Frost Fire Read online

  "Hush now, you're safe. Your aunt Harriet is right here. We'll take care of you."

  A maid rushed in with an armload of blankets, her wide eyes on Tyler's bare, blue-tinged legs as Gray Kincaid wrapped several of the soft, warm quilts around the poor, unfortunate girl. Without another word, he scooped Tyler into his arms again and carried her up a narrow flight of back servants' stairs that led to the second-floor bedchambers.

  Harriet followed helplessly, so flustered now that she didn't know what else to do. Upstairs, she scurried in Gray Kincaid's wake as he took Tyler down a wide hall to a set of double doors which stood open near the top of a massive mahogany staircase.

  Chamber music wafted up the crimson-carpeted steps, and Harriet caught sight of a crowd of guests below before she entered the bedchamber where the man had disappeared with Tyler. Inside, she found the maid Gray Kincaid had called Hildie sliding a long-handled pewter bed warmer between the sheets of a high white four-poster draped with flowing folds of purple silk. She approached as Gray Kincaid lay Tyler down on the warmed sheets any then turned to the servant.

  "Did you get the bedgown from Carly's room?"

  "Yes, sir. Here 'tis, sir."

  "I'll leave it with you, then, Mrs. Stowe," Gray Kincaid said, placing the soft white garment in Harriet's hands. "I believe there's a doctor in attendance downstairs, a friend of mine. As soon as I change out of these wet clothes, I'll ask him to come up and check on her condition. She's reviving a bit now, I believe."

  "You've been so kind." Harriet said, breathless with raged nerves, glad he was leaving, and even more relieved he was summoning a doctor. "I just can't tell you how grateful I am."

  "It's a good thing I happened along in time to help," he answered absently, then turned to the maid. "You had best prepare the room next door for Mrs. Stowe." He returned his attention to Harriet. "I'm certain you'll need to stay the night. You won't want to leave Miss—I'm sorry, I don't believe you've told me your niece's last name. Is it Stowe as well?"

  Harriet hesitated, chagrined to be in such a fix, but she had managed to regain a certain degree of reason. She fibbed the way she was supposed to, Lord forgive her.

  "Lancaster," Harriet told him, since Tyler's uncle's name was the only thing that came to her. Her gaze slid guiltily away from his incredible bluer-than-blue eyes. "Her name is Tyler Lancaster."

  "Well, Miss Lancaster—she is a miss, at her age, I assume?" Harriet nodded, becoming more uncomfortable as she became deeper embroiled in Tyler's plot. She listened while her unsuspecting host continued, obviously deeply concerned about Tyler's well-being. "Miss Lancaster will need to stay abed until the doctor can see to her. Is there need to notify anyone? Your menfolk are probably alarmed, since it's well past dark."

  "I appreciate your concern, but there's no one. We're on a holiday here, just the two of us." Harriet answered quickly, most gratified that she was finally able to speak a scrap of truth.

  "Indeed? At this time of year? I must say that surprises me. Most visitors prefer the summertime."

  "I am just so truly appreciative," Harriet repeated.

  "I'm afraid I must say good night to you now, Mrs. Stowe. I need to see to my guests. But if you should require anything, the servants will gladly attend to you. There's the bell cord, beside the bed." He paused, looking solicitously into Harriet's worried face. "You appear very pale. Are you quite sure you're all right?"

  "Oh, mercy sakes, of course," Harriet answered a little too hastily. "It's my poor niece we must worry about, Mr.—" Harriet suddenly remembered she wasn't supposed to know his name!

  "Kincaid. Gray Kincaid," he said in a pleasant manner. "I think you had better put that gown on little Tyler there, then tuck her under the covers."

  "Oh, yes, I will, at once."

  "All right, then, I'll bid you good night."

  2

  "Can you believe our luck?" Tyler whispered softly, popping up in bed the moment the door closed.

  "Luck?" Harriet parroted hoarsely, watching in astonishment as Tyler grabbed the warm white cashmere nightdress and slipped it over her head, then quickly wriggled out of the cold wet chemise underneath it. "Tyler! I thought you were unconscious!"

  "That was just pretend. Couldn't you tell? But I can't stop shaking. I'm still so cold I'm about to croak. I was scared witless at first, but the river was real shallow where I went in. I could have walked out on my own if I'd wanted."

  "You just about frightened me to death acting half dead like that!" Harriet scolded in a rare display of ire, her eyes kindling and her cheeks going pale.

  "Forgive me, Etty," Tyler replied, looking the picture of remorse. "I truly didn't intend to worry you. Uncle Burl always knew when I was putting on an act, and I thought you'd see through it, too. But didn't it all work out just grand! I told you we needed to get into Kincaid's house, and here we are!" Tyler scrunched down deeper under the warm blankets, trying to control the shudders that still racked her. "It'll just take a spell to warm up, and then we'll search the Yankee's bedroom."

  "We'll what!" Harriet's brown eyes grew round behind her octagonal lasses. "I simply won't allow it, Tyler. We cannot do such a thing without someone seeing us! He'll see us!"

  "Oh, pooh, no one will see. Not with all the goings-on downstairs. He's hosting a party, isn't he? And that means the servants will be busy with all the cooking and serving and such."

  "Now listen to me, young lady. We can't just go creeping around in plain sight! Oh, gracious me, we'll get caught for sure!" Harriet leaned against the bed with a despairing groan, as if scandalized at the mere thought of such shenanigans.

  "Oh, Etty, you just aren't used to tricking people yet. As soon as I get some feeling back in my legs, I'll show you how simple it is." Tyler buried her face in the warm flannel blanket."I nearly fainted for true when you told him my real name," she said, her voice muffled by the bedclothes. "I was terrified you'd spill out everything so I threw a hissy."

  "Well, that frightened me, too—when you screamed, I mean," Harriet muttered in reproach, finally thinking to remove her hat and hooded cloak. She arranged her wide hoops as she sat gracefully on the bed.

  "You did pretty well, under the circumstances," Tyler praised her, reaching up to smooth back a strand of Harriet's hair which had come loose from its crown of braids during all the excitement. "Except for the part about Harriet Stowe. I nearly crowed when you said you were related to her. Why, Uncle Burl said that book of hers was what got all the Yankees stirred up so much about the Negroes!"

  Tyler giggled at the absurd notion of being related to the famous writer. Then her face quickly sobered as she took both of Harriet's hands and squeezed them in silent appeal. "Things can still work out, Etty, because I intend to find a way to stay longer. He seems eager enough to have us here, so we'll just accept his hospitality. He won't find out what we're after until it's too late."

  "Perhaps he's not as bad as you think. He certainly appears a gentleman," Harriet felt compelled to say earning a, frown from Tyler. "Are you sure he's culprit?"

  "Of course I'm sure!" Tyler cried indignantly. "And don't go all softhearted just because he decided to drag me out of the river. He wouldn't have bothered if he'd known who I really was, and he'll be sorry he went to the trouble before I get through with him!"

  "But how can you be sure it's him? The war was so long ago. You were so young then, and he's not that old either, probably barely into his thirties." Harriet chafed Tyler's ice-cold fingers.

  "Oh, please, Etty, you must trust me. Uncle Burl told me all about him when I was a little girl—his name, where he lived, what he looked like, everything. He's the one, all right, and he deserves everything he's going to get. Oh, Etty, now that my feet are thawing out, it feels like thousands of little pins are sticking them!"

  A tap on the door sent Tyler diving back into the pillows to feign unconsciousness, while Harriet lunged to her feet, thoroughly alarmed until she saw Hildie, Gray Kincaid's freckle-faced chambermaid, app
ear in the portal.

  "The fire's burnin' next door, ma'am," she announced courteously.

  "Thank you kindly, Hildie."

  "If you have a need, you most likely'll find one of us down in the kitchen, ma'am. The master said we was to see to you right smartly if you ring." With that the girl bobbed a curtsy and left.

  "There, you see?" Tyler said triumphantly. "They're all much too busy with their duties downstairs to bother with us. She shifted under the blankets, feeling much better now. "You will watch at the door and see when the Yankee goes downstairs, won't you? Please, Etty? Then will be the perfect time for me to snoop around."

  Harriet shook her head. "This is nothing but madness, Tyler. Someone will see you. I know they will."

  "Please, Etty, help me this one last time. If it wasn't for him, Papa would still be alive and we'd be together at Rose Point. I'll hate Gray Kincaid for as long as I live."

  Harriet sighed, as usual unable to resist Tyler's pleading, especially when she talked about her plantation in Mississippi—which was often. Harriet had never known anyone who wanted to go home as badly as Tyler, unless it was Harriet herself. But unlike Tyler, Harriet refused to let herself dwell on the old, comfortable farmhouse in northern Missouri where she had married and given birth to her four sons. She could never go back there again. There were too many torturous memories.

  Reluctantly, she moved to take her post at the door. She opened it a crack and peered into the corridor as Tyler rubbed her feet and legs to increase the circulation. Moments later, she saw Gray Kincaid leave a room on the other side of the hall. She watched him walk along the banister of the open stairwell, from which one could peer down into the vast foyer below. He had changed into dark evening attire, and Harriet thought he looked extremely handsome and elegant as he rounded the carved newel-post topped by a statue of a Grecian maiden holding a lamp.

  "He's gone," she whispered to Tyler as he disappeared down the staircase.

  Tyler threw back the covers, eager to get the job done. She needed to find out as much as she could about his railroad holdings. If he was like other wealthy men, he would probably have a safe in his bedchamber, and if not there, in a private office somewhere in the house.

  "Now you stay here, Etty, just in case someone comes upstairs."

  Tyler arranged the covers as she spoke, pulling the bed drapes to obscure the interior of the four-poster.

  "If someone does come, just keep him over by the door, and he'll never know I'm not in the bed. Look, those French doors by the fireplace must lead to the upstairs porch." She ran to peek out the silk draperies to make sure. "Yes, and I'll bet all the bedrooms lead onto it. It's always good to know all the exits from a room, in case something goes wrong," she said as she returned to the hall door. "Uncle Burl told me that plenty of times, so you better remember it, too."

  "Oh, Lordy me." Harriet groaned.

  "Don't look so worried," Tyler chided cheerfully. "No one's going to come up during the few minutes I'm gone. I've got very good instincts about such things. I wouldn't ask you to help, Etty, really, but it might be the only chance I'll have to find out where he keeps his important papers. Now where do you think he'd hide his safe?"

  "His safe! You're not going to burglarize him, are you?" Harriet looked aghast at the notion.

  "Not unless I have to. I'd much rather trick him into buying the fake stocks. But in any case, I'll only be taking back what he stole from my family. Now, which room is his?"

  Moments later, Tyler left a harried-looking Harriet on guard in the doorway and tiptoed stealthily around the stairwell, looking like a lost ghost in her long white nightdress.

  The entire upstairs was deserted, but the sound of stringed instruments and merry laughter rose from below. Feeling more confident, she turned the shiny brass doorknob and quickly entered Gray Kincaid's bedchamber. She stood motionless on the threshold, her chest heaving with fearful excitement. She drew in a deep breath as she let her gaze wander over the spacious room.

  The gas had been turned low. The only other light was the crimson glow of banked embers coming from the black marble hearth in the adjoining sitting room. A curved dark blue sofa and matching wing chairs flanked the fireplace facing the French doors, which Tyler assumed also led to the upstairs porch. She took a step inside, unnerved by the silence, broken only by the slow, steady ticking of an antique case clock beside the door. The furniture was dark and massive, ebony perhaps, lost in the shadows looming along the walls. Everything was very austere and masculine, but at the same time tasteful and finely made.

  Deciding she had better hasten to her task, she silently moved past the huge bed hung with maroon velvet to a highboy chest against the wall. She barely glanced at the wood-framed dressing valet over which Gray Kincaid had carelessly tossed his wet clothing. She was much more interested in what she might find in the chest of drawers.

  A glint from the top of the chiffonier caught her eye, however, and she reached up to lift one of the small silver picture frames arranged on the glossy surface. Gray Kincaid stared back at her, alongside another man. Both looked to be well over six feet fall and wore the detested dark blue, brass-buttoned uniform of the Union Army.

  Even now, years after the South's defeat, the sight of their fine Yankee attire filled her with bitterness. The gallant men of the Confederacy she recalled had worn threadbare rags and soleless boots. Her uncle Burl had sent them much of the money he and Tyler had accumulated during the years of conflict, and she would always take pride in their contribution. She shook away her anger over the war and focused on the young girl in the photograph, standing between the two bluecoats. She appeared to be around ten or eleven, and gazed into the camera with a bold, proud smile that was unusual in a girl of her age. A sister? Tyler wondered. Perhaps the one Gray Kincaid had called Carly, who owned the nightgown Tyler now wore.

  Tyler put down the heavy frame and picked up the other ornate pictures one by one, finding several more photographs of the same three people, one before a fir tree hung with strands of popcorn and gay Christmas decorations, and a few of Gray Kincaid with other men. She assumed they were his business associates, since they stood in front of various locomotives and depot offices.

  The last picture was an old daguerreotype, browned by age. It showed a pretty young woman sitting on a small bench beneath a leafy tree with a tall, dark-haired man behind her, his hand resting on her shoulder. Two small boys hugged her skirts, and she held a baby in a long white christening gown. The family looked rather poor and shabbily dressed, and she wondered if the two adults were Gray Kincaid's parents. She knew nothing of his life before he stole Rose Point.

  She replaced that last frame, then slid open the top drawer, realizing she had wasted too much time on the pictures. She quickly but thoroughly searched each of the long narrow drawers, finding only neatly starched shirts, neckties, and handkerchiefs, all laid in precise stacks.

  Disappointed, she moved to one of the few pictures hanging in the room, of a wild white stallion. But there was no safe hidden behind it, and to her chagrin, none behind the room's two other pictures either. Well, she would just have to search his office. That was where he'd likely keep all his business secrets. And the more she knew about her victim, the smoother her plan would go. Uncle Burl had always said so.

  Her face set with renewed determination, she eased out into the corridor and nearly swallowed her tongue as she turned and knocked into Harriet, causing a violent swaying of hoops.

  "He's coming up the steps! Whatever shall we do?" Harriet hissed, hysterically, her dark eyes wild with panic behind her wire-rimmed spectacles.

  Tyler's heart dropped to her knees as she saw the Yankee's broad back coming up the last turn of the steps. Within a few seconds he would round the stair-well and see them standing at his bedroom door.

  Tyler looked around frantically, but saw neither a convenient set of drapes nor a towering potted plant behind which to hide. Then her eyes went to Harriet's wide, voluminous
black wool skirt. "Etty, don't move. No matter what, don't move," she whispered. Harriet gasped in astonished shock as Tyler suddenly fell to her knees and ducked beneath the back of her hoop, sending it waving precariously forward.

  "Oh, Lordy, Lordy—" Harriet croaked out in utter mortification and woe. She lost every ounce of color in her face as Gray Kincaid turned and caught sight of her. Her heart seemed to rise into her throat until it got stuck somewhere around her tonsils.

  "Mrs. Stowe?" Gray Kincaid said, obviously surprised to see her. "Is anything wrong?" he inquired, striding toward her.

  "I feel as if I might faint," announced Harriet with utmost honesty, then belatedly realized that was the very last thing she could do with Tyler crouched behind her wobbling knees.

  "It could be that your niece's mishap upset you more than you first thought," he replied solicitously. "Please, madam, allow me to assist you to your bedchamber. You do look a little worse for wear."

  "No!" Harriet cried as his hand closed over her elbow. "I mean, I don't believe I can walk a step right now. It's my heart," she improvised. "Yes, that must be it. I have a heart condition."

  The tall man looked down at her, dark brows knitted in concern. "Perhaps I should carry you," he offered.

  "No, no, I'm much too heavy for that," she said, then flushed, comparing the strength in his broad shoulders and immense muscular arms to her slight size.

  "I assure you I can lift you, Mrs. Stowe," he answered, the corner of his mouth twitching with a hint of a smile.

  "Oh, dear, but of course you can, silly me, but now that I think upon it…perhaps I had better just stand right here by myself for a very long time. Please, sir, don't bother yourself about me. Return to your guests, I really must insist upon it."