The Marriage Agreement

by Carolyn Davidson

  Not only was she up to her neck in a deception that might well prove to be her undoing, but she was bound legally to a man who held all the cards. And who, she realized, held an attraction for her that Colonel Stanley Weston had never possessed.

  She felt cornered, yet she refused to abjectly submit to Morgan. Her rearing as a Southern lady would not allow it. She’d been instilled with the pride of the Devereaux clan for over twenty years, and no mere man would make her bow her head in defeat.

  With a feline smile that had been her defense more than once in her early years, she looked at Morgan, her head tilted to one side, her mouth pursed a bit as if she considered his demand and found it amusing.

  “Yes, I’ll abide by our bargain,” she said softly. “It’s to my benefit, after all. But once this is over, you’ll take me home to my family and walk away, Morgan.”

  He hesitated, and she felt triumph rise within her. She’d surprised him, had caught him unaware. He’d expected capitulation and instead had gotten a counteroffer.

  One brow tilted as he considered her for a moment in silence. And then he only nodded, choosing his words carefully. “If that’s what you really want, Lily. If you still feel that way when this is over with, I’ll take you home.”

  “And you’ll walk away?”

  “If that’s what you want,” he repeated, “I’ll walk away.”

  Chapter Six

  They spent the night in a small hotel, which had the distinction of being the only available spot within twenty miles that had beds available to weary travelers. On that count they definitely qualified, Lily decided, trudging across the small lobby to where the proprietor had designated they would find a place to eat. The sign in front of the wooden structure bore no name, only proclaiming the building as the Hotel.

  Its dining room consisted of a fireplace and four mismatched tables, with chairs equally as nondescript, all in a half circle around the hearth, although in midsummer such amenities as a fire were not a necessity. Lamps lit each table and the young woman who carried in their evening meal wore a dingy apron, but the food she presented for their approval seemed substantial and smelled appetizing.

  “Thank you,” Morgan told the girl, then leaned across the table to murmur his thoughts aloud to Lily. “I feared that when there was no choice of a menu to be had, we might be in trouble. I’m happy to report that my fears were in vain.” He glanced at her plate and then back at his own. “This roast beef looks to rival any I’ve ever tried.”

  “You’d better hope it’s not muskrat,” Lily said softly, poking at the meat with her fork.

  Morgan was silent and she ventured a look at him through her eyelashes. His eyes danced with laughter and his words echoed the emotion. “Trying to scare me off, Mrs. Morgan? It won’t work, you know. I’ve eaten every creature known to mankind in my day. Muskrat wouldn’t be my first choice, but it has left an unforgettable memory in my mind. And trust me, my dear, this is not that particular delicacy.”

  He cut the meat and forked a bite between his lips, then chewed and swallowed. “In fact,” he offered, “I’ll be glad to eat yours if it doesn’t appeal to you.”

  Lily laughed aloud. The man had a sense of humor. A real, live funny bone. And she wouldn’t have thought it, not for a moment. The meat was delicious, the vegetables a bit overcooked but edible, and the apple tart delicious, steaming and juicy beyond belief.

  They ate, almost in silence, their appetites whetted by the food, and as if neither of them was willing to speak of the hours ahead, they chose, almost by mutual consent, it seemed, to spend their energy on devouring the food before them. The table did not boast a tablecloth, and there was not a napkin in sight, but Lily’s handkerchief filled in nicely and she wiped her mouth with it.

  Morgan’s smile caught her attention and she felt a flush suffuse her cheeks. “What?” she asked abruptly. And then looked down at the front of her dress. “Did I spill something? Or leave crumbs on my face somewhere?”

  He shook his head and pushed away from the table and then circled to her side, holding her chair as if they had just dined in an elegant restaurant in some expensive hotel, instead of in a dusty town with not a smidgen of elegance to its name. “You looked like a young woman who was thoroughly enjoying her meal,” he said. “And the sight pleased me.”

  “I did enjoy it,” she said, rising as he took her elbow and assisted her. That his help was not necessary was a given, but the fact that he was treating her in a gentlemanly manner pleased her somehow.

  “I haven’t seen you look happy before,” he told her, leading her from the small room to where the stairs climbed to the second floor. She gripped the banister, noting that it was rough-hewn, sanded a bit to protect its user’s palm from splinters, but certainly lacking any beeswax or polish.

  “I haven’t been happy in a long time,” she admitted, slowing her pace, as if she would prolong the time until they reached the room he’d taken for their use.

  “A shame,” he said. “For it seems that it takes little to please you, Lily.”

  “Life has not been easy, Morgan,” she told him. “I’m not looking for sympathy, only trying to explain the way things are. Or were, I should say. I have high hopes that my future will brighten immeasurably when this particular jaunt is over and I’m on my way back to Louisiana.”

  “Louisiana?” he asked, sliding the key from his pocket as they paused before the door of their room. “You hadn’t told me before where you were from.”

  And now the fat was in the fire, she supposed. She’d never learned the fine art of discretion. Mama had always told her that a lady is known by her ability to remain discreet and hold her mouth, giving away nothing but that which is required of her. She hadn’t agreed at the time, of course, but perhaps Mama was right.

  “Well, that’s where I’m from,” she said, sounding even to her own ears a bit disgruntled. Louisiana was a big place, and once he got her within a few miles of River Bend, she’d elude him and never have to worry about seeing him again.

  “It shows,” he said, walking to the bedside table and lighting the candle there. “Your speech is soft, with just a bit of the lilt of New Orleans in it.”

  “But not proper English?” She sat on the chair and glared at him.

  “I wasn’t the one who said that,” he reminded her, removing his jacket and hanging it on a hook. He unbuttoned his sleeves and shirtfront, then paused. “We’d better settle this here and now, Lily. I’m not sleeping on the floor, and neither are you. We shared my bunk on the riverboat, and we’ll do the same here. Understood?”

  She felt a distinct sense of relief. It seemed that tonight was not to be the beginning of their marriage, after all. He only wanted to share the bed with her, and there was room enough for two to lie there, side by side, without touching if they were careful of their movements.

  “All right, that sounds agreeable to me,” she said, leaning forward to slip her shoes from feet that felt suddenly tired, toes that cramped beneath her fingers. With a sigh, she leaned back and stretched her legs out before her, wiggling her feet and rotating her ankles in a distinctly unladylike manner. Somehow, it didn’t seem to matter. This was only Morgan, after all. She needn’t make a pretense of being dignified around him.

  “Stand up and I’ll undo your buttons,” he said, offering his hand.

  She eyed it for a moment before she took it, rising before him and then turning, offering him her back. Lifting her hair from her shoulders, she pulled it forward and began plaiting it as he dealt with the line of buttons that held her dress together. The cool air from an open window touched her exposed skin, and she shivered.

  “Don’t tell me you’re cold,” he said. “And I won’t believe you’re frightened of me, Lily.”

  “Neither,” she said, seeking out a corner where the light was not so bright, where she might don her nightdress without his eyes taking in every movement. “The breeze caught me. It felt good, as a matter of fact. I don’t know why we
bundle ourselves up in so many items of apparel, when it would be more sensible to dress in fewer garments.”

  “You can dress in as little as you please around me, Lily,” he said, amusement touching each word. “Especially at night. I’ve never been a fan of nightclothes.”

  “That’s where I’ll draw the line,” she said sharply. Her bag was opened quickly and her nightgown drawn from its depths. She turned and looked at him, unwilling to plead for privacy, hoping he would give it freely.

  “Am I supposed to shut my eyes or turn my head?” he asked, settling on the edge of the bed to remove his boots and stockings. “Not a chance, sweetheart. Just get yourself into that monstrous garment and get ready for bed.”

  Lily obeyed, not with grace, but with a semblance of dignity. She pulled the gown over her head and stripped from her garments beneath its folds.

  “You’ve spoiled my evening,” Morgan said. “I looked forward all day to watching you undress, you know.”

  “You did not,” she said, gathering up her clothing, then shaking each item out and folding it neatly for tomorrow’s use. He was a tease, she decided. She recognized that his smile was intended to assure her of her safety with him, and doggone if it wasn’t working. He’d told her he’d take care of her, keep her safe, and then he’d promised to share the bed without coercion tonight.

  “You have no idea what I’ve thought about all day, Lily,” he murmured, standing and stripping from his trousers. His drawers were knit, clinging to every line of his lower body, allowing her a glimpse of his male attributes.

  She turned away, feeling the heat of embarrassment creep up her cheeks again. The man had no shame, none whatsoever. Just because she’d married him—

  His low laughter caught her ear and she knew again the threat of Morgan’s appeal. For that was the bottom line. She’d married him, and as his wife, she could expect only what privacy he chose to give her, only the amount of restraint he exhibited. She stepped to the opposite side of the bed and pulled back the sheet and quilt, fluffing the pillow before she settled on the bottom sheet and drew the second one over her legs.

  He stood beside the bed and she thought his attention was on the braid she’d formed. His words proved her theory correct. “Do you want me to brush your hair?” he asked, settling beside her. “You usually spend some time on it, and tonight you’ve stolen my pleasure at watching you. I’d be happy to serve as your lady’s maid.”

  “That might be nice,” she murmured agreeably, “but tonight I’m tired.” She turned aside, hugging the edge of the thin mattress and heard his low chuckle behind her.

  “Come here, Lily,” he whispered.

  Wonder of wonders, she did as he asked, twisting in the bed, her nightgown tangling around her legs, until she faced him. “What?” she asked, breathless from more than just the exertion of her movements.

  “Now lift up and reach past me and blow out the candle,” he told her.

  She cast him a look of exasperation. “Why didn’t you think of that before you plunked yourself down?”

  He grinned. “I wanted to see you reaching over me.” He waited until she sighed and then lifted herself on one elbow and stretched toward the candle. She blew with a mighty gust of breath and it flickered, then died, leaving them in the dark.

  “Actually,” he said softly, “what I wanted was to feel your breasts against me. Like this.” He wrapped one arm around her and she felt the soft curve of her bosom press against his chest. His hand lifted and cupped her, as if he weighed and measured the firm fullness.

  “Please, Morgan,” she whispered, “don’t do this to me.”

  “I’m not hurting you, Lily. I know better than that. I’m only touching you, admiring the lines of your figure and wondering how long I’ll be able to keep my hands off you.”

  “Well, you’re off to a bad start, I’d say,” she hissed. “You aren’t showing much restraint right now.”

  “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, laughter coating each syllable. “You have no idea how hard this is for me.”

  She twisted from his grasp and sat up in the bed. “All right. I’m not going to worry and wonder every night when you’re going to decide to make your move. You warned me that this would be a real marriage. So if you’re going to do that to me, you’d might as well get it over with,” she said harshly. “I’d rather have it over with, if you don’t mind.”

  “Making love to you is not something that will ever be ‘over with’, Lily,” he told her softly. “But here and now is neither the time nor place for it to happen. It will be in a more private, comfortable spot than this.”

  She lay back against the pillow and felt his arm encircle her waist. Then he rose over her and bent to touch his lips against her cheek. “I’m going to kiss you, though,” he said. “No more than that, so don’t be stiffening up on me.”

  She believed him. For some strange, unknown reason, she trusted the man, even in this. Her lips were pliant beneath his, her breathing calming as she relaxed beneath his caresses. The hand at her waist remained there and she felt just a small tinge of disappointment that he seemed content with his brief exploration of her breasts. She’d never enjoyed Stanley’s attentions, had assumed that women were not meant to get pleasure from the acts that led to intimacy.

  Now it seemed that Morgan might banish those ideas from her mind, and the thought of his possessing her body became less of a threat and more of a tantalizing promise of joy to come.

  They journeyed another full day, and by the time sunset was upon them, Lily was yearning for a soft bed and warm meal to fill the void in her stomach. The cheese and bread were gone, and Morgan had devoured the candy sticks once he discovered them in the bundle. A patch of berries by the side of the road had yielded a treat during the afternoon, but had long since been digested.

  “I’m hungry,” Lily muttered, stretching her arms over her head in a distinctly unladylike manner.

  “You have an appetite like no other woman I’ve ever met,” Morgan observed. “I don’t know where you put the food. It sure doesn’t stick to your bones.”

  She smiled. “Is that a nice way of telling me I’m skinny? If so, it’s not hurting my feelings. It’s never been my aim in life to weigh a ton.”

  “You’re not skinny, Lily. Not by a long shot. In fact, you’ve got the most nicely rounded—”

  She sat upright with an abrupt movement and glared at him, cutting off his pronouncement before he could utter the final words. “Never mind my rounded whatever,” she said. “I know what I look like, and as long as I’m decently covered, I can pass for an ordinary farmer’s wife. I’d think that was the most important thing right now. I’ve never asked to be decked out in satin in my life.”

  “But it looks so good on you,” he said smoothly. “Not that I want anyone else to see you dressed that way. But I rather enjoy admiring your charms.”

  “Well, admire them some other time. Right now we need a place to sleep for the night, and something to put in our stomachs.”

  “I thought about searching out a farmhouse and asking for the use of a barn,” he said. “But there hasn’t been a house to be seen in miles.”

  “Are we near a town?”

  He shrugged. “I’m not sure. My map isn’t up-to-date. From what I could tell, there’s a place just west of here, a decent-size dot on the map. Maybe we should head in that direction.”

  “I can settle for sleeping on the ground if needs be,” she said, “but I’m not sure how much longer I want to go without food.”

  “All right,” he said agreeably. “We’ll stop in a grove of trees and build a fire and I’ll find something for you to cook over it.”

  “Something?” she asked. “Like what?”

  “Rabbit, maybe. Or squirrels, if we’re desperate enough.”

  “A squirrel is nothing but a rat with a furry tail,” she told him. “No, thanks.”

  “Well,” he drawled, pointing a finger ahead and just to the west of the wagon track
s they traveled, “if you look over there, you’ll see smoke rising. I warrant we’ll find a house if we cut across the meadow at an angle and take a look.”

  “Really?” She peered in the direction he pointed and her heart lifted as she caught a glimpse of a curling whisper of smoke that rose in the air from behind a stand of trees. “Maybe someone will be willing to sell us some food.”

  “We’ll see,” he said, turning the mare off the trail and making a path through tall grass and wildflowers that were blooming in abundance across the landscape. They were beneath the shelter of tall trees in a few minutes’ time, and then as the trees became more sparse, a house with several outbuildings appeared ahead.

  “Looks promising,” Morgan told her. The buggy bounced a bit, and Lily hung on to the seat, and then as they reached a lane that showed signs of wagon tracks, she relaxed beside him.

  The door opened onto a porch, and by the time they rolled within fifty feet of it, a man stepped out to greet them. A long gun hung loosely at his side, but the threat was implicit. Morgan held up a hand in greeting and murmured a low message to Lily. “Smile nicely, sweetheart. We want the man to know we’re friendly.”

  She obliged, aware that a family so isolated would be naturally wary of strangers.

  “What can I do for you folks?” the man called out as Morgan brought the mare to a halt in front of the porch.

  “We need a place to bed down for the night. We’re more than willing to pay a fair price for the use of your barn,” he said. “And if you’ll throw in some supper, I’ll make it worth your while.”

  The farmer looked them over thoroughly and then nodded, as though he found no danger in their presence. “You can sleep in the hayloft,” he told Morgan. “And my wife, Anna, has enough food cooked to share. Come on in.”

  Four children sat tucked together on a long bench on one side of the trestle table, Morgan and Lily receiving the honor of using chairs. The farmer and his wife shared a shorter bench near the stove and though the meal was plain, the food was good and plentiful, as their host had said.