by Sherry Lewis
She searched his eyes carefully. “Do you think I’m insane?”
“No,” he said honestly. “I do not.”
“Thank you.” Her sudden smile lit the room as if a thousand candles burned and a suspicious glitter in her eyes made him wonder if she might be crying.
He pushed that idea away immediately. Still the joy on her face told him he’d made the right decision—for once in his life. “I won’t let my mother have you committed, Agatha. I promise you of that.”
“Will you also help me take my place in society again?”
“Your place—?” He broke off, uncertain just what her place might be.
“I can fight your mother best by letting people see for themselves that I’m perfectly sane. But you saw what a mess I might have made of tonight. I’ll do much better if you’ll stand beside me. And I don’t want to wait for your mother to strike again. If I do that, I’ll only be reacting, running around after her and putting out the fires she starts.”
Her phrasing was a bit odd, but her point well-taken. “Unfortunately, she can start a great many fires.”
“So, will you acknowledge me as your wife again?”
He told himself not to ask the next question, but he had to know how far she intended to go if she was asking him to participate in a charade. “In name only?”
She bit her bottom lip and looked up at him, but she didn’t look repulsed by the question. In fact, the quick blush on her cheeks made his heart lighter than anything had for a long time. Her eyes drew him into their depths, her smile touched something deep inside him.
He told himself to turn away. He warned himself to proceed cautiously. He argued with himself that he couldn’t afford to let her get under his skin.
But all the logic in the world couldn’t affect him now. He gathered her into his arms and kissed her, groaning low in his throat when she opened her mouth beneath his, nearly losing his self-control when she ran her hands down his back. Sensation after sensation flamed through him. Desire, need, and passion went to war with caution—and caution lost.
He ravaged her mouth with his tongue, letting his hands roam along her shoulders, her arms, her back, his fingertips brush against the soft swell of her breasts. She melted against him and when a whimper of pleasure escaped her throat, he thought he’d lose control right then and there.
He longed to sweep her into his arms and carry her up the stairs to the bedroom they’d once shared. He wanted desperately to toss aside all the pain and anger and bitterness of the past and make love to her right now.
But he wouldn’t be responsible for taking that step. If they were ever truly man and wife again, it would have to be at her request. Reluctantly, he ended the kiss, but he allowed himself one last, lingering brush of his lips against her forehead.
“For now,” he said slowly, “I think it would be best to proceed as we have been. I shall acknowledge you publicly as my wife—but I won’t move back into Summervale. Nor will I expect you to perform your wifely duties.”
This time, he knew what he saw in her eyes. She was disappointed. And he couldn’t help the surge of elation that worked its way through him.
“What about the children?” The question came out so softly, he had to strain to hear it.
Again, the voice in his head urged caution. Again, he shoved it aside. “You really want to spend time with them?”
“I really want to.”
The warning voice grew louder. He shook it away. “I see no reason to say no. I will let you see them—as long as I’m there to supervise when you do.”
The warning voice practically deafened him. He was walking on thin ice, taking a dangerous risk, but he’d fallen head over heels in love with her all over again. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say he’d fallen truly in love with her for the first time. And he wasn’t at all certain he had the strength to deny her anything.
If she knew what she did to him with her eyes, if she had any idea how rickety his resolve became when he was with her, she’d also realize she could pretty much do anything she damn well wanted to do. And, though Zacharias no longer distrusted her, he wasn’t willing to confess everything. Not yet.
He kissed her once more and forced himself to walk away—but it was the hardest thing he’d ever done in his entire life.
TWELVE
Zacharias lowered his fork to his plate and let out a sigh of contentment. “The roast beef was perfect, as usual.”
His mother worked up a half-hearted smile. “I’ll let Emmaline know you were pleased.”
He tossed aside his napkin and reached for his coffee. “None of the servants care one whit whether I’m pleased or not, as long as you have no complaints.”
His mother’s mouth pursed in disapproval. “At least Emmaline’s efforts weren’t in vain this evening.”
“Emmaline’s efforts weren’t in vain yesterday evening, either. You were here to enjoy the meal, weren’t you? And I believe you had a guest.”
“Patricia joined me.” His mother took another bite and chewed slowly. “It was most kind of her not to leave me alone.”
“Then I’m glad you have her friendship.” He kept his voice stern, refusing to give in to her attempts to make him feel guilty for dining with his own wife. Leaning back in his chair, he took a steadying breath and decided to broach the subject they’d been avoiding all evening. “You might as well know, Mother that I came to a decision last night.”
“Did you?” Her eyes turned to flint, but her smile didn’t waver. “I’m glad to hear you’ve come to your senses at least. You don’t belong at the saw mill—”
He cut her off before she could go further. “I’m not talking about the mill. I’m talking about Agatha. I made a public statement last night by attending her dinner party.”
“I’m well aware of that, Zacharias. I only hope it’s not too late to undo the damage.”
“The point is, Mother, I don’t want to undo it.” He sipped coffee slowly, keeping his movements unhurried. “I’ve decided to reconcile with Agatha.”
All the blood left his mother’s face. It came rushing back a moment later and turned her cheeks a deep shade of crimson. “You cannot do that Zacharias.”
“Of course I can. I reached my majority a good many years ago. I’m old enough to make a good many decisions without your assistance.”
“You do not need to destroy your life to make that point.”
“I’m not destroying my life,” he said evenly. “I’m taking charge of it for the first time.” He set his cup aside and tossed out the next bombshell. “You also should know that I’ve agreed to let her see Andrew and Mordechai.”
That brought his mother to her feet and earned him a hostile glare. “I forbid it.”
“I’m not asking permission, Mother, even if permission were yours to give. I’m merely informing you that the decision has been made.”
“The decision has not been made.” Her voice rose higher with each word. “You will send her a note and tell her you’ve changed your mind.”
“No.”
Victoria tossed aside her napkin in agitation. “You cannot allow That Woman near the boys.”
“That woman,” he said, straining to keep his voice level, “is my wife.”
“Don’t remind me.” Victoria stood in a whoosh of silk and satin, of lace and ribbons, and glared down at him. “If you give in to her now, if you allow her to behave like a mother to those boys, you’ll destroy everything I’ve worked for these past five years.”
“And just what is that, Mother? What have you been working for?”
“For you to take your rightful place in society with the proper sort of woman at your side.”
“The proper sort of woman? Or Patricia?”
“They’re one and the same, Zacharias. One and the same. Patricia is everything Agatha is not. Agatha is an embarrassment—”
“To whom, mother? To you?” Gritting his teeth in anger, Zacharias stood to face her. “She’s
not an embarrassment to me.”
“Well, she should be. You should be mortified to have anything at all to do with her. You never should have married her.”
“So you’ve said time and time again.” He crumpled his own napkin into a ball and threw it to the table. “But why not, Mother? Because she isn’t the sort of woman who’ll try to control my every move? Is that the kind of wife you wish for me?”
“I wish you a proper wife.” His mother’s voice came out clipped and tight. “I wish you the kind of wife who will hold her head up when things get tough, not slink into the shadows to hide. And I wish you the kind of wife who’ll react to difficult situations as a lady should—with taste and decorum. You aren’t the first man to look elsewhere for your pleasures, but a lady should always pretend not to notice.”
“Perhaps ladies should notice,” Zacharias muttered, surprising himself with the comment as much as he did his mother.
“A lady would never stoop to discussing something so vile.”
Zacharias couldn’t resist the urge to bait her. “Perhaps if fewer ladies considered it vile, fewer gentlemen would feel the need to look elsewhere.”
The crimson flush returned to her neck and cheeks. “I will remind you who you’re speaking to, Zacharias. Kindly refrain from discussing something of that nature in my presence.”
“You raised the subject,” he reminded her. “And you’ll remember that something of that nature destroyed my marriage. Or more accurately, I destroyed my marriage because I believed the notion that I was right to indulge myself. Agatha and I have discussed it—”
“Which only proves she isn’t a lady,” his mother interrupted.
“On the contrary,” Zacharias said with a smile, knowing his mother would consider him insolent. “Agatha is very much a lady, and I’ve let the opinions of others keep me from my marriage long enough.”
“You can’t seriously be considering reconciling with her.”
“Indeed I can.”
“I forbid it,” she said again.
“You have no right to forbid me anything, Mother. I’m no longer a boy.”
“Then stop behaving like one.”
“That’s exactly what I plan to do.” He took several steps toward her. “I ask you to remember that this is my house, and I am master of it. You are here at my request, but circumstances have changed. If you can’t accept my decision to reconcile with my wife, you’re free to leave.”
His mother’s face became horrible in her anger, but it didn’t affect him as it once had. “You would throw me out?”
Zacharias stood his ground. “I hope you decide to stay, but only if you can support my decision.”
His mother’s lip curled. “This is what comes of associating with someone like That Woman.”
“All the more reason for me to thank her.”
“Don’t be crass, Zacharias. It doesn’t suit you.” His mother gathered her skirts and started toward the door. “Perhaps I should ask Dr. Messing to examine you.” And with that, she swept from the room.
Zacharias watched her go, alternately enjoying the sensation of standing up to her and worrying about her next move. Because he didn’t for one minute think that she’d take this lying down.
Now that Zacharias had agreed to let her see Andrew and Mordechai, the reality made Shelby almost sick with fear. The possibility of seeing Victoria again filled her with dread. The idea of spending more time with Zacharias left her foolishly giddy. If she wasn’t careful, she’d pass out from the heat and emotions right here in the buggy. Wouldn’t that make a delightful scene as she rode up the lane toward Winterhill?
A trickle of perspiration ran down the back of her neck. Maybe she should have let Meg style her hair on top of her head instead of insisting on pulling it back at her nape and securing it with a ribbon, but she’d been almost desperate for a day free of pins and ribbons and loops and curls.
Snapping open her fan, she worked it in front of her face. The air dragged at her, so heavy and humid it felt as if someone had loaded it with lead pellets. This was the kind of day when Shelby would have cranked the cooler in her car to high and gulped the refrigerated air gratefully.
The buggy hit a deep rut and Colin tossed an apology over his shoulder as he fought with the reins. Shelby worked the fan a little harder, hoping she could keep herself cool, calm, and collected for her arrival at Winterhill. She didn’t want to look like a wild woman when the twins saw her for the first time.
This meeting could very well be the final unturned stone that kept her here. Every inch she traveled on the road between Summervale and Winterhill might be bringing her closer to the moment when she had to leave. And every passing second made her long to stay even more than she had the one before.
She’d been a fool to fall in love with Zacharias, but telling herself that—repeatedly—didn’t change the way she felt. She’d have to be on guard against her emotions when she met the children. She’d be an even bigger fool if she allowed herself to grow attached to them as well. She’d simply do what she had to do to put Agatha’s family back together and leave. She’d stay focused. She’d ignore Zacharias’s smile, his eyes, his shoulders, hands, and arms. She’d forget the way those arms felt around her, put the touch of his lips completely out of her mind—
As if she could actually do that. Shivering with remembered pleasure, she closed her eyes. He wasn’t even here and she was ready to fling herself into his embrace again. She forced her eyes open again and told herself to be strong.
But as Colin turned into the drive leading to Winterhill, doubt and fear crashed over her again like a tidal wave. What would she say to the twins? How would they react to seeing her? What did they know of Agatha?
Strong, she reminded herself. Be strong.
She squared her shoulders as the door flew open and Zacharias came out onto the porch to greet her. She tried desperately to ignore the immediate racing of her pulse and the slowly curling heat that started deep within her when he helped her from the buggy and the rubbery feel of her limbs when he smiled down at her.
“Are you ready?”
She tried to ignore the way his voice, deep and rich and warm, filled every inch of her and managed an answering smile and a weak nod. “I am.”
He took her arm gently, but he didn’t move toward the door. “Before we go up, there’s one thing we should discuss. I don’t want to tell them who you are. Not yet, anyway.”
Knowing it would be much easier to stay detached if they didn’t call her “Mama” she nodded. “I don’t have any problem with that. They’ll probably need time to adjust to me.”
“No argument?”
“None.”
He smiled slowly. “Will I ever get used to this?”
His reaction soothed her jangled nerves. “You’re resilient,” she said with a laugh. “I’m sure you will.”
His answering laugh surprised her and the change in his face took her breath away. She’d thought him handsome before, but now— How had Agatha ever resisted him?
She took a ragged breath and smiled brightly. “Is there anything else?”
“Nothing.” He touched her back gently and guided her toward the door. “I’ve told them you’re coming, so your visit won’t be a complete surprise.”
“If I’m not to be introduced as their mother, who will you tell them I am?”
“A friend. There will be time enough later to tell them the truth.”
She followed Zacharias’s lead through the house, noting details with rapt attention until they finally drew to a halt in front of a door on the third floor.
“This is it,” he said, searching her eyes with such compassion she lost another piece of her heart to him. “Are you nervous?”
“Very.”
He put an arm around her in a gesture so tender it almost brought tears to her eyes. “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. They’ll love you.”
But her own inadequacy suddenly welled in front of her lie a huge gully. “
You won’t leave?”
“I won’t leave.”
Forcing a trembling smile, she nodded for him to open the door and stepped inside. The nursery looked different than what she’d expected. Instead of the muted pastels she was used to, the room was bright and cheerful, warm and inviting.
The boys looked up from a game of war they were playing on a braided rug in the center of the room and watched her warily. Two sets of wide cornflower eyes followed her every move. Two heads of pale blond hair caught the sunlight and turned the color of wheat. The stocky one—Mordechai, she thought—shared so many of Zacharias’s features, her heart melted. Andrew must have inherited his features from some other relative. She saw little of Zacharias or Agatha in him.
Mordechai stood quickly and eyed her as if he suspected her of being an ax murderer. “Who are you?”
Zacharias hunkered down to his son’s level. “This is the friend I told you about. Her name is Agatha.”
Andrew tilted his head to one side as if he needed to give that some thought. “Is she the mean lady we’re not ‘posed to talk to?”
Victoria had obviously struck again. Shelby glanced at Zacharias whose face had turned a dangerous shade of red.
“She’s not a mean lady,” he assured the boy. “She’s actually quite nice.”
Mordechai gave her another once-over. “Are we ‘posed to talk to her?”
“I think it would be nice if you did. She’s come here just to see you.”
Shelby smiled reassurance at both boys. “Your dad has told me a lot about you.”
Mordechai twisted his wooden horse in his hands for a moment while he studied her. He looked so serious, Shelby had to fight the urge to laugh. But the urge faded when he shook his head and scowled at her. “I don’t want to talk to her. She talks funny.”
“Neiver do I,” Andrew said, turning his back on her firmly.
Zacharias tugged them both back around to face him. “Now, listen here, you two. I insist that you show some manners.”
Shelby put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. Much as she longed for them to accept her, she wasn’t surprised by their reaction. Not only did they have abandonment issues—which nobody in this century probably understood—but with Victoria setting examples for them, their reactions didn’t surprise her in the least.
