by Carol Arens
In spite of what she had been through, she had not found a corner to hide in.
Far from it, she had spent time with his mother, planning the reception and smiling while she did it. At tea she had chatted with Lark and Dove. Played a game of checkers with Bert Warble.
Had he done what he had planned to do and chosen a wife for her social skills, that woman would not have done better this afternoon than the wife that circumstance had given him.
She moved again in her sleep, tucked her free hand between her thighs.
Time to go back to his own room. If she moved her fingers an inch higher, he would become a threat to her safety. There was nothing he wanted more than to slide her hand out from between her thighs and put his own there, to feel the silky glide of her skin beneath his fingers.
The temptation to act on the urge grew more intense the longer he indulged in gazing upon her.
Who was this woman he had married?
In the end, it didn’t matter. He had to remember who he was. Her husband, her defender.
Not a man who would harm her.
* * *
“I need to soak my head.”
Coming down the steps of the Tanners Ridge Library, Agatha looked up at William. She could easily imagine steam coming from under the bowler she had given him.
The day was hot but his temper was hotter. The town meeting had gone much like he’d described earlier meetings, with folks in an uproar over the new saloon and looking for William to do something about it.
“Last meeting, I presented a perfectly experienced candidate and they turned him away.” William removed his hat, wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. One drop that he missed slid down his cheek. “I can’t believe they just hired a green kid to do the job.”
“Well, he is tall and he was wearing a gun. The unmarried ladies are all aflutter.” She’d never attended any sort of town meeting before. Were they all this contentious, she had to wonder?
“Yes, and he’s like a spring rooster, strutting and crowing.” At the bottom step he shook out his hair, no doubt hopeful of a breeze to cool his head. A dark curly lock softened the lines of his frown. “I want to show you something.”
He caught her hand and led her down the boardwalk, past the bank and the dress shop. He stopped for a moment to go into the bakery where he purchased two cinnamon rolls to take to wherever they were going.
Walking past Millie’s Hat Shop, she spotted a sunny yellow bonnet in the window and came to a dead halt while she stared at it.
She would have gone inside to try it on but clearly William was in a hurry to get to wherever he was taking her.
Two shops further on, he cut into an alley, led her past the dirt road that ran behind them then into a copse of trees.
The temperature dropped by ten degrees in the shade of the small wood.
William took her arm to support her when the earth turned to a downward slope. Below, she heard the gurgle of rushing water.
“It’s the same stream that runs behind the mansion.” He led her to a fallen log. If someone had set a plush divan beside the water it could not have been more inviting.
She sat down, breathed a lungful of cool air. William knelt beside the stream, scooped up handful after handful of water and dribbled it over his head.
Coming to his feet he joined her on the bench. His fingers dripped and sparkled in light filtering through the leaves.
Apparently, his mood had cooled as the temperature dipped. Smiling, he stroked his wet fingers on her forehead, down the curve of her cheeks then the column of her throat.
“I find streams soothing.” He smiled. All of a sudden she began to heat up again, but this time from the inside out. “I often come here when I’ve got something I need to gnaw over in my mind—here and the stream behind the house.”
Yes, this was a good place to come and think—to settle in her mind when would be a good time to give him the doctor’s news.
Agatha was eager to, but this was a sensitive subject and must be brought at the right time and in the right place.
Now perhaps? In this place with the gently lapping water to settle her nerves and give her courage.
“What are you gnawing over, William?”
“The new sheriff, for one. You and I for another.”
“I don’t suppose there’s anything you can do about that young man. The town hired him.”
Was this the time to bring up her doctor’s visit? For some reason she was nervous to tell him about it.
She was also nervous to talk about the “you and I,” because the future of their marriage was involved.
“You and I? William, we do have control over us.”
“No. I can’t see that we do.” He looked up at the leaves, twisting and rustling in a slight but welcome breeze. “Things have changed between us. Become more complicated.”
“They don’t have to be—I’ve—”
“Changed? I’m not blind, honey. I see how you have—but it doesn’t change the fact that the only love I will make to you is in my dreams.”
“You dream of it?” The same as she did?
“Better start locking your doors.”
Or leaving it wide open in invitation!
“What if something was different?”
He stood up, shoved his hands in his pockets and walked to the edge of the stream. He gazed down at the water sluicing over rocks and past reeds.
Pivoting, he looked at her, his blue eyes dim, his expression haunted.
“Some things can’t change.” He shook his head, looking sure of it.
“But some can.” Perhaps now was the time to tell him, after all.
“Some can, yes. But not the past things. What has happened will always have happened. Look, Agatha, I saw something when I was little.”
* * *
Something horrible, judging by the slump of his shoulders and the grim line of his mouth.
“My mother had just given birth to my baby sister. The baby—she died in my arms. Mother took it hard. While my father was in the parlor drinking, I sat by her bed holding her hand and crying. She didn’t lift a hand to comfort me, she just seemed to be slipping away. Then, must have been about two in the morning, there came a shadow, or at least my frantic mind thought there was. But I lay down on top of Ma to keep it from taking her.
“The fearful thing came and went for the next two days and every time, I fought it off. One morning I woke up lying across her bed. Her hand was on my head. She was stroking my hair.”
The image of him like that stung Agatha’s eyes with tears. She felt them slip down her cheeks even though she did not sob out loud.
She went to him, wrapped her arms about his middle and squeezed. “I’m so sorry you went through that, William.”
His breath skimmed the top of her head. “I learned something through it all. Life is precious—far too precious to take chances with.”
Gripping her shoulders, he held her away from him at arm’s length. He cupped her face in his hands. A tremor ran through his fingers.
“I will not take that chance with you.”
* * *
Four days had passed since the conversation beside the stream. Five since the doctor pronounced her healthy.
The time still did not seem right to bring up her news, but it did feel right to run.
Being pronounced healthy did not mean ending her after-breakfast exercise. If she quit, she feared that she would grow weak again.
Besides, Agatha did love watching the horses. Day by day the newborns grew stronger and more agile. Ellia, Quint and Nellie were nearly as swift as their mothers now.
Some people might think it was silly to name horses she would never even touch, but why should she worry about that when no one
would know she did it? The only one who even knew she came up here was Mrs. Bea.
Today she had picked her way down the ridge and then run back up. Her heart raced, her lungs burned and her legs trembled.
She felt absolutely wonderful. All the while she pushed her body, she wondered how she would go about putting William’s fears to rest.
The good news was not something she could boldly blurt out. A seduction would be far more meaningful. Mrs. Bea had given her some creative ideas.
Imagining putting them to use made her breathless, even without the uphill run. Chances were she would need each and every one of the erotic tactics in order to win her husband over.
It was not that he didn’t want to take her to his bed. He’d made it clear that he did.
The fact that he had visited her bedroom for the last five nights spoke volumes.
The fact that he sat beside her on the bed to watch her “sleep” told her that he might not be so firm about not touching her as he claimed to be.
Still, she’d turned this way and that, showing herself off to the best advantage, and it hadn’t done a lick of good. William was at war with his noble conscience.
Perhaps she should have the doctor write a note giving his consent. Perhaps in black and white, the words would have more force.
No. The thought of it made her shiver. It was hard to imagine anything more desperate-looking—less romantic.
Tying the ribbons of her bonnet under her chin while she walked back to town, she made up her mind. As soon as the moment was perfect she was going to seduce Mr. William English.
Since she would need something especially diaphanous to wear for the occasion, she strolled down the boardwalk toward the dressmaker instead of making the turn toward home.
From two blocks up, she heard a voice raised in outrage.
It could not be! But yes, it clearly was her mother-in-law standing on the front porch of Pete’s Palace, one fist curled around some sort of broadsheet and the other gripping the sleeve of the new sheriff.
“This will not happen!” She railed at Pete Lydle. She shook the sheriff. “Tell him it will not. Do your duty.”
Lifting her skirt to more quickly manage the stairs, Agatha stood silently behind her mother-in-law.
The sheriff attempted a break for freedom. Victoria cuffed him on the ear with the broadsheet.
“Shall I fetch William?” she whispered.
The sheriff took that instant of distraction to make good on his escape.
Pete Lydle laughed but the humor ended in a coughing fit.
“You ought to quit that nasty habit,” Victoria stated.
“You ought to quit giving advice where it’s not wanted.”
“Perhaps, but shall we face the problem at hand?”
“Ain’t got no problem here, lady.”
“You’ve scheduled your gambling tournament on the same day as my son’s wedding reception. I insist that you change it.”
People inside the Palace wandered past the open front door, pausing to gaze out. Judging by the incredulous looks on their faces, it was a rare thing for someone to cross words with their boss.
A small woman, her body hunched and her shoulders bent at an odd angle, peered out with the others. Agatha could not see her face in the dim light beyond the door. It was further hidden by the hood of her tattered cloak.
While everyone’s attention was riveted on Victoria, the disfigured woman seemed to be staring at Agatha. How odd—and unnerving.
A frizzle of dread tingled up the back of her neck.
She would be more alarmed but this unreasonable fear had hit her before and nothing dire had happened.
There had been a couple of times at the circus, at the dress shop, then another when she had foolishly been frightened by the face of a cat looking in the window.
Perhaps it was time to accept the fact that sometimes she would be frightened. The important thing was to act as if she were not.
Digging for a smile she took a step toward the door.
“Excuse me, ma’am?”
In the end it didn’t matter that she found a bit of courage. The woman turned and hobbled swiftly away, her cane tapping on the floor.
“Who was that?” her mother-in-law turned to her and asked.
“I don’t know.” Nor did she want to. Something about that woman made her feel icy inside.
Victoria’s gaze narrowed on the saloon owner. “I imagine you do.”
“Her?” He took a sip from the shot glass that he balanced between his fingers. “She’s nobody—she watches over my girls—sees to their well-being.”
One of the girls stepped forward, dressed in a purple corset and red petticoat.
“You’re a couple of fine ladies, you are.” She swayed to the right. Her employer caught her, balanced her. “What you need is a bit of fun. Come on inside, I’ll share what I’ve got.”
“The clap?” Victoria arched an elegant brow.
“Noooo. Not that.” The woman opened her hand revealing a small bottle. “This. It makes all your troubles fly away.”
No, the woman could not be more wrong. What it did was make troubles flock to you. It just made a person too subdued to know it.
Chapter Eleven
“Lark Warble? I think not. You may have the man. I’d rather die an old maid than carry that name,” William heard Lark whisper to her sister when he passed the ladies in the hallway.
“I’ll take him. Dove Warble isn’t nearly as bad since doves do not actually warble. Now if his last name was Coo...”
Coming into the parlor he saw Mr. Norman and the unsuspecting Warble sitting before the flameless hearth, heads bent over the checkerboard.
Welcome rain tapped on the parlor window and dropped the temperature by a sudden ten degrees.
Not that the night felt cool, in William’s opinion, but it was more bearable than the day had been.
Going to the windows, he drew them open. Air, fresh with the scent of mud and damp grass, carried inside with the fluttering lace curtain.
He took a deep breath, allowing a flood of peace to rush through him. It had been a stressful day.
With the reception only a week away his mother had been a human whirlwind. Approving one plan and disregarding another, making sure the perfect flowers would be in the perfect place, and finding rooms in town for all her guests.
His mother was in a happy state.
At least she had been until this afternoon when she’d discovered that Pete Lydle was planning a poker tournament for the same day as the reception.
Now she sat in a corner, head to head with Mrs. Norman, speaking quietly. It was good to see her resting for the moment.
Dove approached the chess players, made an admiring comment over Warble’s last move. The man preened under her praise.
William guessed Dove would make him an adequate wife.
Catching the scent of tea rose, William looked toward the doorway to see Agatha walking toward him.
There had been a time when he would have settled for an adequate wife. Now, gazing down at Agatha’s freckled nose, her sun-pinked cheeks, he gave thanks that he had not.
For what, by force, his marriage lacked, he did not regret a thing.
Agatha stood beside him. Turning her back toward the window, she lifted the hair away from her nape. He could not help but steal a glance at the smooth, fair column of her neck.
“Oh, that breeze feels good.”
Glancing up she shot him a quick smile. He was relieved to see it. Like his mother, she had been downcast all afternoon.
“Do that again.”
“Do what?”
“Smile.” A loop of hair slid across her cheek. He wound it about his thumb, taking the moment to
appreciate the petal-like texture. He truly did enjoy touching her hair. It was something he could do, a way to touch her, without endangering her with his lust. “I haven’t seen many of those today. From anyone.”
“Folks are not happy that their new sheriff ran off.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised he left town, even with the ladies admiring him so.”
Agatha turned to face him and the silken loop slipped out of his fingers.
“What is it that’s been troubling you? I doubt it’s our runaway sheriff.”
“Not that.” She shook her head.
“Are you worried about the party? About being the center of attention?”
“I might never like being that, but I’m getting better at acting like I do.” A sidelong breeze sent a smatter of raindrops inside. A dusting of them settled on her eyelashes. “Did you know that Pete Lydle is keeping the women who work for him drugged?”
“No, but I don’t believe it’s uncommon for women in their situation to seek escape.”
“Escape! It’s no escape.”
“I know it isn’t, but some of them believe it is.”
She nodded, clenched her fists in his shirt. “For a time it does create that illusion. Also, there’s a creepy old woman at the Palace. She was staring at me earlier and giving me the chills. I’ll bet she’s the one who gives it to them.”
“Because a creepy old woman gave it to you?”
Stepping closer, she leaned her head against his chest. He wrapped her up, drew her to his heart.
Strands of hair tickled his chin when she shook her head. “No. She did not give it to me, she poured it down my throat.”
“You’re safe now, honey. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
She pushed away from his chest with small open palms, but only far enough to look him in the eye. They were still breast to rib. He noticed a raindrop drip from her lashes.
“I know that, William. But they are not safe. I want to do something to help them.”
“I forbid you to go over there.”
He believed it had been the creepy woman looking through their window that night. It alarmed him that she had focused her attention on Agatha.
