Jade Star - Catherine Coulter [139]
He smiled down at the wizened little face, his finger under the tiny chin.
“I’ll brings a sugar tit for that little man,” said Mammy Bath. “His mama won’t have no milk for a while yet.”
“Good idea,” Saint said. And he began to pace the bedroom. He was still pacing when Brent Hammond burst through the door two hours later, his face drawn and tense, his eyes going immediately to his wife.
Saint said quickly, “She’s all right. You have a son and he looks like Byrony.”
“She’s all right?” Brent repeated slowly. His throat felt suddenly very scratchy, and tears burned his eyes. He gulped. “She’s not moving.”
“You wouldn’t be either. She’s asleep. Your son is in the next room with Mammy Bath.”
Brent dragged his fingers through his hair. “We’ve got trouble, Saint, dammit.”
“Tell me while you look at your son,” Saint said, forcing himself to remain calm.
31
The men rode steadily south, high on the cliffs above the ocean, Brent beside Saint at their head.
“Have you any ideas, Saint?” Brent asked.
Saint shook his head, his eyes straight between his horse’s ears. “None other than getting my hands around that bastard’s neck.” Why, Saint continued to wonder, did Wilkes want him? If it were revenge in the man’s mind, it was chilling. He had Jules, why him? Why the elaborate ruse?
Brent well understood his feelings, and merely nodded. They had plenty of time to devise some sort of plan. He said finally, “I thank you for saving Byrony.”
“She did all the work,” Saint said, drawing himself from his thoughts. He quirked an eyebrow at Brent. “She was pleased that the baby looks like her and not you, a swarthy pirate.”
“Gambler, not pirate. Hell, I wouldn’t have cared if the baby looked like you, Saint!”
“The perfect child indeed. Incidentally, Brent, go see Maggie before you begin relations again with your wife. I suggest contraception. Another child in perhaps three years, then I’d be satisfied and call a halt.”
“I don’t want her to go through that ever again,” Brent said, his face growing pale with remembered anxiety.
“That’s up to the both of you.” Saint fell silent, and Brent knew his thoughts had returned to his wife.
It was early afternoon when they reached the cliff.
“You can’t just go up there, Saint,” Brent said again. “He wants to kill you.”
“He won’t,” Saint said. For a moment he wondered why he’d said it with such confidence. Hell, he had no reason to be confident. It was just that he had this feeling . . . So many things about Wilkes didn’t make sense.
Brent sighed. “The two men he’s got, we’ll try to pick them off. Josh is the best shot I know, after Thackery.”
“Thackery can give him lessons in another week or so. That man’s as strong as an ox, thank God.”
“I still don’t like this,” Brent said.
Saint shrugged, his thoughts moving ahead to his confrontation with Jameson Wilkes.
Jules felt numb. She’d spent the entire morning hating herself for her wretched helplessness. Hawkins had eyed her again, but she realized she wasn’t afraid of him, nor was she afraid of Wilkes, not anymore.
She was afraid for Michael. He would come, she knew he would come. She didn’t know what to do.
“Ah,” Wilkes said, an odd relieved tone in his voice, “I do believe your precious husband has arrived.”
Jules bounded to her feet and rushed toward the cave entrance, screaming, “Michael! No! Go away!”
Wilkes jerked her backward and she landed in the dirt on her bottom. She scrambled to her feet.
“You stay put or I’ll put a bullet through him before you can even see him.”
Jules believed him. Oh, Michael, she thought, closing her eyes a moment, why did you come? Why do you have to be so noble?
She prayed that Byrony was all right.
Then she heard his voice, strong and deep, coming from below.
“Wilkes! Can you hear me?”
“Good afternoon, Dr. Morris,” Wilkes shouted down. “I see you brought your friends. Leave them down there and come up alone!”
I’ve got to do something! Without conscious thought, Jules rushed at Wilkes,