Instead, it just felt wrong. Evelyn had gone along with it, more willingly than he had expected, and he didn’t like it. He didn’t want anyone else seeing her like that—watching and enjoying her arousal. It was private, for him and him alone. At least it had been.
“I’m off to get a drink,” the whore muttered as she opened the door. “Holler if ya want me back.” She blew them both a kiss then left.
Evelyn walked over to her clothes and picked them up. She looked like she might burst into tears at any moment.
“What do you want to do now, Mr Hamilton?” her voice shook.
Looking over at her, Nate shook his head.
“Get dressed then come sit here.” He patted the chaise beside him then adjusted his trousers. Not sure what to do with his hands, he picked up his hat from the stool and fingered the brim.
“Mr Hamilton?” She sat at his side, her back straight, her chin held high as a lady of quality.
He looked up from his black Stetson and held her gaze.
“Why did you marry him, Evelyn?”
“What?” She stared at him with wide eyes.
“When I left your Daddy’s ranch I told you I’d be back. Why didn’t you wait?”
She hung her head and picked at a loose cotton thread on her sleeve.
“Why do you want to discuss that now? It was such a long time ago.” She shook her head then placed a hand upon his arm. “You’ve been well though?”
He nodded.
“You did well for yourself?”
He frowned at her. “So you’re interested in how much money I’ve made?”
“No, Nate, of course not!”
“Don’t lie to me, Evelyn!” He jumped to his feet. “We made promises to each other and I went off to make us some money.” His voice cracked. “I went off to make money so that I could marry you, Evelyn, build us a nice home and make you happy!”
She nodded. “I know.”
“But you didn’t wait for me to return.” He slammed his hat on the floor and kicked it across the room.
Her eyes filled with tears.
“You were gone so long. I didn’t hear from you and I thought that…”
“You thought what?”
“I thought that you were dead…or that you’d left me.”
“But I pledged myself to you. I promised you the world and I kept my promise.” He held his hands out towards her. “These hands bled as I combed through rivers, stones and silt searching for gold to build our future.”
“I’m so sorry,” she sniffed.
“I wrote to you, Evelyn. I sent you word that I’d struck lucky and would soon return.”
“I didn’t receive a letter”—she frowned—“if I had, Nate, I’d have waited.”
“I wish I could believe that, Evelyn, but every time I think of what you did I’m mad as a hornet.”
“I had no choice, Nate.”
“Course you did. There’s always a choice.”
He looked at her flushed cheeks and swollen red eyes and pity battled the anger churning inside him.
“Come on, I’ll see you back to the hotel.”
Evelyn stood and wiped at her tears then she wrapped her shawl around her head. As she walked past him, he reached out towards her retreating back, almost touching her shawl, then dropped his hands quickly to his sides and shook his head.
* * * *
Walking down the stairs to supper, Evelyn held tightly onto Aaron’s hand. Her stomach hadn’t stopped churning since Nate had seen her into the hotel, and she was exhausted by it all. She wanted to stay strong and aloof, to resist the calling of her heart that pulled her towards Nate, but she felt that she was losing the battle. The strength of his presence, the intensity of his eyes, the magnificence of his form and the beauty of his soul—all these qualities reached out to her and she struggled to resist them.
But she had to keep up appearances—for her son’s sake.
She had made an effort to dress for supper and Aaron had complimented her on the forest green taffeta gown, even commenting that she reminded him of a mermaid with her thick hair draped over one shoulder in a loose braid.
They found an empty table and sat down. Evelyn’s cheeks burned because every eye in the place seemed to be upon her. Working men came into the hotel to buy their dinner and she had hoped to dine before the place filled up but her presence seemed to coincide with their arrival and the room was soon stuffy and crowded. With the longing stares cast her way she felt like a thoroughbred mare being evaluated for breeding.
“Mind if I join you?”
Evelyn looked up. Nate stared down at her.
“Of…of course not, Mr Hamilton.”
“And who might you be?” he asked Aaron as he sat down and removed his hat.
Aaron held out a hand. “I’m Aaron Campbell, sir. Pleased to meet you.”
Nate looked across at Evelyn, his head tilted to one side.
“And how old might you be, Aaron?”
“I’m ten, sir.” Aaron smiled. “But Mama says I’m big for my age.”
Nate leant back in his chair and smoothed his moustache.
“You are a big lad.” He nodded.
“Thank you, sir.”
“And I’ll bet you’re strong too!”
Aaron grinned at the compliment with the easy self-confidence of a pre-pubescent boy and his innocence wrenched Evelyn’s heart. When the cook came over to take their order, Nate caught her eye and she nodded at his choice of food as if they were a family and he was the husband and father making decisions for his family.
She pressed her fingernails into the palms of her hands beneath the table. She had thought that she would never see this—her son and Nate, side by side, smiling at one another. It was a sight that should have lifted her heart but her mouth went dry as she looked from Aaron’s black hair to Nate’s. The tears that had threatened to fall since Nate’s arrival blurred her eyes and she blinked quickly to clear them away.
When their food was placed in front of them, Evelyn raised her handkerchief to her nose. The rich aroma of the mutton gravy brought bile into her mouth and she swallowed hard to get rid of it. Her appetite had been replaced by a hurricane of emotional turmoil deep within her gut but she could not afford to lose her composure in front of so many witnesses. She did not want to provide the diners with free entertainment.
“So where’s your papa, Aaron?” Nate lifted a forkful of greasy meat and shovelled it into his mouth and chewed slowly.
“He passed, Mr Hamilton”—Aaron hung his head—“some six years ago.”
Evelyn felt Nate’s eyes upon her but she stared down at her food.
“Six years ago?”
“Yes sir. I didn’t know him real well.”
“Why I’m mighty sorry to hear that, son.” Nate patted Aaron’s back. “And I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs Campbell.” He held her eyes until she felt that she must look away or arouse suspicion amongst the other diners.
“Thank you, Mr Hamilton.” She watched him tucking into his meal and wondered how he could muster any appetite at all. Since she’d first seen him here in Deadwood, she had been unable to eat well. Her clothing was already looser than it had been when she’d left Custer City and she did not relish the thought of losing her feminine shape. She had been proud of her curves and the way that they had drawn Nate to her all those years ago. Even though she had born a child, pregnancy and labour had only developed them further. But what did it matter, she sagged in her chair, for Nate did not see her as he once had. She was sullied goods and no longer the voluptuous object of his idolatry.
“Aaron, dear?”
“Yes, Mama?”
“Could you go check that I shut the window? There’s a storm brewing up outside and I don’t want the rain coming in.”
The boy looked at his unfinished dinner then back at Evelyn.
“Be quick and it won’t get cold.”
“Yes, Mama.” He jumped up and gently tucked his chair under the
table.
A droplet of moisture trickled down between Evelyn’s breasts and her corset clung to her clammy ribcage. The room was now unbearably warm, yet it felt good to be with Nate, to be near him, even when being so close to him was torture for her body, mind and soul.
“All eyes are on us, Mrs Campbell.” His voice was soft and he gestured around the room with his glass.
She inclined her head.
“You’re attracting a lot of attention.” He paused. “But I guess you’re used to that.”
“And I doubt that our walk together from the Gem this afternoon did anything to quell their curiosity, Mr Hamilton.”
He smiled.
“It isn’t funny!” She slammed her hand down on the table. The noise silenced the other diners like a gunshot and they openly stared at Evelyn and Nate, their curiosity fired. She squared her shoulders and raised her chin. The tension in her neck made it feel stiff and brittle, as if the slightest movement could snap it like a twig.
“No”—he shook his head but his eyes laughed—“of course not. So why did you get rid of the boy?”
She took a deep breath. “I needed to ask you not to question him about his father. It upsets him.”
“Him or you?” He leant forward, resting his arms on the table, his left hand almost touching her right one where it sat next to her unused fork.
“Well…”
“Because he didn’t seem very upset.”
“They weren’t really very close. Henry didn’t have a lot of time for him…towards the end.”
“Why not?” He moved his hand slightly so that his fingertips brushed against hers. The heat from his fingers burnt her and she felt a familiar tingling between her legs. In spite of the tension, in spite of her distress, her body was wanton and sensual, eager to betray all reason by reuniting with this man in a fire of passion.
“Evelyn”—he nudged her hand—“I asked why not.”
She pulled her hand away from his and lifted her fork then pushed her food around the plate. “He was unwell and Aaron was just a baby. He needed a lot of time and attention and Henry wasn’t up to it.”
Nate gave a harsh laugh. “Well that’s what you get for marrying out of your generation!”
“Look, Mr Hamilton, I admit that he was older…”
“You can say that again!”
“Only…a few years.”
“He was nearly fifty.”
“I was hardly a child.”
“You were twenty-one, Evelyn!”
“And a grown woman with responsibilities. I had to make a decision.” She shook her head, willing him to understand without asking for a more detailed explanation.
“Do you miss him?” He narrowed his eyes.
“Of course”—she blinked rapidly—“he was my husband.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you miss him?”
“He was a good man…and I loved him.” She pressed her lips together.
He leant back and folded his arms across his chest.
“No you didn’t, Evelyn. You loved me. So why did you marry him?”
She glanced wildly from him to the staircase and she sighed with relief when she saw Aaron appear at the top.
“It was for money wasn’t it?” Nate demanded.
“No, it was more complicated than that.” She looked at him, shaking her head.
“Why? What complications were there? I’d asked your Daddy for your hand in marriage and he told me that I had his blessing long as I could support you. And that”—he jabbed the table with his forefinger—“was what I intended to do.”
“I had no choice. You don’t know what it was like.”
“Well what I do know is that you must have let the old goat you married into your tight little cunny pretty quickly after I left!” he spat.
“Nate! She covered her mouth.
“Your boy must’ve been conceived soon as I’d disappeared over the horizon. Did you watch me go then pull him out the chicken coop and laugh at my stupidity? You’re no better than a painted cat, Evelyn, and I can’t believe what a fool I was to be pulled into your little Miss Innocent act!” He glared at her with the anger of a man who has lost everything and sees no redemption within his reach.
Evelyn gripped the edge of the table to stop herself from swooning, and she trembled from head to toe in the face of his fury. The fine line between love and hate had been crossed and Nate looked unlikely to resume his former stance.
“So our business agreement is off, Mr Hamilton?”
“Oh no, Mrs Campbell.” He got to his feet and pushed the chair under the table. The scraping of its feet against the floor grated across Evelyn’s nerves like a cat growling in the dark of night.
“Then what?” She looked into the endless black of his eyes.
“You are no better than a soiled dove so I will treat you like one. I will see you tomorrow, and the next day and the next…until I tire of you.” He cocked his head on one side. “Unless you don’t need the money?”
She looked down at her plate where the fatty gravy had started to congeal unappetisingly. She needed the money and he knew it. She’d told him so when he’d come to the hotel not long after her arrival. He’d sneered at the time, pleased to see her brought so low. She could see now that he thought she’d married for money then fallen on hard times after the passing of her husband.
If only he knew the truth. But he’d never understand and he’d never forgive her. Especially if he found out the truth about Aaron.
“I need the money, Mr Hamilton. You know I do.”
“Well this time it will be me who tires of you! I will take what I want from you and not give a damn about your feelings. Then when I want no more of you, you’ll see no more of me. I’ll not be fooled again, I guarantee it! Until tomorrow,” he whispered. Then he put his hat on and said loudly, “Good evening to you, Mrs Campbell.”
As he turned to walk away, he touched the brim of his hat at Aaron. “Good to meet you, young man! Hope I see more of you soon.”
Aaron smiled at him then took his seat at the table and resumed his meal with the hunger of a growing boy.
Evelyn stroked his cheek then rested her forehead upon her hand. It was covered with a fine sheen of perspiration. Her temples were taut with pain and she knew that one of her headaches would soon claim her, rendering her as helpless as a wounded calf.
“Are you okay, Mama?”
“Yes dear, I’m fine.”
“You look all clammy. Do you have a fever?” His eyes were wide with concern.
“No, Aaron, I am well. It’s just very warm in here.”
“Mr Hamilton seems like a nice man.” He’d made it sound like a statement but she recognised it for the question that it was. Though only ten, her son was sensitive and intelligent and she realised that he had witnessed her distress as he’d descended the stairs.
“Yes dear. Mr Hamilton is a nice man.” She squeezed his hand and tried to smile to reassure him but it felt more like a grimace.
“I hope we’ll be happy in this town, Mama.”
“So do I, Aaron.”
“Maybe Mr Hamilton can help us get settled.”
She swallowed a sob and looked into her son’s dark brown eyes—as soft and innocent as Nate’s once had been.
* * * *
When she left the hotel the next afternoon, her belly fluttered like a maiden’s on her wedding morn. She had bathed and washed her hair then dressed in her finest linen, taking extra care to apply rosewater to her wrists, neck, between her breasts and even behind her knees. It was as if every application of the scented water was a tribute to a kiss Nate had placed there.
Once her hair had dried she had brushed it until it shone then had left it loose—no sense pinning it up just to take it down again. Though she knew she would face no loving attention from Nate, no gentle and passionate embrace, she wanted to please him, to soothe his rage and hurt with all she had to offer. She could
not win back his love, that much was clear, but maybe she could atone for some of the hurt she’d caused him and use her body as a salve for his wounded pride, his broken heart.
She hurried down the stairs and out into the bright afternoon sunshine then collided with a solid black wall.
“Whoa! Slow down there missy!” Two strong hands gripped her upper arms and stopped her falling backward.
She looked up into the dark face and wily eyes of the local businessman Al Swearengen.
“What’s the hurry?” The smile beneath his thick black moustache made her shudder.
“I…uh…I’m sorry, sir, I…”
He leaned over so that his face was almost touching hers and she fought the urge to recoil from his fetid, whisky stewed breath.
“S’okay, Mrs Campbell. Anytime you wanna run into me is fine.” He ogled her chest. “It’d be my pleasure. Al Swearengen at your service.”
Evelyn retreated a step, her hands folding protectively over her breasts.
“Yes, I know who you are Mr Swearengen.”
“Don’t believe all you hear!” The smile became a leer.
“I try never to make a decision about a person until I meet them.” Evelyn raised her chin and shook her hair in what she hoped was a display of confidence.
“Me too, ma’am”—the man nodded—“me too. Like as I’d never judge a lady such as yourself…whatever I thought might be going on betwixt yourself and the honourable Mr Hamilton.”
Evelyn bit her lip. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Mr Swearengen.”
“Oh come, come, Mrs Campbell. An attractive widow and a single gentleman, meeting at a local saloon in the middle of the afternoon.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Whatever could the two of you be getting up to? Playing cards, perhaps?”
Evelyn swallowed hard. “We…”
“S’okay, Mrs Campbell”—he tapped the side of his nose—“I’m not judging you or the gentleman. He’s paying me well for the use of the room and for my discretion. All I ask is that when your little assignation is over…you consider me next in line.”
Desire in Deadwood Page 3
