by Linda Ladd
“Forgive me, Elizabeth, for being the one to tell you this, but I feel you have the right to know.”
Dark, foreboding intuition worked to prepare Elizabeth, but nevertheless, her face paled slightly as Isabel interrupted her brother.
“Logan and I are lovers. We have been for years.”
Elizabeth could not speak, wanting to put her hands over her ears, but she struggled to retain her dignity.
“I cannot expect my husband to have been chaste before we met,” she said in a low voice.
Brent frowned, and Isabel spoke again.
“I'm glad to see you are so understanding, because Logan doesn't want to end our relationship. He gave me this necklace just yesterday when I left Denver. As a token of his love.”
Brent looked at the amethyst set in gold filigree that she held up for Elizabeth to see. It was the one Rankin had sold to Brent in St. Louis, and Brent admired Isabel's cleverness in using it to convince Elizabeth of her husband's infidelity.
Elizabeth stared at the swirling scallops, her heart like lead, as she realized it matched the ring upon her gloved finger. Isabel had told the truth; there was no doubt now. A great hurt ballooned against her chest, and Isabel's eyes glowed victorious as she read the pain in the violet depths.
Satisfied, Brent said gently, “Logan and Isabel were to be married, my dear, until he learned that he was already married to you. That's why he opposed it so much.”
“Then why won't he grant me an annulment?” Elizabeth asked, her pride making her lift her chin.
Isabel was startled by the question, but Brent's answer was smooth. “Logan's made some bad investments, and I'm afraid he expects your inheritance to offset his losses.”
Elizabeth swallowed hard, not quite believing the explanation, but Brent pressed on, encouraged by her distress. “Don't you see, my darling, he's only using you. But if you leave with me now, I can take you back to St. Louis. Thomas will understand when he knows how Logan feels about Isabel. Then we can be married.”
Elizabeth looked at his face, her throat constricted with indecision.
“I cannot just leave. Michael is here with me.”
Brent's grin was triumphant, and Isabel breathed in relief.
“Then tomorrow night. I am invited to the ball. We could slip away and be gone before Logan even knew it.” Sickness grew in the pit of Elizabeth's stomach at even the thought of it. “No, I couldn't.”
“Please, darling. It's our last chance at happiness.”
Elizabeth looked away from him, grateful when she saw Michael at the doorway, searching the tables for her. She had to get away where she could think. She stood, grasping her purse with white knuckles.
“I must go.”
Brent grabbed her arm. “Think about it, Elizabeth, and tell me tomorrow night.”
Elizabeth did not answer or look at Isabel as she turned from them and rushed toward Michael, who smiled and raised his hand in greeting.
Brent watched them leave, then turned to his sister and smiled.
“The barb of distrust is set, my dear, and something tells me that Logan will find it most difficult to dislodge.”
It was the same night, but very late, when Logan walked his hose up the rocky drive of Woodstone. The stars were hidden by looming clouds that lumbered across the moon, turning the night into heavy black velvet. When he reached the stable, he slid off tiredly, then pulled the horse inside. When they'd arrived in Denver, his house had been aflame, and they'd joined the fight to bring it under control. Parker's arm had been broken in the process, but between them they'd saved most of the structure. The whole town had been rebuilding, and it had taken him several days to find enough carpenters to go to work on his house. He was paying them four times their usual wages, but it was worth it. They'd gotten a good start by the time he'd left for Woodstone, and he hoped it would be finished soon. Besides that loss, his mining office downtown had burned to the ground, and the mustangs the boys had herded to Denver for the army contract had been set free when the fire neared the corrals. He'd slept an average of two hours a night the whole two weeks, but he'd gotten most things in order. And through it all, Elizabeth had controlled his thoughts, her beautiful face ever with him.
He sighed, thankful he was finally home, then unstrapped the saddle and rubbed the lathered horse with a handful of straw. He'd ridden hard all day in his eagerness to be home, only stopping once to rest his horse. But the ball was tomorrow night, and Elizabeth waited for him. He walked outside picturing Elizabeth sleeping, her silver hair spread over the pillow. He hastened his footsteps, crossing the back veranda to the kitchen.
The house was dark and quiet, and he struck a match to the lamp upon the table and carried it through the back hallway. He frowned at first when he saw the furniture against the walls, turning toward the far end of the room where one couch still sat in front of the hearth.
Michael sat there with Lily, her black head nestled in the crook of his arm, and while Logan watched, Michael nuzzled her temple. Logan grinned slightly, thinking a lot had happened since he'd been away. He cleared his throat as the kiss deepened, and Michael jerked around.
“Logan, thank God,” he said when he saw him. “We were afraid you wouldn't make it back for the ball.”
“The devil himself couldn't make me miss that,” Logan said as Michael rose to meet him. “Where is Elizabeth?”
“Upstairs. We spent the day in Central City, and she was very tired.”
Logan started to turn, but Michael stopped him.
“We got your message about Parker. Is he all right?”
“His arm's broken where the beam hit him, but it's healing.” Logan sighed, running tired fingers over his whiskered jaw. “The fire damaged the house, but we managed to save most of the furniture.”
Lily spoke in concern. “Is Zack all right?”
“Yes, he's fine, but he stayed to help with the rebuilding. Half Denver's under construction.”
“Would you like something to eat or drink?” Lily offered.
“No, I just need some sleep. I take it everything's in order for tomorrow night.”
Michael looked at Lily with admiration. “Lily's done a wonderful job. Everything is ready.”
The intimate look they shared told Logan their romance had progressed even further than he'd assumed. But he was glad. Both had been lonely, and if they could find happiness together, they had his blessing.
He bid them goodnight, then went straight to Elizabeth's room. He had to see her, assure himself that she was still there, before he could close his eyes. He opened the door quietly, not wishing to awaken her. The canopied bed lay empty, and he frowned until a splash of water sent him to the velvet screen beside the hearth. He drew the curtain aside with one hand.
The white porcelain hip bath had been drawn near the fire, and Elizabeth sat in the scented water, her back to him. Logan could not move when she lifted one shapely leg and squeezed her sponge upon it, the trickling rivulets leading his hungry eyes to where her thigh met the water. The glow of the fire haloed coils of fair hair, and his face relaxed in a slow, relieved smile.
Something innate made Elizabeth turn, and the sight of Logan brought an involuntary gasp from her lips. She watched as he moved closer and stood looking down at her. His face was grimy and bewhiskered, and his eyes glittered blue in the firelight. Pain started up deep inside her as she realized how much she'd missed him. She did love him, she could no longer deny it, but the sense of betrayal lay heavy on her heart at the thought of his being with Isabel. Neither spoke as his eyes scorched into the smooth shoulders above the water, and Elizabeth sank deeper as lean fingers brushed damp tendrils away from her face. When he ran his knuckles lightly across her cheekbone, she averted her face, and Logan withdrew his hand, his low sigh audible in the silent room.
“I've missed you,” he said softly, and Elizabeth looked into the fire without answering. She wanted to believe him, wanted to forget the suffering she'd endured since she
'd learned he loved Isabel. But how could she? Even now, her mind returned to the amethyst necklace upon Isabel's throat.
Logan stared down into her impassive face, unable to stop the disappointment that tortured his heart. He had hoped she would have missed him, but her eyes were cool and remote, as if she cared nothing for him.
Elizabeth watched him move to a chair on the other side of the hearth. He sat down, hidden by shadows, and Elizabeth sat self-consciously in the tub as the room grew very quiet.
She wanted to confront him, to ask him if he loved Isabel, if he wanted Elizabeth herself only for her money, but she could not bring herself to do it as Brent had suggested. What if he admitted his love for Brent's sister? How could she live with that? She knew she could not, that she'd have to leave with Brent. She remained silent, indecision and hurt raging inside her heart.
She was not sure he watched her until the logs shifted, revealing a gleam of blue in the darkness. The water gradually grew cold, but the towel lay warming by the fire, and Elizabeth could not bring herself to reach for it.
She shivered, and Logan's voice immediately spoke from the corner.
“Come, before you catch a chill.”
He arose and came to her, holding the towel out for her. Elizabeth looked up into his face, still hesitant.
“Come, sweet, it grows late,” he said, his voice very tired. “You have nothing to fear from me tonight.”
She steeled her nerves, then slowly stood as his eyes openly assessed her firm, rounded body. But the hot perusal lasted only an instant, then she found herself enfolded in the soft warmth of the towel. His strong hands lingered briefly upon her arms, then he slipped her gown over her head, watching with a certain degree of bittersweet pain as fine silk of the palest pink molded over her damp limbs. He slipped an arm beneath her knees and swooped her against his chest, and Elizabeth closed her eyes tightly, wishing she'd never gone to Central City with Michael, wishing she'd never seen Brent or his sister. Logan carried her to the bed, then drew the silken coverlet over her. He pressed a tender kiss upon her brow, his voice very low.
“Until tomorrow, my love, when you will be mine again.”
She watched him pull the door closed behind him, and she stared at it, tears threatening to spill over as she wrestled with her desire to stay with Logan and the terrible sense of betrayal she felt. How could he really love Isabel and look at Elizabeth the way he did? How could he be so gentle and loving to her when he had just left another woman?
It was much, much later when her troubled, anxious thoughts allowed her long dark lashes to drift together and close out his azure-blue eyes.
Seventeen
The guests began to arrive the next afternoon, and Elizabeth watched dully as an endless stream of carriages rolled into the valley. Invitations to the rare social events given by Logan Cord were eagerly sought after in Denver, but his wedding celebration was even more to be coveted. Despite the hardships brought about by the fire, everyone was eager to see the woman who'd finally claimed the rich and handsome landowner.
According to custom, the bride and groom were not to see each other until the ball, and it was a practice that Elizabeth welcomed wholeheartedly. She'd kept to herself, in the seclusion of her room. But most of her time was spent pacing the floor, as Brent and Isabel's words ran never-endingly through her mind. Just as often, she dwelt upon the shady glen far across the meadows, where Logan's hard body and gentle touch had sent exquisite pleasures racing through her blood. She looked out over the lake, shivering slightly as she turned from the window.
The gold amethyst ring lay upon her dressing table, bringing back Isabel Whitcomb's lovely face. Deep down, Elizabeth knew she did not want to leave Logan, and perhaps for that reason, she could not bring herself to believe everything that Isabel had told her. The way Logan looked at her said otherwise, and she had to admit that he'd had a chance for an annulment if he'd wanted it. And it was just as hard to believe he needed her money. Woodstone was much too opulent, and besides that, Michael was very wealthy. Perhaps he'd given Isabel the necklace long ago, before he'd even known he had a wife.
Amanda knocked, and Elizabeth watched, unsmiling, as Rachel and Amanda entered, ready to assist her with her dressing. Amanda poured scented oil into the deep, warm water, drawing a deep, savoring whiff of its fragrance, then closing her eyes in ecstasy as Elizabeth stepped into the tub.
“This oil is from China. Logan brought it for you from Denver. Have you ever smelled anything so wonderful?”
Elizabeth nodded unenthusiastically and closed her eyes. She tried to clear her mind completely, block out the girls’ excited chatter. But her thoughts could not stay away from Logan. Sometimes it seemed as if she'd known him forever, loved him forever. Her dreams about him mixed with reality until she could not separate them. Rachel spoke from close by, and when Elizabeth looked up at her, the young girl's expression was alight with excitement.
“Logan is nearly crazy with impatience, Miss Elizabeth.” She giggled. “He paces even now at the bottom of the steps.”
Rachel was only thirteen, and Elizabeth looked at her happy face surrounded by soft brown curls, envying her innocent exuberance. She remained silent as the two girls helped her wash her long, silvery hair. When it was dry, Rachel took a long time fashioning it into soft curls and ringlets that becomingly framed Elizabeth's small face, then draped over both her shoulders in artful abandon. By now, both girls had noticed Elizabeth's despondence and grown quiet themselves, but Amanda could not help but exclaim over the magnificent wedding gown as she lifted it from its trunk.
Elizabeth looked at the iridescent splendor of its long train without emotion. She'd not worn it, although her grandfather had paid a small fortune to have it made in Paris. It was the crowning achievement of the famous French couturier who had designed her trousseau.
Rachel joined Amanda at the bed and ran her fingers over the finest and sheerest of pure white silk with thousands of silvery threads sewn into the wide skirt. The fragile ivory lace was from Ireland, intricate intertwining swirls and flowers fashioned by hand into fine cobwebby delicacy. The bodice was clinched to fit Elizabeth's tiny waist, and the lacy transparent silk lay high upon the throat, the design teasing the eye with glimpses of the bare flesh beneath. It was a gown created to set a bridegroom aflame and make the wait for the wedding bed sheer torture.
The two girls helped Elizabeth step into it, both gasping at the sight of her diminutive beauty in the glittering gown. They hastened to fasten the tiny buttons at the back, then set about straightening the heavy skirts upon stiff satin petticoats. As a finishing touch, they wove wild daisies and glistening ropes of pearls into her fair hair. They stepped back, awed by their handiwork, and Elizabeth stared into the mirror, hardly recognizing herself in the silvery gown. She looked into her own eyes, something unknown triggering memories of the ring Logan had given her. She looked at it, thinking he had compared it to her eyes, but knowing he had not. It must have been another of her vivid dreams, and she shivered, thinking how thoroughly he'd invaded her life, filling every corner of her mind, dominating her thoughts.
The first lilting strains of violins floated upon the wings of the night breeze, and Elizabeth turned to the window, suddenly overcome by nervousness. After this night, she could not escape the confines of marriage. She had an alternative; Brent could take her away for good if she wished, but somehow the thought gave her no pleasure.
She jumped at a rap on the door, then relaxed as Lily's serene face smiled at her.
“Out with you, Rachel, and you, too, Amanda. You're to put on your new dresses and attend the party. Logan has requested it.”
Both girls squealed in delight and veritably flew into the hall. Lily laughed as she closed the door, then set a tray with a bottle of champagne upon the table as her eyes swept over Elizabeth.
“You are a beautiful bride. Logan will be pleased.”
Lily smiled slightly as Elizabeth turned away, looking miserable.
Lily's voice was gentle.
“What is troubling you, Elizabeth? You should be happy. Surely you aren't still afraid of Logan.”
Elizabeth forced a small smile. “I'm a little nervous, I suppose.”
Lily smiled wickedly as she glanced at the wine.
“Michael sent this up for you and Logan to share later, but perhaps the two of us should have a private toast, just to calm our nerves. I'm a bit shaky myself. I've never attended a ball.”
Elizabeth agreed, hoping the wine would melt the hard icy knots of indecision in her stomach. Lily poured the bubbly liquid into tall crystal goblets, and her dark beauty seemed to glow against the pale yellow gown trimmed with blue satin.
“Your dress is lovely, Lily. It was kind of Michael to order them for you and the girls.”
“He is very thoughtful,” Lily said, a special glow in her dark eyes.
Elizabeth took the champagne, wishing for the happiness Lily and Michael shared when they were together. She sipped her drink, welcoming the path it burned into her stomach. She looked up, wondering if Lily was acquainted with Brent's beautiful sister.
“I met a woman in Central City yesterday,” she said slowly. “Her name was Isabel Whitcomb. Do you know her?”
Lily immediately dropped her eyes, and Elizabeth's heart fell. “Yes, she has visited here before.”
“Have she and Logan been lovers?” Elizabeth asked bluntly, and at Lily's reluctance, she persisted. “I want to know. Please tell me.”
“At one time they were, but never have I seen him look at her as he looks at you.”
It, was somewhat reassuring, but tonight Elizabeth would find out for sure. Isabel would be in attendance, and if Logan loved her, it would surely show in his eyes. Then and only then would she leave with Brent. She looked up as Lily stood.
“You must come down soon. Logan is very anxious to see you.”
After Lily left, Elizabeth sat silently, then, taking a deep breath, slid the amethyst ring upon her finger and walked resolutely to the door. The music grew louder as she approached the open stairwell, and she stopped to take a deep, fortifying breath, then moved to the wide landing that looked out over the assemblage.
