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

The crackle and roar of the fire interrupted the room’s charged silence as one log splintered and exposed another piece of wood to the flame. The aroma of burning hickory quickly displaced the pungent odors in the room.

Braham eyed her narrowly through bloodshot eyes. Most of his hair had escaped the thong and dirty blond tangles fell around his shoulders, reeking of whisky and smoke. “Where’s my whisky?”

She squinted and rubbed her face, trying to think how best to help him. He didn’t need the skills of a surgeon or the passion of a lover. “Coffee. No more alcohol.”

Jack squeezed in, gently pushing her aside. “Go on. Let me take care of him.”

“But I need to check his—”

“Later—”

Their words collided, and they stared at each other, waiting to see whose glare would win. “Give us some time to talk. It’s a guy thing,” he said.

She nodded. “Okay.”

With a heavy heart, she returned to her room, where she sat in the window seat looking out over the city draped in black. Braham’s shouts blasted through the velvet-draped doorway. As the hours wore on, he stopped slurring and his voice softened.

When she hadn’t heard voices for some time, she peeked into the room to check on them. The men sat in front of the fire. Plates covered with discarded white napkins sat on a tray nearby, and they held steaming cups of coffee. From where she hovered, she couldn’t make out their murmured conversation, but from the chuckling, she knew Jack had accomplished what she couldn’t. Quietly retreating from the doorway, she curled up on the settee in her bedroom and closed her eyes.

Later, it might have been minutes or hours, she woke suddenly, listening in the dark. No one had turned the gaslights on, and the fire was cold on the hearth. She stirred, shivering slightly beneath a heavy quilt.

“I’ve been waiting for ye to awaken.”

She unearthed herself from the covers and came quickly to her feet. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“I wanted to watch ye sleep and listen to ye breathe.”

Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the duskiness, and then she blinked hard when his dark form, sitting in a wing chair next to the dying embers in the hearth, took shape. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Jack said the wounds are healing fine. No red streaks.”

She turned up the gaslight and studied him closely, seeing the same emotions on his face she knew were on hers: relief and regret. It was impossible to say which one ranked above the other. “Good.”

“I’m leaving soon, and I wanted to apologize for my transgressions.”

She pulled up a stool and sat next to his chair, breathing in the scent of him, musk and soap and the polish Edward used to shine the brass buttons on his uniform. “Are you going to lump them all together in one big apology or enumerate them?”

He chuckled, almost soundlessly. “There’re several.”

“Like stealing my car?”

“That one I’ll never forget.”

Her lips tightened at the memory of how frightened she’d been when she realized he’d taken her car. Abraham McCabe was a man of many talents.

“I’d best enumerate them so ye can remind me if I forget one. Let’s see, stealing yer car, lying to ye, putting yer life in danger.” He paused and reached for her hand, linking their fingers. His large palm, textured with calluses and both warm and hard, pressed against hers. Dark bronze skin covered the corded tendons on the backs of his hands, which she traced lightly with her fingertips.

“I never should have taken ye to bed when I couldn’t offer ye a future. But ye handed me yer heart and body and trusted me not to forsake ye. Now I’m doing it anyway. I knew this moment would come, and I feared it more than any battle. Ye’re taking my heart with ye, lass.”

He looked at her, giving her a small smile, but with such pain in his eyes she caught her breath, stricken through to her bones. Drawn to him, she slipped off the stool, knelt between his legs, and placed her hands on his cheeks. His face was warm, and the lushness of his beard stubble was both soft and scratchy. His wide, sweet mouth met hers in a kiss. She closed her eyes against the sting of tears and pressed her lips against the soft, warm flesh of his mouth.

“And you’re keeping my heart with you.” She lowered her head and pressed her cheek against his chest, and her tears dampened his jacket.

The door opened, and Jack entered. “It’s time to go, sis.” He came to stand next to the chair. He laid one hand on Braham’s shoulder and placed his other under Charlotte’s elbow, lifting her to her feet. “I packed your medical bag.”

Charlotte held up her hand to still her brother as she felt Braham slip something into the hand he’d been holding. She opened it to find the perfect sapphire ring he’d given her at Georgetown. And she’d chosen to leave it behind. Shaking her head and swallowing hard, she tried to hand it back.

“I won’t take it back,” he said. “I want ye to wear it so you’ll remember me.”

Gently she took Braham’s hand, placed the ring in his palm, and tucked his beautiful, masculine fingers around it. “I don’t need a ring to help me remember you.”

The light in the room dimmed almost as if someone had turned down the gaslight, but it wasn’t the room which had darkened, nor was it a fire which choked the air with smoke. It was her heart and lungs straining for blood and breath, and her eyes brimming with the tears clouding her vision. She trudged toward the door, believing her heart would crumble into a thousand awkward pieces and crunch beneath her feet.

“Charlotte.” Braham came quickly to his feet and pulled her to him, kissing her hard enough to leave a trace of blood in her mouth. Then he whispered so she felt the