Banking on Temperance: Book Three of the Cotillion Ball Series (Crimson Romance)

by Lower, Becky

  A small sound invaded his sleep. He fought to come to full awareness out of his dream as the woman at the center of his thoughts, awake or asleep, crept a bit closer to him. He turned in his chair and their eyes met. She hovered near the bedroom doorway, as if afraid to venture any farther into the room. But as their eyes locked, there was no fear in hers. A long minute passed as the air frizzled around them. Basil caught the desire in her eyes before she faded back into the room and closed the door.

  He threw off his blanket and went to the closed door. Every impulse in his body was telling him to open the door and take her — to lay claim to her. Lord, he wanted Temperance as he had never wanted a woman before. He took a deep breath before he politely knocked on the door, but didn’t follow through on his urges. Instead, he called to her through the two inches of wood.

  “What is it? And why are you awake? You should be well into your drunken stupor by now.”

  Her voice sounded small on the other side of the door. “My lightheadedness seems to have left me, thank you. But it’s beastly cold in here. Do you have another blanket I might use?”

  Basil sighed. He only had two blankets. He walked over to the chair where he had been sleeping and picked up his blanket. “Here you go. Will you open the door now?”

  She turned the handle and pulled the door open. Her hair had fallen from its bun while she slept, and tendrils of light brown cascaded around her face, resembling strands of caramel. She was beautiful, even in the darkness. He wanted to take a step forward into the room, and was convinced she would let him. And then he’d be lost. Forever. He thrust the blanket at her instead.

  “I’ll build up the fire in the stove to add some more warmth to the rooms. But you’ll have to keep the door open in order to benefit from the heat.”

  “It would be best if the door is closed, I think.” Her eyes caressed his face once more and she got a hitch in her breathing before she quietly closed the door behind him.

  Basil added wood to the stove in the room and lay down in front of it. He only thought he was cold before. Without a blanket, he was freezing. He layered on Temperance’s shawl and his own coat before he huddled near the stove, seeking warmth from the stones that surrounded it. He finally fell asleep on the floor.

  • • •

  Temperance came to awareness slowly. She was deliciously warm, nestled up to the body next to her, and loath to move. But this wasn’t her bony, lanky younger brother’s body. This one was large and muscular. Wriggling closer to the warmth, she was reluctant to wake up. She had the most delightful dreams last night. Dreams of Basil kissing her and arousing a passion in her she hadn’t known existed.

  With a jolt, she opened her eyes and let out a gasp as full awareness of her surroundings kicked in. She was spooning up against her employer, Mr. Fitzpatrick, her backside warm and snug up against his front. The hard muscles of his chest were nestled up against her. And if she wasn’t mistaken, she sensed another hard muscle more near her buttocks. Oh, my. His arm was draped loosely over her body, his hand resting on her breast, from which the most delightful sensations were emanating. She tossed his arm out of the way as she scurried to her feet. He continued to sleep. As her breathing returned to normal, she let her gaze linger on him.

  Last night, when she roused him from his sleep to ask for another blanket, she went back to the cold room and closed the door against him. Even with two blankets, it was still freezing in the room. She listened carefully to the sounds coming from the outer room. Basil moved around for a few minutes, then silence. She lay in bed and thought about the man in the next room. Truthfully, she had been thinking about him all evening, even in the haze of her wine-induced fog. It wasn’t long before she figured out he had probably given her his only blanket, and was in the outer room without covers. She cautiously opened the door.

  He was on the floor in front of the stove, his knees pulled into his chest, in an attempt to catch whatever body heat he could. She stood and gazed down on him for a few indulgent minutes. He may be a reprobate who preferred dance hall girls to respectable women, but she trusted him with her life. She returned to the bedroom and got the two blankets and the pillow from the bed. Then, she lay down beside him and stretched the two covers over them.

  That was last night. Now, what was she to do? She’d spent the night in a man’s apartment — by herself. Well, not exactly by herself, but that was the problem. She’d been unchaperoned in the private quarters of a man. It would have been far better if she had been by herself. Then her emotions would not be rioting all over the place, bouncing off the walls and colliding into each other. Her good sense was crashing into her passionate side, which until recently she hadn’t even known she had.

  She backed away from him slowly, as if he were a viper about to strike. But he already had, and she was branded by the bite. Ever since the day he kissed her, weeks ago, she couldn’t seem to make heads or tails of her emotions. She hurried to the window to see if the snow had finally stopped, and it had. Relieved that she could at last go home, yet disappointed that their self-imposed closeness would end, tears smarted at her eyes as she hustled to the kitchen to start the fire in the stove and prepare them some breakfast. See, this was exactly what she meant — relief and disappointment aren’t supposed to mix.

  She and Basil would have to come up with a plausible story to cover up this night. And she’d have to find another job. Temperance took a deep, calming breath. Lord knows, when it came to Basil Fitzpatrick, her mind refused to work. All she had to do was be near him, and she lost all control of her thoughts. Her family’s needs, which were placed squarely on her shoulders, slid away as she took delight in his nearness. She must remove herself from the temptation that was Basil, and remember she had pledged herself to Jacob.

  No. Jeremiah.

  She shook her head. Yes, for God’s sake, Temperance. Jeremiah. It’s Jeremiah …

  She placed a pot of water on the hot surface of the wood stove so it could boil. Then, she went to the small bedroom and used Basil’s washstand to wash her face. She relieved herself in the chamber pot, her face ablaze when she realized he would be the one to empty the pot later.

  Without making a sound, she returned to the large living area of the apartment. Basil was beginning to move about. She stood in front of him, waiting for him to come completely awake.

  “Hello, Temperance.” He gazed up at her, squinting one eye, and spoke in a gravelly, sleep-filled voice.

  “We need to talk.”

  “Can I have a minute, first? I, uh, have to take care of something.” He rose and walked to the bathroom area, closing the door behind himself.

  She had adolescent brothers and it was hard to find privacy in a small soddy that housed eight people. So Temperance was not surprised that the “something” he was referring to had to do with the rigid muscle that had only minutes before been up against her bottom. Her cheeks flamed anew as she pictured what he was doing over the chamber pot that she had just relieved herself in.

  A small moan escaped her as she closed her eyes and pictured him in the next room giving himself relief. Dear Lord, she needed to escape from this place. She busied herself by folding the blankets, which were on the floor. What in the name of God was her shawl doing in middle of the heap of covers? Shaking her head, she folded it over a chair near the door, which she swore was where she left it last night, and hung up Basil’s coat.

  He returned a few minutes later. He had obviously washed his face, because small droplets of water clung to the hair on his forehead. Temperance had a sudden urge to lick the droplets away.

  She turned from him. This was exactly what she meant. She had no control when she was around him. Remember Jeremiah.

  Jeremiah?

  She turned back around to face Basil, her anger beginning to mount. She was stretched to her limit, and about to explode. He could stand here, all sm
ug and gorgeous, expecting her to jump into his embrace, but she was made of sterner stuff. She could, and would, resist his charms.

  She cleared her throat. “We must come up with a story that both of us can agree on. I will tell everyone I spent the night in the small office off the main room of the bank. I’ll even put my blanket down there, so Herbert Walker can find it this morning.”

  Basil nodded. “If that’s what you want.”

  She sighed. “And I’ll find a new job. Not immediately, of course. I don’t want anyone to think the reason I left my position here was because of last night. But you understand how awkward it will be for me to remain here for long.”

  Again, Basil nodded without saying a word. Temperance turned back to her boiling water, which matched her mood, and added the oatmeal.

  She sensed him close the gap between them. He was standing right behind her, but hadn’t touched her. Every nerve ending in her body tingled. She was fairly certain her hair stood on end.

  “Look at me, Temperance.”

  She took a deep breath before she turned around and let out a small squeak. He was so close. Only a hair’s breadth away. But he still didn’t touch her.

  “Tell me the name again of your fiancé.”

  Her ire was peaking. “What are you trying to prove? You know good and well who he is. It’s Jeremiah!” She spat out the words.

  “Now, say my name. My given name.”

  She gazed into his steel blue eyes and replied in a hushed tone, “Basil.”

  He reached out finally, and wove a tendril of her hair around his fingers. “That’s all I need to know.” He tugged gently on her tendril before he released it and took a step back from her. “I’ll go along with whatever story you want me to say, Temperance. But nothing happened here last night to alter your reputation.”

  “How can you say that? I spent the night in your apartment! I’m sure the other women you’ve entertained here wouldn’t agree with your assessment of the situation.”

  “Maybe not, but those ladies will never know you were here. Nor will Herbert, for that matter. Eat your breakfast while I go shovel the front steps. Then I’ll head to the livery and get your horse. Even though the snow was coming down hard last night, it doesn’t appear to be more than four inches or so deep in the streets, so your horse should be all right getting home.”

  He pulled on his heavy coat and tugged on his boots. When he turned around, she was still standing at the stove. He raised an eyebrow at her. “Eat, Temptress.”

  And he left.

  She took a deep, heavy breath as her nerves slowly stopped jangling. She placed a bowl of oatmeal in front of her and poured some cool, fresh milk over the top of it, adding some brown sugar. As she spooned the sweetness into her mouth, her mind reviewed what happened, or hadn’t happened, last night. He hadn’t touched her. Well, beyond that first, brief kiss, anyway. He didn’t try to force himself upon her. It was exactly the behavior she had hoped for. And blast it all, it was exactly what she had come to expect from him. So why did she feel as if she wanted to cry?

  • • •

  Basil forced himself to pull his hand back from her hair and jokingly call her Temptress before he finally left the room. The room which had been so cold last night, but was now hot as Hades. As he hustled down the steps he let out a breath. Lord, what was he to do?

  Logic told him if he would just let it slip into conversation with even one person that they had spent the night together, folks, even in a frontier town such as St. Louis, would expect and demand him to step up and do the “right” thing, which was to marry her. Was that what he wanted? What she wanted? He ran a hand over his face as he pulled out the snow shovel from the cleaning supply closet and hastened to the front steps of the bank. That was his main problem. He didn’t know what he wanted with her. They had a nice, easy, friendship going, and he was loath to spoil it. But, he read the message in her eyes last night only too well.

  All he had to do was to touch her or kiss her, and it would all be over, for both of them. When he woke in the middle of the night and found her curled up against him on the floor, he desperately wanted to roll into her body and claim it as his own. But then, Basil reminded himself he was only looking for a mistress, and Temperance was on her way to Oregon. They were on divergent paths, and he’d best remember that. Maybe some manual labor would help put his thoughts in order. He’d build up body heat of a different kind.

  Making short work of the steps, he returned the shovel to the closet and headed outside. He inhaled deeply of the clean, crisp air, which cleared his head. Hell, no. Marriage to anyone, and especially to Temperance, wasn’t what he wanted. As much as he cared for her family, they were all alone in this vast country. A pregnant woman and six children, who still had hopes of getting, somehow, to Oregon so the boys could be shielded from the impending war. While he agreed with their peaceful cause, he had no desire to lead them in their quest. And he had no wish to bind them to him legally.

  What he had already done for them was more than sufficient. And why had he taken them on, anyway? If he’d just taken the damn form that he needed a signature on out to the wagon instead of having Reverend Jones come into the bank and crumple onto the floor, he could have avoided the whole situation. They would be long gone by now. Not his worry.

  Maybe. But the minute his eyes met Temperance’s as they knelt by her father, they had formed some kind of bond. She telegraphed with her eyes that she was aware of her father’s true condition and wanted to shield her mother from it. And he deferred to her judgment. Which is why they were now at this yawning impasse.

  And a chasm it would remain. He still wanted to help, and if that meant letting her continue in her rash decision to marry Jeremiah and let him lead her family to Oregon, then so be it. It wasn’t as if he himself was going to step forward and offer her marriage. Make her choose between himself and another man. No, she’d settle for nothing less from him than a proposal of marriage, if he toyed with her affections anymore. And, if she stayed in this town much longer, he’d do a whole lot more than toy with her affections.

  Just the way she had spit out Jeremiah’s name and then whispered his in hushed tones made him realize she was developing feelings for him that went beyond friendship. Perhaps, instead of trying to set up barriers to her achieving her goal of joining up with a wagon train based on logic, the best thing he could do for them both would be to encourage her. That was the only way to put some distance between them.

  He wasn’t ready to hang up his bachelorhood, but he’d come very close last night to hauling her nubile body on top of the table and taking her. She had been aware of just how close he’d come to completely losing control. But still she told him she trusted him not to spoil her. She placed an enormous amount of faith in his ability to control his wilder impulses. The least he could do was live up to that trust.

  The wagon masters were now coming to the end of their long journeys in Oregon and California and would be racing back to St. Louis and St. Joseph to spend the harsh winter months here, getting their supplies together for the wagons heading out in the spring. He was familiar with a couple of these men, having spent time together over the card tables at the tavern and at the dance halls.

  He’d inspect them this winter with an eye to trustworthiness and steer Temperance’s family toward the ones he deemed appropriate. Perhaps he could even interest one of them in Temperance’s mother, Martha Jones, despite her current condition. Yes, that’s what he would do. Help the family fulfill their mission to head out on the wagon train come spring. More power to them.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Temperance slowly walked her horse home, staying in the middle of the road. At least what she hoped was the middle. The snow muffled the ordinary clip-clop of the horse’s stride. There were no wheel tracks of any kind in the layer of white. Just some small animal tracks from th
e wildlife that had ventured out last night once the wind quit screaming.

  Which was exactly what she should have done. Ventured out after the wind quit blowing and the snow tapered off. How foolish she was to put herself in the way of temptation. And Basil Fitzpatrick was one big tempting man. Once again, she vowed to find a new job and stay miles away from him. It was the only way she could fulfill her promise to her father, and get the family, and her brothers, safely to Oregon, The Promised Land.

  She whispered Basil’s name again, enjoying the feel of each syllable on her tongue. Just as she’d enjoyed the feel of his warmth up against her backside this morning. A blush crept up her face again as she remembered the intimate position in which she had found herself. She’d bolted upright as soon as she grew cognizant of exactly who she was snuggled up against, but what she really wanted to do was to turn over and come face to face with him. And mouth to mouth. A cry caught in her throat as she pounded the pommel of the saddle in her frustration.

  Life might be hard, but a relationship with a man shouldn’t be. Her parents were shining examples of how a relationship should work. They’d carved out a hard life for themselves, but one thing was certain to each and every person who came into contact with them: they’d loved each other, and their children, with a fierceness that was unparalleled. Would Temperance ever be able to find a man she could love in the same way her mother loved her father? She didn’t think it was possible.

  The simple fact that she kept finding herself in awkward circumstances with Basil was enough to make her realize he was not a wise choice for her. Despite his good looks and charm, she was reaching way beyond the scope of where she should be to even entertain the thought of a relationship with him. Basil came from wealth, and he was a slick businessman. Jeremiah was a farmer, similar to what her father had been. Her mother was happy with her lot in life, even with her large brood — visible evidence of her ardor for her husband.