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Martha. She should call out to Martha, and Martha could vouch for her. But then again, what good would that do? None—it could only do harm! Brendan Vincent was a diehard—if he knew that she knew Martha, he might decide that Martha was a Southern spy!
She held still and waited, tempted to bite Cole Granger’s hand.
She somehow refrained.
If she were to bite him…
“Everything is fine, Martha, thank you. We did have a late night—you heard about the trouble at the prison. Well, it’s all over now and we’re just sitting with a bit of whiskey and winding down,” Cody said.
“Oh, thank goodness. I do worry about you boys.”
Martha, beautiful, sweet Martha. She hadn’t wanted her husband to go off. She had known she would become a widow.
“Boys?” Cody said with a laugh. “I’ll have to tell Brendan. He’d appreciate that.”
“You young men!” Martha corrected.
“Thank you for your concern. We’re fine. And we won’t forget breakfast, Martha, I promise you.”
The door closed. Megan gave a good hard kick backward, getting Cole Granger in the shin. He tensed but didn’t let go.
“I don’t think I like your sister much, Cody,” he said, easing his hold then and pressing her firmly away.
She turned and stared at him, it was becoming increasingly difficult to remain calm in the face of this irritating man. “You don’t know how lucky you are that I’m a temperate and reasonable woman,” she said pleasantly.
“Oh, you can get worse than this?” Cole inquired.
Patience…
But her temper had flared. She drew back her lips and let out a hissing sound, displaying the fangs she could summon within seconds. She felt they were really quite beautiful…not that that was the effect she was going for here.
“Holy, Jesus!” Brendan Vincent cried, jumping back.
Cole Granger held his ground.
“Don’t make a move!” Cody warned.
She smiled sweetly, retracting her fangs. “If I’d wanted to hurt anyone here, Cody Fox, I could have bitten off the ever-so-charming Sheriff Granger’s fingers just moments ago. Don’t you get it? What is the matter with you? Why don’t you believe me? I’m your sister—your half sister, your father’s daughter!” she said, praying again for patience and control.
Brendan Vincent stared at Cody. “She could be any bloodsucking monster out there,” he cautioned. “She could have found out things about you. God knows—there is a war going on. She could be here to kill us all in our sleep. I say we stake her right now.”
“Now, now, hold up,” Cole said, arms crossed over his chest as he walked around her. “She did fight with us at the prison. And look close. She and Cody have the same eyes.”
“I’m not getting that close,” Brendan said.
Cole smiled at that. “She could have killed us a few times already, if that had been her intent. Well, maybe she couldn’t have killed Cody.”
“Well, maybe you should have just staked her at the prison,” Brendan muttered.
Cody had moved closer. Megan stood very still, watching him as he resurveyed her, head to toe. Admittedly, she wasn’t particularly well dressed. One didn’t pick one’s finest ball gown for a romp with ravenous killing machines in a prison yard. She wore a simple tailored blouse, vest, form-hugging, knee-length jacket, men’s breeches and boots.
But he wasn’t looking at her attire, she knew.
His gaze rose at last so that his eyes met hers. Fire and ice. They were the same hazel and green color of his own, a color that seemed like gold. She wore it well. Her eyes were fascinating, compelling—mesmerizing. Or so her admirers had told her.
Cody touched her hair, drawing his fingers through it. Suddenly, he smiled. “Let me see those fangs again.”
She flushed, looking at the others. “Cody, it makes your friends uncomfortable.”
“My friends know exactly what I am. They just want you to be the same, and nothing worse.”
She allowed her fangs to show once again.
Yes, she was half vampire. Go figure. Her father seemed to have a steady ability to propagate. It wasn’t like all the things that she’d read about vampires, but then again, who really knew anything about them?
“What else did your mother say about my father?” Cody asked.
“It’s really a long story….”
“A long story, Cody,” Cole Granger spoke up from behind her brother, coming forward. “I personally find long stories wonderfully intriguing.” To her astonishment, he paused, gripped her chin and looked into her mouth—at her receding fangs. He looked at her mouth and studied her teeth and fangs as if he were looking at the quality of a horse he was considering for purchase.
Oh, she was tempted to bite.
Oh, so tempted.
She restrained. He was pushing her. He knew that a bite wouldn’t turn him into an uncontrolled maniac. Nor would a single bite kill him.
He was trying to see if she would snap—if she was capable of control.
She pretended boredom. And strangely, surprisingly, she discovered that she liked something about him….
It was his scent, she realized. He smelled of leather and musky soap, of the night air and of something more subtle and deep and alluring. Horses, whiskey…and himself.
Bathed.
God, she loved the smell of a man who had bathed. These days, it didn’t seem there were many of those. God knew that many a man’s uniform, worn day in and day out as the war dragged on, reeked to high heaven. Well, this fellow wasn’t a soldier. He was a sheriff, in a town, with a house most likely.
“We are always ready to be entertained by a story, and yet I find myself wondering not about any story, but rather what thoughts are prowling through that little mind,” Cole said.
She blinked. There was certainly no chance she intended to have a deep and philosophical discussion with this man.
No matter how delicious he smelled.
She smiled. “I was actually thinking, sir, that you smell quite good.”
Cody burst out with a laugh.
Brendan even grinned. “Good thing you do enjoy lathering away in a tub, Cole.”
She couldn’t help herself. She allowed her smile to deepen. “Good enough to eat,” she said sweetly.
She was surprised when Cody came to her defense, though he spoke too coldly. “Give it up. You’re not going to bite anyone, rip anyone’s throat out or devour their blood. Gentlemen, please do say hello to my sister. Oh, and please do return the use of her jaw back to her.”
“How have you come to that determination?” Brendan asked. Cole hadn’t even looked at Cody. He’d released her jaw, of course, but he was still studying her with those eyes of his, pure blue ice.
She almost flinched when Cody reached out to touch her, lifting a small strand of hair away from her neck. She had a tiny mark there. Not dark, but rather a light, tiny, almost heart-shaped birthmark.
“I bear the same mark,” he said quietly.
“You do? Really? I never noticed it,” Brendan said, frowning. “But then, I’d not have noticed it on the young lady if you hadn’t pointed it out, and you wear your hair long around your ears, Cody, and—oh, my. Well. If you say you both have the same mark…” he finished lamely.
Cody had pulled his own hair back to prove the point.
Cole walked across the room, taking a seat at the piano bench. He folded his hands prayer fashion, in thought.
“Cole,” Brendan said. “It appears the young lady is telling the truth.”
“Yep.”
Cody turned to look at him. “That’s all?”
“Congratulations. You have a sister,” Cole said. “That really solves nothing at all.”
Cody grinned. “And that means…?”
“It means,” he said with his long, deep drawl, “that we know she’s your sister. Whether or not we can trust her? Well, that remains to be seen.”
CHAPTER THREE
COLE DIDN’T SLEEP well during the night. He lay down to rest with a stake in his hands and his bowie knife beneath his pillow.
He knew that Brendan Vincent would be doing the same in his room.
But morning arrived without incident, and when he came downstairs, he discovered that Cody’s newfound sister was in the kitchen with their hostess, Martha, setting out utensils for their breakfast, something Martha Graybow prepared wonderfully. Apparently Cody thought it a good idea to introduce them, lest Megan’s presence in their rooms seem somehow untoward.
He instantly wanted to protect the woman—stand between her and Megan Fox and make sure that the young half-breed vampire wasn’t about to pounce. Martha Graybow was a mature woman, but she had a beautiful, kind face, and Cody had a feeling that she wouldn’t be a widow long, once the war was over.
If there were any men left.
Martha had apparently loaned their surprise guest clothing; that morning, Megan Fox was wearing a demure cotton day dress that displayed the sleekness of her slender, shapely form to perfection. Actually, she’d worn men’s clothing well, too, but, this morning, she appeared as pure, sweet and innocent as a newborn angel. Her hair was quite gold, gold like her eyes.
So much like Cody’s.
And yet so different. So sultry, even when she was looking innocent. Somehow.
You smell good. Good enough to eat.
He found it hard to admit even to himself, but her fangs were equally stunning. He didn’t think he’d ever been able to say that before.
“Good morning, Sheriff,” Martha said, her voice bright, her smile sincere.
“I’m only a sheriff in Texas, ma’am,” he reminded her with a smile of his own. “Cole will do just fine, thank you.”
“Well, then, Cole it is,” Martha said, flushing. “And I’m Martha to my friends. We’ll be dispensing with the ‘Mrs. Graybow,’ when you speak to me, young man, if you please.”
“As you wish, Martha,” Cole said.
He was standing close enough to Megan to hear her mutter beneath her breath. “Charming. Oh, so, charming.”
He ignored her. Ignored her—while keeping a wary eye on her. Last night, Cody had suddenly seemed to embrace the young woman. Of course, Cody was happy. He had just married a beautiful woman, and now he was finding that he had a sister. He’d been alone in the world for years, and now he had a family.
Thing was, though it seemed Megan Fox was his sister, they had grown up far apart. She seemed like a loose cannon—an unknown quality in a world filled with many kinds of dangers.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked Martha.
“Everything is all set to go.” She used a handwoven pot holder to lift the heavy coffeepot from the stove and began to pour the brew into the cups at the table. Cole noted that there were settings for six, and he frowned. Martha always joined them, on the days when her children were off to school, at least, but he didn’t know who the sixth setting was for. Then he heard a commotion out in the drive and hurried out the back door.
Cody was already standing at the edge of the drive that led to the renovated old carriage house. A carriage had just arrived.
“Alex!” Cody cried out with pleasure. He opened the carriage door and held out his arms. His wife leaped into them and Cody spun her around for a minute before drawing her to him in a warm embrace. They kissed, and Cody let her slide down to put her feet on the ground. He went to pay the driver, but the man tipped his hat.
“Taken care of, sir!” the driver said, delivering Alex’s portmanteaus to the walk. “Where would you like these taken?”
“We’ll get them, my good fellow,” Cole said, stepping forward.
“Cole!”
Alex smiled with delight and came to give him an enveloping hug, as well. He’d known Alex long before Cody had. Somehow, strangely, he’d forgotten that Alexandra was due that day. Chalk that one up to vampire-sister.
“So!” she said happily. Her brows knit suddenly as she looked around. “So?” she said again, a question in her eyes.
He turned. Megan Fox was there.
He cocked his head to the side. “Oh. Ah, Alex. That’s Megan Fox. Your sister-in-law,” he said mundanely.
Stunned, Alex stared at the girl, and then at Cody.
“We’ve just met,” Cody said.
“Oh?” Alex inquired politely.
Cole bent slightly to whisper audibly to Alex, “Yes. She’s just like Cody.”
“I think we should go inside,” Cody said.
“Martha’s inside,” Cole said pleasantly, getting Alex’s bags. “But, by all means, let’s.”
He led the way, then carried Alex’s bags upstairs while she hugged the hostess. Alex knew Martha from when she’d lived in D.C., right at the outbreak of the war. She’d been engaged once before, prior to meeting Cody; her fiancé had perished at the first route at Manassas, a battle for which people had actually taken carriages out to the fields to witness the entertainment—until they had seen how bloody and devastating that entertainment would become.
When Cole came back downstairs, Brendan, Cody and Alex were at the table. Martha was still fussing over Alex, and Megan was busy setting large platters of fluffy scrambled eggs, bread and heated dried beef with gravy on the table.
“My journey was fine, and without incident,” Alex was saying as Cole took a seat on the other side of the table. “Long, of course, but you all know how long it can be. My papers were in order, and though we passed through different checkpoints, with soldiers on both sides stopping us for identification, I wasn’t detained at any point.”
“Dear, dear, it’s only going to get worse,” Martha said. “They say that Lee is planning another invasion into the North.”
“He’s the world’s finest general!” Megan said, her adoration for the man evident.
Cole himself admired Lee. Still, he’d never been sure that the general’s determination to invade the North had been a wise choice and he’d been right—the Battle of Gettysburg had been a massive boon to the North and a horror for the South. But he figured the general had been weary of the battles being fought on Southern soil. Every battle cost the people of a region—it devastated the land, and it meant feeding tens of thousands of soldiers with the South’s own stores, which couldn’t last forever.
He noted then that Martha looked at Megan and gave her a knowing nod.
It occurred to him then that their hostess had known their surprise guest even before Cody had brought them together. For the time he’d keep his silence—and a careful watch on both women. There had been as many young women swept up with the war effort as there had been young men, and he knew that loyalties in war could be passionate, sometimes out of control. But his team’s work wasn’t about the known war, and he didn’t want anyone’s loyalties getting in the way of what had to be done.
“You two are looking mighty suspicious,” Brendan said, voicing Cole’s thoughts out loud.
“Suspicious? Regarding breakfast?” Megan asked.
“You’re just looking mighty suspicious,” Brendan told her. “And it’s time to take heed to the truth of what has happened. The South will lose. General Lee was beaten back bad at Gettysburg, and the knots around the Confederacy are drawing tighter all the time.”
“But that hasn’t been the way of the entire war,” Megan pointed out. “The South has won many—”
“Antietam Creek cannot be considered a win by anyone,” Cole heard himself say, though he had meant to stay out of the argument. “Fifty-thousand Americans dead. That’s not a win for anyone in my book.”
Megan looked at him, quiet.
“Now, now, please!” Martha said, drawing out a chair to join them at last. Cole, Cody and Brendan stood quickly to assist her, but she raised a hand and slid into her own seat. “We’re trying to have a nice civil breakfast here, and there’s going to be no talk of the war, if you all don’t mind. Not one of us here can solve it, that’s the simple truth, and it’s the arguing that got us all into it from the get-go, so…My, my! Cole, have you been in Washington before? Can you see how it’s changed? My, my, from sleepy little place to giant industrial city in just a matter of a few years. And the construction going on! Why, President Lincoln has seen to it that the work on the Capitol Building continues. It will go up—he is determined.”
Brendan Vincent was quite taken with Martha Graybow. “Indeed, dear lady. The city grew by nearly sixty-thousand souls in just a few years, so it did. Imagine this marshland becoming such a cultural center.”
They were still in the process of finishing the meal when a knock sounded from the front door. Cody nodded at Cole and they both excused themselves, Cody holding back while Cole stepped to the door.
“Cole Granger, are you asking me in? Or leaving a lady on the steps?” said a mischievous voice on the other side.
And Lisette Annalise, actress by trade and newly minted agent of the Pinkerton National Detective Agency, had arrived.
Cole opened the door with a smile on his face. “Why, Miss Annalise, no man in his right mind would leave you waiting anywhere,” he replied, inviting her in with a flourish. Cole had met her briefly years earlier when she had been performing in Faint Heart Never Won Fair Ladies on the Western circuit. She was a young Jenny Lind, a stunning, petite woman with the voice of an angel. Lisette had most recently telegraphed Cole, having heard about the success his town of Victory, Texas, had in fighting off a ruthless gang of outlaws.
Some loathed her fellow “Pinks,” as they were called. Some thought that they were a viable private enterprise. But there was no denying that war changed everything, and the Pinkertons were becoming a true power. The Pinkerton National Detective Agency had been founded in Chicago by Allan Pinkerton as a private security agency for rich and important businessmen and their interests. As president-elect, Lincoln himself had hired them, which tended to mean that Lisette would mention, almost right from the beginning of any encounter, that she’d met the man and admired him greatly, both of them enjoying the theater.
Cole liked Lisette, and he admired her. But she sometimes frightened him, as well. Her passion verged on fanaticism, and he’d never met a fanatic who could think with a straight head.
Overjoyed to see his old friend, Cole stepped out and quickly caught up with her about Victory, some common acquaintances and their business in the capitol.
“This is our contact?” Cody asked, suddenly appearing in the doorway, barring the way to the rear of the house.
“Yes, I’m sorry, forgive me,” Cole said, making the introductions.
Cody and Lisette exchanged greetings cordially but with some tension about them. “Did you tell her about Megan?” Cody asked Cole.
“Not yet,” Cole said.
“Ah,” Cody said, expressing what seemed to be the key sentiment of the moment.
Lisette had dark brown eyes and auburn hair, and flyaway eyebrows that rose in question.
“Cody discovered a long-lost sister just last night,” Cole explained.
“Megan,” Cody said.
“A sister?” Lisette said, her lips pursing into a bow. “Does that mean…?”
“Yes,” Cole said simply.
“Come along in, we’ll be suspicious out here,” Cole said, and gestured all into the house.
“Oh, of course. But I’m suspicious of this sudden sister already,” Lisette said, which Cole couldn’t help but smile at.
In the kitchen, introductions and greetings went around again. Martha was thrilled to meet Lisette. She had seen her perform onstage long ago in Richmond. Lisette was charming and said that she’d be performing in Washington soon.
“I find it so difficult these days, with so many soldiers out dying on the fields,” Lisette said.
“Oh, but you entertain those left behind at home. You help them bear the hours while their loved ones are away!” Martha said enthusiastically.
“Just how is it that you know each other?” Megan asked sweetly. Her eyes glittered gold, though she smiled as she asked the question.
“Well, Cole and I go back a long way,” Lisette said. She cast Cole a warm glance and lingered over the words, inviting all types of speculation as to what that exactly meant. “He wrote that he’d be here. May I ask you the same, Miss Fox? I’m always surprised that so many Southerners are enjoying a Union capital.”
“I had word that Cody would be in Washington. I was anxious to meet my brother.”
“Ah, yes, nothing like a little teasing sibling rivalry!” Lisette said.
Maybe it was natural that Lisette should subtly suggest that Megan Fox wasn’t here with the noblest of intentions, to insinuate to those who understood the undertone that Megan might possibly hold an agenda that involved infesting the capital with the plague—and thus getting the Union to capitulate to the South.
To her credit, Megan was composed. “Rivalry? Oh, Miss Annalise, I wouldn’t dream of attempting any form of rivalry with my brother. I’ve been hoping to meet him for so long! No, miss, I assure you, I shall do nothing but follow in my brother’s wake, and hope to be so fine a—being.”
“How utterly charming,” Lisette said. She rose from her position at the table, smiling graciously. “Would you please forgive us? In these dreadful times of war, we never know when we will meet. Cole and I would like to take a bit of a walk.” She smiled at him, blinking, as if she were about to burst into tears—as if there were far more between them than there had ever been. She was the ultimate actress.
Megan quickly and awkwardly rose, as well. “How nice! How very lovely. Yes, yes, the two of you must up and away for a lovely stroll. Pity the streets are little but mud and the dust flying about is terrible, but I’m sure you’ll have a charming walk, so sweet when time is precious and two people are together.”
One woman wanted his company, another was evidently more than anxious to get rid of him. He needed to see the one, and he was afraid to take his eyes off the other.
Megan was Cody’s sister. And Cody certainly knew the score.
“Of course, Lisette,” Cole said. “The streets are not so bad here—the house is not on a direct march line for the troops coming and going into and out of town. Let’s do stroll.”
“You will excuse us?” Lisette asked Martha, her beautiful smile all encompassing as she looked around the room.
They left by way of the rear door, the carriage entrance.
When they came around the front, Cole saw a sad-looking young woman standing on the front walk, an envelope and a clipboard in her hands. He started toward her.
“Cole, just walk, she’ll come,” Lisette said, taking his arm.
“She’ll come? Who is she?”
“It’s just Trudy.”
“Who is just Trudy and why is she standing there?” he demanded.
Lisette sighed. “She’s my assistant. The agency seems to think I need one, but I loathe being followed around. Luckily, she’s a little mouse and stands wherever I tell her.”
“You had her just standing outside while you came into the house?” Cole asked.
“Well, outside and around the corner. I wanted some time alone with you. Besides, it’s her job. She serves me. And she’s paid to do it,” Lisette said, waving a hand dismissively in the air.
She might be a mouse—a paid mouse—but Cole didn’t intend to be that rude. He walked over to the woman, extending his hand. “How do you do, Trudy? I’m Cole Granger.”
The young woman flushed and nervously shook his hand. “I’m fine, thank you, sir. How do you do?”
“Well enough, thank you. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Lisette slipped her arm through his. “Come. I have things to discuss with you.” She moved ahead. Trudy waited, then followed them at a distance.
Lisette didn’t speak at first as they walked from the house toward the mall, all manner of men and women moving past them, many of them soldiers. Though it had grown immensely and was a bevy of storage, manufacturing, industry and all things associated with war, there was still something inviting about the Union capital. The president spoke daily with his constituents—and his enemies—in the White House. He took his carriage out daily, often with his Mary, and despite the fact that there were those who despised him for the war, Lincoln was a man of the people. Cole had only seen him at a distance and heard him speak to crowds; Alexandra Fox knew him. She had been arrested for knowing what she shouldn’t have known once because Alex had her own special gift. Her dreams could be prophetic. And she had tried to stop a battle, which had meant that she had found herself arrested for espionage. Lincoln had stepped in. They were friends.