Harrison Investigations 1 Haunted (39 page)

"We'll see," Matt said. "I have business, like I told you. But
I'll see how far things have progressed by the morning. Hey, Penny,
is something burning?"

"The roast!" Penny said with dismay. She leapt up.

"I'll help you," Darcy offered.

As she ran after Penny, Oola followed.

She didn't go after the food; she just sat in the kitchen. And
when they left the kitchen, she sat by Darcy's feet at the dining
room table.

The meal was light, and fun, with everyone talking about the
reenactment, and Lavinia bringing them all up to date on her social
whirl, while flirting outrageously with every man at the table,
including Harry. Still, after the nights they'd been having, it
seemed a blessing.

Later, with the place cleaned up, the hour getting late, Matt at
last rose to break up the group. "I slept all afternoon, but
I'm still bushed. Harry, did you want to stay?"

"Nope, got to go home, thanks," Harry said.

"There's lots of room in the caretaker's cottage," Lavinia
told him. He blushed to the roots-the exact effect she had
intended.

"I have to go," Harry said, "but thanks."

Matt walked Harry to the door, then came back by Darcy's chair.
She thought she was going to blush herself when he said, "Ready to
go up?"

"Um, sure," she said, trying to sound very casual.

"I'll just let myself out," Lavinia said.

"Never! I'll escort you," Carter said.

"Hey, I'll walk with you. He's dangerous," Clint teased.

"Really?" Lavinia said. "I like dangerous men."

Darcy gave Adam a kiss on the cheek and followed Matt up the
stairs.

Oola followed her.

She started for the Lee Room.

"Not tonight!" Matt told her. "My place," he said lightly. "Oola
can have the office area. We'll take the bedroom. Alone. No ladies
in white or any other visitors tonight."

"This house does give new meaning to the term, 'your place or
mine,'" Darcy murmured. With the dog at her heels, she accompanied
him.

The minute they locked the dog out of the bedroom area, and
turned to one another, she began to whine. They looked at one
another and laughed.

"I'm prepared," Matt told her.

"For a whining dog?"

"You bet."

He disappeared, then returned smiling. When the door closed,
Oola was quiet. Darcy lifted a brow to him.

"Pig's ear," Matt said.

"Pardon?"

"She came with a supply of pigs' ears," he explained. "Chew
toys. And now...well, you really do owe me an apology."

"I do?"

"For thinking I might have done evil to my ex-wife."

"I didn't really think it."

"Um. Humor me." He walked to her, embracing her, offering a kiss
that was electric and fevered, lips tugging upon hers, tongue all
but savage in its raw seduction. The same fevered urgency came
damply down the length of her throat, while his fingers, at their
most nimble, tugged at buttons and the zipper of her jeans. She ran
her own fingers around his waistband, finding his zipper as well,
and finding that just the sound of it, and the promise there given
was erotic. She might have been the one who owed the apology, but
he was creating an arousal and urgency in her that was high-pitched
and searing. The stroke of his fingers down the bareness of her
back seemed to elicit a burning in the core of her sexuality, and
she moved against him wantonly, wondering only in a very distant
place in her mind if he might be determined to forget that Lavinia
was on his property. Then even the whisper of such a thought eluded
her, for his lips were everywhere, a caress that swept over and
into her. The scent of him invaded her, and whispering a soft
penance, she returned each brush of a fingertip, every steam-tipped
stroke of the tongue, every intimacy, until at last they were
arching, writhing, straining, and pulsing together toward a
maddened crescendo that burst upon Darcy violently, climax
racking her body with delicious shudders, loathe to let the least
touch, taste, or scent of him leave her. And for the longest time,
he did not. She lay against him, hair splayed over the vital
dampness of his chest, deliciously drowsy.

She must have been exhausted herself, because she drifted to
sleep.

When she woke, she was alone.

"Matt?" she said his name softly, but he wasn't there.

Puzzled, she opened the door to the office area. And then she
could see him. He'd thrown on a robe and was out on the balcony,
just staring into the night. He looked like a man in torment. The
dog was at his side, and Matt was absently stroking the shepherd's
ears.

Darcy wanted to go to him, but she didn't. Instead, she stood
there watching him, and thinking that if they did or didn't find
the bones soon, it wouldn't matter. It was time to go. She had
allowed this involvement, and encouraged it, lost herself within
it. But she was certain that she knew what gave him such
anguish.

He did care about her. He really cared.

But no matter what he tried to tell himself, what she was, what
she did, mattered to him. He would never be able to look at her
without remembering her tearing through the dirt for a bone, or
falling into a trance, and not feel repelled.

She determined to leave him in peace. She closed the door and
slipped back into bed.

Later, when he returned, she was the aggressor, laughing and
teasing at first, then telling him how sorry she was.

Truly, how sorry she was.

* * *

Darcy was still sleeping when Matt awoke. He quietly slipped
from the bed, showered, dressed, and took Oola downstairs so that
she could take a run outside.

Penny was already up; coffee was already on. Matt accepted
a cup, slipped into his downstairs office, and called Randy Newton.
He didn't know if he was relieved or impatient when Randy
apologized profusely, but between working the crime scene at the
mortuary and handling a political death that was suspicious, he
hadn't been able to pull all the records he could find as yet.

"Give me a day, Matt. Hell, dial's nothing in most cases, you
know."

"It's all right, Randy. I appreciate your help."

"Hey, tomorrow is Sunday, but I'll keep working until I get it.
My wife is going to hate you, you know."

"Tell her your workload is my fault."

"Hey, I have to blame it on someone, huh?"

"I guess," Matt said. "Honestly, thanks. If you do get anything,
anything at all, call me."

"I can tell you this-whoever broke in to the mortuary wore
gloves, and even slipped plastic bags over his shoes. We went over
the window screen and the rest of the place for fibers, and came up
with zilch. Anyway, I'll get on those records, though I think
you're barking up the wrong tree. The bones haven't shown up
anywhere, have they?"

"No, not that I know of."

"Go deal with your battle buffs. I'll call you, I promise, the
minute I've got something."

Matt thanked him again and hung up. He drummed his fingers on me
desk, feeling antsy, and dunking mere had to be something more that
he could do. He'd called in the FBI. Best help he could have, and
he knew it.

There was a tap at his door and Penny stack her head in..

"Are you going to have to leave town today?" she asked.

He wished that he could He.

"No, Penny," he said honestly.

Her smile lit up her face like a Christmas tree.

"And you've already got Thayer in charge of crowd control,
right? I mean, of course, I know the society manages things
really well, but that you put out the officers as well."

"I should oversee it all.''

"Matt! Thayer is the best deputy a sheriff ever had. You leave
him in control. Come on now, please? I've got your Captain
Whittaker uniform all ready."

He groaned. "Penny, I'd told you I probably wasn't going to be
here, and that if I was-''

"But you are here, and Thayer is in control. Oh, Matt! It means
so much to everyone when
the
Stone of Stoneyville
takes part!"

"All right, Penny, all right. Where's the uniform?"

"In the laundry. I'll bring it right to you."

Penny's excitement and enthusiasm regarding the day was
contagious. Darcy had barely emerged from the shower when Penny
arrived with a surprisingly complicated costume. "Naturally,
it's the real thing, corset, pantalettes, hoop,
chemise...it's a little hot, being summer, but not so bad. We're
going to have a breeze. Of course, in a way, that's bad. There will
be black powder everywhere, but it's great, really, because you get
the true essence of how horrible battle was and just what the poor
men faced. It will be great. Now, the chemise goes on first, corset
over that, then the dress. It's not an elegant evening gown, but a
typical day dress. Nice one, and it will look great on you. Deep
blue. It will do wonders for your hair."

"Thanks, Penny," Darcy said, and she meant it until Penny tried
to tie her too tightly into the corset.

"It's how they really wore them!" Penny told her.

"Hey, that was then, this is now. I'm not passing out on the
battlefield, okay, please?"

With a sigh, Penny eased her hold on the ribbons. "Lavinia
will let you tie her up until she's just about dead."

"I'll just bet she looks great then," Darcy said. "I want to
breathe through the show."

When she went downstairs, she discovered that Matt had already
headed out-as a last-minute participant, he had to fill in his
registration papers for insurance purposes. But Carter and Clint
were waiting for her.

"Wow!" Clint told her. "It's a look-it's a look!"

"The best that money can buy, huh?" Carter teased.

They were alone with Penny in the foyer. "Is Lavinia coming with
us?"

"Lavinia, ride? Are you kidding? Adam is driving her down the
road to the field. We'll go the way we came back yesterday."

"Great," Darcy said. She felt a cold nose touch her hand. Oola.
She stroked the dog and looked at the two men. "Can she come?"

"Sure," Carter said with a shrug.

"Maybe we should leave her in the house," Clint said. "All the
commotion out there...she may not be used to it," Clint said.

"There will be all kinds of dogs around. People bring their
pets," Carter said.

"I guess you're right. All right, Oola. Let's see what kind of a
cavalry dog you'll make. Of course, you won't really be riding with
the cavalry," Clint said. "We'll set you up with Penny, Lavinia,
and Adam, and whoever else is around, during the battle."

"Sounds good," she said.

When they arrived at the field, they could see it was already
crawling with people. Darcy was startled when the three of them
were asked to stop a dozen times for tourists to take pictures.

Carter grinned at her. "See, you look great."

"Thanks. I'm glad I make a good camp follower."

"The dress is too good," Clint said. "You get to be my wife
today."

"Your wife? Why not mine?" Carter argued.

Darcy could see that most of the people were arranged behind a
makeshift fence. There were officers in sheriff's department
uniforms patrolling the lines, while those in Civil War attire were
on the other side of the fence. "Where's Matt?"

"With his company, probably," Carter said. "We'll find them
later. We'll position you back here-you can see better."

"Where will Adam and the others be?" Darcy asked.

"If they get here soon enough, we'll bring 'em back with you,"
Carter said. "If not, they're going to have to join the rest of the
tourists." He tipped his hat to her, then dismounted to offer her a
hand down. "We'll tether Nellie right here. Don't you love that-a
perfect historical image, until you see the hot-dog stand!"

"Ah, well, progress, what can you do?" Darcy
sympathized.

"I have to go down on the first volley," Clint told her, "so
I'll get back to you as soon as I can reasonably crawl, noble and
injured, off the field."

"You get to go down with the first volley?" Carter asked him as
they rode off.

Darcy grinned, and was then surprised when a Robert E. Lee
look-alike rode out to the center of the field on a beautiful white
horse, dismounted, and lifted a megaphone to speak. He introduced
the day of the battle, the circumstances that brought about
the skirmish. Yankee troops, cut off, were trying to wind their way
back to Meade, while the Southern troops were riding to catch up
with Lee before the battle at Sharpsburg. A militia troop had
recently held up a Northern baggage train, and, realizing they had
a small force of the enemy in their sights, decided to turn the
stolen guns against their enemy. It had been a bitter day of
fighting, some of it house-to-house, but the majority of the action
had taken place here, when the guns had sent the tattered
Northerners fleeing. And yet it had not been a victory for either
side as far too many lives had been lost. When he finished
speaking, he gave a flourish of his hat, mounted his white horse,
and left the field in a flurry of hooves and dirt. The moment he
was gone, the first cannon sounded. The battle commenced.

Darcy was spellbound. She had never imagined what such a battle
must have been like. Within minutes, the powder produced by the
cannons and guns filled the air. Officers roared out commands from
both sides of the field. The cavalry came in first, and it was an
incredible show, horses rearing, swords flying. Men advanced, went
down, retreated.

She saw Matt, riding with his sword swirling in the black-misted
air, all but standing in his saddle. A pang touched her heart.

He disappeared into the field of black powder.

Foot soldiers advanced behind the cavalry. From the hillock
where Clint and Carter had left her, Darcy was in perfect position,
and she was enthralled.

Suddenly she felt an odd sense of real pain and nostalgia sweep
over her. She closed her eyes, and the shouting seemed to
change.