A Scarlet Bride

by Sylvia McDaniel

  He stared at the address, not looking at the servant. "Thank you, Leona."

  Suzanne walked into the hall and faced him, her hands on her hips. "I'd like a word with you, Connor."

  He looked up from the envelope with a tired sigh."Can it wait? I need to sit down and read this message."

  "No," she said. "I want to speak with you now."

  Connor frowned. His sister's tone of voice brooked no argument. It would be simpler if he just handled this problem now, before it grew larger.

  "Let's go to my office," he said, walking toward the small room off the parlor. As he went through the door, he was suddenly reminded of the day that James had come to make the offer regarding marriage to Alexandra.

  At the time, it had seemed such a wonderful solution to his problems, but now there were only greater problems looming before him. Yet because of that meeting with James he had married Alexandra.

  If only Connor had wooed her honestly. If only she would forgive him for his part in the deal. He hadn't married her to hurt her, but he should have been honest with her.

  He moved to sit behind his desk, laying the envelope down.

  Suzanne took a seat on the other side and frowned. "When is Alexandra coming home?"

  Connor shrugged noncommittally.

  "You've upset her again, haven't you?"

  "That is none of your business, young lady."

  "It's been three days. I thought she would have returned by now."

  "Her uncle just died. She's spending time with her aunt."

  "I don't believe you. The last three days you have snapped the servants' heads off, barked at me, and moped in your study every night Obviously, something's wrong."

  He gave her a curt nod of acknowledgment "If you must know, she is upset with me. I'm trying to make amends, but I suspect it may take time."

  Suzanne stared at him, making him uneasy. "I hope you realize that Alexandra has changed you for the better. She's added warmth to this house that was missing before. She has become mistress of River Bend in every way. She carries your child."

  Connor raised his eyebrows at his sister. "That's true. She's run the household very well."

  "Don't ignore my other comment. She has changed you for the better, dear brother."

  "I'm still the same person I've always been."

  He knew it was a lie the moment he said the words. Though he didn't want to face the truth, Alexandra had changed him, made him into a husband, a father, even a better brother. The rake who womanized and drank was gone. The man who hadn't let anyone into his heart for years was in serious trouble.

  Suzanne slowly shook her head. "You've settled down." She took a breath. "Alexandra is a saint to put up with you."

  Clearing his throat Connor shifted uneasily in his chair. "You're right Suzanne." He stood and presented her his back. His voice drifted off. "And soon I will be a father."

  "I'm looking forward to spoiling my niece or nephew. And since I happen to love my sisterinlaw, I don't want her to be so unhappy she never returns," Suzanne said.

  "I want Alexandra to be healthy, and I want her home,'' he said, unable to keep the fear out of his voice.

  "You're scared," Suzanne acknowledged.

  "You of all people should understand why I'm frightened. Our mother died in childbirth."

  Thoughts of his mother's death had lingered on the edge of his conscience since the day the doctor announced Alexandra was with child. Until this moment he hadn't realized just how scared he was of losing his wife permanently. If she chose not to be his wife—that would be bad enough. He would manage. But the thought of her dying scared the hell out of him.

  "Yes, but healthy women give birth every day. You've always told me that Mother was not healthy," Suzanne reasoned.

  "She wasn't. But I'm still concerned."

  Suzanne looked at him in surprise. "I knew you cared for her, but until today, I never realized how much."

  Connor sighed. "I care more than you'll ever know."

  Suzanne laughed.

  "What's so funny?" he asked, frustrated by her laughter.

  "It makes me feel good to know that, finally, some woman has captured your heart."

  Connor frowned. "I'm not so sure I like this feeling."

  "Big brother, whatever you did, you undoubtedly deserved her anger. I hope she makes you pay so that you'll never do it again," she chortled.

  "Don't worry, I've learned my lesson. Now if you can quit laughing, I really would like to read my mail," he said, wondering at the transformation of his little sister. She was suddenly grown, she was a lady, and he could only thank his wife for her influence.

  Suzanne left the office, closing the door behind her. The nasty envelope from the county drew his attention like a beacon. With heavy heart, he picked up the envelope and slowly slit the letter open.

  After he finished reading the notice, he dropped it onto his desk and turned his chair to face the window. His family's land stretched before his gaze, the rolling fields of worthless cotton and the pastures where the mares he'd recently purchased played.

  Could he give all this up?

  Could he give Alexandra up?

  Without James Halsted's money, he could not pay the taxes. Yet if he took the money from her father, she would never return. Hell, she might not come back even if he did return the funds to her father.

  He'd been wrong to have agreed to marry her and get her with child. At the time, it hadn't seemed so bad, but now he knew he had been wrong. No one had the right to bargain with someone's life the way James Halsted had with his daughter. No one should treat marriage and children as if they could be bought and sold.

  Connor felt sick inside. How could he have done this to her? How could he have treated her so shabbily?

  She had every right to feel he'd betrayed her, married her and gotten her pregnant for money. But he had never imagined a life without River Bend. And what could he do to earn a living for a wife and child, except run a plantation?

  He raked a shaking hand through his hair. Life without Alexandra would be empty and meaningless.

  Never before had he felt this way about a woman. Not even after Georgiana had he felt this overwhelming sense of loss. He missed the sound of Alexandra's voice, craved her touch, longed for the feel of her snuggled against him at night.

  Suzanne was right. Alexandra had definitely changed him. Before, he would have eased his conscience with a willing woman. Now all he wanted was his wife, no one else. He didn't care what society thought. All he wanted was sweet Alexandra back in his arms, the house filled with the sound of her laughter, and their children running through the house.

  God, she had shown him what true family life was about and he had loved every moment. He'd never dreamed it could happen to him, but he had become a family man in every sense. Was this how love felt?

  He sank down into a chair and put his head in his hands. He couldn't escape the truth. Somewhere, sometime during the last few months, he'd fallen for his wife. Fallen so deeply in love with her that she'd driven away his guilt over Georgiana, made him realize he didn't care where they lived. As long as his wife was at his side, wherever they lived, together they would make it into a home filled with their love.

  Alexandra was his breath, his life, his very reason for living. She was strong and passionate, and had taught him about inner strength with her courageous stand against her exhusband. She had taught him about the goodness in life, about believing in trust and love once again.

  But most important, she had allowed him to be the kind of person he wanted to be, but hadn't known how to be. And he had repaid her with his betrayal.

  He loved Alexandra and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her by his side.

  Only moments before his head had ached from the agony of his decision. Yet suddenly he had only one choice, one conclusion to this problem. Only one course of action.

  The pain in his head eased as he stood and found Halsted's bank draft. With a sens
e of peace and purpose, he penned a note and sealed the envelope.

  Tomorrow, he would take the message to the post office and then visit Alexandra.

  ***

  Connor could barely contain his excitement as he galloped his chestnut mare up the drive of Summerwood. The sun was peaking almost into midday after he'd spent the morning in town mailing his letter.

  Pulling his horse to a stop, he swung his leg over the side and handed the reins to a stable boy. Hurrying up the steps of the house, he was anxious to see Alexandra. Anxious to share with her his new revelation of love.

  When the servant answered his summons, he was shown into the parlor, where he glanced at the portrait of Alexandra's mother. "Wish me luck, sweetheart," he whispered. The portrait stared down at him, the flashing green eyes vibrant just like Alexandra's.

  While he waited he paced the room, stopping at the George Washington desk in the corner. Under a large ink blotter sat a stack of papers neatly bundled together. He glanced down and saw a letter written to a Mr. George Montgomery, the same man who had sent Alexandra the pen and ink set. His eyes skimmed the letter, shock flowing through him at the words.

  Alexandra had written a second novel about her life with Gordon. Curiosity overcame Connor, and he thumbed through the stack, stopping when his gaze spotted a page that stunned him.

  I didn't realize the extent of my naivete until my husband brought home a woman. I was to watch him have sexual relations with her. The woman lay back and showed me her genitalia, and how to caress myself in order to prepare for my husband's entry. I was horrified and would have bolted from the room, but Gordy had known I would not stay and had not only locked our bedroom door, but tied me to a chair so I could not escape. He offered to untie me if I wanted to join them in their perverse games. Instead I closed my eyes and tried to block out their hideous laughter and obscene groans. It wasn 't long until my husband mounted the woman and, though my eyes were closed, I couldn 't help but open them occasionally just to see if they were finished.

  When they completed their coupling, the woman got dressed and left. But Gordy was not satisfied. He then turned his attentions to me, and since I had defied him earlier, he deemed it necessary to punish me for my lack of enthusiasm. While I was still tied to the chair, he forced ...

  The blood drained from Connor's face, his body rooted to the spot. She had not gone into such intimate details in Hester's Revenge, but had merely intimated such things.

  The details made his blood pound with murderous rage at Gordon.

  Revulsion swept through him at the thought of his wife having to endure such atrocities. What other things were written in this book? He thumbed through the chapters, reading bits and pieces, disgust numbing him at the perversity of Gordon Thurston and the ordeal his wife had suffered at the other man's hands.

  A door slammed somewhere in the house, and he dropped the page guiltily back onto the desk.

  Betsy, the maid, came into the room, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.

  "I'm sorry, Mrs. Manning does not wish to see you today."

  The exhilaration that had propelled Connor along suddenly seemed to deflate. "Is she ill?" Connor asked. "No, sir."

  He glanced around the room, trying to think of a way to force the issue, while the maid simply stared at the floor. Damn!

  Finally, he sighed and grabbed his hat. "Thank you, Betsy. I'll see myself to the door."

  "Good day, sir," the young girl said. She turned and left him in the room alone.

  Connor started to leave. The book caught his attention again. But... this was her story and it was none of his business. When he got to the door, he turned around and glanced back at the beckoning pages.

  He knew it was wrong. He'd done so much to her already, but the compulsion to read the manuscript gripped him. He had to know what else she had endured.

  He strode back across the room, picked up The Banker's Perfidy, stuck it under his arm, and left.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Connor closed the manuscript. It was two in the morning, but he sat staring at the gold lace curtains that floated with the breeze from his open window. He was numb with shock and filled with rage at the things he had read in The Banker's Perfidy. Gordon had delighted in showing Alexandra just how depraved he could be. She had witnessed things Connor could not even imagine, and then been betrayed by her husband to a life no woman should have to endure.

  Alexandra had lost everything—social position, reputation, money—and been disgraced when Gordon had simply tossed her aside and remarried. She had lost everything that was important to a woman in today's society.

  But worst of all, Connor now realized how much he had hurt his wife with his own betrayal. Like the other men in her life, he had selfishly used her to his advantage. By agreeing to the deal with her father, he had violated her trust like Gordon and her father for his own thoughtless gain.

  Alexandra had every right to hate him, and that pained him.

  Connor squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want her to despise him. He wanted her by his side. But how could he ever undo the damage he had wreaked upon them with his foolish bargains?

  Had he ever considered Alexandra's feelings even once while he'd made the bet with William or helped arrange her life to suit her father's whims?

  No.

  Her accusation that he would sell their child had hurt. She thought him a cruel, sadistic monster if she believed he could do such a dastardly deed. Then again, what other examples did she have by which to judge men's behavior?

  He would never have agreed to forfeit their child to her father. The notion had never even entered his mind.

  But now, after reading her book, and seeing his own actions through her eyes, could he blame her for leaving him and raising their child alone?

  She had no notion that he loved his life with her. No notion how she had made him a better man with her quiet dignity and passionate but determined ways. The man who had made the bet to get her into bed no longer existed. The cad who had thoughtlessly agreed to her father's proposal had received more than he ever bargained for and been forever changed for the better.

  He loved Alexandra, had probably loved her for months, but had been unable to face the realities of his feelings. How could such a tiny word leave him feeling so completely helpless and needy? For he was just beginning to realize he needed the love of his wife the way he needed food and water, the way the soil needed sun and rain.

  Without Alexandra's love, River Bend would be a dark, meaningless place. A place he wouldn't care to own. Life would be insignificant if all he had was the land.

  Connor went to the window, glancing out at the dark shadows of the night. Like the inky blackness from outside, loneliness welled up inside him, threatening to overflow. He closed his eyes, fighting despair. Gladly, he would hand over all of River Bend to the county if only Alexandra would fill this void. Fill this emptiness with her love. Fill the hollow left barren by her departure.

  Yes, he would be the Manning who lost the family home, who was forced to leave and start anew. And in the end, he had no one to blame but himself. Somehow it was fitting punishment for his misdeeds.

  He had to go to Summerwood, see his wife, and return The Banker's Perfidy to her. True, he had been wrong to take her manuscript, but reading her deepest, darkest secrets had made him realize how much he had hurt Alexandra, and how much he didn't deserve her.

  Even if she never returned as his wife, he had to explain his actions, make her understand how very sorry he was.

  ***

  Alexandra held the letter from her publisher in her hand. Someone had to have brought it from town. Connor? He had been conspicuously absent these last three days, and then mysteriously the envelope had appeared with her breakfast tray this morning.

  She opened the envelope and a bank draft fell from the envelope onto the floor. The advance funds for The Banker's Perfidy. Her heart sped up as she realized that with the acceptance of this money, her pu
blisher would be expecting the manuscript.

  This money was one more step toward independence from her father and husband. With the acceptance of this draft, she could support herself and her coming child. The manuscript had been completed and ready for more than a week, but something had held her back from sending it to New York.

  Some inner voice had whispered, "Not just yet." What she was waiting for, she didn't know.

  While she was writing this book, the idea of exposing the whole truth about Gordon had begun to leave a distinctly sour taste in her mouth. This story had not given her the satisfaction that penning Hester's Revenge had.

  The Banker's Perfidy was beginning to leave her with a feeling of revulsion, causing her to doubt her willingness to let the world know of the humiliation she had suffered at Gordon's hands. Certainly, the scandalous revelations would linger in people's minds and loiter on their tongues.

  With these disclosures, not only she, but everyone she loved, would be the topic of many a parlor room chat. The thought of causing Suzanne, Connor, and even Aunt Clara pain left her feeling nauseous. Society would latch onto this book, and her name, as well as Gordon's, would be bandied about for years to come. Everyone would know the most intimate details of her life.

  Even her child would be tainted by the knowledge written in this volume. That bothered her as much as hurting the others. Could she purposely harm the people she loved for her own satisfaction? Just to get her vengeance? When would she feel that she had hurt Gordon enough?

  What had happened to that fire of revenge that had burned so brightly in her chest? Right now, there wasn't even an ember of a coal she could ignite and bring to light against Gordon.

  Had she forgiven him for what he had done to her, or had it simply ceased to matter?

  Though this second book revealed Gordon for the man he was, it was meant to convince the world of his deceit and her own innocence. Lately, she couldn't help wonder if anything she wrote would persuade society of her lack of sin. And part of her couldn't help but wonder if it really mattered anymore.