The Sapphire Brooch Katherine Logan (best beach reads TXT) 📖

shook her head, licking the tender spot carefully with her tongue. “I guess we got carried away.”

“I’d say so.” He got back to his feet, scratching his chin whiskers. “Does your bruise have anything to do with the clothes piled on your bed?”

“Sort of. Braham and I are going to Georgetown for a few days. Alone.”

“Really?” Jack took a seat in the wingback chair by the fire, stretching out his long legs. “Are you sure it’s a good idea?”

She turned to face him, hands resting on her knees, fingers tapping rhythmically as she had seen Braham do earlier. Now she understood why. The beat matched the rapid pulse of anticipation. “I don’t know how good an idea it is, but it’s what I want.”

He slouched in the chair and crossed his ankles. His feet flopped back and forth like two adversaries getting up into each other’s faces, then backing off and going at it again. “It’s going to hurt later, you know.”

She watched his moving feet, mesmerized. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

She pointed a finger, waving toward his feet. “Your dueling feet are driving me nuts. Stop it.”

He smirked and uncrossed his feet. “My feet aren’t the issue. How you’re going to put your life back together later is what we’re talking about. Comprende?”

“As the saying goes, I’d rather have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. And what do you know about broken hearts, other than you’ve broken more than your share?”

“It goes both ways, Char. I don’t enjoy hurting women. It makes me feel bad. They like my image, the parties, publicity, travel, but they aren’t interested in the everyday, sweaty part, the grind. They get more demanding on the days I don’t shave and forget to eat, or work straight through the night. When the what-about-poor-me drama starts, I kiss them good-bye.”

She moved over to the settee and curled up, hugging a pillow. “What’s your point? I know you’ve buried one in there.”

“Braham will never be able to give you what you want. So lighten up and enjoy the party. Enjoy the romance. Enjoy the sex. And when you ask him to go home with you again, and the drama starts, be prepared, because he’s gonna kiss you good-bye.”

“I know.” She added a second pillow to her huddle.

Jack’s eyes softened. “Then why are you getting involved, knowing you’ll get hurt?”

“Because I’m already in love with him, and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wondering what it would have been like to be with him.”

“Jesus, if it’s the experience you’re looking for, I know a dozen men built exactly like Braham. You can have sex with one of them. Have a similar experience without the heartache.”

She threw one of the pillows at him. He snatched it out of the air and hugged it to his own chest. “You know it’s not what I mean,” she said, adding another pillow to her collection.

“I hope you’re prepared for the heartache, because it’ll hurt for damn sure.”

“You can’t prepare for pain like you can for a test or train for a race. When it happens, you have to live it, feel it. The memories will help me get through the loneliness.”

“That’s such a crock of—”

She threw another pillow. “Stop. I’ve made up my mind.”

He stuffed the second pillow between his hip and the side of the chair. “I’ve got plenty of condoms in my shaving kit. Grab a couple dozen.”

Her eyes widened. “Couple dozen? Have you forgotten Braham spent a week being tortured in prison then ran through a city dodging flames and collapsing buildings? He’s exhausted.”

“Yeah, right. You’d better take three dozen. The man’s got stamina.”

“How many did you bring?” She threw the third and final pillow. “If Braham’s honor equals his stamina, he might not show up. He’s sending me over there this afternoon because he has something to do. He’ll be there in time for a late dinner.”

“Does it have anything to do with the note from Gaylord?”

“I think so, but he wouldn’t tell me.”

“I can think of a couple of things.”

“Booth?” She gritted her teeth, and a hot flush settled into her face at the thought of Braham chasing Booth. She seriously considered finding Braham and shaking him until his teeth rattled.

“Before Gaylord dashed off to Richmond with us,” Jack said, “he was following Booth. Makes sense he had someone else keep an eye on the actor while he was gone.”

She rarely, if ever, drank during the day, and even at night she normally limited herself to a glass or two—except on nights before she operated, when she abstained entirely. The last few months she’d been drinking a lot. She jumped up and reached for the decanter of sherry on a silver tray by the window.

She poured, took a sip, and then another. “What’s Braham going to do? Kill him?”

“Braham’s tired of killing, but the war’s still going on, and he sees Booth as the enemy. In his mind, it justifies whatever he has to do.”

“What happened to him being too honorable to murder a man?” she asked.

“His stint in a Richmond prison, maybe. Honestly, I don’t know what he’ll do, given the choice.”

She gave Jack a brief, distracted glance, and tried to smile. “It certainly would put a damper on our getaway.”

“Maybe not. Braham wouldn’t go to your bed with blood on his hands. So I’d say he’s only spying on Booth tonight.”

“Great. We both know what kind of spy he is. He’ll end up in the Old Capitol Prison, and we’ll have to bail him out.”

Jack shoved out of the chair and headed toward the door. “I’m going down to the study to work. Be sure to get some condoms, and don’t worry. Braham’s an honorable man. He’ll do what’s right.”

“About what? Shooting Booth or sleeping with me?”

Jack turned back at the door, and his hand rested on the doorknob, eyebrows raised in thought. “Both.”

65

Washington City, April 1865

At three o’clock, Jack handed Charlotte up into the