Jaw slack, a slight smile twitching at the corners of her mouth, Elizabeth stared after him. And as she watched him go, she touched her temple with her fingertips and was reminded of her dream.
A steaming cup of herbal tea beside her, Elizabeth sat in the middle of what would someday be the baby’s room and began to sort through the boxes she’d neglected to unpack since she’d moved into the cottage over four months ago. It was time to hold a rummage sale of her own, she thought with a sigh. Though she doubted her wedding album, filled with smiles that held promises now broken, would fetch much of a price.
She set it aside and dug through an assortment of high school yearbooks and some photo albums put together by her various sixth-grade classes and, after a quick skip down memory lane, set them together with her wedding album.
After more energetic rummaging, eventually Elizabeth came upon what she’d been looking for and dreading at the same time.
The book of genealogy and Mansfield family history.
Written by her father’s grandmother, more than fifty years ago, this book was more a compilation of detailed journal entries and lineage diagrams than pictures, although there were a few tintypes of babies and other stern faces from the Mansfield family tree.
Cracked leather with an embossed M made up the cover which was held together by a length of black cord. A sketch of the Mansfield family coat of arms had been glued inside the cover, but the glue had dried up and the tattered brown paper fluttered loose and down to Elizabeth’s lap. She studied it for a moment, then her gaze moved to the spidery handwriting of her great-grandmother’s first journal entry, and Elizabeth was suddenly transported back in time as the tumultuous past between the Coltons and the Mansfields sprang to life.
As she relived the lengthy account of the arranged marriage between her distant relative, Katherine Mansfield, and William Colton back in Surrey, England, in 1750, her tea grew tepid, then cold. Dappled light patterns traveled from one end of the wall to the other as noon turned afternoon. Finally, eyes glazed over, Elizabeth had to stretch out her aching legs as they’d fallen asleep from sitting in one position for so long.
Poor Katherine, she mused, arching her back and yawning. Though the word picture portrayed by her great-grandmother of the indomitable Katherine was not the most flattering, still, having her intended tell her that he wanted out, on the eve of their wedding no less, had to sting. Especially considering that his reason had to do with how poorly a necklace had sparkled at her neck.
Although, Elizabeth had to wonder why twenty four inches of sapphires and diamond’s wouldn’t sparkle...
An omen?
Elizabeth snorted and shook her head. She didn’t believe in that kind of thing. William Colton had decided to take his necklace and head for greener pastures, pure and simple. And from the sound of it, he’d been smart to bug out while he’d had the chance. Still, she felt for Katherine. Watching the man you intended to spend the rest of your life with walk into the sunset without a backward glance was never easy, even if a guy was all wrong for a girl.
Elizabeth carefully opened and smoothed out an ancient rendering of her family tree, tracing the branches with her fingertips. She could see that Katherine’s brother, Harold Mansfield, had indeed followed William Colton and his new bride, Molly Warner Colton, from Europe to America to avenge poor Katherine’s fine name.
Elizabeth giggled as the absurd idea of her sister’s husband running after Mike to avenge her honor flashed through her mind.
They did do things a tad differently back in Katherine’s day.
Her fingers strayed to the lines that extended from Harold’s name. It seemed that though good old Harold was bent on the brotherly duty of revenge, he was waylaid by love and, after marrying an American beauty for whom Elizabeth was named, had a family of his own. Harold Mansfield and his Elizabeth had many sons, all of whom feuded with the New England descendants of the Colton clan long past anyone could remember a solid reason for the fighting.
Eventually, factions of the two families feuded their way across the country. Revenge, competition and a desire to be the first to strike it rich in California fueled their travels, until two branches of each family settled in Prosperino and continued their ridiculous battle.
Like the Montagues and Capulets before them, the Coltons and the Mansfields seemed destined to be forever linked by petty jealousy, competition and, in some cases, downright hatred. At least until fifty or so years ago. There, the story ended abruptly with the death of Elizabeth’s great-grandmother.
Elizabeth closed the journal and wondered who’d been fighting with whom—and where—in the years since. Having virtually grown up in boarding school, she hadn’t heard of any great commotion during her adolescence, but those Mansfields and Coltons who may have been warring would hardly discuss their problems with her.
Elizabeth frowned. As far as she knew, her father was the last of the Prosperino Mansfields. Unless she counted herself and her sister.
Folding the family tree, Elizabeth carefully tucked it back into the leather-bound journal. Legend, she thought with a hearty sigh, was a powerful thing. Even an ancient legend, scarcely remembered, it seemed, by Jason Colton. She smiled. The fact that her name hadn’t sparked any blinding aggression in him made her wonder just how much he knew or cared about the feud.
Even so, it cast an unfortunate pall on their friendship. Personally, Jason may not care, but surely, there were members of his wealthy and socially correct family who still detested any and all Mansfields and would be appalled to learn that he was fraternizing with her. Apparently Savannah hadn’t mentioned her lineage to Harrison yet. Elizabeth couldn’t help but wonder how that would affect their friendship.
Her eyes slid shut and her shoulders sagged. Though she had an innate sense that there could be something special brewing between herself and Jason, it was hopeless on so many fronts.
But still, pointing out that he shouldn’t be keeping company with a Mansfield was hardly high on her to-do list. No. She couldn’t risk losing him just yet She needed him too much now. Just during this difficult phase in her life, of course, when the mere instructions to a crib or bicycle could reduce her to a blubbering idiot. Once she passed this pregnancy hurdle and its ensuing health problems and furniture assemblage issues, then she’d be too busy with the baby to be so needy and dependent on him anymore.
She grimaced. Gracious. Was she needy and dependent on him already?
Well, she’d just have to get over that. There could never be anything serious between them. And not just because she was pregnant and divorced. But because—even though the feud was ancient history— his family would never accept a Mansfield among their ranks, she was sure.
* * *
The following Friday evening, at precisely 5:10 Jason parked his Jaguar at the curb in front of Elizabeth’s cottage. He was early. But he couldn’t seem to help himself.
He’d been looking forward to this excursion since he’d left her last Sunday. In fact, he’d stayed up late that very night, combing the papers for bargains and the best places to find all the stuff junior would need once he made his entrance into the world.
At one point, just about midnight, Jason had stopped browsing the classifieds long enough to wonder if he was getting in just a tad over his head when it came to Elizabeth. If maybe the lines of their friendship weren’t already becoming a little blurred. But after a moment’s thought, he resumed his bargain hunting with renewed vigor. Nan. She needed help. He had time on his hands.
It was no big deal.
They were simply two souls in recovery. Healing from broken hearts. They had a lot in common that way, and other ways. Actually, all ways, as far as he could tell. He really liked her and he had a smug feeling that she really liked him, too.
And now, five long days later, at 5:11, as he bounded up her front steps, he touched his jacket pocket and felt for the bulge of the sales circulars as he rang her doorbell. He’d come prepared. Although, not qu
ite prepared enough for the beauty that met him at the door.
The air whooshed from his lungs at her smile, and there was a curious, high-pitched ringing in his head.
For the most part, a bulky rose-colored sweater concealed the baby and she was dressed like a teenager in slim-fitting blue jeans, a loose ponytail and pair of white canvas shoes. He’d known she was beautiful, even when she was sobbing or sleeping, but when she was well rested and feeling up to par, she was a traffic stopper.
Again, he wondered about her ex-husband. Who was this idiot that could marry a goddess and then leave her for giving him a son?
“Hi,” she chirped, and turned to retrieve her purse from the tiny hall table. “You said be ready. So I am.”
“I see that. You look fantastic.”
“Ugh.”
“No, really. You’re—” he gave his head a sharp shake “—you’re beautiful.”
A charming flush crawled from Elizabeth’s slender neck and up into her cheeks. ‘‘Yeah, yeah, whatever. I know there’s a secret conspiracy out there to keep up the spirits of us bloated preg-os. And, I’ll give you exactly three hours to stop it.”
Jason laughed as he led her to the car. “I came armed with circulars.”
“You did? Cool.” She trundled after him, down the flagstone path to the sidewalk and waited as he opened her door. “Me, too.” She patted her purse, then laboriously settled into the passenger seat. “Where to?” she asked, once he’d started the engine and pulled out onto the street.
“Have you eaten?”
“No.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Not yet.”
“Good. Let’s shop first. We’ll do dinner later.”
“Okay, but I’m buying.”
Jason frowned. “Hey, it’s my turn.”
“So? You’re driving.”
“You really are bossy.”
“I’m practicing the mom thing.”
* * *
“Elizabeth?” Jason whispered. He stood behind her, his chest lightly pressing against her back. By the way he occasionally glanced over his shoulder, Elizabeth got the feeling he didn’t want to be overheard by the aggressive salesperson that had been dogging them since they entered the BabyWorld Superstore earlier that evening. “What is this?”
“I think it’s what they call a changing table,” Elizabeth murmured. “At least that’s what the sign says.”
“Yeah, but what does it change into?”
“I...well, I think...actually, it...I don’t really know. Hopefully something attractive, because it’s sure ugly the way it is.” She reached for the price tag and gasped. “Good heavens! At these prices, it should change into a car!”
Jason peered over her shoulder let out a low whistle. “Okay, don’t panic. This is only one store.”
“You can see why I’ve been putting this off.” Elizabeth frowned and looked around at the gargantuan BabyWorld. “I have three months before the baby is here, and there’s far more to this whole deal than I expected. And I’m on a limited budget.”
“Look at it this way. People on your income do it every day. It’s doable. You’ll be fine.”
The brassy-haired sales assistant took their puzzled looks as an opportunity to finally approach. She stepped between them, her Cheshire Catlike smile revealing a dash of red lipstick across her front teeth. Clouds of garlic escaped her lips as she held out a limp hand to Jason. “Hello. Can I help you today?”
Jason shook her hand and nodded pleasantly. “We’re just looking, thank you.”
“Well, if you have any questions, I’m Tamarra, your personal assistant at Baby World.” With each breathy word, the acrid odor of garlic increased. “I couldn’t help but notice you and your wife admiring our fantastic Dynamo Plus changing table.”
Jason and Elizabeth exchanged amused glances but said nothing to correct her assumption that they were a married couple. In fact, Jason pulled Elizabeth more tightly against his chest, using her as a buffer of sorts, the way someone might use a cross or a silver bullet to stave off a vampire. “Yes, we were.”
“It’s beautiful, as well as functional, isn’t?” Tamarra purred.
“We were just saying that ourselves, weren’t we, darling?” Jason murmured into Elizabeth’s hair and slid his arms around her shoulders, locking them loosely at her collarbone.
Elizabeth was suddenly glad that Jason knew CPR. Her heart beat arrhythmically. Her body tingled from toe to head, causing flames to ignite in her cheeks. Her mouth went dry and her tongue, numb. “Oh, uh, yes, uh, honey, uh, dear. Yes, we were.”
She clutched his forearms, loving the steely strength he radiated. This was handy, too, considering that she felt so suddenly light-headed and breathy. Valiantly trying to appear as if she’d not just been mortally wounded by Cupid’s arrow, she leaned against the steady beat of Jason’s heart, and knew then and there she was a goner when it came to Dr. Jason Colton.
Their bodies were perfect together, curve for curve, plane for plane. They were exactly the right height for each other, too, his chin resting comfortably at her temple, her shoulder blades in the dip between his chest and abdomen. His masculine scent was familiar and alluring, and Elizabeth wished this moment would never end.
But even more, she wished it was reality, that she was married to Jason and the baby was his.
“And durable!” Tamarra’s garlic laughter had them both blinking at each other. “This changing table is our most popular model, sturdily constructed of the finest materials for safety. We stock it in white and oak. If you want cherry or mahhhh—” Elizabeth buried her nose in Jason’s sleeve and inhaled the fresh scent of his laundry soap “—hhhogany, we’ll have to special order that. The mattress is extra.”
“Okay. Thank you.” Jason steered Elizabeth away from the hawkish rep. When they were out of sight, they sighed and still clutching each other, exchanged glances of relief. “I had to get you away from her. Toxic air pollution is bad for the baby.”
Elizabeth filled her hands with the soft fabric of his shirt and laughed into its fragrant folds. “What on earth did she eat for dinner?”
“Whatever it was, I don’t want it.” He laughed with her and when they’d composed themselves, he took her hand, and fingers twined, they strolled down the diaper aisle together. “So, honey,” he said, his sexy baritone sending shivers down her spine, “I wonder how much you would actually use a changing table?”
Elizabeth lifted a shoulder. “I’m still wondering what it is. And how is it different from a bassinet? And what, for heaven’s sake, is a bathinet?”
“Well, she said something about a mattress, so maybe the changing table changes into a bed.”
“Then what do you need a crib for? Which brings me to the next question, dear, do we want a regular crib, or a Portacrib? Stroller or buggy or jogger? Disposable diapers or cloth diapers? Pacifiers? Sippy cups? Bottles? And, if a onesie is a T-shirt, what is a twosie?”
“You’re asking me? I feel like we’ve traveled to a foreign country. I don’t speakie the lingie.”
“Me, neither. Jason, am I paranoid, or is Tamarra following us?” Elizabeth grabbed Jason’s arm and, ducking quickly down a new aisle, began to giggle. “Wait and see if I’m not right. Listen.”
“Forget that, I can smell her. Run!” Jason whispered. “For the sake of the baby.”
“Would you stop?” Elizabeth giggled. “We’re gonna hurt her feelings.”
“So? Hurry before she melts our eyes.”
Elizabeth hooted and allowed herself to be tugged along. “Oh, wait, not that way. She’ll head us off at high chairs. See, here she comes! Quick, turn here,” she said and he yanked her down another row. They laughed and whispered and looked over their shoulders like truant school children. “Look! There she is again!”
“Yep. The old pretend to check on the stock while stalking the customer ploy. She’s after us, all right.”
The top of Tamarra’s spiky copper head bobbed up
over the next aisle from time to time as she darted after them.
“I wonder why she’s so eager to help?”
“The commission on that changing table will probably put one of her kids in braces. That and the fact that she can probably tell we’re both clueless as to the practical use for the stupid thing.”
“We’ll never get away. She knows I can’t run in my condition.”
Jason grinned and pulled her into his arms. “Maybe this’Il drive her back,” he murmured. Bending her slightly over, he pretended to ravish her.
Helpless in his arms, Elizabeth laughed herself silly.
“Darling,” he said, loud enough for Tamarra to hear. “Let’s make a baby.”
Elizabeth squealed and batted at him. “We already did that, you goof.”
“Let’s make another one,” he fairly shouted.
“Here?”
Jerking his head up, he looked around. “You’re right. Let’s head to the bedding department.”
Elizabeth’s face hurt from laughing. “Is she still here?”
“Nope. Scared her away. For now. Let’s shop.”
For the next hour, they explored, nudging each other with their elbows, teasing and murmuring and trying to make sense of the multitudinous choices, while at the same time actively avoiding Tamarra.
“What’s this?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “Looks like some kind of a bouncy chair.”
“No, I think it’s a potty.”
“Well, I guess you’d want to make sure, one way or another, before you encourage the kid to use it.” She laughed. “What’s it say on the box?”
“I don’t read Cantonese.”
“What kind of a doctor are you?”
“I’ve felt my IQ slipping since we walked in here, that’s for sure.” They rounded the corner, returning to the crib section.
“Jason, do you think I should get some bumper pads for the crib?”
“Bumper pads? Yes. And a set of boxing gloves. Never too early to start thinking about the ring.”
“New rule. No contact sports.”
Brides Of Privilege (v1.3) Page 22
