Violet

by Greenwood, Leigh

  Now she suspected Harvey McKee wanted to be that hedge.

  She forced her thoughts away from Leadville, the mine, and Harvey. While she was locked up here, she had more than enough to do worrying what Jeff Randolph would do next.

  You'd better give some thought to what he's doing to you. You've never acted like this over a man. You can't be falling in love with him, can you?

  That was such an absurd thought, Violet didn't give it any further consideration. But it was beyond question he had had a very strong, and unexpected, effect on her. Nathan Wainwright had never affected her this way, and he had wanted to marry her. It couldn't be Jeff Randolph the person; it had to be his body. All she had to do was take one look and she practically started shaking.

  My God, she was lusting after him! That had to be the answer. It was the only explanation that fit. She, Violet Ankum Goodwin, was lusting after a man she didn't even like. Her first reaction was horror she could have succumbed to such a base emotion.

  Next she felt like laughing at the irony of it. She had spent her entire life concerned only with the mind, the spirit, the true essence of life -- she had actually been heard to say she scorned the body as a reason for two human beings to be attracted to each other -- only to have her body betray her at the first opportunity.

  Her nipples were so sensitive she could feel the stiffness of her corset through her chemise. A simple movement of her shoulders caused them to ache as they rubbed against the fabric.

  An even greater surprise was the feeling in her belly. Violet had never experienced that before. She didn't even understand what it meant at first it was so unlike anything she'd expected. But then she felt heat, moisture in the most private recesses of her body. She knew exactly what that was all about. Her body was responding directly to the presence of Jeff Randolph.

  Violet turned away from the window, but that brought her gaze into direct line with the bathroom door. Knowing Jeff was behind that door, naked in his bath, intensified all the feelings which tormented her.

  "Miss Goodwin."

  The sound of a student's voice jerked her out of her reverie. "What is it, Corrine?"

  "I have to go to the bathroom."

  "Can't it wait?" All she needed was for Jeff to step out into the hall stark naked. She wouldn't put it past him to do it just to mortify her.

  "No."

  Violet squared her shoulders and hurried down the hall. "Okay. Follow me. Use that one," she said, pointing to the second bathroom. "And don't come out until I tell you."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Corrine disappeared into the bathroom.

  Violet placed herself in front of Jeff's door despite the fact that every second she stood there, a voice inside her mind shouted more and more loudly that Jeff was naked just through that wall. She tried to push the image out of her mind, but it became more vivid. All she had to do was . . .

  Violet wouldn't allow herself to finish that thought.

  Today was Saturday. The girls would spend only half the day on their studies. She would have her hands full keeping them occupied. Tomorrow was Sunday. It would be even worse. She ought to run through her list of activities to make sure she had enough things for them to do.

  She hadn't worked very far down her list when Corrine knocked on her door. Violet listened, but couldn't hear anything from Jeff. She hoped he was still in the tub.

  "You can come out now."

  Corrine emerged from the bathroom and hurried down the hall. The door had barely closed behind her when the bathroom door behind Violet opened. She turned and came face to face with Jeff.

  She was immediately aware of a fresh spicy scent tinged with the smell of soap. She'd never known a man could smell so good. She fought to regain the control that threatened to vanish as though it had never been. She backed up. "I asked you to knock before you came out. Why do you refuse to do even the little things I ask of you?"

  "Sorry, I forgot."

  "Please go to your room. The girls are beginning to stir. You just missed one returning from the bathroom. Thank God she didn't see you."

  "I never knew Yankee women were such prudes." He had that What can I do to her next? look in his eyes.

  She didn't know if he believed that, but she did know he was trying to provoke her.

  "If it were just me, I wouldn't care what you did," she said, lying as brazenly as she could. "But I can't allow you to embarrass these girls. If it ever became known you wandered the halls in front of the girls, it would injure the reputation of the school."

  He cocked an eyebrow. "Or bring in more applications."

  Definitely trying to provoke her.

  "Mr. Randolph, you've completely destroyed any chance these girls had of getting a full night's rest. Please allow me to get on with my day."

  "I thought everybody got Saturday off."

  "The girl's have no classes, but my responsibilities are unchanged." She could hear the sound of the lift outside the building. "Apparently yours as well. I believe your first load of work just went up."

  He seemed reluctant to leave. That surprised her. She had thought he lived for his work. There didn't seem to be anything else in his life.

  "I expect your staff is already at work in the parlor," she said.

  "They must be if the lift is working, mustn't they?"

  "Why don't you give them the weekend off?"

  "They get Sunday."

  "That's only one day."

  "It's more than I get."

  "It's okay if you want to kill yourself staying up all night and working seven days a week, but I imagine some of them would like to see their families."

  "Which they go home to every night."

  "They don't leave here until too late to see their children. Their supper must be cold."

  "Miss Goodwin, I'm not a lady’s aid society. I pay my people well. If they don't like the work or the hours, they're free to go elsewhere."

  "I'm not surprised you're forced to turn to your work for company. You're not human. And you don't have any compassion for those who are."

  "I prefer to think I don't confuse compassion with sentimentality. People don't need all this useless emotion. It doesn't make their lives any better, and it encourages them to be weak."

  "No everyone is as strong as you, Mr. Randolph."

  "Possibly, but you can't expect me to change my requirements because of it."

  "But you can't--"

  "This is a fruitless conversation. We'll never agree. Good morning. I hope your day goes well."

  She had been dismissed again. He had a habit of doing that when people disagreed with him. When a person did that, it usually meant they were unsure of their position. She doubted that applied to Jeff Randolph. He never seemed unsure about anything.

  * * * * *

  "Miss Goodwin! Miss Goodwin!" Essie cried. She raced toward Violet waving a piece of paper in her hand. "Papa wrote me a letter. Mr. Randolph said he would."

  The child's face was absolutely beatific with happiness as she gave Violet a tremendous hug. "They wouldn't let him come in to see me, but he made them give me this letter. He said he's going to come back the day the quarantine is over. When is it over, Miss Goodwin? I want to write and tell him right away."

  "If no one comes down with anything else, it'll be over Monday at noon. Do you want me to help you with your letter?"

  "I've got to show Aurelia and Juliette," Essie said, breaking away and heading for the twins who had their heads together in the corner.

  They had been that way all morning. Violet was worried they were cooking up some new trouble.

  "I'm going to show it to that mean, nasty Betty Sue, too, to show her she was wrong. Then I'm going to show it to Mr. Randolph. He promised to help me write Daddy."

  Violet felt a little hurt Essie should prefer Jeff to her. Though she told herself the child desperately needed the approval of a man, she still experienced a twinge of jealousy.

  Be fair. He was able to get Essie's fath
er to write and promise to visit. No one else has managed to do that much.

  Essie came streaking by Violet and hit the stairs at a gallop. "I'm taking my letter to Mr. Randolph," she called over her shoulder as she took the stairs two at a time.

  Essie was beginning to take after the twins in many ways.

  Violet realized she was feeling terribly curious about what Jeff Randolph was going to say when Essie showed him the letter. She even thought of a couple of reasons why she needed to go upstairs, but she resolutely put them aside. The less she saw of him, the better. Just remembering the experiences of the morning caused her pulse to race.

  Violet made a conscious effort to get herself under control. In addition to not wanting to be attracted to him, she didn't want her emotions to be at the mercy of her physical nature. This morning's experience had proved to her she couldn't control her body. And if she couldn't control that, she couldn't control her emotions. And if she couldn't control her emotions, she had no control over herself. And if she wasn't controlling herself, then Jeff Randolph would be.

  Violet couldn't accept that.

  No matter what she had to do, she would shake his hold on her.

  * * * * *

  "But I don't know what to say," Essie said to Jeff. "I never wrote a letter before."

  "Why?"

  "I'm only eight. Little girls like me don't write letters."

  "I'm sure Miss Goodwin will be happy to help you."

  "I want you."

  Jeff realized there was no way around helping Essie write her letter. He didn't really mind, but she had interrupted him in the middle of figuring up some pressing orders. If he took time out to help her, he'd have to start over again. Oh well, his concentration was already broken. He put the papers aside.

  "Think about what you want to say then tell me. I'll write it down, and you can copy it over."

  "Why do I have to copy it over?"

  "Your father will like it more if he knows you wrote it. Just like that letter is special to you because your father wrote it himself."

  "It's my first letter."

  "I know," Jeff said, smiling. "You've told me that five times already. Now tell me what to write."

  Essie positioned herself at Jeff's elbow so she could watch him write.

  Hi, Daddy!

  I got your letter. It was real nice. I showed it to the twins. Their names are Aurelia and Juliette. They're my best friends. They promised to cut off the rest of Betty Sue's hair if she said anything else mean about you.

  "I think maybe we'd better leave that last part out," Jeff

  said.

  Essie looked disappointed, but she didn't argue.

  Mr. Randolph is helping me write this letter. He writes real pretty, but he says you'll like it better if I write it. I don't write real good. Miss Goodwin says I need to practice more.

  "Tell him when the quarantine's over," Jeff said. "You've got to tell him when he can come back and see you."

  Miss Goodwin says the sickness will be all gone on Monday after we eat lunch. You can come back then. Miss Goodwin says I can go away with you all afternoon. Can I, Daddy?

  Essie watched as Jeff finished writing the last sentence. "That's a lot," she said.

  "It's not enough. You've got to tell your daddy you love him and miss him."

  "But he knows that."

  "I know, but you have to tell him. Sometimes Daddies forget."

  "How can they do that?"

  "I don't know," Jeff said, thinking of his own father rather than Harold Brown. His father had been surrounded by people yearning to give him love. He never seemed to see that, or that he hurt them deeply by his indifference. Harold Brown might be a cold, heartless man, but he worked to give his child a good life. His father had done nothing but destroy what little they had. "But they do forget. Sometimes they need to be reminded."

  "I love you, Daddy. I miss you. Please don't forget to come. That's all."

  "That's a very good letter," Jeff said. "Miss Goodwin will be proud of you. Now take it downstairs and copy it exactly like I wrote it. Then you bring it back to me. I'll see that your father gets it."

  "Can I stay here?"

  Jeff kind of liked having Essie there. Besides, it would hurt her feelings if he sent her away. "Sure."

  He slid some of his papers over to give her room. He handed her a fresh piece of paper and a pen. "Get a chair. You can sit right next to me."

  * * * * *

  Violet found it difficult to concentrate. Essie had been upstairs with Jeff for more than an hour. She couldn't imagine why Jeff Randolph had allowed her to stay so long. He had banished his nieces the minute the lift was installed. Not that the twins minded. They had been as good as gold. Violet shuddered to think what they'd do once Jeff was gone and their period of self-imposed good behavior came to an end.

  But at the moment it seemed nothing the terrible twins might do had the power to keep her thoughts from their uncle. That was something else she had to change. The twins were her responsibility, not their uncle. But it was Jeff's relationship with Essie that caused her to wonder if there might not be a different Jeff Randolph from the one she had been allowed to see. The other girls were frightened of him. But shy, gentle, childlike Essie adored him, and he seemed perfectly content to let her stay with him as long as she wanted.

  Why?

  Could it be that he saw something of himself in Essie? Violet almost rejected the notion. It was impossible to imagine that a man like Jeff Randolph had ever been gentle or shy. But even as Violet searched for other explanations, that idea would not go away.

  Maybe he had been very different as a child. Maybe something forced him to change in order to survive. She needed to find out what it was. She could sense something was changing between them besides the physical response, something that made it necessary for her to try to understand him.

  Don't be foolish. He's not going to give you a chance to get that close to him. Besides, there's no point. You'll never see him again once the quarantine ends.

  Nevertheless, Violet made up her mind to find out what had turned Jeff Randolph into the miserable old crank he had become.

  * * * * *

  Jeff took one look at the dinner that had just arrived on the lift and started cursing so violently the men outside looked afraid to send anything else up. Tyler had sent just as much food as the night before. And along with the food came the silver, china, and linen to serve it on. More wine. More crystal. More candles. Jeff didn't know what Tyler was trying to do, but he was going to break his neck as soon after noon on Monday as he could manage.

  He had sworn he would have nothing more to do with that sharp-tongued Yankee woman. He didn't relish having his ideas about womanhood mocked. He hadn't expected her to understand, but he hadn't expected her to be sarcastic.

  He had thought a lot about her having to watch her brother die. That changed his opinion of her, at least a little. No woman could have endured that without gaining some understanding of what Jeff had suffered. More than his own family. She had lost her parents as well. She had almost as much reason to be bitter as he did.

  Yet she wasn't. She didn't like to talk about it or brood over it. Like his brothers accused him of doing.

  He glanced down at what remained of his left arm. He knew why he had never considered using an artificial limb. Everybody else wanted to forget the war, to put the bitterness behind them, to act like it had never happened. He wanted to keep that arm just the way it was as a visible reminder to himself and everyone else of what the war had cost.

  Violet must feel the same way even though she didn't let it show. She always seemed cheerful and happy, at least when she wasn't dealing with him. He could hear her with the girls, helping them with their studies, sharing their confidences, laughing with them. He didn't eavesdrop, but he couldn't help overhear whenever he went to the bathroom. The twins stood guard for him. Violet was never far way, but she kept her distance.

  He laughed when he re
membered her reaction when she saw him exercising that morning. She couldn't have been more embarrassed if she'd been a Virginia belle. He had to admit he had come out of the bathroom without knocking just to disconcert her. She was such a managing female, it was fun to upset her, just enough to give him a chuckle. She might pretend she thought he was an old crust, but he could turn her into a fluttering, blushing woman.

  She was a bit long in the tooth, but her embarrassment made her seem younger. Not exactly girlish, but innocent. He supposed innocent wasn't the right word either. There was something about her that softened the effect of the years, that made her very appealing, even when she was being most school-mistress-like. She pretended she was hard and self-sufficient, but something about her whispered different words.

  He didn't know what he was doing thinking so much about Violet Goodwin. He supposed it was only natural when a man found himself around an attractive woman, even a Yankee woman. Especially if she was the only woman in sight. But Violet had shown no interest in him. He couldn't imagine why he should be thinking about her so much.

  Neither did he know why he should suddenly want her to share his dinner. He must be exhausted from spending the afternoon with Essie. She was a sweet child, but as much as he liked her, children were a mystery to him, one he wasn't certain he would ever solve.

  He picked up a serving dish and began transferring everything to the table. Several minutes later he had the table set. He might as well summon Miss Goodwin if he was going to, but the question remained of how to do it. He didn't want to go downstairs and issue a public invitation.

  He wanted to get her upstairs. But how?

  Suddenly an idea came to him that caused him to break into a broad smile.

  * * * * *

  Beth and some of the older girls had finished laying out supper. Violet climbed the stairs to summon the younger girls to the table. She had barely opened her mouth when a shriek caused her to close it again. The twins came tumbling out of their room.