by Gordon, Rose
He swallowed. He wasn’t ready to face her yet. But when he was, he’d bring every one of those blasted letters for her to pine over.
Just not yet.
Some time ago the call that marked dinner had sounded, but he didn’t feel like eating. Actually, he didn’t feel anything at all, except perhaps numb, if that indeed was something one could actually feel. He’d always thought numb meant without feeling... Not that it mattered. Nothing did now that he knew for certain there was no chance of a genuine marriage between them.
“What are you doing in here?”
Wes forced a stiff shrug. “Why aren’t you playing cards with the others?”
“It’s my night to be in the lookout.”
Wes nodded sadly. He remembered those long, tedious nights of keeping watch up in one of the four towers in case the Indians tried to attack. General Ridgely had seen reason and had exempted Wes from continuing in the rotation now that he was married. The truth was, the lock on the room the married officers were given wasn’t enough to hold a dog out if he were determined enough. While Wes trusted his friends wouldn’t cause Allison harm or leave her undisturbed in his absence, he didn’t believe the same to be true for the majority of the other soldiers. She was an attractive young lady. One who was vulnerable and upon whom it would be easy to prey.
“Wes?”
Wes started again. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Did you say something?”
Gray fell into the chair opposite Wes, obstructing Wes’ view of the oh-so-fascinating wall. “Is something troubling you?”
“No.” Wes did his best to force a smile, but even knew that was futile. “I’d better go back upstairs.”
Gray steepled his hands in front of him. “I see. Though to be quite truthful, after your public display earlier today, I—along with everyone else who lives around here—thought that’s where you’d be until tomorrow morning.”
Wes’ face heated. “Some of us are capable of spending time outside of the bed, Gray.”
“I never said you weren’t,” Gray returned. “I just find it strange that it’s nearly time for bed and you’re sitting at your desk instead of with your new bride. So I’ll ask again, Wes; is something wrong?”
“Nothing you’d understand,” Wes muttered, twisting his lips bitterly.
“Ah, then perhaps you should make a trip to see Dark Moon. I’m sure he has some herbs that can help with your problem.”
Of course that’s the first thing Gray would think was the problem. For Gray and the type of women he associated with, that had likely been the only problem he could comprehend. “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Gray frowned. “Don’t be so offended. Many men suffer the inability to—”
“Don’t say another word,” Wes snapped. “Nothing is wrong with my ability.” It was his willingness that was the problem. Sure, he could have had Allison this afternoon and a hundred more times before the man she planned to marry came back for her. But for what purpose? Only to lose his heart to her more?
“Wes,” Gray said softly. “There’s no reason to be ashamed or embarrassed.”
Wes clenched his jaw. “I’m not. I have nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about.”
“Are you sure?” Gray quirked an eyebrow at him. “There is a very attractive woman up in your room right now, probably even warming your bed, and you’re down here in a hard, rickety chair talking to me.”
Wes sighed. Now that he’d been discovered, he needed to go back upstairs before anyone found out she was alone. “Now, that you mention it, Gray, I should be headed back upstairs.”
Gray’s frown deepened. “You don’t sound nearly as excited about doing that as one would think you should be.”
“Leave it alone, Gray.”
“No.” Gray’s sharp tone gave Wes pause. He’d known the man close to eight years and had never heard him speak with such an edge to his voice. “Does she not enjoy your...attentions?” he asked, his voice back to normal now.
Wes scoffed. She’d enjoyed his attentions all right. “It’s not that.”
“Then do you not like hers?” Gray asked, picking up a leather bound book from his desk.
Wes stared at the man. Had the heat this past summer gotten to him? “Is such a thing even possible?”
Gray tossed the book down, sighing. “Wes, we’ve been in close quarters with each other for several years now. I know almost everything about you.” He narrowed his eyes. “I even saw that you had dust in your eyes the entire time we rode back from the Indian attack the other day, despite the fact that not a speck got in them on the way out there.” He shot Wes a sideways smile. “There’s nobody else here to hear whatever it is that you have to say; so just tell me what’s bothering you and maybe I can tell you how to fix it.”
“I don’t think that’s possible.”
“You don’t know if you don’t tell me,” Gray hedged.
No, he didn’t. Nor did he really wish to admit to Gray that everything he’d told him since Allison had arrived was a lie.
“Tell me this, is your sitting here brooding a sign that perhaps Allison might be entertaining offers from the other men about camp?”
“Must you speak of her as if she is a sack of grain to be acquired or bartered for?”
Gray cocked his head to the side. “I see that I was wrong—at least partially. It seems by your strong reaction that your feelings for her are quite strong. Does she not feel the same way about you?”
Wes scowled at him. He hated it when Gray did this. Likely, it was what made him so sought after by the ladies. He might have a glib tongue and often said things that were inappropriate, but when it came to deeper matters, particularly those involving females, he gave his words, and theirs, a lot of thought. Too much thought if you asked Wes.
“She does. Or so she says.” Wes released a deep breath and swiped his open palm over the smooth surface of his desk. “But it’s not enough. I’m not enough.”
Gray’s impassive face only annoyed him further. “And this matters to you?” Gray asked.
“Because she doesn’t intend to stay.” Wes threw his hands into the air. He’d said this much, so he might as well tell Gray the rest. “Allison was not my betrothed or the mail order bride I let you all believe. The stage that brought her here was bound for Santa Fe, where her rightful betrothed is waiting for her. The driver got lost and they ended up here. While the driver was getting directions from me, Allison got off for some reason and he left without her. I’d taken the day off that day because I’d just come back from a three-day ride out to the Creek reservation and I was tired. As I was walking out to check on my men and make sure they were following McCorkle’s commands, I saw her and convinced her to marry me until she could get word to Santa Fe and her intended could come back for her.
“It was the only solution I saw at the time to keep her safe while she stayed here. I didn’t intend for—” He broke off and shrugged.
“She still plans to return to her original suitor?” Gray asked for what Wes assumed was clarification.
Wes nodded.
“Is it possible she might be carrying your child?”
“No.”
“You do know those sheaths aren’t without fault.”
Wes forced himself to meet his friend’s eyes. “I know that.”
Gray nodded as if he took Wes’ meaning, which was a good thing, because the last thing he wanted to do was actually say the words that he hadn’t lain with his wife in the biblical sense. “Have you tried to change her mind?”
“Yes. And I thought I had, but—” he shook his head as an overwhelming sense of sadness came over him at the memory of her telling him that she’d give him her innocence and her heart but didn’t intend to stay married to him— “I guess my efforts weren’t good enough.”
“And just what were your efforts?”
Wes sliced his hand through the air. “Those are unimportant. I didn’t word that correctly. Apparently, my efforts were go
od enough; it’s just me who isn’t.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Then don’t,” Wes said with a lopsided shrug.
“Wes, you are one of the most likable people I’ve ever met. The men assigned to you are glad to be under your command, and they never grumble, no matter what you ask them to do.” He snorted. “Even Mrs. Lewis has admitted that were she a few decades younger, she’d have been the one to pursue you.” He shook his head. “So I can’t believe that she finds you lacking anything.”
“Well, she does,” Wes said bitterly.
“What?”
“My name isn’t Nicholas. I don’t have blushing debutantes flocking toward me in the hopes that I’ll afford them a moment of my time. Nor do I have pots of money to count all day and spend without a care.”
“You could,” Gray said.
Wes swallowed. “I know that. And I thought I could give her that if that’s what it took, but I can’t. That’s not who I am, Gray. I hated every minute I spent wearing lace and ruffles.” He cringed. “I hated being made to dance with this one and kiss the hand of that one. I don’t mind dressing in my finest from time to time to dance with the squaws, but I can’t do it every night of the week again. I just don’t have it in me. I joined the army to escape that life and make my own way in this world, even if it reduced me to meager, impoverished living conditions.”
“Did Allison tell you that she couldn’t accept your position in life?”
“No. She didn’t have to. She’s spoken about her precious Nicholas’—” he couldn’t stop himself from sneering at the man’s name— “wonderful social qualities and booming business in Austin.”
“So, you’re telling me that she loves you, but is marrying him for practical purposes?”
Wes nodded. That summed it up very well.
“Do you think it’s possible that the reason she feels she has to marry him isn’t because she’s truly some money-hungry, materialistic, spoiled brat, but because you treat her as if you think she is?”
“What’s that to mean?”
Gray pulled a face. “I was there at breakfast that first day when you said something to her about not wasting her food, then grumbled that you had to eat it for her. I also heard from Charles about the conversation regarding buying her fabric. And—”
“That’s enough,” Wes cut in, a lead weight lowering on his gut. “I take your meaning, and for once, you’re absolutely right.” Not once had Allison asked him to buy her anything or intentionally wasted anything other than the awful food she was served. He’d been the one to accuse her of being frivolous, based solely on where she was from and what he assumed to be true of a lady like her.
Nausea swirled in his stomach. This was all a mess of his own creation, not hers.
Wes ran a hand through his hair and stood to leave. But before he could go, he knew what he needed to do. If he wanted to start anew with Allison and have a fighting chance with her, he needed to be honest with her and give her back something she deserved—those blasted letters. Even if she didn’t choose him, she deserved to have the letters.
With a sigh, he bent down and pushed on the floorboard until the other side lifted, then scooped out the letters, restored the floorboard, smiled at Gray and said, “Thank you, Gray.”
Not that he thought for one minute that Gray had any interest in what was in that bundle in his hand—he’d probably already deduced what they were based off their previous conversation—and if he needed any further convincing, it was there when he smiled smugly and in a teasing voice said, “You’re welcome.”
~Chapter Nineteen~
Allison lay paralyzed as Wes finished with his shirt and left the room.
Why was he so upset? She should be the one upset. She was offering her virtue to a man she couldn’t have, even knowing full well that they could never be together. And yet, it was he who acted as if he were the one of the pair having his heart crushed by a thousand-pound boulder.
She had no illusion that she could stay. She had nothing to offer him except her body, which given enough time, he’d probably tire of and wish he’d married a woman who could at least cook and sew.
A painful knot formed in her throat, choking her, and blinding tears stung her eyes.
How could she have ever believed everything between them would be simple?
Because Wes was a man. One who didn’t seem to truly need her, at that.
She rolled onto her side and reached for the top edge of the blanket, then jerked it free from the underside of the mattress where Wes had tucked it so tightly when he’d made the bed. She pulled the blanket over her and brought her knees up toward her chest as sobs wracked her body.
She’d ruined everything.
Wes thought her the lowest kind of woman. Not that she could blame him. In her moment of weakness, she’d abandoned all reason and logic, allowing her heart to make her decisions. Ones she knew full well she could never fully honor. All she could give him was her innocence and her love. That’s all that was safe to give. For if she stayed, how would he not grow to resent her when he had no choice but to pay other ladies to make her dresses or take her around in unfashionable rags?
What of their meals? His were included as part of his salary; hers were not. He hadn’t been unkind enough to directly say anything to her about the amount she was costing him by not eating her portions and making him eat them. But he didn’t have to. His light-hearted jests about her wasting had been enough of a reminder.
She remembered that he received a decent salary, She also remembered that he’d pulled a considerable amount of money out from his bedposts when they’d first married, but eventually, he’d run out of funds. Then what? He might not be so heartless as to ridicule her for her role in driving them to poverty, but they’d both know it was her and, what he considered to be, her wastefulness that had bankrupted them.
Not that any of that really mattered. In time, hopefully before they ended up living under a tree somewhere, she could learn to cook and sew. Perhaps not as well as most women, but well enough to get by. But what of the other debt? The one she’d owe Nicholas for breaking their contract. He and her father had been business partners and somewhere along the way, she’d been thrown into their business arrangements. Her hand in marriage as compensation for something. If she broke the arrangement, she’d owe Nicholas money. Money that neither she nor Wes could ever have.
She squeezed her eyes shut; but it didn’t hold in the tears as she’d hoped and they began to spill from her eyes in two steady, salty currents.
No, it was better this way.
It had to be, for it was the only way.
“Allison?”
Allison jerked at the sound of her name on Wes’ lips. She blinked her eyes open, which was hard to do, considering they were practically pasted closed from all the tears she’d shed.
The room was completely dark now except for the small flame that topped the candle Wes held. She moved to sit up and clear her thoughts, but remembered she was naked and decided instead to pull the blanket closer to her.
“If you’d be kind enough to excuse yourself for a moment, I’ll dress, and then we can go to bed.” She knew it was childish to be so modest after she’d practically thrown herself at him earlier, but now it was different. Then, she’d felt excited by his touch and so helplessly in love and now she felt like a fool.
“Your clothes are still wet,” he murmured.
Allison pulled her blanket closer to her. “I don’t mind if they’re damp. I just need a moment or two to put them on, please?”
Wes brushed away the hair that had fallen over her forehead with his long fingers. “They’re not just damp, Allison. They’ve been sitting in a pile all afternoon with no chance to dry.” He placed the candle on the nearby table and removed his shirt. “It’ll be far too big, but at least it’s dry.” He set it down next to her, then walked to the end of the bed and started picking up her sodden clothes. Without a word or even a glance
in her direction, he started spreading her clothes out to dry by the fire.
Apparently this was as much privacy as he was going to allow her.
Swallowing her pride, she sat up and quickly donned his shirt, then adjusted the blankets and fell back against her pillow.
She stared up at what she could see of the wooden support beams overhead, waiting.
What would he say when he joined her?
Or would he join her?
That was absurd. He had to join her. There wasn’t any other choice unless he planned to sleep on the floor—which she highly doubted he’d choose to do.
She closed her eyes and took deep breaths to calm her anxiousness.
A moment or so later, the mattress dipped.
Allison steeled her spine and waited for him to say something to her.
But he didn’t.
He just lay there next to her, his breathing just as deep and even as hers—hypnotizing almost.
Sleep threatened to overtake her once more, but just before she fell into that comforting abyss, a warm hand closed around hers and gave it a gentle squeeze.
~Chapter Twenty~
“Wes?”
Allison wasn’t sure if she’d actually spoken his name aloud or if she just thought she had.
“Yes?”
Allison sat up in the bed and blinked her eyes to let them adjust to the very low light that was filling the room. “Did I oversleep?” she asked.
“No. I like to get up early when I can and go for a ride. I didn’t mean to wake you, just go back to sleep.”
“Wes, I wanted to talk to you about yesterday. I—”
He pressed his finger against her lips to stop her words. “Say no more. I think we both said things without thinking of how they’d be interpreted.”
