The Unlikely Wife

by Cassandra Austin

  Finally, when she was sure she had waited long enough, she rose and hurried to the place Victor had indicated for them to meet. Victor was to be on guard duty there, and no one else should be nearby.

  She found her heart pounding as she made her way in the moonlight She knew it was less her desire to be with Victor than it was the excitement and fear of disobeying.

  The image of Rebecca and her lieutenant standing together earlier that evening was burned in her brain. He had touched her cheek tenderly, and Alicia had been sure he would kiss her. But he hadn’t They had spoken only a moment before she left him. Alicia had watched his face as Rebecca walked away. If a man ever looked at her with that kind of longing she would cherish him forever. Rebecca, however, was only playing.

  Alicia didn’t fool herself into thinking that Victor was her perfect love. But he was the first man who had shown more than passing interest, and she still stung from Rebecca’s efforts to keep them apart.

  She reached the spot where she was to meet Victor, but he was nowhere in sight. The tree-lined creek was a short distance away. Perhaps he was hiding there. Not daring to call his name for fear of alerting someone else, she made her way carefully toward the shadows of the trees.

  A hand grabbed her arm and yanked her into the darkness. Another hand muffled her scream. She found herself pressed against a rough tree trunk, images of being scalped swimming in her head.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

  Alicia relaxed a little as she recognized Victor’s voice. His hold on her loosened, and he eased his hand from her mouth.

  “You frightened me,” she whispered.

  “I’m sorry,” he rasped near her ear, “but we have to be careful. They would ruin everything for us if they found out.”

  “They?” She wished he would step away. He was so close she was having trouble breathing.

  “Your snob of a cousin and Dixie Boy. But they can’t keep us from loving each other.”

  Alicia pressed her hand against his chest, hoping to gain a little space. “Victor, I don’t—”

  He didn’t let her finish. His mouth came down on hers, pressing her against the tree. Tears stung her eyes as the rough bark gouged the back of her head. His mouth on hers made her feel smothered, choked. With all her strength she pressed against his chest. He broke the kiss but gave her only inches in which to gasp for air.

  “What’s the matter with you?” he growled.

  “You hurt me,” she said, testing the back of her head with her fingers.

  “Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t have a tent to myself and a nice soft cot like Dixie Boy.” His voice dropped to a suggestive whisper. “We can make do in the grass, sweetheart.”

  “No!” It came out more loudly than she had intended, and he clamped his hand over her mouth again.

  “What do you mean, no?” he hissed. “You came here to meet me. Are you going to pretend you didn’t know what I wanted?”

  She shook her head and he lifted his hand. “I didn’t I didn’t understand. I thought…”

  She felt stupid. Stupid and afraid. Rebecca had tried to warn her. Why hadn’t she listened? “Please. Let me go back.”

  “Oh, I’ll let you go back, you worthless little tease. But don’t think I’ll forget this. You’re just like her, aren’t you? Too good to scratch the itch of a man like me.” She tried to turn her face away but he caught her chin, holding her head still as he spoke into her ear. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. Under that fancy uniform, an officer ain’t no different from me.”

  He let her go then, shoving her out into the moonlight. She fell to her knees, scraping her hand as she caught herself. Afraid he might change his mind, she scrambled to her feet and ran toward the wagon. Well into the cluster of tents she paused to catch her breath and realized she was sobbing. She couldn’t sneak back into the wagon until she had control of herself. She brushed at her wet cheeks and tried to slow her breathing. She imagined herself standing there struggling with her tears the rest of the night.

  Rebecca shook away the last of a troubling dream and sat up in her bed. Aunt Belle’s light snore was oddly comforting. After several nights in the wagon she had become used to the sound of the others’ breathing. It took her only a moment to know that Alicia was gone.

  Her stomach churning, she thrust her feet into her shoes and grabbed her brown dress, slipping it over her chemise and buttoning it only after she had climbed from the wagon. Where should she begin to look for Alicia?

  She considered waking Clark but it seemed a drastic step when she didn’t know how long Alicia had been gone or that it wasn’t an innocent visit to the trees to relieve herself. Then she worried that her cousin might be suffering some digestive complaint.

  She tried to dismiss the thought. Before she panicked she should make sure the girl wasn’t nearby, perhaps having trouble sleeping. She started a slow circle around the ambulance, carefully scanning the shadowy camp.

  Halfway around the wagon, she saw the moon catch the pale hair, making it almost shine. Alicia seemed to be simply standing alone, and Rebecca nearly called out to her, then thought better of it in the sleeping camp.

  She started toward the figure, having to shuffle in her untied shoes. “Alicia,” she whispered.

  Alicia didn’t respond, but Rebecca saw her shoulders shake. In a moment she was by her side. “Alicia,” she whispered again, touching a shoulder.

  Alicia jumped. “Rebecca,” she whispered, brushing away tears. “What are you doing out here?”

  “I woke up and found you gone. What are you doing?”

  “Me?” She cleared her throat. “I got up to…well, you know, and on my way back I fell. See? My dress is torn and I cut my hand.”

  Rebecca stepped closer, wrapping an arm around her cousin’s narrow shoulders. “So you were standing here crying?”

  Alicia turned away. “I know it sounds silly, but I was embarrassed. I didn’t want to get into the wagon crying like a baby.”

  “Are you all right now?”

  Alicia took a deep breath. It was only slightly shaky. “I think so.”

  They started back toward the wagon together. Rebecca asked, “Are you feeling all right? You didn’t need to go because you were sick, did you?”

  Alicia shook her head. “No. I just waited until dark because there’s no privacy out here.”

  Rebecca wasn’t entirely satisfied, but she didn’t ask any more questions. She helped Alicia into the wagon and slipped in after her. They both undressed and returned to their beds as quietly as possible, listening all the while to Aunt Belle’s steady snore.

  As she waited for sleep, Rebecca tried to remember every detail of her exchange with her cousin. The story seemed plausible enough, but odd at the same time. She had never known Alicia to give way so easily to tears.

  Rebecca didn’t think Alicia seemed like her old self the next day. Of course Aunt Belle’s scolding for the torn dress could have been partially responsible. Still, she seemed nervous, and Rebecca couldn’t help but believe that something had frightened her the night before. She had a suspicion that the something was Victor Brooks.

  Even before Rebecca finished breakfast, she knew she would be riding next to the ambulance, if for no other reason than to keep Aunt Belle from adding to Alicia’s distress. The day before, her biggest concern had been to make sure Clark thought his flirting had been ineffective. After the burned cabin and Alicia’s tears, it seemed so trivial.

  Promising her aunt that she would be back quickly, she headed for Clark’s tent. She found herself smiling. If Clark was shaving this time, she would march right in and interrupt him. Surely it wouldn’t be as embarrassing as she had once supposed.

  Her timing was perfect. He dropped the brush in the cup and set it aside, lifting the razor. Now, she told herself, before he actually begins, before she ran the risk of startling him and he cuts himself.

  But her feet were rooted to the spot It was simply too intriguing to watch
him scrape the soap away from that strong, lean jaw. It wouldn’t take him very long, she reminded herself. It was more polite to wait. And watch? Well, maybe polite wasn’t the right word.

  She watched each stroke, each flex of his shoulders. When he laid aside the razor and bent to rinse his face in a basin of water, she started forward. She tried to walk purposefully, as if she had only just arrived. She hoped the heat she felt on her face didn’t leave a visible stain.

  “Good morning, Miss Huntington,” he said as he brought a towel to his face.

  He hadn’t turned. “How did you know it was me?” she asked, feeling her cheeks grow warmer still.

  “I recognized your step.” He placed the towel beside the cup and razor and reached for his shirt. “What can I do for you?”

  Rebecca tried to keep her eyes on his face. It shouldn’t have been difficult, she loved his face. But she was curious about the rest, and he didn’t seem in any hurry to get the shirt buttoned.

  “Rebecca?”

  She shook herself. “I wanted to tell you I’ll be riding near the wagon today.”

  “You might be safer there.”

  She smiled. “It wasn’t my safety I was thinking of.” What exactly should she say about Alicia? She didn’t want to jump to conclusions, yet it seemed only right to say something. Everything that happened in the caravan concerned him. His voice brought her out of her contemplation.

  “Tired of my company?”

  She laughed. “Of course not”

  Maybe that was a little more honest than she should have been. She went on hastily, “Alicia took a scare last night. I don’t know exactly what happened, perhaps nothing, but she seems a little nervous and preoccupied this morning. I thought I’d ride with her and try to keep her distracted.”

  He nodded slowly. “I hope she has recovered enough by evening that you don’t have to miss our game.”

  She grinned. “I’ll bring her along, if I have to. I wouldn’t want to miss another chance to…threaten your honor.”

  With a toss of her curls she turned back toward her wagon. That last comment had been way too provocative, and she knew it. But this was Lieutenant Forrester she was talking to, and she couldn’t help but wish he was a little less concerned about propriety.

  Chapter Eight

  Rebecca didn’t really consider taking Alicia with her. The girl seemed better by evening, but even if she had been a weeping wreck Rebecca would have left her to her mother.

  She started toward the lieutenant’s tent a little later than usual, wishing she could be wearing her red dress. It wouldn’t have been a good idea. Several of the soldiers had reported seeing Indians during the day. Though the young recruits were probably jumping at shadows, there was still a chance that they were being watched. Whether a woman in the caravan would really make any difference or not, was another question.

  Yet, Rebecca had promised to look like a soldier, not a potential hostage, and she would keep her promise.

  Besides, the red dress didn’t have a pocket.

  Over the course of the day, her mind had worked on several entertaining schemes before settling on one. The plan was beautiful in its simplicity.

  Powers was waiting as she expected and ushered her in much as he had before. Clark had been sitting on his cot, writing in a journal. He stood, setting the book aside, as she entered.

  “How is your cousin?” he asked.

  “Better, I think.” She should have expected the question, but his unfailing concern for others often took her by surprise.

  “And you, Rebecca?” His softened tone made her realize he was thinking of her visit the evening before, the cabin, the child, as well as Alicia.

  She smiled. “I’m fine.”

  “I’m glad.” He motioned toward the table. “Shall we?”

  The chessboard was tempting, but she had other plans. “Of course,” she said, smiling. As she moved toward the waiting chair, she thrust her hands deep into her pockets in what she hoped looked like a casual gesture.

  She stopped suddenly. “Oh, no! My aunt’s thimble.” She drew it out, looking at it in feigned surprise. “She was asking for it just this evening. I must have put it in my pocket the last time I borrowed it.”

  She turned toward Powers waiting near the doorway. She hoped she was putting just the right amount of dismay in her voice. “She planned to do some mending tonight. She’ll cut her poor fingers to pieces without her thimble. Could you take it to her?”

  Powers’ eyes were on her, his hand automatically reaching for the object she thrust toward him. She put all the pleading and worry she could into her eyes and stepped a little closer than was necessary. As long as he didn’t look to Clark for confirmation of the order, this might work. “I’d be so grateful,” she murmured.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, slipping out of the tent.

  Rebecca sighed with relief. She turned to find Clark staring at her, his mouth open in soundless protest.

  She grinned and shrugged.

  “Young lady, I have gone to considerable trouble to see that we were never alone.”

  He seemed mystified by her behavior. She decided to enlighten him. “Sir, I just went to considerable trouble to see that we are alone.”

  He blinked. “Dare I ask to what purpose?”

  The bafflement in his expression made her laugh. She grew serious as she moved toward him. “Yesterday I realized how uncertain life is. Clark, we tease and flirt and play games. Somehow honesty gets lost in the process.”

  He glanced significantly toward the empty doorway. “You’re going to talk to me about honesty?”

  She had to laugh again. “Honesty in our relationship, at least.”

  He took a deep breath. “I’ve found that in relationships, particularly with women, honesty can be risky.”

  She stood directly before him now. “Clark,” she whispered, “I’m ready for some risk.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and used his strong shoulders to pull herself upward. She brought her lips to his but paused just short of touching them. She gave him the space of three heartbeats to claim her lips. He didn’t

  She didn’t let it bother her. Slowly and deliberately, she took the initiative. She savored the soft warmth against her sensitive lips, the heat of his body, the smell of the Kansas prairie that clung to his hair. He wasn’t returning the kiss, but she felt his response in the tension of his shoulders, in his quickening heartbeat

  The tip of her tongue tasted his lips, and she found herself engulfed in sensations. His arms drew her flush against his frame, heating her blood to a weakening degree. His tongue mated with hers, eliciting a moan that seemed to come straight from her soul.

  Her breasts, flattened against his hard chest, swelled and ached, not in resistance to the harsh treatment, but as if they craved closer contact.

  Her mind was reeling when he raised his head. She tried to open her eyes but her lids merely fluttered lazily. She would have protested if his arms had loosened even a fraction, but they held her as fast as ever. “This is crazy,” he murmured.

  She would have agreed. In fact she tried to. All that made it past her lips was a sigh.

  She thought she heard—or felt—him chuckle. She opened her eyes to find him smiling at her. The smile faded quickly as he lowered his lips back to hers.

  His kiss was both sweet surrender and restrained passion. The gentle joining of their lips seemed to expose his heart to hers and made her believe in love. Yet, even as she gloried in this new knowledge, he was gently releasing her.

  In a moment she stood before him, her breath still coming in quick painful bursts, her heart still beating erratically. His hands on her shoulders supported her as the haze of passion left her brain.

  He was smiling gently. “I have to take you back.”

  She shook her head but knew he wouldn’t hear her arguments.

  “This is neither the time nor the place.”

  Realization hit her, helping to cool he
r blood. Powers’ imminent return, the possibility of an Indian attack, Clark’s career, and even her own reputation flashed through her mind. Her clever idea to steal another kiss had gotten way out of hand.

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then tossed him a rueful smile. “Do you suppose we should be playing chess when Powers returns?”

  Clark shook his head. “How long does it take to return a thimble? Powers may well have been back. It’s hard to tell though,” he added with a grin, “I seem to have lost track of time.”

  “Oh, dear,” she murmured, picturing Powers stepping into the tent and finding them in a passionate embrace. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’ll take my share of the responsibility, but I’m walking you back now.”

  Outside in the twilight, Rebecca was grateful that Clark set an unhurried pace. She was in no hurry to leave him. Besides, she was sure that their shared passion had left its mark on her face. Her lips felt swollen and her cheeks still burned. She couldn’t even guess what might be evident in her eyes.

  A change of subject might help, though she had to struggle to think of anything else. “Clark?” she began softly. “When you left me the last couple of nights, you didn’t go back to your tent. Where did you go?”

  It was a moment before he answered. When he looked down at her she was sure he was having as much trouble as she shaking off the last few minutes. Finally he answered, “I make a round of the camp, check in with each of the guards.”

  “To make sure they’re where they should be?”

  He shook his head. “No. I assume each is doing his job. But I know how much a word of encouragement from a superior can mean, especially to raw recruits facing their first threat. Besides, they like to know they’re not the only ones losing sleep.”

  “You always do this?” She hadn’t realized that they had stopped walking until he turned to face her.

  “That depends on the threat.”

  “Tonight?”

  He looked off in the distance before smiling down at her. “I’d say this is about a four round threat.”