Brighter than Gold (Western Rebels Book 1)

by Cynthia Wright

  “Isn’t this what you wanted in a wife? Didn’t you encourage her to be a lady?” Ambrose asked simply. “And perhaps she’s just trying to redirect her life now that she’s accepted reality. Perhaps she’s trying to fill the space that she hoped you would occupy.”

  Jack stared, jaw tensed, mouth grim. Then he looked away. “What do you mean by that? I went to her room to be with her, didn’t I?”

  “Jack, you must know Katie better than to think that she could be content with the mere trappings of a marriage. I suspect that going through the motions hurts her more than not being with you at all. And the decision rests with you: either simply share space with your wife or make a real marriage. My guess is, with Katie, there can be no in between.”

  Jack’s knuckles were white as he gripped the iron fence for support. “Oh, God.”

  “Would you like to hear what I think?” Summers asked gently.

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “I believe that you hold Katie away from yourself because of your guilt about her father. Perhaps one day you can tell her, and she’ll understand, but in the meantime the best thing you can do for Brian MacKenzie’s daughter is to be a flesh-and-blood husband to her. Let yourself love her.”

  “That isn’t as easy as it sounds,” Jack said, his voice husky.

  “Perhaps it’s too easy. You think too much, my boy. You’ve gotten so used to thinking rather than feeling these past few years that your heart is out of practice. Listen to it for a change.” He pulled away a thorny branch and cast it to the side.

  Sighing deeply, Jack uncoiled his strong body and stood up. “I’ll think about it.”

  “There you go again.” Ambrose chuckled. “Will you accept a piece of advice from an old man who’s learned a few things the hard way? Miracles don’t happen overnight, even to you, Jack. Real change comes slowly, and you’ll have to learn patience. Trust yourself. You’re an extraordinary man... and Katie knows that.”

  Chapter 27

  December 10-18, 1864

  December brought a state of chaos to the Wyatt household. New servants were hired, including a ladies’ maid for Katie named Judith, but most of the preparations for Christmas and the party that was planned were made by Katie herself. She was in the kitchen at dawn with a ruffled white apron over her dress, working alongside the cook and her staff to make fruitcakes and plum puddings. Some were for the family, but most would be given as gifts and distributed to the poor. Fragrant, fresh green garlands trimmed with red velvet bows were strung over every wall downstairs and also festooned the mantels, doorways, banisters, and chandeliers. Katie made the wreath for the front door herself. It was huge, consisting of pine boughs, sprigs of red-berried holly, tiny pine cones, and a big bow of red-and-green plaid silk. A single candle burned in every window, and the house was redolent with the scents of spices and evergreen.

  Midway through the second week of the month, Hope Menloe came over to help Katie plan the food for the party. Invitations had gone out for the eighteenth, and already more than two dozen acceptances had been received. The two women were seated in the breakfast room, heads bent over cookery books and lists, when Jack and Conrad stopped in to say good-bye.

  “I’m going to take Con to the bank on my way to the office,” Jack said.

  Katie looked up distractedly. “That’s nice. I hope your day goes well, Jack.” She smiled at her brother-in-law. “And yours, Conrad.”

  Jack started to go over and give her a kiss, but when Katie turned back to Hope to point out another recipe, he thought better of it. Sighing, he drew on his gloves as they went out the door.

  “Is something wrong?” Conrad asked, summoning up his courage.

  Jack arched an eyebrow and shrugged. “No, not really. We always long for the thing that eludes us, don’t we? I’m no different.”

  “What is it you long for?”

  Jack almost rebuked him for being too inquisitive, but a sudden impulse made him reply instead, “The company of my wife.”

  “Do you really! That’s the first time I’ve heard you admit that you care for Katie.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t attach too much importance to it, Con.” His tone was light now as they climbed into the carriage. “All I meant was that a house full of Christmas cheer isn’t much use if there’s no one to share it with.”

  “Well, perhaps it’s not an issue of crucial importance to you, but I know that if I were married to Katie, I’d hoard her like a miser. I think she’s nothing short of magic. Not only is she simply enchanting to behold, but the air around her is filled with a kind of vibrant goodness—”

  “Conrad,” Jack interrupted in mock consternation, “your enthusiasm borders on delirium. Are you harboring a secret passion for my wife?”

  “I wish I’d met her first, I’ll say that much!” The young man blushed a little. “No, I’m not in love with her, any more than I was in love with Genevieve, even though I lusted after her mightily.”

  “Lusted?” Jack blinked, amused. “Good God!”

  “I’m a man, too, and I’m only human,” Conrad countered, lifting his chin. “As for Katie, it would mean living in fantasy if I were to let myself fall in love her. The reality is that she’s in love with you, and she’s your wife.” He gathered his hat and papers as the carriage approached the First Western Bank, which was owned by Gerald Braithwaite. “My own reality is less exciting, but comforting nonetheless. I think I’ll propose to Emma on Christmas Eve. It’s time, I suppose, for the plunge into manhood.”

  With that, Conrad stepped down from the carriage, waved to his brother, and dodged other vehicles and pedestrians as he hurried toward the bank. Jack leaned back against the upholstery and smiled to himself. How typical of a young pup like his brother to lust after an empty shell of a glamorous woman like Genevieve while worshiping Katie as if she were a goddess. The truth was that Katie, with her warmth and goodness, was far more desirable than Genevieve, because of her own capacity for desire, which was as great as it was for all other human emotions. Arousal fueled arousal, and love fueled love. These past weeks, during which Katie had steadily blocked him from enjoying her spiritual and physical passions, Jack had slowly begun to understand and then to accept the meaning behind her actions. Now, he had to show his wife that he was willing to change—not just his own life, but the life he shared with her.

  * * *

  Conrad’s office was a small, dimly lit, airless room dominated by a scarred desk. As a clerk, he worked hard, poring methodically over columns of figures in search of errors, not because he enjoyed it, but because Mr. Braithwaite held out the promise of a promotion “one of these days.” The accounts manager was getting older and was frequently ill. It was this job, which involved interaction with real human beings, that Conrad craved.

  “I hope I’m not disturbing you, Conrad.”

  Startled, he pivoted on his chair and saw Genevieve Braithwaite peeking around the door to his office. “My gosh! I mean—no, of course not! Can I do something for you?”

  She closed the door and stood there for a moment, smiling, so he could fully appreciate the beautiful picture she made. Her dress was powder-blue silk with a daringly low neckline that left little to the imagination. The bodice fit tightly, hugging every curve and accentuating her perfect eighteen-inch waist, then the skirt flared out over her crinoline. Genevieve had removed her bonnet to show off her silky blond curls which were caught up in a profusion of ringlets next to one ear. Her provocative mouth was rosy and moist as she said, “I was just visiting Daddy, and I thought about you, Conrad. I’ve missed you.” She glided the few steps to his desk and stopped in front of him. “Have you missed me?”

  Mesmerized, he stared at her breasts, which were level with his eyes, noticing the way they swelled with each breath she took. “Missed you? Well, yes, of course.”

  She perched on the edge of his desk, slightly higher than Conrad and just inches away. “How have you been? And how is dear Mr. Summers?”

 
“I’ve been—about the same, I guess. Nothing new. Grandfather is... fine, too. The same.”

  “But things are not the same at your house, are they? You’ve avoided talking to me about this before, Conrad, but is it really fair of you? Can you not understand how I feel? Not knowing what is happening or who this woman is who took my place only makes me feel more confused!” Looking as if she might weep, Genevieve leaned forward until one breast lightly grazed the side of his face. “Won’t you help me?”

  Conrad thanked God that he was sitting down. “Well, wh-what can I do to help you?” he heard himself say hoarsely. She was so close that he could smell her perfume, and her skin looked incredibly soft. Dizzily, he imagined what her breasts would look like if she were to open her gown.

  “Tell me about her. Maybe if I understand, if I can think of her as a person, I can wish them well....” Her voice was low, hypnotic.

  Conrad cleared his throat and tried to respond rationally. His loins ached so that he could scarcely think, let alone speak. “Well, Katie’s actually a very nice person. She’s friendly, and—”

  “Are they happy?” Genevieve broke in.

  He squirmed. “I—I imagine so. They have a few problems, but I believe they’ll work them out.”

  Stroking his red hair and side-whiskers, she purred, “Do you know, you’re a good-looking man, Conrad. Your features are more classical than Jonathan’s. Tell me some more about Katie. Where is she from? How did she meet your brother?”

  “She’s from Columbia.” He heard his own voice from a distance. “They met at her saloon....”

  “Indeed? How quaint.” Genevieve tried not to betray her glee. Standing, she reached over to pat Conrad’s cheek and said, “Well, I must be going, Conrad. I have a luncheon engagement. But it’s been lovely seeing you again. Do give my regards to your family.”

  Conrad panicked, not only because of what he had said about Katie, but also because he didn’t want Genevieve to leave. “No, wait I ought to explain about the saloon. It wasn’t the way it sounds—”

  “It probably wasn’t like other saloons simply because your sister-in-law was in it, hmm?” she replied sweetly. “I understand. Now, you take good care of yourself, and tell Papa I said he mustn’t work you too hard!”

  With a rustle of crinoline and an intoxicating swirl of lavender scent, Genevieve sailed out of the office. Alone again, Conrad sat at his desk in a daze. It seemed that he could almost feel the blood slowly leaving his groin and returning to his brain. How could he have been so stupid? Not only had he completely forgotten his commitment to Emma, but he had also discussed Katie with Genevieve in spite of his resolve not to. Still, what harm could she do? Jack and Katie were married, and Genevieve had no choice but to accept the fact that she had lost... didn’t she?

  * * *

  “Judith, could you come in here for a moment?” Jack called from his bedroom.

  The young, sweet-faced ladies’ maid, whom Katie had hired for her disposition rather than her experience, hurried in from her mistress’s dressing room. At the doorway she stopped, paralyzed by the sight of Jonathan Wyatt.

  He wore a dashingly cut black tailcoat, black trousers, and a white silk waistcoat, all of which fit to perfection on his tall, strong body. Jack’s white tie and shirt, with its starched turnover collar, contrasted strikingly with his tanned, roguishly handsome face. His hair was the color of melted caramel, and his eyes were a shade of green Judith had never seen before.

  “There’s nothing wrong, I hope?” he asked, trying not to betray his amusement.

  “Yes—I mean, no, sir! It’s just that... well, I hope you won’t think I’m speaking out of turn, but I’ve never seen a finer-looking man than you, Mr. Wyatt.”

  “That’s very loyal of you, Judith,” Jack said, the corners of his eyes crinkling, “and I appreciate it. In fact, I appreciate it so much that I’m sending you downstairs for a hot buttered rum.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll bring it right back to you!”

  He held out his hand, laughing. “No, no, I want you to drink it! If you don’t care for spirits, have a cup of tea. Just sit down, put your feet up, and sip it slowly. I’ll help Mrs. Wyatt finish dressing.”

  Judith’s dark eyes were like saucers. “Oh, no, sir, I couldn’t possibly—”

  “I insist.”

  Looking confused, the little maid did as she was told, while Jack walked through the connecting door and turned into Katie’s dressing room. She was standing before a bureau, examining a collection of jewelry, the back of her silk ball gown open to the waist.

  “What did Mr. Wyatt want, Judith?” she asked without looking up.

  Jack came up behind her and slipped his hand into her open gown, curving it around her midriff to draw her against him. “He wanted to be alone with Mrs. Wyatt.”

  Katie gasped at his touch, then leaned back and laughed nervously. “It’s very bad of you to startle me that way, Jack, and very bad of you to spoil my surprise. I didn’t want you to see me until I was completely dressed.”

  “I like you better this way.” He lowered his mouth to the place where her neck curved into her shoulder. “God, but you smell good... and your skin is like satin.”

  “My, aren’t we frisky tonight,” Katie teased, trying to ignore her own response.

  “I’m more than frisky,” Jack said in a husky voice. He wanted to tell her that he’d missed her, that he hoped they could make a fresh start tonight, but Katie was drawing away from him.

  “Well, you’ll have to hold yourself in check for a bit, because it’s getting late and the guests will be arriving soon. Fasten my gown, won’t you, please?” She stood motionless while he complied, the touch of his fingers sending little shivers down her spine. Then she turned slowly to face him. “I confess that I’m a little nervous about this dress. What do you think?”

  “I think... that I can hardly believe you are the same girl I knew in Columbia.” It was the same sentiment he had expressed to his grandfather, but this time his tone was warm with approval and admiration.

  Katie wore a stunning gown fashioned of Chinese-red silk. The deeply scooped bodice revealed her creamy shoulders, then wrapped over her breasts. Her tiny waist was accentuated by a red sash that tied in a bow in back. Dark-green silk holly leaves adorned the ends of the sash and marched around the hem. “It’s so different from anything I’ve seen,” Katie said, surveying herself a trifle nervously. “The color, the holly—”

  “It’s inspired,” Jack assured her, “and you look spectacular. That red is beautiful with your hair and eyes. You ought to wear it more often.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so!” She laughed, unused to such lavish compliments. “My only hope is that people will indulge me because it is Christmas. I had it designed for the holiday.” She pointed to the cluster of holly she wore in her hair, which was caught up on one side in a mass of long curls. “You see? I’m striving for a festive effect.”

  “You don’t need an excuse to stand out in a crowd, Kathleen. You’re an extraordinarily beautiful woman; you deserve to be stared at.”

  She colored slightly, her sparkling eyes smiling at him. “You look quite extraordinary yourself, Mr. Wyatt.” His gaze held hers so intimately that she turned back to her jewelry. “I thought I might wear the ruby-and-pearl necklace and earrings that belonged to your mother.”

  “Perfect.” Jack fastened the necklace for her, then kissed the feather-soft curls that brushed the nape of her neck. Slowly, then, he turned her in his arms and they embraced. Currents of emotion passed between their bodies, warming each of them with hope, until a knock sounded at the door to Jack’s bedroom.

  “Mrs. Gosling wants to know if Katie’s going to check the table,” Conrad called. “All the food has been set out.”

  Jack released Katie, and she quickly fastened her earrings, each of which consisted of one simple, square-cut ruby crowned by a lustrous pearl. Then she picked up a little spray of holly. “Stand still,” she told Jack, and pi
nned the holly to his lapel.

  Walking down the hall, she took Jack’s arm, and he smiled to himself.

  “Did I tell you that I sought out Lim Sung’s parents in the Chinese quarter the other day?” she asked.

  “You know that you didn’t tell me, Kathleen!” he replied instantly exasperated. “I never would have allowed you to go there without me.”

  “Elijah took me, so I was perfectly safe. And fortunately I found them quite easily. It was wonderful to see Yong and Choy Sung again, and they agreed, after much persuasion, to come to our party tonight. Lim will be so pleased when he hears.”

  Jack looked bemused. “I’m glad you invited them, Kathleen, but don’t be surprised if some of the other guests have a different reaction.”

  “Then they needn’t stay,” she said briskly.

  As they descended the wide staircase, he remarked, “I learned today that Grant Phillips will also be attending tonight—the reporter who has just arrived from Sacramento to work for me. Perhaps he’ll make a new friend or two.”

  “That’s nice. You must make a point of introducing us.” With studied nonchalance, Katie added, “Oh, by the way, Mr. and Mrs. Braithwaite sent their regrets.”

  Jack glanced down at her. They were approaching the dining room as he said, “That’s just as well, for the time being. Kathleen, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about them... well, about their daughter, to be more specific....”

  The embers of hope burned brighter in Katie’s heart. Could Jack actually intend to begin revealing more of himself to her? Mrs. Gosling, clad in a black taffeta gown and crisp white apron, was hurrying toward them as she replied, “Unfortunately, it will have to wait. I seem to have other obligations....”