Inventing Love

by Killarney Sheffield

  “I would like to go looking for the materials I need tomorrow.”

  Weston swallowed his mouthful of savory beef. “I have orders to see anything you need be delivered to you.”

  “I don’t want materials to be brought to me. I need to search for items that might work for my modifications myself. I will need a cart and a horse.”

  He shook his head. “Impossible.”

  Her eyes sparkled with annoyance. “Why?”

  “Because you are not permitted to leave the barracks.” He looked back down at his plate.

  “I am a prisoner?”

  The anger in her voice was not lost on him but he chose to ignore it. “No, not exactly. The general feels it would be best if you stay put here where it is safer.”

  “Safer? I have lived on my own for almost a year with no fear for my welfare, why should I be concerned now?”

  He flinched as her fork clattered to her tin plate, cleared his throat and looked up as heads turned their way. “Because what you are building is a secret military matter.”

  It was silent for a moment. Her lips opened as if to speak twice and then she stood. “Then you may tell your General Madden I resign.” With that she tossed her napkin onto her unfinished meal and stormed off down the rows of tables toward the exit.

  With a groan Weston jumped to his feet and hurried after her. “Miss Evans! Miss Evans, wait.” By the time he caught up with her she was halfway across the courtyard heading for her tent. “Hold up.” He stayed her with a firm hand on her elbow.

  She turned on him, eyes flashing, a finger waggling under his nose. “If you think for one moment I am going to tolerate being imprisoned here, being told what to do, then you have another thing coming, Lord Grendal. Alexandra Evans doesn’t take orders from anyone, not now, not ever!”

  Weston pulled her toward him as she turned to resume her flight. “Well, perhaps is about time you stopped acting like a self-righteous, spoiled brat and did what you are told for once,” he snarled.

  Her eyes widened. She let out a hiss of air before she raised her hand and slapped his face. The sting and surprise of her attack momentarily astounded him. In all his thirty-six years no woman, or man for that matter, had ever hit him. He tightened his grip on her elbow as she paled and tried to wrench free. Her eyes flickered past him and then returned to his before she took a deep breath and glared at him.

  “No one tells me what to do Lord Grendal.”

  “Want to wager on that?” he challenged.

  Her stare wavered as they looked each other in the eye. She dropped her gaze, focusing somewhere below his nose, her lips trembling slightly. The tip of her tongue came out to moisten her lower lip, mesmerizing him with the simple action. Without thinking he lowered his head to taste her. Her lips were warm and soft. He ran his tongue lightly across them excitement building in his chest as they parted for him. Hunger seized his actions and he pressed her lips with raw savage passion as her scent filled his nostrils. Grease and...flowers? Before he could explore her mysterious recesses she jerked back with a hiss.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she gasped.

  A sharp whistle and a couple of crude catcalls alerted him to the fact their kiss had been witnessed. He slowly turned his head and groaned when he spied a dozen or so soldiers standing behind them watching with rapt attention. He released his grip on her arm as she tugged and then cleared his throat. “I will take you to find whatever you need tomorrow morning after the first drill. Be ready and do not tell anyone else or Madden will have my head on a silver platter.” He turned and stalked toward the officers’ quarters.

  Damn irritating woman! The nerve of her to think she could just up and resign...even though she could. Just who does she think she is anyway? And how dare I kiss her...What? He stopped dead in his tracks. Good Lord! What in blessed saints name is wrong with me? Lord Weston Grendal does not go around kissing girls...a woman...in broad daylight. Or any light for that matter...Have I gone mad? Perhaps I am suffering from some sort of airborne illness. He reached up and felt his forehead. No temperature. Realization dawned on him like a tidal wave. I cannot possibly be falling for her, could I? That would certainly be a complication I do not need.

  Chapter Five

  Alex paced back and forth before the tent flap. The blasted man is probably not coming. He will rue the day he mistook me for someone he can cajole into doing what he wants with pretty promises. Outside the tent she heard a wagon pull up followed by the guard greeting the driver.

  “Good morning, Lord Grendal.”

  “Good morning, private. I will fetch the supply list from Miss Evans. Could you please run it over to the general for his inspection before I leave to pick them up?”

  “I was told not to leave my post, my lord.”

  “I assure you Miss Evans will be perfectly safe under my watch while you are gone those few short minutes.”

  Her temper began to boil as the private paused to consider the request. How dare Grendal go back on his word? He was nothing but a lying ninny!

  Finally the private spoke. “If you will get the list I will deliver it and be back before you can say ‘cat o nine tails’, my lord.”

  “Very good. Wait here and I shall get it for you.”

  As soon as the tent flap opened Alexandra let him have her verbal tirade. “You promised to take me for the supplies myself, you lying degenerate! I told you before I will not be cajoled and mollified like one of your simple minded debutantes. If you think—”

  “Enough!” Lord Gendal held up his hand to stop her verbal avalanche. “Just make up your list and I promise I will pick up all the materials you require,” he said in a loud voice while putting his fingers to his lips and grasping her arm. He cocked his head toward the tent flap and then towed her to the rear. “Just play along,” he whispered in her ear.

  She gave him a puzzled look, but nodded. “Fine Grendal, but you had better come back with every bit of it or your head will roll,” she practically shouted with a grin.

  He rolled his eyes. “I assure you, you will not be disappointed, Miss Evans.”

  Alex went to the desk and scribbled out a list of a few of the things she might conceivably need and handed it to him.

  With a grin he hurried to the tent flap and exited. “Here you are private. I will wait here until you return.” Within a few moments he returned and gestured for her to hurry and follow him outside. When she stepped out of the tent he flipped back a piece of canvas in the back of the military wagon and ushered her underneath. “Lie there and be quiet.”

  Alex scrambled into the wagon bed and huddled in the corner.

  Before long the steady march of the private’s footfalls returned. “The general gave the go ahead for the supplies.”

  A paper rustled as if it exchanged hands.

  “Very good. Miss Evans is still a little miffed, you know how women can get,” Lord Grendal said in a loud whisper. “Best to leave her be, else you might find your head reeling from her scathing tongue. I will deal with her when I return.”

  The private’s answer contained more than a trace of relief. “Yes, sir, my lord. Better you than I for I have three sisters at home and have learned when one thinks to challenge a woman he is sure to lose the battle, if not a potential body part.”

  Alex bit her lip to keep from laughing or refuting his ridiculous claim. She decided she would enjoy meeting the private’s sisters.

  “You are a wise young man,” Grendal replied. The springs creaked as he stepped up on to the driver’s platform and took his seat. He clucked to the team and the wagon lurched forward.

  Alexandra winced as they hit a bump that jarred her right hip against the rough wagon bed.

  “Sorry,” came the whispered apology from Grendal.

  They rattled on in silence for the better part of ten minutes before the tarp was pulled back.

  Grendal looked over his shoulder at her. “All clear. Hop up front here.”

  Alex scram
bled over the back of the seat and perched beside him. “Thank you.”

  He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. “Where to?”

  “The blacksmith’s first, then the tinker’s and finally the mercantile.”

  “All right.” He slowed the team and turned down the road to the blacksmith’s. They pulled up in front of the barn serving as both livery and blacksmith shop.

  Alex jumped down from the wagon before Grendal could help her and strolled into the open door way. “Freeman?”

  A middle-aged Negro stepped away from the fire pit where he was heating a horseshoe. “Missus Evans, good t’ see ya. What can I do fer ya t’day?”

  She gave him a fond smile. “I need some iron bars made about this long.” She spread her arms three feet apart. “They need to be as thick as my wrist. Can you do that?”

  The Negro nodded, “Yes missus, I surely ken.”

  “Good, and can you put a hole big enough to fit a metal peg in each end?”

  “Yes missus, I surely ken.”

  Alex nodded. “Good, send the bill to General Madden, please.”

  The Negro arched a brow, but did not question her.

  She headed back the way they had come, Grendal trailing in her wake and climbed into the wagon.

  “Do you think the rods will be thick enough?” he asked climbing up opposite her and picking up the reins.

  “I hope so.”

  They headed on to the tinker’s. Once there Alex jumped down from the wagon without waiting for him and went through the tinker’s odds and ends to find materials that might work to modify her father’s invention. Satisfied she had what was needed she again directed the bill be sent to Madden and returned to the wagon. Lord Grendal still sat on the wagon seat, leaning back with the reins slack in his lap, waiting with a bored air.

  “The mercantile next?”

  She nodded and climbed up beside him. They headed back to the shopping district. The men and women who strolled casually down the populated street stared at her as they passed by. Alex pretended indifference to their shocked looks, but inside it bothered her. Funny, it never bothered her before. One thing she had learned from being the daughter of a Cancan dancer and an inventor was to value herself and not give a fig about anyone else’s opinion. She peeked out of the corner of her eye at Grendal. His face was stiff and blank. Did it bother him to be seen with so unconventional a woman? Given his impeccable dress and manners she had to assume so even if he didn’t say it. They pulled up in front of the dry goods store next to the dressmaker’s. “I’ll be a while so if you have other things to do...”

  He shrugged. “I will wait.”

  “Are you afraid I might run off?” She gave him an annoyed look.

  “No.” Again he shrugged. “I will wait.”

  With a sigh she hopped down. “Suit yourself.” She marched into the mercantile and selected the things she needed. Her purchases complete she exited and headed for the dressmaker. Stepping out into the street she glanced at Grendal. He lounged on the wagon seat, his feet propped up on the foot board, reins wound around the brake. His hat was pulled low over his face, arms crossed over his chest. The man looked like he was sleeping. She sensed his gaze on her, and realized that although he looked unaware of his surroundings, he was very much alert. She carried on to the dressmakers.

  The bell above the door tinkled when she entered and a pretty young clerk looked up from her spot behind the counter. “Can I help you?” she asked, her eyes widening when she noticed Alex’s breeches and man’s shirt.

  Alex cleared her throat. “Yes, I am looking for a dress.”

  The clerk frowned slightly. “Just one?”

  “Yes.” She glanced around the shop at the various rolls of colored satin, silk, velvet, cotton and muslin fabric. “Something pink perhaps and...flattering? Not too frilly though, please.”

  The clerk permitted the smallest of smiles. “I have some ready-made garments in the back that might suit you.” She backed away from the counter and parted two dark curtains that shielded the back room from view.

  Alex stepped through and followed the clerk to a long rack along one wall. Sorting through them one by one, too lacy, too frilly, too low cut, too stuffy, she rejected them quickly. She made a face as she glanced at a puce and pea green colored gown. A soft pink silk caught her eye. After removing the simply cut dress from the rack she held it up in front of her and turned to look in the mirror. A stranger stared back at her. The pink of the gown enhanced the slight flush in her cheeks and lips. The smooth silk whispered softly against her. She looked...almost pretty. She caught the eye of the smiling clerk in the mirror. “I’ll take it.”

  The clerk nodded and took the fragile material from her. “You’ll need undergarments too.”

  Alex groaned. Perhaps she should just forget the dress. “I won’t need undergarments.” At the clerk’s horrified expression and gasp she sighed. “All right, just get me the things then.”

  They returned to the front of the shop and Alex wandered between the shelves of material and laces. A roll of dark green velvet caught her eye. “Could I get a dress made just like the one I bought from this material too?”

  The clerk looked up from packing the undergarments and dress into a box of tissue paper. “I would have to take your measurements first.”

  Alex grimaced. “Never mind.” After settling the bill with the last of her coin she took the package and returned to the wagon.

  Lord Grendal sat up as she stepped up onto the wagon platform. He eyed the package tucked under her arm. “Find what you needed?”

  “Yes.” She slipped it under the seat hoping he wouldn’t ask what was in it.

  Grendal turned the team of army mules around and headed back to the barracks. Before the guard towers came into sight he threw the canvas back so she could climb under and hide. They traveled the short distance to the post and then the wagon slowed and pulled up.

  “Go round up some men to unload the wagon.” Lord Grendal ordered the private. After a moment he tossed back the canvas and handed her the package with a grin. She slipped back into the tent.

  Chapter Six

  Alex was changing for dinner that night when the tent flap was pulled back. With a startled gasp she snatched up her discarded shirt and held it up against her chest. The hem hung down just to the top of her thighs, hiding her thin chemise and corset which she had not managed to lace up herself.

  “I came to escort you to...” Lord Grendal trailed off, his eyes widening when he spied her. He paused as if unsure of what to do and dropped his gaze to the ground, his face turning an alarming shade of red right up to the tops of his ears, “…dinner,” he finished. “I would have knocked, but...well there is no... door.”

  She sighed and searched for something to step behind to finish dressing. There was naught but the cot in the corner, the tent being one large open area.

  “I, uh, I’ll…I will step outside...until you’ve…you have...uh...finished,” he mumbled and then tripped over his own feet in his rush to leave. He scrambled to right himself and fled.

  Alex let out a nervous giggle. Surely a man of Lord Grendal’s age had seen a naked, or in her case, nearly naked woman before, yet he acted as embarrassed as a school boy. Her face heated at the idea of what he must have seen, both before, and of her body now. Shaking the images from her mind she dropped her shirt and slipped on the petticoats that accompanied the dress. Oh dear. It suddenly occurred to her that she had no serving woman to tie the laces on her corset. With a sigh she tied the underskirt and slipped on the silky stockings. Frowning, she realized she had neglected to purchase slippers to go with her new attire as well. Oh well, her boots would just have to do. Perhaps no one would notice them under the floor-length dress. After she put on the boots and shrugged into the dress she turned her back to the tent flap. “Lord Grendal?”

  “Yes, Miss Evans?”

  “Would you mind terribly coming to assist me with one small matter?” She wai
ted. The tent flap rustled, a slight breeze across her bare back telling her that he now stood behind her. “I seem to have a small problem. There is no way I can fasten the laces of my corset on my own.”

  He cleared his throat. “Ah...yes, I can see your...ah, difficulty. Perhaps you could just leave the item off?”

  Just then the dinner bugle sounded. “I’m afraid I would have to undress and then redress. By then dinner will have already been served.”

  “I see. Well...I suppose I could be of...ah, assistance this once.”

  His light tread crossed the canvas floor covering and then his rough fingers brushed the nape of her neck. A slight shiver shimmied down her spine as warm breath tickled her shoulder. The strings attached to the corset tightened.

  “I cannot fathom why a woman would want to wear such an uncomfortable garment, especially one whose waist is as slim as yours.”

  Alex giggled. “How do you know how uncomfortable a corset is?”

  “I...well one can only imagine cinching in ones waist until they cannot move freely would be most constrictive.” He finished with the laces, fastened the tiny row of pearl buttons down the back of the dress and stepped back. She turned around. His gaze roamed her more feminine curves and he smiled. “You look very...ladylike.”

  “Thank you, I think.” She gave him a meek smile as he held out his arm. With a slight hesitation she placed her hand on his sleeve. The rich fabric was soft and warm under her fingers as they exited the tent and made their way across the compound.

  “I shall send a soldier with a couple of canvas sheets to hang as a makeshift bed chamber for you. It might give you at least a small amount of privacy.”