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

“When I thought I would die at Chimborazo, I believed no one would care.” He paused a moment and shrugged. “Except perhaps Kit and her father. Even their lives wouldn’t be troubled much by my death. I don’t particularly want people to mourn for me; it’s, well…I want to know someone will pray for my soul.”

“A wife and children would pray for you.”

“Aye. I hope it’s not too selfish a reason to wed.”

She sighed with exasperation. “You desire a family so when you die you’ll be missed? You’re missing the point.” She snatched up another figurine, one resembling a Scottish terrier, and passed it back and forth between her hands, mentally weighing the small piece of pottery and wondering how much sense it would knock into Braham’s impenetrable skull if she threw it at him. “What’s wrong with having a family so you’ll have a richer life, filled with love and purpose?”

He scrubbed his face, sighing heavily. Then he shook his head, his hair coming loose of the thong binding it at his nape. If he’d been a wet dog, water would have scattered across the width of the room. He turned his body to face her. “I have my law practice and vineyards. Ye have yer hospital and patients. We both have lives with purpose. From what Jack says, yer patients and students love ye. If ye can have a life with love and purpose through yer work, it stands to reason the same is available to me.”

She gently replaced the dog figure next to the piper and arranged them exactly as they had been before she fussed with them. “It’s not enough for me—”

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in.” Braham’s voice sharpened with an annoyed edge.

The butler entered and handed Braham a note with a red wax seal. “This was just delivered, sir. The sergeant said he’d wait for your reply.”

Braham put his thumb beneath the flap and withdrew a sheet a paper. His eyes were fixed, as though he were seeing something else, something far beyond the missive he held in his hand. Casually, he refolded the letter and slipped it inside his vest pocket.

Addressing the butler he said, “Tell the sergeant I’ll join the general on board the River Queen at the requested hour.”

The butler left, closing the door with a soft click of the latch.

Jolts of desire to make love to Braham shot through her and mingled with spurts of fear bottling up in her throat. The decision to have sex, though, would have to be his, and damn him for being so stubborn.

“Will you tell me where you’re going?”

“If I’m to travel on the River Queen, my orders must have changed. I don’t know where Lincoln is sending me this time. Even if I knew I couldn’t tell ye.”

She chewed her bottom lip in moody concentration, fighting a semi-hopeless battle to keep tears at bay. “I wish I could whisper the magic words and take you home with me again. If something happens to you, I’ll never hear about it.”

As he stroked the side of her face, tugging once again on her curls, a hidden smile popped out, dimpling one cheek. “Jack told me ye won’t leave until Lee surrenders. I catalogued all the reasons ye should go, but he scratched off each one. I know now he won’t alter his plans, and neither will ye. It’s reckless for ye to stay, but ye’re both too damn headstrong to listen to reason.”

“There’s a triangle here,” she said forming the shape with thumbs and forefingers, “and Jack and I are only two of the points.” She wagged her thumbs. “You fit the definition of headstrong, too, and I’ll add stubborn, bullheaded, mulish, obstinate, and pigheaded to the list.”

“Ye’ve made your point, lass, and mayhap I am stubborn, bullheaded, mulish, obstinate, and pigheaded, but I’m nay reckless.”

Reconsidering, she picked up the dog figurine again and fingered the fine whiskers carved along its muzzle and above its eyebrows.

“Before I leave tonight, I’ll make arrangements for yer safety. Gaylord has worked for me for a number of years in a variety of positions. He’ll act as yer bodyguard while I’m away.”

Braham rose and crossed the room to a table holding a crystal decanter and glasses. He poured amber liquid into two whisky glasses and handed one to Charlotte. “If ye need him, whistle this tune.” He puckered his lips and whistled.

“It’s very familiar. What’s the name?”

“Bach’s Minuet in G. Try it.”

“I’m a terrible whistler. Don’t laugh.” She wet her lips, puckered, then whistled. At first nothing but air came out. She tried again, blowing a steady stream of air, but managed only a single note.

“Curl yer tongue, lass.”

She wet her lips once more, curled her tongue, and tried again and again. Finally, more than one note replaced the hissing, and she whistled a tune. “Okay, I’ve got it now.” She took a mouthful of whisky and let it trickle down the back of her throat, a warm and pleasing sensation.

“If ye need anything, anything at all, Gaylord will come to ye. Ye can trust him implicitly. He’ll even deal with Gordon if he causes ye more trouble.”

“What created the bad blood between you?”

Braham sipped his whisky, making no comment. Finally, he said, “He wanted the position with Lincoln, but Sherman recommended me over him. Henly has a fine military record, and no one would suspect a violent streak twisted his character.”

“He lives with constant pain. It can change people.” She thought a minute. “He must blame you for his injury. If he’d had the job working for Lincoln, he wouldn’t have been wounded at Cedar Creek.”

One of Braham’s eyebrows rose in an ironic arch. “But he might have been hanged in Richmond.”

“Could Gordon cause a problem for you since he works at the War Department?”

“I’m assigned to the president. He’s the only one who dictates where I go and what I do.”

They sat in silence, save for the annoying tick-tock of the grandfather clock. To her