Marnie:

by Shanna Hatfield

  “Her name is Laila Angelina, after both my mother and Tony’s mamma, but they’re going to call her Laila, although she did look like a little angel.” Lars would never admit one look at the baby was all it took for him to be firmly wrapped around her tiny little finger. Overwhelmed with love for Laila, Lars felt other tender feelings turning his heart to mush.

  He was a trained man of the law who spent his time planning the best ways to detain prisoners, protect public officials, and hunt down criminals. Being around his sisters, the Webster kids, and Marnie was making him soft.

  His gaze automatically travelled to Marnie’s rosy lips as his thoughts lingered on things that were soft. He found her naturally pouting mouth much more tempting than he could handle in his current frame of mind, especially after so much excitement and lack of sleep. Forcing himself to focus on thoughts of the new baby, he tried to remember exactly what she looked like.

  “What color is her hair? Does she look like Tony or Ilsa? Is she just a perfect little doll?” Marnie wanted details and Lars was certainly slow in providing them.

  “Her hair is dark, like her father’s. She has Ilsa’s nose and chin with the sweetest little mouth that looks like a rosebud.” Lars reached out and grasped Marnie’s hand. “It would make Ilsa so happy if you’d go see for yourself.”

  “No. It wouldn’t be right.” Marnie pulled her hand from his and rose to her feet. She turned to stare out her window at the quiet street below. It was early and not much happened in this part of town until later in the afternoon. “She’ll have any number of respectable visitors and I refuse to cause any strife in her home by paying her a call.”

  “Everyone would be pleased to have you. You know both Ilsa and Aundy welcome you in their homes anytime.” Lars got up and took the few steps across the room to stand behind Marnie. Settling his hands on her shoulders, he wanted to bring her a measure of comfort, but she tensed up and tried to draw away from him.

  Unless she planned to jump out the window, she had nowhere to go, so Lars rubbed gentle circles across her shoulders. Marnie finally let out a sigh, tipping her head forward.

  “I don’t belong with your family, Lars, and I certainly don’t belong with you. You’ve got to stop coming here to see me.” Marnie’s voice was so quiet, Lars had to strain to hear the words she spoke. When she finished, he wished he’d missed them altogether.

  “Look, Marnie, I’ve spent plenty of time in places like this while I’m working. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

  She gave him a horrified glance over her shoulder and sucked in her breath.

  Badly bungling his attempt at putting her mind at ease, he didn’t understand why the thought of associating with him and his family bothered her so greatly. “What’s the problem? You visit Ilsa at her store. It’s not much different going to see her at her home. Besides, you’ve gone with me to see Aundy and Caterina at their homes, too.”

  “The problem, Mr. Thorsen, is that I’m… I’m… sullied, and I don’t want that to reflect on the fine reputations your sisters and their families have worked so hard to earn. I don’t want it to reflect poorly on you.”

  He stopped his ministrations to her shoulders and dropped his hands, struggling to find the right words to convey his feelings. Regardless of her chosen profession, Lars couldn’t help but admire Marnie for her strength and the goodness he saw in her. A goodness he wished she could see in herself.

  She leaned away from him and gazed intently out the window. “I’m nothing but a two-bit hussy and you’d do well to remember that.”

  The laugh that involuntarily escaped his mouth made tears well in her eyes. “Darlin’, if I remember correctly, I’ve plunked down five dollars every time I’ve come to see you and that’s just to give me a chance to talk. Don’t go selling yourself short.”

  “Don’t be crass.” Marnie would have run out of the room if he hadn’t hemmed her in next to the window.

  “See, that’s the problem. Most working girls I’ve encountered are crass and uncouth, some are downright trashy, but you aren’t that way, Marnie. Not at all. You’re different and you’re better than this,” he waved his hand around her room for emphasis, “than what you do, and you know it. That’s why you hate what you do for a living.” Lars took a deep breath before plunging ahead. “Listen, about the other night. I’m sorry for forcing you into helping me. I didn’t realize… what I mean, is that…”

  Turning her around so she had to look at him, he got lost in her eyes, filled as they were with moisture. He wouldn’t take Marnie for a girl who spent much time crying and seeing tears there now greatly bothered him.

  “All just part of services rendered. Right, sugar?” Marnie gave him a fake, insincere smile then stepped around him, wanting to put as much distance as possible between her and the one man on earth who made her limbs languid with just a glimpse or a smile.

  She needed him to leave. Now. Before he said anything further to annihilate her carefully constructed defenses. She still hadn’t gotten over the scalding shame she’d felt the night he’d pretended to use her services and she couldn’t even put into words why it bothered her so, except that she cared more about Lars than she’d ever expected to care for anyone.

  He reached out and took her arm in his hand, keeping her from moving. “It’s not like that and you know it. Being a thickheaded Norwegian who spends a lot of time alone, I’m not always the best at recognizing when I’ve crossed a line. I didn’t mean to offend you, and I certainly don’t want you to feel like I used you. My apologies if my actions upset you.”

  Marnie glanced from his strong, tanned fingers encircling her upper arm to his face. She heard the sincerity in his voice and read the pleading in his eyes. Wanting to go back to the easy friendship they shared before he’d let everyone think he came to visit her in a professional capacity, she swallowed back the words she wanted to say and curtly nodded her head.

  “Don’t give it another thought.”

  Lars turned her toward him again, staring at her with those bright blue eyes that made untamed fluttering erupt in her midsection.

  “I want you to tell me what I can do to make this better, make it right. How can I get back in your good graces?” He traced his thumb across her cheek and gazed at her imploringly, appearing boyish yet undeniably virile.

  Lars had no idea every time he talked to Marnie, every time he made her feel special, he fanned the embers of the dreams she’d long ago laid to rest. If he kept at it, those dreams and hopes would flame back to life and Marnie couldn’t go through the pain of locking them away again.

  Desperate for him to stop talking before he made her collapse into wretched sobs, she reached up and pulled his head down, pressing her mouth to his.

  Wanting only to distract him, Marnie felt the jolt from her head to her toes when their lips connected. Lars quickly took control of the kiss and lifted her up in his powerfully built arms, holding her close.

  Lost in the sensations flooding through her, she never wanted the kiss to end, never wanted him to let her go. If everything else in the world fell away, she wouldn’t care, as long as Lars kept his arms wrapped around her.

  No kiss, not even the fevered exchanges they shared the other night, had ever come close to comparing to what she experienced as Lars’ mouth moved insistently, lovingly against hers. He didn’t just take from her, he gave generously. When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers for a long moment.

  “So, sweet thing, am I absolved from my transgressions?” Lars’ voice sounded husky as he nuzzled her neck, then kissed a hot trail along her jaw back to her lips.

  Marnie had yet to regain the ability to speak. She barely managed to nod her head as she gave herself fully to Lars’ fervent kiss. He shifted, drawing her flush against him and Marnie suddenly drew back. “Please, Lars, put me down.”

  He locked his hot blue gaze to hers and she forced the shutters she kept over her eyes, hiding her heart and soul, back into place.<
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  The last thing Lars wanted to do was to set her down and let her go. Marnie filled his arms and his heart like no other woman had or probably ever would. At that moment, he didn’t care what she did for a living. He just wanted to love her.

  That thought brought him up short and he slowly let her slide down until her feet touched the floor.

  What was he thinking? Ah, there was the problem. He hadn’t been, otherwise he’d never have gotten involved with Marnie. With anyone. He was married to his career and it had to stay that way.

  “Sorry. Guess I might have gotten a little carried away.” Although she was back on her feet, Lars hesitated to let her out of the circle of his arms. When she leaned back and pushed against him, he reluctantly dropped his hands to his sides.

  “Yes, I suppose we both did.” Stepping away from him, she bumped into her chair and ran a self-conscious hand up to her hair.

  Lars wanted to smooth his hand over the curls that fell down her back in a tempting cascade, to caress the flawless skin along her cheek, to kiss her again. But what he wanted and what he needed to do rarely coincided. He watched as she spun around and pulled open the bottom drawer on her dresser, removing a package wrapped in a piece of white fabric and tied with a pink ribbon.

  “Will you please take this to Ilsa?” Marnie held out the gift to him.

  Lars grinned. “Convinced she’d have a girl?”

  “I was hoping.” Marnie gave him a smile that reached all the way to her eyes. “If Tony had gotten his wish and it was a boy, I’d be hurriedly making a different gift.”

  Shoving his hands in his pockets, Lars refused to take the gift even though Marnie continued to hold it out to him.

  “Do you have any plans this morning?” he asked, looking around her room.

  He saw the book she’d left open with a frilly piece of lace marking her place on the table. No doubt, it was another swashbuckling tale of love and adventure. They seemed to be her favorite, although he’d seen her read poetry, Shakespeare, and Plato.

  Curious as to how someone who was obviously well educated ended up working in a brothel, Lars knew it wasn’t his place to ask.

  “Not really.”

  “Why do you get up so much earlier than the rest of the girls?” he asked, voicing the question he’d wondered many times. While Marnie’s coworkers tended to sleep until noon or later, she was generally up early each morning. “I bet you don’t get more than four hours of sleep most nights.”

  “Not that it is any of your concern, but I have trouble sleeping, especially when it’s light outside.” Marnie wiggled the package at him again. “Would you please take this to Ilsa?”

  “No.” He watched a dejected frown settle on her face. “But I’ll take you to Ilsa so you can deliver it yourself.”

  Before she could protest, Lars grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the door.

  “We already discussed this. It’s highly improper for me to call on your sister. Please, just take the gift and go.”

  “Nope. Can’t do it,” he said, giving her a devilish grin. “You can either put on your hat and gloves then walk with me to her house, or I’ll toss you over my shoulder and carry you through town like a sack of potatoes. Your choice.”

  Huffing with indignation, Marnie set the package on her bed, opened the closet door and took out a hat trimmed in pink and white. Stepping in front of the mirror above her dresser, she jabbed in a hatpin with such force, Lars hoped she wasn’t pretending she poked it in him. Opening a small drawer, she took out a pair of gloves and jammed her hands into the lacy creations. Grabbing her pocketbook, she picked up the package and tilted her head to him.

  “By all means, lead the way, Mr. Thorsen.”

  “It gladdens my heart to see you can be reasonable, Miss Jones.” He opened the door and motioned for her to precede him.

  The scathing glare she sent him and the furious way she marched toward the kitchen didn’t pass his notice. Neither did the inviting sway of her hips.

  Rolling his eyes heavenward, Lars sent up a prayer for help in controlling his thoughts and followed Marnie into the kitchen.

  “I’ll be out for a bit, Gertie. Mrs. Campanelli had a baby girl last night and Mr. Thorsen is quite insistent I pay a call.” Marnie gave the cook a tight smile.

  The woman unabashedly winked at Lars and turned to stir a fragrant, bubbling pot on the stove. “Have a good time, sweet pea, and don’t ya worry none about rushin’ right back. Ain’t a thing goin’ on here worth worryin’ ‘bout dis mornin’.”

  Marnie opened the back door and stomped her way down the steps, impatiently tapping her toe while Lars took his time reaching the sidewalk.

  “Must you dawdle? If you’re going to force me to do this, let’s get it over with before half the town arrives at your sister’s house with well wishes.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Lars drawled, holding out his arm and raising an eyebrow, daring Marnie to decline his offer.

  She wrapped her arm around his, unsettled by the muscles she could feel beneath her fingers. Forcing herself not to think of Lars’ sinfully handsome face or impressive physique, she turned her attention to the town she’d called home since she was fourteen.

  The city had been abuzz the past several weeks about the improvements underway in the downtown area. Crews worked to lay the county’s first paved roads on the main streets in the business district.

  She didn’t fully understand the process, but she knew rock was mixed with a binding agent and spread over the street then topped with cement, once the surface was leveled. The city was even going so far as to tear out the boardwalks and put in cement sidewalks. They’d already completed the street and sidewalks in front of the building where Marnie lived and worked.

  “What do you think of the new streets?” Lars asked as they stood on a corner, waiting for traffic to pass so they could cross to the other side.

  “I think they’ll be wonderful to have instead of the sloppy mud we sometimes get in the late fall and early spring, but won’t they be slick in the winter?”

  Lars gave her a thoughtful look and nodded his head. “Probably, if you get much snow or ice around here.”

  “Generally, we do. What is the process they use to lay the surface? I’ve forgotten what they called it in the newspaper.” Marnie stopped to watch a team of horses drag a heavy blade down a section of street, leveling it.

  “Macadamizing.” Lars hurried Marnie farther down the street, past the area where the men worked. Some of the men gave her interested looks and he didn’t want any of them making any inappropriate comments. “The man who developed the process discovered by layering similar sized stones with a coating of binder as a cementing agent, it created a very durable road surface.”

  “So it’s kind of like a cherry pie,” Marnie mused as they continued walking toward Tony and Ilsa’s house. “Similar sized contents with a binding agent under a crust.”

  Lars chuckled. “Quite a bit like a cherry pie.”

  “I hope the crust on the road won’t be flaky like Aundy’s pie crusts.” Marnie’s eyes twinkled with mirth. “I do think, though, the women in town are pleased the boardwalks and grates are being replaced with sidewalks and glass prisms.”

  Glancing down, she carefully avoided standing above a grate in the boardwalk where they walked.

  “Kade said some of the men who frequent the Underground have a bad habit of loitering beneath the grates, hoping to see… uh… something they ought not.” Lars caught himself before he said something he shouldn’t in the presence of a woman. Even if Marnie didn’t believe herself to be a lady, he was determined, from here on out, to treat her like one, especially in light of how she viewed herself.

  “I know what the men do, sugar. It’s no secret to anyone,” Marnie said, squeezing his arm. The small gesture, meant to reassure him, made her so flustered she could hardly keep her feet moving in a forward direction.

  Lars wondered if Marnie knew what she did to him. Between her swee
t presence next to his side, her hand on his arm, and her enthralling fragrance teasing his nose, he thought he might break out in a cold sweat.

  Trying to focus on anything beyond the unbidden yearnings she stirred in him, he forced his attention back to the city’s project.

  “Do you think the glass prisms will serve their intended purpose?”

  Marnie looked around and tugged him across the street so they could study one of the completed blocks. Eighty-eight tiny squares of thick glass were set into a cement grid. Each glass square was encased on all four sides by cement, thus the finished block of glass and cement looked somewhat like a strange little quilt.

  “It won’t keep men from trying, but it will let light into the tunnels while obscuring their view, to some degree.” Marnie smiled at Lars as they walked back across the street and continued on their way to see the baby.

  Arriving at the house a few minutes later, Lars marched her down the front walk despite her protests to go unobtrusively in the back door.

  “No, Marnie. You’re my guest and you’re as welcome in the front as the back. You know Ilsa and Aundy would both say so.” Lars took her elbow in his hand, guiding her up the steps and inside the house.

  No one sat in the big parlor, so Lars escorted Marnie down the hall to the kitchen where Aundy washed dishes at the big sink while Tony and Garrett sat drinking coffee at the table.

  Aundy glanced over her shoulder and grinned when she saw them step into the kitchen. “Good morning! Have you eaten? There’s plenty left.” She motioned to a basket with muffins.

  “I believe we’ve both eaten, but I won’t turn down one of your muffins or a cup of coffee,” Lars said, holding out a chair for Marnie.

  She quietly took a seat, feeling out of place.

  “Would you like a cup of tea, Marnie?” Aundy offered, wiping her hands on a dishtowel then pouring Lars a cup of coffee. She handed it to him and set the muffins back on the table along with a plate, knife, and some butter.

  “No, thank you.” Marnie forced herself to meet Aundy’s gaze. All she saw there was welcome acceptance, not the ridicule she often received from the so-called proper women of Pendleton.