what I’ll wear,” he muttered. “I said I’d go, so I’ll dress the part.”
It wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but knowing Ryder, it was the best she was going to get.
“Want to go out to dinner?” she asked.
“Want to go to Smoky Joe’s?”
Casey groaned. She knew when she’d been had. “It’s not alligator night.”
He grinned. “I don’t care. I have a hankering to see someone else’s tail get slapped in the mud besides mine.”
She made a face and then ran for the phone.
“Don’t run in those damned heels,” he yelled, but it was too late. She’d already done it. He frowned. One of these days she was going to break her leg pulling a stunt like that.
* * *
Casey leaned over the deck and waved at Miles and Erica as they came out of the main house. Erica’s white antebellum dress floated just above the ground, billowing out around her and swaying with every step that she took. Miles looked dashing in black and quite reminiscent of a riverboat gambler. Eudora was sick with a cold and had declined the invitation with no small amount of regret. But she couldn’t show up at a party with a box of tissues beneath her arm, no matter what costume she might wear. It just wasn’t done.
“Hurry up!” Miles shouted, pointing toward a long white limousine pulling up in the driveway. “The limo’s here.”
“I’ll be right down!” she called, and ran back into the apartment, closing and locking the patio door behind her.
Without Ryder, the apartment seemed too large and empty. He’d been gone for more than two hours, and although he called over an hour ago, claiming his costume had been undergoing alterations, he still wasn’t back.
“Oh, Ryder, if you let me down at this late date, I’ll never forgive you,” she muttered, as she made a last-minute check through the apartment, making sure she had everything she’d intended to take.
She paused before the mirror then turned, glancing over her shoulder, making sure her own costume was in place, then smiling in satisfaction at the fluffy, white bunny tail right in the middle of her backside. She turned, ignoring the plunge of fabric barely covering her breasts and readjusted her long white ears. The black fishnet stockings made her legs look sexy, and her three-inch heels completed the picture. Yes, she made a darn good Playboy Bunny, even if she did think so herself.
As she started down the stairs to the waiting limo, she made a bet with herself. By the time I get to the bottom of the stairs, Ryder will be driving up. When her foot hit the last one she looked up. The Lincoln was nowhere in sight.
“Damn and double damn,” she mumbled, and started across the courtyard. Okay, by the time I get to the limo, he’ll be home.
When she drew even with the limousine’s back bumper, she lifted her head to gaze down the long empty driveway. Her expression fell. She couldn’t believe it. He’d actually let her down. What was she going to say to Libertine when they arrived?
The driver hurried around the car to where she was standing, then opened the door.
“Watch your ears—and your tail, darlin’. Wouldn’t want either one of them to fall off before you got the chance to shine.”
She looked up, then gasped. “Ryder!”
“Your ride awaits. Now don’t tell me you’re about to change your mind after I went to all this trouble.”
She blinked. It was him. Resplendent in a dark, double-breasted chauffeur’s uniform with more gold braid and buttons than an admiral might wear.
He tipped his cap and held the door ajar. “Ma’am?”
She threw her arms around his neck. “You are going to steal the show.”
He held her close, patting at the fluff of her tail. “I’d a whole lot rather steal me a rabbit.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Miles grumbled from inside the car. “Let’s get a move on or we’re going to be late.”
Casey quickly took her seat, quite out of place beside a riverboat gambler and an old-fashioned southern belle.
Erica glared. Leave it up to Casey. “I swear, little sister, whatever you do tonight, don’t bend over. You’ll positively spill out of that disreputable thing you are wearing.”
Miles grinned, for once taking Casey’s side instead of his twin’s. “Oh, I don’t know about that, Erica. Even if she is our sister, she looks rather stunning.”
Erica sniffed. “You would say that. After all, you’re just a man.”
The glass door slid open behind Casey’s head. Ryder’s voice drifted out into the uneasy silence. “Buckle up.”
“Have mercy,” Erica shrieked, and grabbed for a seat belt as the limo took off, leaving a black streak of rubber to show where it had been.
Miles needed no warning. He was already strapped and waiting for takeoff when the limo accelerated. He’d ridden with this man before.
Casey laughed aloud, then blew Ryder a kiss as he turned onto the highway. Tonight was just about perfect.
* * *
Of the guests who’d come in full costume to Libertine’s party, nine were in Rebel gray. Of those nine, only Lash Marlow wore the uniform of a southern general, and he wore it with pride. His great-great-grandfather Marlow had been a general during the War of Northern Aggression. It seemed fitting that he carry out the tradition, if only for the night.
But his pride in the past died a humiliating death when the Ruban party arrived. His gaze went past Miles and Erica Dunn. They were Rubans by marriage only. In the grand scheme of things, and blood being thicker than water, it was Casey who counted. But when he saw her and then the man at her side, it was all he could do to stay quiet. How dare she flaunt what she’d done to him?
Libertine Delacroix, who for tonight had dressed as Lady Liberty, was speechless for all of twenty seconds when she saw them, and then broke into peals of laughter.
“Casey, darlin’, I should have known you’d outshine us all. And just look at this man on your arm! Introduce me this instant, you hear?”
Casey grinned. “Libby, this is my husband, Ryder Justice. Ryder, my very dear friend, Libertine Delacroix.”
Libertine held out her hand. Ryder took it, then lifted it to his lips. “I’m real partial to liberated women, Mrs. Delacroix. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Libertine giggled at his play of words on her costume and name. “The pleasure is all mine, I’m sure,” she drawled, then slipped her hand beneath his elbow. “Come along, you two. There’s a ton of people who are just dyin’ to meet you.”
“I’ll just bet,” he muttered beneath his breath.
Casey pinched his arm. He looked down and winked at her.
“You promised to be nice,” she warned.
“No, I didn’t. I just promised to come.”
She laughed at the sparkle in his eyes. Dear Lord, but she loved this man, so much that sometimes it scared her. She threaded her fingers through his, content for tonight to follow his lead.
* * *
An oblong silver tray glittered beneath the lights of the chandelier in the great hall as the wedding gifts were unwrapped before the guests. Crystal sparkled, fine china gleamed. Lash stood among the crowd, oohing and aahing along with them as each new piece was put up on display, and all the while, the idea he’d been fostering took deeper root in his mind.
Damn her—and him. He stared at the tall man in the chauffeur’s uniform and resented him for not being ashamed. How can he hold his head high? By wearing that ridiculous costume, he’d all but announced to the world that he was nothing but hired help. Yet when Ryder casually tucked a wayward curl on Casey’s forehead back beneath the rabbit ears she was wearing, Lash’s stomach rolled. The look she gave him made gorge rise in his throat. Damn her to hell. She never looked at me like that. And that hurt, more than he was able to admit.
Out on the patio behind him, the band Libertine had hired was setting up to play. The thought of making small talk and pretending for another two or three hours seemed impossible to Lash, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave.
Unaware of Lash’s growing antagonism, Casey undid the bow on the very last gift and then lifted the box lid, pulling out a crystal-and-silver ice bucket and tongs.
“It won’t hold a six-pack, but it sure is pretty,” Ryder drawled.
Casey grinned at him as everyone laughed. By now, the guests had figured out that Casey Ruban’s husband had been one jump ahead of them all night. Instead of trying to be something he wasn’t, he dared them to dislike who he was. They had tried and failed miserably. Ryder Justice was too intriguing to dislike and too handsome to ignore.
“This has been wonderful,” Casey said. “Ryder and I thank you for your kindness and generosity.”
Ryder took Casey by the hand and stood. “All kidding aside, it’s been a pleasure meeting my wife’s friends. Maybe one day we can return the favor.”
Casey was surprised at his initiative, and more than a little bit pleased. He kept coming through for her, again and again.
Libertine waved her hand above the crowd. “This way, this way, my dears. We’ve dined. We’ve showered. The evening can’t end without dancing.”
The crowd followed her through open French doors and out onto a massive flagstone patio. People broke off into couples and soon the impromptu dance floor was crowded.
Inside, Casey wound her arms around Ryder’s neck and leaned her head on his shoulder.
“What’s the matter, Hoppy, are you tired?”
She tried not to laugh, but his jest was entirely too charming to ignore.
“Yes, but deliciously so.” His hands were stroking at the small of her back, right where it ached the most. She wondered how he knew.
“Think you might have one good dance in you? I just realized I’ve never danced with my wife.”
“If you don’t mind dancing with a barefoot bunny, I’d be delighted.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “It can happen. I like bare.”
She ran a finger down the middle of his chest, stopping just above the spot where his belly button would be. “Yes, I know.”
He waited. She kicked off her shoes. He took her in his arms just as the next song began. Drums hammered out a rollicking beat and a guitarist joined in, running his fingers up and down the frets as the strings vibrated beneath his touch.
“Oh darn,” Casey said. “It’s too fast.”
Ryder took her hand and placed it in the center of his chest. “You’re listening to the wrong rhythm,” he said softly. “Feel the one in here. It’s the one to follow.”
He glanced down at her feet. “I’d sure hate to mash one of those poor little toes. Better hitch a ride on my boots, honey, then all you’ll have to worry about is hanging on.”
A lump came to Casey’s throat as she stepped up on his toes. Sure enough, when Ryder started to move, she could almost hear the slow, steady beat of a loving man’s heart. The ache in her feet disappeared. She laid her cheek on his shoulder and followed his lead as he circled them slowly up and down the marbled floors of Libertine Delacroix’s great hall.
Out on the patio, Lash Marlow stood in the shadows, staring back into the house. The intimacy of the lady bunny standing on the chauffeur’s feet was not lost on him, nor were the tender kisses he saw Ryder giving his wife.
Lash’s hand slid to the long sword hanging from the belt around his waist. It would be all too easy to draw it now while everyone was otherwise occupied and slash those stupid smiles off of both their faces, but that wouldn’t get him what he deserved. No, he had other plans for Casey, and it wouldn’t be long before he set them in motion.
* * *
Bunny ears hung on one corner of the bedpost, a chauffeur’s cap on the other. Clothing was strewn across the floor and the chairs. In the bed, Ryder and Casey slept as bare as the day they’d been born, entwined within each other’s arms.
Outside, a wind began to blow. A cool front was moving in. Something clattered against the patio door leading onto the deck. Ryder shifted in his sleep and rolled onto his back as he fell deeper and deeper into the dream playing out in his head.
Lightning flashed and the plane bucked. Seconds afterward, smoke began filling the cabin. There was a whine to the engines as the plane began to lose altitude. Ryder pulled back on the stick, fighting the pull of gravity with all of his strength.
“God help us both,” Micah said.
Ryder jerked, his head tossing on the pillow from side to side. He hadn’t remembered hearing his father’s voice—until now.
Lightning flashed again, illuminating the horizon and the tops of a stand of trees, but Ryder was hardly aware. It was all he could do to see the instrument panel through the thick veil of smoke. Muscles in his arms began to jerk from the stress of trying to control the plane’s rapid descent, and still he would not let go. Yet no matter how hard he fought, it would not respond.
“I love you, boy.”
Tears seeped from beneath Ryder’s lashes and out onto the surface of his cheeks.
I love you, too, Dad.
One of the windows in the cockpit shattered. Smoke dissipated at an alarming rate. Visibility cleared, and then Ryder wished it had not. There was at least half a second’s worth of time to see that they were going to die.
He sat up with a jerk, gasping for air, unaware that his cheeks were wet with tears.
“Oh, God.”
He rolled out of the bed and reached for his jeans. He had to get out. He had to move. He couldn’t breathe.
Casey felt the bed give. Suddenly she was no longer lying on Ryder’s chest. She blinked, then opened her eyes. The sight of him jerking on pants and stomping out of the room was enough to yank her rudely awake. She didn’t have to turn on a light to know something was dreadfully wrong. It was there in the shadowy movements of his body as he fled from the room. Seconds later, the front door banged, and Casey knew he was gone.
She crawled out of bed on all fours, searching for something to wear as she hurried through the house. One of his T-shirts was hanging on the doorknob. She grabbed it, pulling it over her head as she ran. It hung to a point just above her knees, but when she opened the front door, the fierce wind quickly plastered it to her body, leaving her feeling naked all over again.
She stood at the top of the landing, searching the grounds for a sign of where Ryder had gone. And then she saw him moving toward the trees at the back of the estate, and she bolted down the stairs after him.
* * *
Ryder moved without thought, trying to escape the dream clinging fast to his mind. It was just like before. No matter how fast he ran, he couldn’t escape the truth. Micah had died, but he hadn’t.
Wind whistled through the trees just ahead. It was an eerie wail, not unlike that of a woman’s shriek. Without looking to the sky, he knew a storm was brewing. He stopped, then lifted his arms out on either side of his body like a bird in flight, and faced the force of nature for what it was. Unpredictable.
Unstoppable. Uncontrollable.
The first drops of rain were beginning to fall when Casey caught him. She didn’t stop to ask him why. She didn’t care that she was getting wet. She just threw herself into his arms, becoming his anchor against the storm.
Ryder groaned and wrapped his arms around her, and although the wind still blew and the rain still fell, he knew a sudden sense of peace. He dug his hands through the windwhipped tangle of her hair and shuddered as she bent to his will.
Rain was falling harder now and he couldn’t find the words to explain the horror and guilt that he lived with every day.
Casey clutched at him in desperation. His gaze became fixed upon her face, and she could see his eyes. They were as wild and as stormy as the night. His fingers coiled in her hair. His body was trembling against hers. A chill began to seep into her bones, and she knew she had to get them out of the weather. The gardener’s shed was nearby. She pushed out of his arms, then grabbed him by the hand and started running. To her everlasting relief, he followed.
When she slammed the door shut behind them, the sound of the rain upon the metal roof was almost deafening, but at least they were no longer standing in the midst of it all.
“Lord have mercy,” she said, and shivered as she lifted her hair from her neck and twisted it. Water ran out, then down her shoulder and onto her feet. She reached for the light switch.
It didn’t work. It figured. In Ruban Crossing, if the wind blew or rain fell, inevitably, the power went out.
She turned, and knew Ryder was right before her, although she could barely see his face.
“Ryder?”
His hand cupped her shoulder, then her cheek. He stepped closer until their foreheads were touching and she could hear the ragged sounds of his breath. She lifted a hand to his face, and even though they’d just come out of a storm, she had the strangest sensation that what she felt were tears, not rain.
“Sweetheart?”
His lips found hers, stifling whatever else she might have said. They were cool and wet and softened upon impact, molding themselves to her mouth with tender persistence.
Casey sighed and when his arms encircled her, she leaned into his embrace. His hands were moving up and down her arms, across her shoulders, upon her hips. When he discovered she wore nothing beneath his shirt but herself, she felt him pause. His voice came out of the silence, little more than a whisper, but what he said made her blush in the dark.
Her hesitation was brief. There was nothing he could ask that would shame her. There was nothing she wouldn’t do with or for this man who called her wife. She pulled the wet T-shirt over her head and dropped it on the floor. Her hands moved to his waist, then beneath the wet denim covering the straining thrust of his manhood.
When she took him in her hands, he groaned. When she knelt, she heard him take a deep breath. And she knew for the rest of her life, the sound of rain on a roof would bring back the memory of what she had done in the dark to bring Ryder Justice to his knees.
* * *
Joshua came into the kitchen. “Found this in the gardener’s shed this morning.”
Casey looked up from the kitchen table. Pink tinged her cheeks, but her expression remained calm.
Ryder glanced at Casey, then looked away. Even after the onslaught of emotions they’d shared last night, he’d been unable to explain what had sent him into the storm.
“It looks like one of my T-shirts,” Ryder said. “I know I left one in the garage, but I didn’t leave one in the shed.”
Casey sighed. He hadn’t lied. Not really. She was the one who left the shirt. Not him.
Joshua shrugged. “I think it will clean up all right. It’s not torn, just wet and muddy.”
“Thanks,” Ryder said, and returned to the paper he’d been reading.
Tilly stared at the couple sitting side by side at her kitchen table. Everything seemed the same—except her instincts told her it wasn’t.
“Is there something you’d be wanting to talk about?” she asked.
Ryder and Casey looked up, first at her, then at each other, before shaking their heads. Casey smiled. “No, ma’am.”
Tilly glared. “I didn’t get to be fifty-nine years old by being a fool.” She banged a pot on the stove to accentuate her claim. “I know when something’s not right. Did you two have a fight? ’Cause if you did, I’m telling you now, the best way to end it is talk it all out.” She pointed a spoon at Joshua. “Tell them Josh! Tell them I know what I’m talking about.”
Joshua rolled his eyes, thankful he was on the far side of the room from that spoon. “My Tilly knows what she’s talking about. She always does. If you don’t believe me, then ask her.”
Ryder grinned behind his paper as Tilly lit into Joshua for making jest of her claims. It was just as well. It changed the subject, which was fine with him.
He glanced at Casey. Worry was there on her face. He’d have to be a fool not to see it. But he’d give her credit. She hadn’t asked a single question. She’d just been there, giving herself to soothe his pain.
He glanced at her face—at her mouth—at her hands. Dear Lord, but she had soothed much more than his pain. Impulsively, he leaned over, slid his hand at the back of her head and pulled her forward. Their mouths met. More than slightly surprised, she parted her lips. His were hard and unyielding, demanding that she remember what they were, what they shared.
She gave herself up to the kiss and felt more pain than passion behind the embrace. One day. One day he would talk. Until then, she would have to be satisfied with waiting for his answers—or with what she learned on her own. The private investigator she’d hired was due back on Monday with a final report. Surely she would have some sort of answer by then. Even if it didn’t come from Ryder, she had a right to know.