Most of all, she should have been worried that continual contact with Madison would break down her resistance, would make her vulnerable to everything she had spent years trying to resist.
It scared her to death, and she had no idea what would happen tomorrow, but if this was a ride into the jaws of hell, so be it. She couldn't do anything else.
"Do they have many parties in Abilene?" Madison asked.
The question was so unexpected, it took Fern a moment to answer. "I don't know. I never go to parties."
"Why not?"
"I never wanted to."
"I'd have thought you'd jump at the chance."
"Some might, but not me."
"Not ever?"
"No."
"Would you go if I invited you?"
No man had ever invited her to a party. No one had ever dared.
"You couldn't take me to a party in this town," Fern said. "Nobody approves of me."
"I don't approve of all the things you do either, but that doesn't answer my question."
"If you don't approve of me, why should you want me to go with you?"
"I didn't say I didn't approve of you, just of some of the things you do."
"It comes down to the same thing."
"If that's what you think, you don't know much about men."
She didn't, but she wasn't about to admit it to him.
"You're avoiding my question," Fern said. "Why would you ask me to a party?"
"I don't know any other women."
She meant for her laugh to sound cynical, but it sounded more like a snort of disgust.
"You don't have to. They'll fall over themselves to talk to you."
"You sound like you don't approve. Don't you think young women should talk to me?"
"I didn't mean that and you know it. I'm sure Mrs. . . . whoever is giving the party, will invite plenty of unattached young women."
"Maybe I don't want to take the chance of being frozen out by the local swells."
Fern nearly hooted. "With your looks, there'll be a gaggle of females panting after you inside ten minutes."
"Then you do approve of the way I look? That's a relief. I had gotten the definite impression you thought a chunk of river mud had more charm."
"You know you're a nice looking man," Fern said, hardly able to believe the words that fell from her tongue. "And you know you can turn on the charm when you want. It's just when you're around me you behave like a lobo wolf."
"Your reflections on my character are fascinating," Madison said, "but we've wandered far from the original question. Would you go to a party with me?"
"Whose party is it?"
"Mrs. McCoy."
"The mayor's wife!" Fern exclaimed. "She'd never let me in the front door. She gets heartburn every time she sets eyes on me."
"You'd have to wear a dress, but I don't see anything about you to cause heartburn."
"So I'm not good enough to go like I am?" Fern said, her temper rising like a water spout.
"I didn't say a word about being good enough," Madison replied. "I'm sure Mrs. McCoy's only objection is to your mode of dress."
"Would you take me to the party dressed like I am now?"
"It's an evening party. I wouldn't take myself dressed like I am now."
"Why not?"
"Do you always wheedle out of answering questions?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Fifteen minutes ago I asked you if you'd go to a party with me. Not only have you managed to avoid answering the question, you've put me through the third degree. I'll ask you again. Will you go to Mrs. McCoy's party with me?"
Fern felt something crumple up inside her, like she was offered something she wanted so desperately she could taste it but knew she couldn't have it.
It was the party. She wanted to go to the party. She didn't understand why. She'd never wanted to before. Some of the kids used to tease her because she was never invited, but they stopped when they found out she wouldn't have gone even if she had been.
But this had nothing to do with the party. She wanted to be with Madison. That shocked her even more. She had never wanted to go anywhere with a man.
"Thank you for the invitation, but I can't accept it." She hoped she sounded disinterested. If he guessed how much she wanted to go, he would never give up.
"Surely you're not afraid of wearing a dress? Or are you afraid you don't have anything to wear?"
"Neither."
She didn't own a dress. She had burned every one she had eight years ago.
"Why then?"
"There's nobody there I want to see or who wants to see me."
"I'll be there."
She knew he was only teasing, trying to get her to say yes, but she hoped he had no idea how much remarks like that hurt. Her foolish heart wanted to believe him. If she ever did, it surely would put her on the road to hell.
"You just said I needed to stay in bed."
"It's a couple of weeks off. In fact, you ought to be able to go back to your young bulls by then. Hopefully they will have sown their wild oats."
"Why are you so concerned with a bunch of yearling bulls?" she asked, hoping he would forget all about the party. "I bet you never saw one before."
"Not only saw them. I castrated them. It made me feel positively queasy." Madison gave her a measured glance. "I don't like the way you're looking at me."
Fern had to laugh. "Don't worry. We don't castrate men, not even in Kansas. I can just hear the wails of anguish extending all the way from Boston to Philadelphia."
"What kind of Lothario you think I am?"
"I'll bet there are hundreds of women counting the hours until you return."
"I'd like to think at least one or two have noticed my absence, but I doubt they're counting the hours. There's an old saying about a bird in the hand being worth two in the bush. It counts for swains as well. The absent suitor might make the sweetheart sigh, but it's the lover in arms, so to speak, that makes her heart beat faster."
"I'm sure you speak from experience."
"Limitless. My conquests litter the eastern seaboard."
Fern smiled again. "I hope not quite literally. It would be a great hinderance to the bathers."
"All this sympathy for swains, lovers, and bathers and none for me."
Fern felt her chest tighten as her heart beat faster. He was flirting, just having fun. It would be best if she flirted back, but she didn't have the courage. Each meaningless word penetrated her heart like an arrow.
"You'll do quite well without my sympathy."
"Then do it to spite me. You could always refuse to dance with me."
"I wouldn't do that."
"Isn't there anything I can say to convince you to go with me?"
"I might go if you'd tell me quite honestly why you asked me."
"It's a deal."
"I said might. I wouldn't put it past you to tell me some great whopper, then take enormous pleasure in debunking it later."
"You think I'd do that?"
His reaction rattled her. He actually looked upset, as though he really cared what she thought of him. She had seen him mad, angry, furious, livid, determined, even apologetic, but never upset. She had decided he didn't care deeply for anything.
It shocked her to discover she had the power to unsettle him. It also excited her. She had felt so helpless around him, she couldn't help but feel a tiny twinge of pleasure. Maybe she shouldn't, but she did.
"Maybe I shouldn't have said that. It's just that we've done nothing but see how much trouble we can cause each other. I don't know if you're really like that. I never thought I was, but I can see why you'd think so."
"Then let's start over again. Today can mark a new beginning."
Fern was beginning to think this journey back to town would never end. She realized now she wanted a new beginning. That's really why she had gone to the jail. But she'd had time to think since then, time in which to realize a new beginning could only b
ring more hurt. Madison fascinated her, she admitted that, but fascination was a poor reason to continue a relationship that could only go sour in the end.
And no matter what the outcome of Hen's trial, it would end. Madison would go back to Boston and his wealthy, beautiful, captivating women. He would probably even make jokes about Kansas and the females he met there. He would certainly make jokes about her.
No, it had to end, so it might as well end now.
"I don't think it would be a good idea."
"The party or the new beginning?"
"Either of them."
How could she tell him he had awakened a part of her she had tried to forget ever existed. He had made her remember she was a woman. How could she tell him she'd run from her femininity for so long, she had fought against being a woman for so many years, she was afraid she didn't know how any more.
"Will you think about it?"
"No."
"That would be a great pity."
Fern could practically see the pit yawning at her feet. She knew she ought to turn the conversation to another subject. She should get down and walk back to town if necessary. But she didn't.
"Why?" she asked.
"Abilene might never discover that a swan has been masquerading as an ugly duckling. More importantly, you might never discover it."
Fern looked away. She didn't want Madison to see the pain in her eyes.
"Don't," she pleaded. "I know what I look like."
Madison took her chin in his hand and gently, so as not to cause her any pain, turned her face until she was forced to look straight at him.
"You don't know what I think you look like."
"Please." She tried to turn away, but he wouldn't let her.
"I see a young woman who's hiding from herself, from what she is and what she wants to be, because she's afraid, afraid to admit she's pretty because it'll force her to confront something that frightens her."
"Stop!" Fern cried out, wrenching her chin from Madison's grasp.
Madison pulled the buggy to a stop. He took Fern by the shoulders and turned her to face him.
"It would be cruel to let you go on believing you're ugly and unwomanly."
"Just because I choose to wear pants--"
"If I thought you believed in yourself, I wouldn't say another word about your pants," Madison said. "But I don't want you to wear them out of fear."
"I don't. I--"
"You're afraid a man might want to kiss you, so afraid you try to pretend you're unattractive."
"Don't be absurd. I--"
"But I know better, and I intend to make you believe it."
"How?" she asked, fearfully.
Gently drawing her to him, Madison lifted her chin until she had to look at him. "By making you believe I want to do this."
Then, ever so gently, he feathered a kiss across her lips.
Fern's breath stilled in her lungs; her heart beat erratically. The universe stood still, stranding her somewhere between heaven and hell.
She nearly dissolved under his touch. No man had ever shaken her determination, yet Madison nearly destroyed it. Never had she wanted so much to give in.
His lips felt warm and soft as they brushed her own. Like two pieces of silk. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin. The chill of excitement caused her to welcome the sun's heat. The next instant she felt so hot she thought she might faint.
Madison's lips enticed her to join him in a tentative kiss. Her breath caught in a gasp when the tip of his tongue left a velvety trail of moisture on her lower lip. She felt paralyzed, unaware of anything in this vast open space except Madison.
Just as she started to pull back, Madison's hold tightened and he drew her into a kiss that was much more than the brushing of lips. Fern felt passion, need, desire, a sudden urgency which made the day seem suddenly too hot and dangerous. This was no longer a languorous kiss of two people exploring each other. Nor was it a kiss of idle curiosity, a kiss motivated by the desire to make her feel good about herself. It was a kiss filled with the promise of a passion that would last more than a day.
Frightened, Fern drew back, her breath uneven, her eyes wide and uncertain.
"You deserve to be kissed often," Madison murmured. "You deserve to know you're a very desirable woman. Is that what Troy did? Is that why you're the only person in Abilene who has anything good to say about him?"
The bubble burst, and Fern felt herself floating toward hell. She removed Madison's hands from her arms.
"No," she said, drawing away from Madison. She fought down the fear which always enveloped her when a man touched her, even by accident. She only had to remain calm until she could tell him to stop, tell him to never touch her again.
"Will you tell me why?"
"No."
"You will some day."
She shivered. Her will seemed to shake and threaten to crumble. She fought to regain control. She had to tell him to leave her alone, and she had to do it now. "I can't accept your invitation," she told him.
"Why?"
"I don't want to go. But it's not just that." She didn't look at him. She couldn't. "I don't want you to touch me or kiss me. I don't want any man to do that. Not ever."
Madison didn't know whether he was more shocked by his actions or Fern's words. He had invited her to the party on impulse only to realize he really hoped she would go. Her refusal piqued him. He may have kissed her to tease her, but it turned into much more than that. He may have wanted to shock her into seeing something about herself, but he was as shocked as she.
He had been swept away by a strong impulse that had nothing to do with shocking or teasing. It had to do with a feeling there was more to her than a sheepskin vest and Spanish spurs. Somewhere buried inside was a woman no one knew, not even Fern.
Her refusal upset him quite a lot. He had suspected she was trying to keep her distance from him, but he never imagined she might mean it to become a permanent barrier. It never occurred to him until now that he would care.
But he did.
* * * * *
Fern had been awake for some time. But rather than get up, she lay in bed, listening to the sounds of the house, letting her thoughts wander at random.
She tried to keep them from wandering to Madison, but he seemed to fill every corner of her mind. He had become an obsession that had taken over her life and would not be evicted.
She didn't dislike him anymore, but that didn't make it easier. In fact, it made things worse. She could have hated him with a flaming passion and it would have died a natural death when he left town. She might have thought of him from time to time, much like she occasionally thought of accidents or natural disasters, but that would have been all.
Now she liked him. It shocked her to admit it, but she couldn't help it. She did.
It was an odd kind of like. It wasn't easy or comfortable. It was like something that had invaded her life, body and soul. She had no control over it. She could shout at him, argue with him, call him every name she could think of and know all the while she didn't mean it. She could urge him to go back to Boston and never come back, but she didn't mean that either.
Just the thought of never seeing him again caused a kind of panic. What was there about this man what made him different from all others? What had he done to become unforgettable?
The only answer that made any sense was completely unacceptable. She wouldn't allow any man to be that important to her. These feelings would go away if she could just put him out of her mind.
But she could put him out of mind when the feel of his kiss still lay on her lips like something tangible.
All her life she'd thought of men as competitors. She had had nothing but contempt for women who swooned over their touch, who could think of no greater purpose in life than to attract their attention.
Now she understood, at least enough to know it wasn't just his kiss, magical as it was. Madison's willingness to fight for her, his determination to protect her, h
ad staggered her almost as much.
But to believe she was attractive, to be determined to make her feel pretty, well, that went beyond the realm of the credible. No man, not even one as quixotic as Madison, would do all that for nothing. He must have some ulterior motive, some reason she didn't suspect. She might be pretty in Kansas, but she knew she'd never be noticed in Boston.
Maybe he was setting up a flirtation. After being surrounded by countless fawning females, he must be bored. Maybe he thought of her as a charity case. Much like Prince Charming, he would enliven her dull life for the few weeks. A little flattery, some attention, a few stolen kisses, and he could go back to Boston patting himself on the back for having given her a few precious moments in the sun.
It had to be something like that. A man like Madison Randolph couldn't be seriously interested in a woman like her.
Could he?
She experienced his kiss all over again, felt the wonder, the excitement, the wonderfully healing sincerity. No matter what Madison might have felt when they first met, or what he would do in the future, that kiss was real. She could feel it.
But what did it mean?
She didn't know now, but Madison wasn't one to keep secrets. She would know soon enough.
In the meantime she needed to get out of bed. Rose was already up. So was Mrs. Abbott. She couldn't tell what they were saying, but it was easy to tell who was speaking. Mrs. Abbott's voice was stern and sharp. She always seemed to be complaining, even when she was just talking. On the other hand, Rose's voice was soft but firm. She didn't speak as often or as long as Mrs. Abbott, but her words were heeded.
Fern wondered what it was like to be Rose and command so much respect and admiration. She knew it didn't just happen, but it seemed so effortless.
It wouldn't have happened if Rose had gone about wearing pants and doing her best to act like a man. She's a strong, determined woman, but she's totally feminine.
But even as Fern thought somewhat regretfully of the years she had spent learning to disassociate herself from anything feminine, the thought of men wanting her, lusting after her body, of a faceless man ripping open her dress, touching her breasts with his hands, covering her neck and shoulders with his hot mouth, holding her body down with his weight, and it petrified her. She didn't want that. Never. She might have to give up all thought of marriage, but she couldn't face that.
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