Jade Star - Catherine Coulter [127]
Saint nodded, then shrugged with a show of elaborate indifference, saying, “We’ll leave first thing in the morning, then, before it’s light.”
Jules wasn’t fooled for a minute. “You believe Wilkes has someone watching the house?”
“I doubt it,” Saint said, lowering his lashes so she wouldn’t see the gnawing worry in his eyes, “but I won’t take any chances.” He saw that she would protest and said quickly, “Jules, I don’t like sneaking about like thieves in the night, but dammit, I won’t take any risks with your safety. Now, I need to make arrangements with Dr. Pickett to take over my patients, and you, my dear, need to write notes to Thomas and your friends. Lydia will continue as if we were here.” But Saint was thinking to himself: Please show yourself, you vermin bastard! I want to put my hands around your damned neck. I want to destroy you as I would a mad dog.
“Thackery will accompany us?” Jules asked, pulling him from his violent but very satisfying thoughts.
He nodded. “Now, why don’t you pack for us and I’ll be off for a couple of hours.”
It was drizzling before dawn the following morning, the fog thick and heavy. Ranger Tyson from Hobson’s Stables had provided a carriage and two horses. “He still owes me” was all Saint said.
Jules felt the chill seep through her thick cloak and moved closer to her husband in the dark carriage. The seats smelled of old leather and tobacco smoke. And, she thought, her nose twitching, the carriage smelled of sex. It was a rather large one, she mentally added to herself, and grinned.
She heard Saint speak in a low voice to Thackery, and soon the carriage jolted forward.
They were nearly ten miles south of San Francisco when the sun came up. The air was clear and there wasn’t a hint of rain.
“This is lovely,” Jules said, staring out at the rolling green hills. “I can smell the ocean. I wish we could see it.”
“The land was too rugged to build a road closer,” Saint said. “Perhaps someday.”
“We’ll stop for breakfast soon. Lydia packed us a hamper.”
They stopped on a rise that gave a view of the ocean to the west and rolling hills to the east. The sun was warm and there was a crisp early-morning breeze. Jules stood for a moment near the edge of the rise, breathing in the clear air. Saint watched her a moment after spreading out one of Lydia’s checkered cotton tablecloths. He loved the way the breeze caught tendrils of her hair, lifting them, and the shine of the sun through the flame strands.
“Beautiful,” he said quietly, lightly closing his hands over her shoulders.
“Yes,” she said, leaning her head back against his shoulder.
She felt his hands ease beneath her cloak and cup her breasts. She shivered slightly and pressed herself more tightly against him. “Shall I tell Thackery to go find the Northwest Passage or something?” Saint asked, kissing her ear.
Jules’s stomach growled and Saint laughed. “I suppose that’s my answer,” he said, turned her around, and kissed her mouth.
They breakfasted on fresh, still-warm bread, butter, and jam, and coffee in one of Lydia’s jars, wrapped in heavy cloths to keep it hot.
“This is decadent,” Saint said, leaning back a moment on his elbows. “How far to go now, Thackery?”
“Not more than another hour, Dr. Saint,” Thackery said, and both Jules and Saint could hear the excitement in his voice. “The rains haven’t been so bad so far, and the building never stops. Mrs. Byrony never stops either, and you should hear Mr. Brent yell at her.”
The horses seemed to feel the excitement and quickened their pace. The first view of Wakeville came less than an hour later, and Jules sucked in her breath. “I don’t know what I was expecting,” she said, tugging at Saint’s sleeve, “but this is incredible!”
It looked to Saint as if Brent Hammond had managed to buy the most fertile acres in the area. And the activity was astounding. There was even a Village Street, wide enough for two carriages side by side, with new buildings with sidewalks lining it. Nine out of ten