by Rue Allyn
Mae—Alvin at her side—and her two assistants sat at a table across from three burly men when James at long last arrived, frustration clear on his face.
“What’s going on here?”
“Pardon me, gentlemen,” she said before turning to acknowledge him. “Mr. Collins, if you’ll wait in the manager’s office, I’ll join you as soon as these negotiations are completed.”
“Negotiations?” He arched his brows. “I was told you walked straight into a riot.”
“I will explain everything, but after we finish here and ensure peace.”
“Truly sir,” said Alvin. “They are nearly done.”
“Don’t keep me waiting, Mae.” His tone warned of restrained temper. Hopefully the necessary delay would cool his ire.
• • •
James stalked into the manager’s office. What did Mae think she was doing, sending him away when she needed his help? His impulse was to rush back to her side and spirit her off to his home never to let her out of his sight again. He’d been frightened beyond words, imagining all sorts of horrors. Then he saw Mae calmly discussing labor issues with men who could break her in half with one hand. His relief had been orders of magnitude greater than his fear. He’d felt foolish in the extreme for not knowing she’d be able to quell a riot all on her own. She’d accomplished tremendous things in the past few weeks. Maybe society didn’t like everything she’d done. Heck, he didn’t like many of her actions, but she’d asked for and taken the chance to prove herself, succeeding beyond all expectation. She was amazing. The thought knocked the breath from his lungs. And that was the moment when he was most proud and most enchanted. What man wanted a kitten or a lioness for that matter when he could have a tigress? Not me.
When he’d first thought of marriage to Mae he believed he wanted a quiet, obedient helpmate. From the day she entered his office bedraggled and scared out of her wits, he’d watched her, a frightened innocent hiding from the world, become a brave—sometimes foolishly so—woman in charge of her own passions and life. She saw a need and took action.
She hadn’t even consulted him on negotiating strategies but decisively sent him to cool his heels and his ire while she took on a task many men found daunting. She was so much more than the naïve, retiring wife he’d thought he wanted. Could he handle such a woman? He wasn’t certain but he’d like to spend his life trying.
The door opened and Mae entered with Alvin close behind.
“Are you prepared to explain now?” James asked with a level tone. He gave no clue of his thoughts because he wanted to see how she would handle the situation.
“You may wait in the outer office, Alvin. I’ll be perfectly all right.”
Alvin cast a look askance at James. “If you’re certain, miss.”
“I am.”
The guard stepped out, and Mae shut the door then removed her hat before sitting in the desk chair. “Sit down, James. I can’t speak with you looming over me.”
To hell with waiting. He shook his head and reached for her. “No.”
“Why not?”
“I’ll not sit down until I can tell you how scared I was for you and how proud I am of you.
“You’re proud of me?”
“Do you have any idea how worried I was when your coachman arrived to tell me there was a riot at the mill and you were in the thick of it?”
“No.” She put her hand to his cheek.
“I feared for your life. I was certain I’d be too late and find you dead. Then I came here and saw you negotiating with those men, taking charge, being the responsible, practical woman you’ve always wanted to be.”
He picked her up by the waist, placed her bottom atop her desk, shoved his hands beneath her skirts and stepped between her thighs.
“James!” she squeaked.
“Ssh.” He kissed her until her arms circled his neck and she made a purr of surrender.
“James,” she whispered.
“I can’t be angry with you, and I don’t need explanations, at least not until after I’ve made love to you.”
Having dispensed with her skirts, his hands were busy at the buttons of her shirtwaist.
“Oh James, I’d like that.”
She gave a satisfying gasp as his fingers found her breasts and tweaked her nipples until they formed stiff points.
“Do you think it’s right for you to cause your fiancé to worry so much?” He grinned at her, his hands kneading circles on her thighs.
She beamed back at him. “No.”
He palmed the soft flesh, feathered kisses across her eyes, her cheeks, then suckled a tender earlobe.
“James?” Her back arched, thrusting her breasts into his busy hands.
He smiled. She was everything he wanted. He would give his life to stand by her side, if he could convince her to let him, to love him.
He plucked and teased, then pushed his hips against her. “Do you like that?”
Frantic, her hands moved over him to open his shirt, release his belt, expose his manhood. “Yes, James. Don’t torture me more, please.”
But he would. He would love her into tomorrow and beyond.
“Lay back.”
He leaned with her, holding her prisoner to his gaze and the delight he planned for her. He bent over her, staring at her for long moments. “You are so beautiful to me. I love your lips—pink and swollen with kisses. Your throat flushed with passion. Your breasts soft and firm with nipples pouting for my touch. Your waist, hips and thighs—especially your thighs—so welcoming. And the treasure you keep for me between them.”
He traced a path with his free hand as he spoke, watching her eyes, looking for fire to rise in those green depths as it rose in him. When his fingers paused at her entrance, he was hard and pulsing and hanging on to restraint by a gossamer thread.
Somehow he held himself back and managed to stroke a single fingertip along her seam, parting her, circling her knot, making her writhe and moan.
“Shh,” he whispered. “You risk drawing an audience.”
She pressed her lips together. Around him, her legs moved as restlessly as her hips while he continued to tantalize but not fulfill. “Please,” she finally breathed.
He gave a little, dipping his finger a tiny bit within, drawing out moisture then resumed the circling that drove her body mad. He leaned forward to suckle a nipple and pressed his palm against her mound.
She bucked and thrust. “Please, I can’t stand much more.”
He replaced his hand with his phallus, stroking up and down, teasing the damp folds and that hard nub.
Her eyes went wide, and her back arched higher against the hard surface of the desk. He kissed her long, and leisurely, playing with the delight of her mouth.
Then one swift thrust seated him to the hilt.
Her mouth opened, and he sealed it with his own to silence the screams he knew would follow.
Another thrust set her hips in motion with his. A third, a fourth, on and on, he pounded into her welcoming flesh. Heat and sensation overtook him, casting away thought and logic, leaving only need, the desperate longing to possess, to bring her with him into pleasure beyond imagining.
Her legs twisted around his hips, locking him within her. The storm of thrust and counter thrust continued until her body rippled around him and her mouth silenced his own triumphant shout.
• • •
Mae lay beneath James. How long since she’d spun with him into ecstasy, she could not know. Her heart still raced, though her breathing began to slow.
“I’m sorry if I caused you to worry,” she confessed.
With a quiet groan, he lifted away from her, and his eyes relaxed. “Thank you. I’m sorry I was angry. I was afraid, thinking you in danger and that I would need to rescue you. But you’d rescued yourself. I’m so proud that you did, of all you’ve accomplished. Now let’s restore your appearance. It wouldn’t do for Alvin to suspect our activities.”
She allowed him to assist her. Then she helped him tidy
himself and afterward took a seat on the settee.
“Would you like to hear about today’s events?”
“Yes.” He sat beside her, her hand tucked in his, as she described her morning.
“I’m not certain, but I think the voice of the man urging the men to ‘give ’em what they deserve’ might belong to Jenks,” she confided.
James squeezed her hand before releasing it to stand. He paced a circle. “I’ll talk to Alvin and some of the others involved to discover if they can help identify the man for certain. Until then, or until we hear of Jenks’s activities, we’ll assume he was the man.”
“Why would he do that if you hired him to keep me safe?” Puzzlement churned in her stomach. The idea of betrayal was completely alien.
“I can only assume that someone who means you harm bribed Jenks to hire on as your bodyguard to take advantage of or perhaps create situations like today’s near riot. However, I can’t be certain of anything until we have more evidence to go on. Now, tell me about your negotiations.”
Her stomach settled with the change in topic. “We drew up an agreement between the employees of Alden Cloth Works and the management. I would very much appreciate it if you would look over the language and let me know if the agreement is legal. If not, what amendments we should make—and would you be willing to meet with everyone and work out the appropriated terms?”
“Since I am the owner’s representative, any opinion I offer would be a conflict of interest. For the same reason, I may not pay for some other attorney to review the contract. Not until I resign my office as executor and we are married.”
Mae’s brow wrinkled. “Then how are we to fulfill the promises I negotiated with the workers?”
“If each party hired their own attorneys or if the parties split the fee of a single attorney equally, an impartial counsel could perform a review.”
“I recall the cost of legal counsel from our discussions about contesting Grandfather’s will. Neither I nor the workers as a group could afford a third of that sum. Hiring separate attorneys is even further beyond our means.”
“Until I am no longer executor of the estate, all I can recommend is that you meet with the men who negotiated this agreement with you and ask for a delay to raise the necessary funds. Tell them you will comply in good faith with the terms while you wait.”
“I don’t know if they’ll be satisfied with an indefinite delay. Obviously, I must marry quickly.”
“I’m not certain a speedy wedding is wise.”
“Why? Because I already flout convention by working at a man’s job? Because I’m less than two months into mourning for my grandfather, displaying a false grief that makes me as much a hypocrite as he ever was?”
“No, because weddings take time, and I would not see you cheated of a single moment of anticipation.”
The corners of her mouth lifted in a weak smile. “You dear man. I would rather have more days as your wife than all the anticipation in the world.”
“If that is your wish, we will wed as soon as the settlement terms are agreed upon.”
She sighed. “We were to decide those today.”
“And we shall. It will still take a week to have the documents drawn up for signature.”
“Even I know a week is too little time for a wedding. Since I’m technically in mourning, a small, private ceremony can be excused. We’ll marry two weeks after the announcement appears in the papers.”
James frowned.
Did he wish she had decided differently?
“Since I sent the announcement this morning, it should appear tomorrow. You’re certain this is what you want?”
“I’m certain this is what must be done to save jobs and improve lives,” she said firmly.
“Sacrificing yourself for others may bring you more pain than happiness,” he said softly. “When the choice is between starvation for many or marriage for two, I cannot justify remaining single, especially if my sisters gain their rightful inheritance as a result.”
“Very well.”
They spent the afternoon refining the settlement terms, which James agreed to have drawn up and vetted by an independent attorney.
Mae watched him leave, then turned to the new set of ledgers where she’d been entering receipts and expenses. She filled her pen and prepared to write, but the numbers blurred as her eyes swam with tears.
It was all wrong. She could no more marry for convenience than she could write with tear-filled eyes. Doing so would surely kill any love James might have for her. She lowered her pen and swiped a hand across her eyes. Then his love would die. She had to marry, and she would. If she must sacrifice her love to the needs of many, then she would sacrifice. She prayed God would forgive her, for she could not forgive herself.
• • •
Mrs. Lydia Wadsworth Collins-Morton is pleased to announce the engagement of Miss Persephone Mae Alden of Boston’s distinguished Alden family to Mrs. Morton’s nephew, attorney James Whittaker Collins, V, a graduate of Harvard Law School and senior partner in the firm of Collins & Collins. A small private ceremony for intimate friends and family is planned due to the bride’s recent bereavement.
He crushed the paper into a hard ball, dropped it to the floor, ground it under his heel then stomped over to the table where sat a crystal decanter and matching glasses.
Collins doesn’t deserve the bitch. The pair of them deserve to suffer as much as I have at their hands. He poured a double shot of single malt and tossed down the entire glassful in one throat-burning gulp. After all they’d done to him, neither one deserved to live.
However, a man of taste and refinement would be gracious; he could be gracious. He had taste and refinement. He smiled. Yes, he’d arrange a celebration for Mr. James W. Collins V, one the man would never forget. Perhaps he’d even invite Miss Persephone Mae Alden. This entire situation was really all her fault. Maybe one of her sisters would see things differently and agree to restore him to his rightful place. The older one—what was her name? Edith? Yes, Edith had to return sometime, especially if her sister suffered an accident. He’d have to consider that option carefully.
He’d done his very best to work things out, and it had cost him. It had cost him in court, in his purse, in his pride—he really was a better shot than he’d demonstrated that day when he’d missed Collins and hit the bodyguard instead. Then he’d had to rely on others, and each of them had failed. It was time to take matters back into his own hands. He’d begin by sending that invitation to Collins and set their little celebration for Friday evening.
Sitting at his desk, he reached for pen and paper.
• • •
To avoid thinking of her approaching nuptials, Mae threw herself into work. She met with the workers’ committee and assured them the negotiated agreement would be signed as soon as she married and the will was executed. She tallied supplies and completed orders, negotiated new orders for more cloth and toyed with the idea of creating a store where remainders could be sold. If successful enough, the store profits could be funneled off to pay for the school and eventually the dispensary. By Friday evening she spent almost no time at home. She might have worried about neglecting Lalie, but her houseguest was usually at the school or the dispensary.
Alvin knocked and stuck his head inside her office door. “It’s gone nine o’clock, miss. I’m about to go get my dinner. Will you be wanting me to fetch some food back for you from the school kitchen?”
She looked up from her ledgers. “That late already? Yes, please, Alvin. Thank you very much. Have you heard from Mr. Collins about a replacement for Jenks?”
“No, miss, not since that note telling us not to leave until he could arrive. With that Mr. Carver on the loose and Mr. Jenks apparently helping the man stir up trouble, none of us wants to take chances.”
He closed the door. Mae stood and stretched while she listened to the tap of his boot heels on the outer office floor, then that door opening and closing. She wasn’t truly hu
ngry; she hadn’t been since making the choice to wed and even less since signing the settlement documents.
James had agreed to every demand she made in the marriage settlements and signed without protest. He’d even insisted on having another attorney review the document to ensure she was getting exactly what she wanted. She was doing the right thing, but it was only a matter of time before he would regret his choice.
She already had regrets but dwelling on those was a useless exercise. The workers would keep their jobs and have safer equipment. Her sisters would be rich women and could remain independent for their entire lives. She couldn’t regret the ability to give back to them some of the care they’d given her growing up in the manse. She wouldn’t regret learning that courage and risk were better than cowering in safety, even if courage meant waiting or living with disappointment.
She wandered to the window and looked out on the yard. She’d been sitting for so long, she felt restless and decided a walk through the mill would clear her mood. She wrote a note for Alvin so he wouldn’t worry about her. She wasn’t leaving the property, so there could be no danger. Soon—after she wed—she would no longer need a guard. She’d have to think about how else to employ Alvin. She didn’t want him to lose his livelihood because of her.
She donned the smock she kept to cover her clothing when going about the mill. Smocks just like it were required attire issued to all employees. There had been some grumbles, but she assured the workers that the requirement was temporary. Eventually a system of fans and blowers would be installed, and the cotton dust would be greatly reduced. Then, if the employees wished, they could do without the uniform. She suspected by the time the air handling system became fact, most of the workers would prefer to keep their smocks.
Armored against dust and grime, she lit a lantern and emerged with it from the offices to descend the stairs to the yard. It wasn’t yet full dark but the windows in the manufactory buildings were high, and with the sun already set, her vision would be limited without the lantern.
The night time quiet was a drastic change from the noise and bustle of the day. It was a change she enjoyed as much as she liked the daytime activity. She checked the gates, the doors on the storage rooms and the dispensary, finding them locked and secure as was now company policy. It turned out Carver had not only embezzled funds but had been stealing from the unlocked storage rooms, selling both supplies and finished cloth, then pocketing the proceeds. If he was bent on revenge, Mae was confident the new locks would keep him out.
