Lord Rogue

by Patricia Rice

  Chapter 33

  Frost on the ground would have been warmer than the reception Becky met when she arrived. She found Alicia furiously sweeping months of dust from the front room while Travis merely grunted a greeting and hefted her trunk to his shoulder to carry it inside.

  Even Becky’s limited imagination did not require prompting to gather the cause for this iciness. The gossip of the kidnapping had spread like wildfire, and the speculation of what had happened in the Indian camp was on everyone’s tongue. That was no way to treat a lady like Alicia, and for once Becky sided with her mistress. Travis had to face two cold demeanors each morning when he came down from the empty room he had chosen for his own.

  Travis had no overt cause for complaint. Alicia bent over backward to be polite and efficient. The filth of a bachelor’s establishment disappeared beneath brooms and mops and scrub brushes. In the evenings a hot meal always awaited him. Once the supplies Alicia sent for arrived, the meals even included deliciously light loaves of bread and pies that made his mouth water just smelling them. All his creature comforts but one were satisfied. That one ate at his insides like an insidious disease.

  Alicia consented to accompany Travis on his trips to the Indian village to see how Homasinee fared, and she sat at his side when they made the long trip into St. Louis for church on Sunday mornings. In front of others Alicia was unfailingly pleasant, deferred to his wishes, and behaved as any other new bride could be expected, making Travis grit his teeth in frustration.

  Only at night, in the privacy of their home, did she openly defy him. If Alicia retired first, Travis found her door barred to him. If he attempted to accompany her upstairs, she remembered some task to be done in the kitchen and refused to return upstairs unless he slept in another room. Once Travis tried waiting for her in the room he had meant for them to share, and she spent the night sitting in a rocking chair beside the kitchen fire. He never attempted that again.

  If Alicia had looked high and low for a method to drive him insane, she could not have found a better one. Travis swore as he swung his ax and splintered the firewood in the yard. This was far worse than her refusals on the trip downriver. Then he had known she had suffered at another man’s hands. This time he knew it was himself who had driven her away.

  That was not the least of it. As chips of wood flew from his angry strokes, Travis cursed beneath his breath. At least on the boat, she had kept herself hidden from his eyes and not displayed all her charms to tempt him. But now, living together as they were, he could scarcely look around without finding her in her nightdress brewing tea in the kitchen, or with her scarf removed, revealing the round, firm globes of her breasts as she wiped sweat and dust from her face while cleaning. Even the sound of her splashing as she bathed behind locked doors drove him into a frenzy. He had taken to icy baths in the river for himself.

  Stacking the wood by the kitchen door, Travis ducked his head beneath the pump to wipe off the sweat, then drying himself on an old towel, trudged into the house and up the stairs. Wryly reflecting on how the mighty had fallen, Travis contemplated the foolishness of his hope that a title might bring his lofty lady around. Instead, the Viscount Delaney, heir to an earldom, found himself performing the tasks of a common laborer and sleeping on the floor. He had more respect when he brawled in taverns and could outfight any man who challenged him.

  His heart skipped a beat as he came upon Alicia standing on the landing, gazing out the window. Sunlight gleamed along her hair, throwing her slenderness into silhouette, and Travis’s hands ached to encompass her apron-wrapped waist. She may have reduced him to a field hand, but the Philadelphia heiress performed all the tasks of the lowliest of maids. Even in this she left him no cause for complaint.

  She turned at his approach, and Travis read her expression with curiosity. She showed no fear of him, no anger, not even coldness any longer. It was as if he merely existed, a fact of life to be dealt with, as the dirt she swept from the house. At the moment she chewed at her lower lip, lost in thought, and he had the wild urge to taste that lip himself, but he stifled that madness.

  “Something worries you?” he inquired.

  Under other conditions Travis’s closeness might have made her nervous, but Alicia’s mind was elsewhere, and she actually welcomed his timely arrival. She gestured toward the window.

  “Look at Becky.” Her tone held neither command nor question, only perplexity. She had been so concerned with her own problems these last weeks, she had given little thought to others.

  Travis came to stand beside her. Out in the yard below, Becky carried the hired hands’ noon meal to the bunkhouse. Auguste evidently had come to help, and the two stood deep in conversation. Travis could see nothing unusual in this. He gave Alicia a quizzical glance.

  “What is wrong? She seems perfectly normal to me. She has always preferred talking to working.”

  Alicia glanced out again and saw that Becky had turned her back to the house. She made an impatient gesture. “Wait until she turns around. There. Look. Can’t you see?”

  With curiosity Travis followed the path of the couple. Auguste had taken away the heavy kettle, and Becky carried only the tray of bread. The half-starved urchin they had rescued from the tavern had not grown much in height these past months, but she had certainly filled out. Mrs. Clayton’s cooking had a lot to be said for that, and Becky had greedily learned everything she could. She would surpass boarding- house standards if the prior night’s meal was any evidence. Travis could find nothing of concern in that observance.

  He shook his head in ignorance. “She looks fine to me, a little plumper maybe, but it looks good on her. She looks less like a half-starved chicken.”

  He was surprised when his witticism was met with the furious stomp of Alicia’s foot and shake of her head.

  “She is pregnant! Can’t you see?”

  Travis looked again and gave a low whistle.

  Becky’s apron and full skirts disguised much of the fact, but now that he knew what to look for, Travis obviously understood. The tray Becky carried rested on a distinct bulge beneath the discreet apron, and she walked with an odd waddle that belied her usual jerky gait.

  “Auguste,” he muttered, not in anger, but wonder. “They make an unlikely pair. The ways of love and nature are strange.

  “Yes, Auguste,” Alicia answered. “What are we going to do about it?”

  Travis laughed. “Hold a shotgun to the devil’s head, I expect,” he responded cheerfully. “It should be amusing to be on the other end of the barrel for a change.”

  Alicia would have gladly strangled him, but Travis had already loped off. In minutes she could see him crossing the yard. She should have looked after Becky more carefully, but how could a young girl know how to behave when her mistress set a worse example? Upset with herself, Alicia disappeared into the Spartan room she had made her own.

  Becky came to her a half hour later, tears in her eyes. “Travis says it’s OK by you. Are you certain, Miss Alicia? I mean, if you’re going to leave him, I got to go with you. And you know Auguste, he’ll stay with Travis. I been afraid to say anything, but if you really mean it . . .”

  Alicia nearly cried at the ogre she must appear. “Of course, it’s all right, silly goose. You should have said something earlier. You shouldn’t be carrying those heavy kettles about and scrubbing floors and—”

  Becky grinned. “Don’t make me no matter. If you can do it, I can do it. But it would be kind of nice to have a wedding and all. When I get so big Auguste can’t bed me, I’ll at least have his name to keep me company.”

  Slightly stunned by this attitude and Becky’s indication that she knew of Alicia’s pregnancy, Alicia searched for a way to divert the topic. “When is the baby due?”

  Becky shrugged. “Three, four months, I expect. There’s lots of time.”

  “Three or four months?” Shocked, Alicia mentally counted backward. This was only the beginning of June. The little devil had been carrying on since
the first of the year or earlier. For all she knew, the wise little brat may have singled out Auguste back on the boat. Would she ever learn to know people?

  Briskly Alicia chased away such thoughts and set about making plans. That, she knew how to do.

  The day of the wedding dawned bright and clear. Word had traveled to St. Louis and uninvited guests began to arrive the night before. Every keelboat crew on the river seemed to be in St. Louis this week, Alicia decided as she gazed out upon her lawn. And they had all showed up for Auguste’s wedding. She gave a prayer of thanks that her own wedding was so hasty they had not time to congregate. Obviously they intended to make up for the lack today.

  By the time the circuit preacher arrived and the vows were said, their guests were already well on their way to a happy state of oblivion. Travis had provided kegs of ale and a collection of musicians, and the front lawn thundered with shouts and song by mid-afternoon.

  Much to Alicia’s chagrin, wherever the boatmen went, women followed, and the reception quickly threatened to become an orgy if it did not rain soon. Glancing at the cloudless sky, she saw little chance of that. With dismay she watched as Becky and Auguste began the dancing with a rocking, bumping display that made a mockery of the art form. Physical contact seemed to be the main object of the dance, and the audience whistled in appreciation as Auguste swung his pregnant wife into the air.

  Travis startled her by coming up from behind and sliding his arm around her waist. Alicia could smell the liquor on his breath, and her heart quailed, but he seemed sober as he watched the dancing.

  “If we don’t join in soon, they will begin calling for us,” he warned, watching the crowd.

  “Travis, I cannot go out there,” Alicia protested.

  “They’ll be insulted if we do not. I don’t think you want to insult the guests at Becky’s wedding, do you?”

  Alicia swallowed her distaste. These were his friends. Come hell or high water, a hostess saw that her husband’s guests were entertained.

  Travis’s arm about her waist sent nervous shocks through Alicia’s system, and she did not meet his eyes for fear he would see the effect he had on her. If she could only hate him, it would be so much easier, but even the knowledge that he did not love her—scarcely seemed to respect her—could not abate her feelings for this man.

  He stood tall and straight, his strength a bulwark she could rely on, but his gentleness a facade he used to deceive. She had seen his savagery, knew the lengths his fury would carry him. She must preserve herself and her control at all cost, or he would destroy her as Teddy had tried to do, as her father had destroyed her mother.

  He guided her toward the open field where the musicians played. His hand clutched her waist as the crowd noted their appearance and cheered.

  In the light of the setting sun, Travis’s midnight eyes swept Alicia’s breath away. Obediently she fell into the pattern of his steps. The fiddle’s tune was for a country dance, but Travis made no effort to release his hold on her waist. They swept down the lawn, his strong arm providing all the guidance she needed.

  Holding her gown up from the grass as elegantly as if this were a ballroom, Alicia accepted Travis’s embrace as he whirled her around in an impromptu choreography of his own. The crowd whistled and cheered, but Alicia had already forgotten their existence. Dark eyes cast a spell on her, holding her fascinated as they moved to the rhythm of the rowdy music. His hands burned paths of fire down her spine.

  Others soon joined in. As dusk arrived, a fire was lit, sending a golden glow over the assemblage of whirling figures. And still Alicia and Travis danced, their bodies speaking what their words could not.

  Sweat broke out on Travis’s brow as Alicia’s hips moved close to his, and he had to stifle his lust. His body had been denied too long not to respond to her sinuous movement, the heavenly scent of violets from her hair, or the sight of white flesh pushing temptingly above her bodice.

  But he would not have to resort to violence to have her, Travis surmised as he stared down into depths of azure. Desire was written on moist, upturned lips, parted as she met his gaze and did not look away. His grip tightened, and Alicia swayed against him, their thighs brushing and his readiness apparent. She did not flinch, and Travis muffled a groan against her hair. Tonight. It would have to be tonight.

  The general rowdiness broke out into the inevitable fight, and Travis pulled Alicia from the firelight. His glance told him Auguste and Becky had retired, and he turned Alicia in the direction of the house.

  “Go on. I will have to settle this before they set fire to each other and everything else. I will join you shortly.”

  A gust of cool night air blew between them, coloring Alicia’s cheeks and forcing them apart. She dropped her eyes and nodded, then scurried toward the house, her heart beating an uneven patter as she reached the porch.

  The heat of Travis’s hands still burned where he had touched her. Moistness rolled between her breasts and thighs, reminding her of what they had done together, what they would do together again. She knew what he wanted, what he expected after this night’s exhibition. She had been wanton in her behavior. The price would be high.

  With trepidation Alicia fled to the safety of the bedroom, closing the door behind her. As she stared at the elegant poster bed, its symbolic carving revealed in the lamplight, she knew this would be a haven no longer if Travis were allowed to enter.

  He had humiliated her and bought her with his noble name. How could she even consider what she had let him believe? Once she allowed him in here, there would be no removing him short of physical force. Ever. Travis had a way of converting everything and everyone to his own use. She would be just another of his possessions, a woman he had carved from stone and brought to life.

  Taking up the wooden statue she had saved from the fire, Alicia wandered to the window and stared out into the starlit night. The flames from the bonfire threw dancing shadows across the lawn, illuminating grotesque figures as they parted from the company. Laughter drifted through the open casement, accompanied by the merriment of drunken men. An occasional scream or curse warned all fighting had not ceased, and she sought Travis’s familiar physique among the combatants.

  Among all the burly, muscular shapes, his was not difficult to find. Silhouetted against the fire, Travis hovered half a head taller than most. Broad shoulders tapering to narrow hips distinguished him from the few who nearly matched his height. Alicia watched as he flung aside his lace-cuffed linen shirt to join the coat and cravat he had worn in honor of the occasion. Half-naked, he raised his fists to meet his opponents—Travis’s way of establishing peace.

  Even now, knowing how violence could so easily destroy a life, Alicia thrilled at the sight of Travis’s powerful torso moving with such grace and precision. Perhaps men dealt differently with death and destruction, but she could not. For her, violence was a type of madness, and she had lingered too long on the brink. Travis aroused passions in her that were better left dead.

  She wanted to believe he loved her, that his concern would protect her from the violence of this savage life, but she knew now it was not so. If he had loved her, he would never have kidnapped her as he had done.

  Even knowing that, she would allow him to take her to his bed again, just to experience the pleasure of being wanted, if only just in this way. She craved the strength of his arms, the heat of his kisses, the joining that brought them so close she could almost believe his words. She would give him everything just for the sheer physical beauty of their lovemaking, if she could ever trust him again.

  Looking out at the violence of the man who pommeled his opponent to the ground and swung around looking for any other challengers, Alicia knew her trust had fled. A man like that was alien to her. She would never be able to understand the reasons behind his inscrutable actions, and not understanding, she could never trust.

  As Travis walked triumphantly from the firelight, advancing toward the house to the cheers of his audience, Alicia turned fr
om the window.

  It took only a few steps and a single motion to slide the bolt that separated the past from the future.

  He could take his lust elsewhere.

  Chapter 34

  Thinking he’d finally wooed his lady with dancing, Travis took the back porch stairs two at a time and stopped at the washbasin to fling cold water over his perspiring back and shoulders. Carrying his discarded shirt and coat, he strode whistling into the kitchen.

  The fire had already been banked for the night, and he continued through the house. His heart pounded wildly as he contemplated the prize awaiting him. He had worked long and hard to gain the comforts of soft arms and willing body. Not just any soft arms, but the sweet-scented arms of a lady. For one who had been cursed at and spat on as a heathen savage for too many years of his life, this was a reward made in heaven. He had proved himself not only as a man, but as a gentleman.

  That Alicia was not just any lady, but a woman with needs and desires to match his own, propelled Travis up the stairs with an eager gait. All trace of liquor had evaporated with the anticipation of this moment. The nuisance of establishing his control of the party outside had irked him where once it would have given him pleasure. He had disposed of his boisterous challengers more quickly than was his wont so as not to keep Alicia waiting. He wanted nothing to cool the flames of desire that had circled them earlier.

  Travis hesitated at the door to the room he had occupied these last weeks. Should he wash more thoroughly than that hasty splash? Should he shave and put on something more suitable? Eagerness won out over gentility.

  A few long strides carried him to the closed door that had barred his happiness since their wedding night. He would burn the damn bar in the morning. Tonight he would win his bride.

  Travis turned the wooden knob and pushed the door to enter. Wood came in contact with wood with a loud thump that echoed Travis’s rage. His fist closed around the knob, the knuckles turning white with the tension of controlling his fury.