Wayward Lady

by Nan Ryan

  Tenderness filled Suzette’s heart. Her hands went to Austin’s taut middle and she said softly, “Listen to me, Mr. Austin Brand. You have nothing whatever to feel guilty about. You were married to a fine woman from an aristocratic family and you made her a very good husband. I never knew a happier woman than Beth Applegate Brand. She worshipped you. Of course she introduced you to all her friends and they naturally liked you. You’re a charming man. Is that so bad? I think not. It’s as it should be, Austin, and you’re being foolish. Beth loved you. She would want you to be happy, don’t you see that? If she had lived, she would be here with you now, not I. But she didn’t, so I’m here and I’m your wife and there’s no cause for you to feel guilty.” Her hands moved up over his chest and went around his neck. “These people are your friends, Austin, and from now on they’ll be mine. Does it really matter what made it possible? Should we turn down their invitations because you’re not sure they would have ever wanted you if Beth hadn’t been your wife?”

  Softening, he said tiredly, “Darling, you don’t understand. I love you so much and I—”

  “I do understand. You’re torturing yourself because you feel you love me more than you loved Beth, isn’t that it?”

  “Yes, it is. I never loved her the way I love you. Never.”

  “Austin, that’s not so terrible. Beth never knew and she was happy. Now I’m happy because you love me. Can’t you be happy, too? These parties and friends are not what’s important. We don’t have to go to the opera tonight if you’d rather not. I don’t care, I swear it. What would you really like to do?”

  His big hands went to her waist and he murmured, “I’d really like to put you on that bed and take off your stockings and underwear and caress you until I forget there is anyone in this world but the two of us.”

  Smiling, she leaned close and gently kissed his chest. With her lips still on his flesh, she whispered, “Then why don’t you do it?”

  Austin shivered. He slowly picked up his wife and carried her to their bed. Gently he laid her across the smooth sheets and bent over her. He began to peel the silky stocking from her right leg as the orange glow from the winter sun disappeared. The stockings discarded, he slowly unhooked the filmy chemise. When he pulled it apart, a muscle jumped in his jaw. A big hand closed over a breast and he looked into her eyes. “Make me forget, Suzette. Take me to paradise, darlin’.” He bent to her.

  For a long, languid time, Suzette did just that.

  By the next day, Austin was himself again and Suzette was relieved. The city was atwitter about a ball the widow Mrs. J. B. Warrington was giving in the ballroom at Delmonico’s. Suzette was looking forward to it, and when she went through her many new gowns to pick what she would wear, her husband walked into the room and said, “Suzette, you’ll wear the gold taffeta to the Warrington Ball.”

  “But, Austin”—she turned, holding up a rajah silk of pale lavender—“I haven’t worn this, and it’s so beautiful, I thought—”

  “No, sweetheart, the gold taffeta. I insist.” He winked at her and left the room.

  Suzette made a face and hung the lovely silk back in the closet. Shrugging her slender shoulders, she mumbled to herself, “I wanted to wear the lavender. Why can’t I pick what I’ll wear?”

  When the night of the ball arrived, Suzette, who’d forgotten that she’d wanted to wear the lilac gown, swept up the steps to the second-floor ballroom on the arm of her beaming husband. In her gold taffeta dress, its décolletage flattering her stunning bustline, its full skirt rustling as she walked, she carried a lone red rose Austin had given her. Her evening bag was of red velvet. Around her slender wrist a gold bracelet studded with rubies matched the earrings she wore—gifts from her husband.

  When the Brands stepped into the giant ballroom, every head turned. Austin smiled broadly, took her into his arms, and swept her about the big room while an orchestra played beautiful music and prisms of light from the chandelier high over their heads made pleasing patterns on her shiny gold dress and Austin’s golden hair. Aware of the attention they commanded, Suzette was glad she’d worn the dress Austin chose. She looked up at him and said sweetly, “I shall never again question your decisions, Mr. Brand.”

  “See that you don’t, Mrs. Brand,” he teased and tightened his embrace.

  The glittering ball was a huge success and Suzette Brand was the star. Men of all ages unashamedly watched her with admiration and Austin had no choice but to release her good-naturedly to their eager arms for spins about the floor. He watched her dance by in the arms of a playboy who brazenly flirted with her under the nose of her bridegroom. Austin’s easy smile never faltered, but it was with effort that he kept it in place. Never had he seen Suzette look so beautiful, and when handsome young men held her close and ogled her creamy, exposed bosom, Austin’s hand tightened on his long-stemmed glass. Ignoring the looks of longing he received from hopeful ladies, his eyes never left his wife. Spirited and friendly, Suzette chatted gaily with each man she danced with and easily charmed them with her wit and beauty. Austin strained to hear what she was saying and cursed himself for his jealousy. Knowing tonight was only the beginning, he took a deep breath and wondered if he’d been too clever in bringing her to New York.

  Before he could answer himself, she was back by his side, looking up at him with those luminous blue eyes and dazzling smile. She hugged his arm and said breathlessly, “Austin, could we please escape for a minute and rest?”

  Those were the exact words he wanted to hear. He put his hand to the nape of her neck and leaned down to kiss her flushed cheek. “Let’s slip downstairs to the café and have a brandy alone at some deserted table.”

  “Yes, let’s,” she agreed eagerly, having no idea how happy she’d made him.

  16

  The gala days and nights of a splendid winter soon gave way to an exceptional spring. Days lengthened rapidly as cold brisk winds became warm gentle breezes. Snowy nights of lovemaking under soft downy coverlets in a firelit room turned into balmy nights of lovemaking atop the silken sheets in the silvery, moonlit room.

  Madame Marie de Corday was again summoned to the Brand suite at the Hotel Brunswick to outfit Suzette, this time for the summer season at Saratoga. Suzette’s head-turning woolens, velvets, satins, and silks were packed away and replaced with stunningly stylish gowns of piqué, linen, muslin, and soft silk in an array of pastels.

  Before the city became uncomfortable with the heavy heat of summer, Suzette and Austin checked out of the hotel that had been their home since early January. Trunks and valises made their way by separate carriage to the terminal, where the Alpha awaited on a siding. It had arrived from Fort Worth earlier in the week and its staff of servants was aboard and ready to tend the Brands.

  “Austin, I’m tempted to cry,” Suzette said seriously to her husband as she pinned her pale yellow bonnet atop her shiny curls on their last day in the city.

  “Dear, if you must, you ought to wait to put on your hat until you’ve finished weeping.” He watched her, a shoulder against the doorframe, hands in his trouser pockets. “I personally find it hard to cry with a hat on.”

  “Austin Brand, stop your teasing.” She made a face at him. “I’m quite serious. We’ve been so happy in this room. Don’t you think it sad that we’re leaving?”

  Austin took his hands from his pockets and moved toward his wife. Gently holding her shoulders, he bent and kissed her nose through the wispy veil of her new hat. “My dear, we’ve been blissfully happy in this room, but the room was not responsible. We were. We’ll take our happiness with us. You’ll see. You are going to love Saratoga just as you love New York. Now, please, smile prettily for me and let’s be on our way.”

  Suzette wrinkled her nose, then smiled. “You’re right, Austin. We’ll have times that are just as grand as the ones we’ve had here, won’t we?”

  “Madam, I guarantee it. Now, scoot!” He gently turned her toward the door and gave her bottom a playful slap.

&nb
sp; The sun was sinking behind the tall, majestic Manhattan buildings when Suzette and Austin arrived at the train station. An hour later they sat at the dinner table, eating leisurely as the train rolled northward at twenty miles an hour.

  “When will we get to Saratoga?” Suzette had no idea where the spa was.

  Splashing brandy into a couple of crystal snifters, Austin handed one to his wife and said, “About breakfast time, I imagine.”

  “That long?” She raised her eyebrows. “I thought we’d be there by bedtime.”

  He grinned and took a drink. “Sweetheart, although I do my best to give you anything you want, even I can’t make a train cover two hundred miles in a couple of hours.” Austin pushed back his chair and unfolded the evening edition of the New York Herald. Taking the front section, he offered the rest to his wife. “Paper, darlin’?”

  Suzette took it from him and opened it, her eyes scanning the first page. She yawned and turned the page, then sat up straight, her eyes wide. Below a picture of a dark, handsome young man was the caption: Prince of Darkness Strikes Again. The dateline was Fort Worth, Texas.

  “Austin,” Suzette said urgently, “listen to this. Kaytano has done it again. His picture is in the paper. He robbed a mail train east of Dallas and escaped. It says he—”

  Hurriedly taking the paper from her, Austin scowled, then said coldly, “Suzette, why are you determined to search out stories about a brutal half-breed bandit! Does this parasite Kaytano hold such fascination for you that you—”

  “Just one minute, Austin Brand!” Suzette pushed back her chair and stood up, her hands on her hips, her blue eyes flashing fire. “I do not search out stories about this Indian bandit! It so happens that the eastern press finds this…this…‘Prince of Darkness’ so fascinating that it picks up stories about him all the way from Texas and runs them in the New York paper! There must be a lot of people interested in him.” Suzette leaned close to her husband’s face, her hands gripping the table’s edge. “As for fascination or preoccupation with Kaytano, Austin, you’re the one who gets overly emotional at the mention of his name. Why? Do you know this Indian? Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

  His gray eyes were as dark as storm clouds, and his full mouth had become a tight line. Austin glared at Suzette, his big hands clutching the chair arms, his body tense. Finally he spoke. “Suzette, I’m sorry. That was foolish of me.”

  “Why? Why do you act this way? From the very first time I wrote a story about Kaytano for the Jacksboro newspaper, you’ve acted strangely. What is it? Tell me why a story about a bank robber upsets you so.”

  “Darlin’, I…it’s just that he’s an Indian. I thought we both had a reason to despise Indians.”

  “Austin, I hate them as much as you do, but we can’t spend the rest of our lives getting upset every time we read a story or hear someone mention an Indian.” She looked down at him and saw the pain in his eyes as his rage subsided. “Austin, love.” She knelt beside his chair. Smiling, she laid her head on his arm. “This Kaytano has nothing whatsoever to do with us. He’s a cruel half-breed who cares nothing for life. His exploits have made him famous, so I read about him just like everyone else. I’m not made of china, Austin. I won’t shatter, nor will I be frightened by anything I read.”

  Suzette was relieved when she felt his big hand go to her head. Gently he stroked her shiny hair and said softly, “Darlin’, say you forgive me my outburst. It’s hard to explain, but I love you so much, the thought of anything or anyone bad touching your life upsets me. I’d like to keep you locked away someplace where you’d always be safe and no one and nothing unpleasant could ever come near you. I don’t even like you to be aware such people exist!”

  Suzette lifted her head and clutched his hand, then pressed a soft kiss into his palm. “Austin, you do keep me safe. Since you married me I haven’t been out of your sight for one moment.” She smiled. “Don’t you think it would be hard for a bandit to harm me as long as I’m with you?”

  “Impossible,” he agreed, his eyes narrowing.

  The sun was shining brilliantly when the Alpha pulled into the Saratoga station. Suzette gasped as she stepped onto the platform, Austin behind her. In the distance, a long chain of mountains rose toward the sun. Nearer, the gentle hills were blanketed in emerald-green. Tall stately trees towered over the enormous white homes, which were remarkable for their gingerbread trim.

  Austin had chosen the Grand Union Hotel for their two-month stay at the spa. Elegantly dressed people milled about on the broad veranda of the hotel and in the cavernous lobby. Suzette had thought that she’d seen the most lavish hotels the world had to offer in New York City, but she now knew she’d been mistaken. Surely the Grand Union was the fanciest on earth. From the manicured gardens in front of the hotel, an orchestra played sweet music, though it was only mid-morning. Suzette, clinging to Austin’s arm as he spoke to a gentleman at the front desk, let her eyes take in the wonders of the ornate lobby.

  “Come, dear,” Austin urged, and then they were walking through the lobby to the back of the hotel where a large flower-filled courtyard was criss-crossed with paths for promenading. Suzette whispered excitedly to her husband, “Austin, where is the man taking us?”

  “Sweet, the Grand Union has individual cottages for those who desire extra privacy. I thought we’d stay in one.”

  “Why?”

  Chuckling, Austin bent close to her ear. “Because we’re still honeymooners and my ardor for you has not yet cooled. Must I explain further?”

  Suzette pressed her breasts against her husband’s upper arm and flirted. “Explanations are rather chancy, Austin. When we get inside, perhaps you’d better show me what you mean.” She ran the tip of her pink tongue around her full bottom lip and lowered her lashes.

  Austin Brand felt the familiar tightening of his stomach muscles and was momentarily terrified that the tight trousers he wore would display to all the state of his arousal. When he quickly swept the broad-brimmed hat from his head and carried it nervously in front of him, Suzette bit her lip to keep from laughing.

  Suzette loved Saratoga. The resort offered a tranquil, refined life that was the exact opposite of the bustling excitement of New York. Life at the spa consisted mainly of lovely concerts, excellent food, gambling in the Club House Casino, match races between blooded Thoroughbreds at the racetrack, promenading down Broadway in the late evening, and carriage rides about the little city and out to the lake.

  It was all wonderful to Suzette, just as it was to Austin, though for him the most precious moments of all were those the two shared alone in the opulent cottage. There he could have his lovely wife all to himself, to hold and caress, to undress and admire, to love and enjoy. On a beautiful summer night when they’d returned from the moonlight ride out to the lake, Suzette lay in his arms, her fingers caressing the thick hair at the back of his head while he feathered kisses over her face and bare shoulders. Pleasantly tipsy from champagne, she smiled lazily up at him and said, “Austin, heads turn wherever we go and many of them are ladies’. I’m envied by beautiful women. I’m a lucky girl! I’ve the handsomest, most charming husband in the world and I couldn’t be more pleased.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart,” he murmured, and wondered if the day would ever come when she would say she loved him. So far it hadn’t happened, not even in all the times he’d held her in his arms and made love to her. She was warm, giving and sensual, but she never once said she loved him.

  “Honey,” he breathed, “I love you so much.”

  “Hmm.” She sighed. “Kiss me, Austin.”

  17

  Austin awoke the next day at mid-morning. Sleepily he reached for Suzette, but the bed beside him was empty. Raising himself on an elbow, Austin ran his hand through his thick, sun-tipped hair and looked about. Across the spacious bedroom, Suzette, wearing a sheer filmy gown, stood pensively staring out the open balcony doors, her arms folded.

  “Suzette?” he called, his voice sti
ll heavy with sleep.

  She turned slowly and looked at him. Her expression was unfamiliar, melancholy. Alarmed, Austin sat up, propping a pillow behind his back. She came flying across the room to him. “Austin,” she choked, near tears.

  “Sweetheart!” He was immediately awake, throwing back the sheet for her. She climbed gratefully into the bed and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. Austin held her close and caressed her. “What is it, darlin’? Are you ill? Shall I get a doctor?” His heart pounded and his big hands trembled as he stroked her.

  “No, I’m not sick and I don’t want a doctor.” Her voice was muffled against his shoulder.

  “Then tell me, Suzette, what is it? Why were you up? Couldn’t you sleep? Has something happened?”

  She shook her head, but still she clung to him, her slender body pressing close to his warmth. “I’m afraid.”

  “Afraid?” He was dumbstruck. “Of what, darlin’? Of me? How could you possibly be frightened? I don’t understand.”

  “No, Austin.” She lifted her head. Her eyes reflected her anguish. “I’m not afraid of you. It’s…it’s…did you know today is my birthday?”

  “Yes, sweet baby.” He pushed her hair from her eyes. “I’ve a lovely day and night planned for us. Lots of presents and fun and surprises.”