The Lady Who Drew Me In Read online

  “They’re not exactly singing your praises in Troy,” she reminded him.

  He winced at the barb, pursing his lips.

  She lowered her gaze, regretting her words, but her vexation grew. Jackson had no one to blame but himself. If not for his disreputable past, people would be more apt to trust his judgment in this matter. Everyone made mistakes, but had he learned nothing from his?

  “True enough. But unlike the country, where distractions are fewer, everyone in the city is not privy to the color of my socks.”

  “Among other things,” she uttered, unable to stop herself.

  He eyed her warily. “Among other things, yes.”

  “Hence your fondness for St. Louis?” she asked.

  “The larger the city, the better.” His answer conveyed it all. His wanderlust carried on his voice, shone in his eyes. His refusal to be caged by the rules and censure of society—even marriage—spurred his quest for escape. For something better. And so, he would do as he always had. He’d spread his wings and fly toward the open skies a new city offered.

  His desire to leave offended her personally. How could it not? After a lifetime of loneliness, she’d grown used to his company. His looming departure punched a hole in her heart, but she plugged it with anger. Anger at herself for wishing he could be more. Anger at him for not caring enough about himself, or anyone else, to try.

  “Come on, there’s still one race to go.” Jackson pulled her along. She shuffled to keep up as they made their way back to the picnic area. After Daisy was settled on the bench, Jackson said, “I’m going for a beer. Would you like one?”

  She’d never been offered a beer. Lawry had forbid her from drinking it, and she felt somewhat devilish for her rebellious desire to enjoy one in public. “I would.”

  Jackson strode toward the vendor tables on the far side of the track. He moved with a virile grace and confidence Daisy couldn’t help admiring. Maneuvering through the crowd, he hastened his steps in his goal to make it back for the next race and his need for a drink.

  “Pardon me, Mrs. Gallway.”

  Daisy turned to find Jacob Squires approaching from a copse of trees behind her. She stiffened in surprise. The woolly man’s shy smile quickly put her at ease.

  “Sorry for the intrusion, but I wanted to talk to your husband.” He shifted from boot to mud-stained boot. “About the man I saw by the Rhodes’s place the day before the fire.”

  Daisy straightened to attention. “Yes. Yes, of course. My husband went for refreshments, but he’ll be back soon. Please have a seat.”

  Jacob scanned his surroundings. Behind his thick spectacles, his nervous glances told her he didn’t want to be seen. He shook his head. “I don’t want Curtis and the other boys to know about this.” He shrugged. “I’m new in town, and I don’t want any trouble. Curtis wouldn’t like it if he knew I was helping Mr. Gallway.”

  “I understand.” Trying her best to restrain her eagerness for answers, she spoke calmly. The man’s reluctance might overpower his decision to help if she pressed too hard. “You had a good look at this man?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I did.”

  Her heart pounded.

  “But he didn’t much resemble the man in your sketch.”

  She exhaled her disappointment. “My husband will still want to speak with you. Perhaps we can pay you a visit—”

  “No.” He lowered his voice, glancing around. “Someone might see you.”

  She nodded. “Can you come to our home in Misty Lake?” When he didn’t answer right away, she said, “This information might be important. I could draw a sketch of the man you describe.”

  “All right,” he agreed. “I have a lot of work to do at my farm, but maybe tomorrow. Or the day after?”

  “That would be wonderful, Mr. Squires. We’re on Lakeshore Lane. Thank you so much for coming forward.”

  Glancing around to be sure no one was watching, he tipped his weathered hat, then slipped into the trees like a thief in the night.

  Daisy took a deep breath. Finally, someone willing to help. Even if the man Jacob described was no match to the sketch, the lead was still worth pursuing.

  She couldn’t wait to tell Jackson, and she filled him in on the development the moment he returned.

  “And he saw this man the day before the fire?” he asked.

  Jackson’s enthusiasm was contagious. “Yes,” she replied with an encouraging nod.

  “But no resemblance to the man in the sketch?”

  “That’s what he said. But, Jackson, I can help him remember other details, like I did with Andy and Corine. And then we’ll be sure.”

  Jackson considered this for a moment, then raised his mug of beer. “This day just got even better.”

  She took a sip of the frothy beer he’d delivered. “Yes, indeed.”

  Laughing, he reached to her lip, scooped off the foam, and then sucked it from his finger. She stared at his perfect mouth, a slow heat flushing through her veins. Vivid memories of those lips on hers hitched her breath, and she shifted in her seat to quell her arousal.

  “There’s still one race to go,” he reminded her. “I’ll bet you that my pick wins.

  “What shall we wager?” she asked, intrigued by the bet.

  His thoughtful expression melted, his mouth twitching with humor. “If my horse wins, you must take a ride with me. On horseback.”

  She grimaced at the challenge. “You’re a wicked man.”

  He winked, and she couldn’t resist being charmed. He excited her beyond reason, and in so many ways. “Since I’ve no intention of losing this wager, I accept.” She smiled as the perfect reprisal sprung to her mind. “But if my horse wins, you must take a ride with me.” She straightened her spine and lifted her chin. “On a boat.”

  His brows shot up in surprise as he stared, aghast and impressed by her dare. “Touché, Mrs. Gallway.” Amusement danced in his eyes. “Touché.”

  Chapter 15

  The heat of the day lingered after sunset, which made for a stuffy carriage ride home. Jackson was looking forward to a cool drink on the patio when they arrived back at the house just after nine.

  “I’ll go change my clothes for the boat ride,” Daisy said. “I suggest you do the same.”

  He stopped in his tracks. She couldn’t be serious. “Boat ride? Now?”

  “Yes, now.” She planted her hands on her hips. “You’re not trying to wiggle out of paying your debt, are you?”

  “It’s almost dark out there.”

  “There’s a full moon tonight,” she said, moving closer. “There will be plenty of light.” She nudged him toward the staircase.

  He hung his head, exaggerating his displeasure, though not by much. The last thing he felt up to was a boat ride, but he owed Daisy, and for more than winning their bet.

  Today he realized how severely she was suffering the effects of being his wife. Because of him, she’d been forced to postpone her plans for the children’s day home. People she’d known for years were treating her cruelly or snubbing her altogether. Her involvement in aiding with the Morgan case would only make matters worse. And to think she’d married him to save her reputation….

  Jackson turned his focus to the upcoming boat ride as he changed into a pair of light trousers and a linen shirt. A few minutes later, Daisy joined him at the bottom of the stairs, a blanket and picnic basket in hand.

  “In case the exertion of rowing depletes your stamina,” she said.

  The suggestive gleam in her eyes sparked an awareness. She had more in mind than a moonlit cruise. Suddenly, he was eager to sail off in the cursed boat and proceed with her plan.

  He took the items from her, then followed her outside. Daisy’s prediction about the full moon was correct, and the path to the lake was well lit. When they reached the shore, Daisy climbed into the boat unassisted, so Jackson unmoored the thing from the dock. To his dismay, the small craft seemed even smaller once h
e was seated on the bench inside. He took hold of the wooden oars, and after using one to shove off from the dock, he began to row.

  The oars squeaked softly in their hinges in a peaceful rhythm as the boat drifted with ease on each stroke through the calm water. Stars twinkled in the sky. The humidity in the air seemed less prevalent on the water, but the breeze was gentle and warm.

  Jackson’s nerves tightened as their distance from shore increased. He took a deep breath, reassuring himself that the craft was solid and free of leaks that could sink them. The fear he might be forced to test his feeble swimming ability lessened as he relaxed in the unexpected beauty of his surroundings.

  Moonlight forged a path that rippled across the lake to the small island up ahead. Fireflies blinked above croaking frogs on the darkened shore. The hoot of an owl echoed from the trees. Nature awoke like a napping child, animated and full of life.

  All at once, Jackson felt so alive. Attuned and restless. Aroused. Daisy leaned back, her arms braced on each side of the boat as the breeze blew through her hair. Humidity had transformed her wavy tresses into wild curls that cascaded to her shoulders. Her wholesome beauty took his breath away. She’d donned a simple white garden robe, but it was the most fetching thing she’d ever worn. Or perhaps it was the lack of undergarments beneath that earned this distinction.

  If he were an artist, he’d paint her like this. The miniature depiction of her as a girl had nothing on the picture he saw now. And then he noticed it. The one thing he’d seen in her eyes in the miniature, but hadn’t seen until now.

  Happiness.

  He swallowed hard. She was happy. Sitting before him, on a bench in a boat, in the middle of Lake Nowhere, she beamed. And he was struck with the need to pretend he was the reason why. Not money or independence, or the prospect of a child. Just him.

  “Keep rowing toward the island,” Daisy said. “I’m confident you can manage from here.”

  “Planning on going somewhere?” he asked with a grin.

  She reached to the ties of her robe, and all humor escaped him. She held his stare as she slowly untied each tiny bow. With her shrug, the robe fell away. She sat across from him, stark naked. His breath caught in his lungs. She was flawless. Like a vision from a dream, light and shadow cast reflections from the water on her golden hair, her perfect breasts.

  He sat mesmerized, the oars dead weight in his grip. She leaned toward him, sliding her hands from his trembling knees to his thighs. Parting her lips, she raised them to his. He inhaled the sweet scent of her, the warmth of her breath. The heat in his blood ignited like fire as she slipped her tongue through his lips with a sultriness that caught him off guard.

  Opening her eyes, she eased her mouth from his, a small smile curving her lips. The next moment she was on her bare feet, the boat rocking precariously beneath her jarring movements.

  “Daisy, what are you—”

  She flashed him a smile, then dove overboard. The sound of a splash echoed as she disappeared beneath the water. He clutched the oars tightly, drops of water dripping from his nose. He craned his neck for the sight of her. His pulse pounded.

  She emerged a few feet away, swimming in the moonlight. He sighed in relief. Tension eased from his neck and shoulders as he began to row after her. She sailed through the water like a nymph in the night. Her feet kicked behind her, the strong strokes of her arms propelling her toward the nearby island.

  The sound of her laughter aroused him further. Flipping to her back, she watched him with a smile as she swam backward. He kept rowing, spurred by the fleeting glimpse of her breasts in the moonlight.

  Daisy reached the island first. She waded from the water, her shimmering body beckoning to him with the sway of her hips, her perfectly rounded bottom. Turning toward him, she stood shameless in the moonlight, arching her back as she wrung water from her hair.

  He rowed faster.

  “Don’t forget the blanket,” she called as the boat bottomed out on the sandy beach.

  He hopped from the boat, then dragged it ashore. Opening the blanket, he said, “And you call me reckless.” He draped the blanket around her shoulders, capturing her inside as he pulled her against him. Her wet breasts felt cool against his chest. She smelled like summer mist, so fresh, so clean.

  “I’ve acquired a sudden fondness for recklessness.”

  “So I’ve noticed,” he said.

  “Perhaps you’re rubbing off on me.”

  She pressed closer, and he could take no more. He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her hard. With a moan, she threw her arms around his neck, opening her mouth to his tongue with a ferocity of her own.

  The blanket fell to the ground. They followed suit, sparing barely a moment to spread the blanket on the sand before he pushed her to her back and covered her body with his. She groped at his clothing between frantic kisses that spurred him out of control.

  Her damp skin greeted his naked body as she wrapped her legs around his waist. The primitive setting had freed his savage desire for her, his insatiable lust, and he’d never wanted anyone more. He thrust inside her.

  His thoughts spiraled amid the pleasure of his body. The divine feeling of being inside her was consuming. She clutched at him. The way she wanted him, needed him, jarred a part of him that had never been touched. A base protectiveness for someone besides himself. His relevance in the world.

  He buried his face in her fragrant hair, drinking her in. He moved faster, and she followed as he got closer and closer. She cried out his name, luring him, urging him, until he was there.

  Afterward, they dressed together in the moonlight, then returned to their flannel bed on the shore. Daisy emptied the contents of the wicker basket to the blanket: a bottle of wine, a wedge of cheese, a hunk of bread, and some grapes. He watched as she arranged the items on a napkin, then uncorked the wine.

  She’d thought of everything to ensure the perfect moonlit picnic. The trip to the race track had been arranged for him, and now this. She overwhelmed him. She was generous and compassionate and alluring as hell. A treasure he’d discovered tucked away in the boondocks. Did no else realize how special she was?

  He brushed off his maddening infatuation and replaced it with reason. He’d never spent so much time with one woman—never bothered to get to know his prior conquests. His affection for Daisy was a natural result of living together under one roof. Yes, he was sure that must be it. Had he not come to know Daisy so well, he’d not be mooning over her like a schoolboy.

  And it would be easier to let her go.

  He exhaled against the clench in his chest. “Daisy, I’ve been thinking.”

  “Uh-huh,” she uttered as she handed him the wine.

  He took a deep swallow. The fine vintage helped loosen the tight knot in his gut. “Perhaps it would be better if I stayed in Troy for a while.”

  She set down the bread she’d been tearing, then looked up to face him. “Better for whom?”

  Frowning at the accusatory look in her eyes, he said, “Believe it or not, I am thinking of you.”

  “So am I,” she snapped. “We made a deal. You can’t very well get me with child from your bed in Troy.”

  And there it was. The reason he was here with her. The reason she’d made love to him under the stars. The reason she was standing by him, when no one else would. Daisy wanted a child and was doing what was necessary to get one.

  “No, I can’t,” he said. “But until things settle down, I think we should consider putting some distance between us. Misty Lake is your home. When I’m in St. Louis, you’ll still be here. Why subject yourself to—”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Well, damn it, I do!”

  She stared at him, her blue eyes glistening with tears. “Please, Jax.”

  With an exasperated sigh, he reclined in resignation on the blanket, his mind whirling. She lounged next to him, engaged in thoughts of her own. They stared up at the stars in tense silenc
e.

  “Buchanan was right about me, Daisy.”

  “What do you mean?” Rolling to her side, she propped up on her elbow, regarding him with her utmost attention.

  “I’ve done much I’m not proud of. But worse than that, I never cared who was affected.”

  She showed no sign of surprise, merely stared down at the blanket between them. “What did Buchanan mean when he mentioned earning a reference?”

  “A reference from Markelson for a job in St. Louis. That was my original reason for taking the Morgan case.”

  “I see.” The disappointment in her sinking tone filled him with shame.

  “But something has changed. Morgan trusted me to help him, to clear his name for the sake of his children. I know he was desperate, but he was counting on me. And now, because of my past…”

  “Everyone makes mistakes.”

  “That’s just it. I’ve never regretted mine. Not really. But today, when Buchanan said those things in your presence, when I saw how badly people were treating you, I was sorry.”

  Her eyes brimmed with compassion. She touched his face, tracing a finger along his jaw. “Every saint has a past, Jackson. Every sinner has a future.” She rolled to her back. “You’ll prove Morgan’s innocence, and then Markelson will give you a glowing reference for St. Louis.” She took a long breath, staring up at the sky. “And with any luck, you will give me child,” she murmured, more as a prayer.

  And you will be rid of me. He closed his eyes against the pang of sorrow in his chest. Aside from Morgan, no one had ever put such faith in him. Despite any protest, it pained him to admit how deeply he’d grown to care for a woman he didn’t deserve. A woman who wanted nothing from him, save a child. A woman with only one expectation. That he would stay true to his immoral form and leave her and their child without looking back.

  When they finished their picnic, they rowed back toward the dock at an easy pace. The trip was a quiet one. When they did speak, their conversation consisted of trivial matters, which suited him fine.

  All this melodrama was enough to make one’s head ache. He missed the carefree days he’d enjoyed before stepping foot in Misty Lake. He needed a miracle to solve this case, and he needed it fast. The longer he stayed with Daisy, the more deeply he sank in the mire of his conflicting emotions about leaving her.