by Untamed
A swirl of lavender caught Barbara’s attention, and her amusement took a sardonic twist. That was Hattie. Bare-shouldered. Bruises gone. Her steps light and her face alive with pleasure as Zach took her left hand and the gentleman to her right took the other to form a chain. The entire line skipped forward, bowed to the line facing them, skipped back.
Well, that was equality indeed. Barbara shrugged aside her pique and turned a brilliant smile on Colonel Arbuckle. He bowed over her hand with old-fashioned gallantry and introduced the commissioners. The Reverend Mr. Schermerhorn was as short and rotund as Commissioner Ellsworth was tall and spare. The former greeted her with a polite bow, the latter with a keen glance.
“So, Lady Barbara, I understand I have you to thank for Lieutenant Morgan’s willingness—no, eagerness—to deliver my draft treaty.”
“I’m sure the lieutenant is simply attending to his duty, sir.”
“He attended to more than his duty out there in Pawnee Country, I can tell you that. Demmed if he didn’t shoot the tomahawk right out of the hands of a renegade Pawnee.”
“I’m quite impressed.”
“So was I,” the commissioner said with a chuckle, “particularly when Zach informed me the rogue was the son of Chief Talaman. The chief agreed to come in and powwow quick enough when he learned we were holding his son. We got him to agree to cease all raids on the Creek and Cherokee in exchange for his boy and a generous stipend in goods and cash.”
Barbara made an appropriate murmur of appreciation. Colonel Arbuckle’s endorsement was considerably stronger.
“I can’t tell you how important this treaty is, Commissioner. All of us at Fort Gibson have seen firsthand the anger and resentment building between the western tribes and those resettling from the East. It needs but a spark to set this whole territory aflame.”
“We must hope President Jackson agrees. I asked Lieutenant Morgan to add his arguments to those I’ve put forth in my report, by the way. He certainly knows this country better than I.”
“That’s one of the reasons I released him to deliver your report. His father served with Jackson at New Orleans. Old Hickory has almost as much regard for Zach as he does for Daniel.”
The fact that father and son appeared to have the ear of the American president impressed Barbara. She also noted that Ellsworth had apparently finished his report. Zach confirmed as much when he appeared at her side some time later.
She’d danced with any number of officers, had gone in to supper on the arm of Colonel Arbuckle, and had drunk a little too much of the artillery punch being ladled out. Barbara blamed the intoxicating mix of champagne and whiskey dusted with black pepper “firing powder” for the sudden hitch in her pulse when she looked up into the lieutenant’s eyes.
“I believe the next waltz is ours.”
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken.” She made a show of consulting her dance card. “I’m sure I promised it to a subaltern.”
“You did. I outranked him. He’s sulking over there, in the corner.”
She caught a glimpse of the young officer’s glum countenance as Zach took her elbow to escort her onto the plank flooring. When the band struck up a beat that flowed with the seductive rhythm of the Danube, his arm slid around her waist.
He waltzed with the strength and controlled grace he did all else. Barbara couldn’t help but note the glances the other dancers sent their way. They made a striking couple, she knew, with Zach so tall and darkly handsome in his regimentals, and she all shimmering in gold and cream.
For a moment she allowed herself a foolish fantasy. Perhaps one day she and Zach would waltz like this at Maxim’s in Paris. Or stroll arm in arm through London’s Hyde Park. Or sip coffee at a tiny table in St. Mark’s Square in Venice while pigeons swooped in to take bits of cake from their hands.
And perhaps not. Sighing, Barbara tipped her head and met his gaze. “I spoke with your colonel and Mr. Ellsworth earlier.”
“I saw.”
“The commissioner indicated his report is all but done.”
“Yes, he told me.”
“When do we leave?”
The music rose to a final crescendo. Tightening his arm, he took her into a sweeping pattern. Barbara’s heart was pounding against her stays when the last notes trilled. With the crowd shuffling off the floor around them, Zach held her for a moment longer.
“The Natchez Star is due to dock at Fort Gibson the day after tomorrow. I’ll book passage for us.”
Hattie couldn’t believe her ears. Fisting her hands in her skirts, she stared at the gilt-haired woman stepping out of her ball gown.
“You’re leaving on the Natchez Star?” she echoed hollowly. “And Zach’s going with you?”
“Yes, he is. If you decide to accompany me as my maid, however, I must ask that you cease referring to him so casually.”
Hattie almost choked on a thick, hot bubble of anger. He danced with me! she wanted to shout. With me! Not once, but twice.
What’s more, he’d smiled and teased her about how pretty she looked. She’d been so sure he’d finally finished with this…this cow.
Had he paid no heed to the stories being whispered about her? If even half of them were true, the woman was little better than a common thief. She and this brother of hers.
If he was her brother. Hattie had heard that rumor, too. It burned like a hot brand in her mind as the woman turned to her, a question in her stupid, watery-pale eyes.
“Do you wish to come with me? If so, I’ll send word in the morning for the lieutenant to book your passage.”
When Hattie only stared at her, stonelike, she shrugged and pulled at the ties of her petticoats.
“I’ll understand if you choose not to accompany me. It’s a long journey to Washington, after all, and from there…” She chewed on her lower lip. “Well, it’s a long journey.”
The petticoats fluttered to the floor. Hattie watched them puddle about Barbara’s ankles and made no move to pick them up. She could barely think for the bitter disappointment and jealousy eating at her.
One thing was certain, though. She’d be aboard that paddle wheeler when it left Fort Gibson.
“You’re still set on aiding her?” Zach’s mother’s voice rose on a note of disbelief. “After all you tell us about her?”
Unaware she echoed Hattie’s doubt and distrust, she paced Sallie’s front parlor. Her silk skirts whipped about her ankles as she took another angry turn.
She’d tried to like the Englishwoman. Not because of her thin claim to kinship, certainly. Louise’s loyalty lay first, last and always with those she loved. She’d feed anyone who hurt her family to the wolves, Barbara Chamberlain included.
“Me, I do not understand why you insist on continuing with her to England. She is well able to take care of herself, that one.”
Zach propped his shoulders against the mantel and shot a glance at his father. Daniel’s shrug indicated his son was on his own with this one.
“I promised to do what I could to help her brother,” Zach said.
The Russian ruby in his mother’s thumb ring flashed angry fire as she flapped a hand. “How do you know he is her brother? Or that he needs help?”
“She says he does.”
“Pah! She says many things. To any man who will listen. Your sister still hurts with the pain this woman caused her.”
Zach had heard the story. Both versions. Vera had poured out a short, angry tale of betrayal by young Mr. Harris. Urice had offered an equally passionate defense of Lady Barbara, who still shone in the younger, fashion-mad girl’s eyes.
“Vera didn’t look as though she was hurting too badly tonight,” he commented. “She had poor Harris ready to crawl across the floor on his knees.”
“That’s as may be.” The ruby caught the light once more as his mother made another extravagant gesture. “I tell you, Zach, I do not trust this woman. Nor am I at all sure what she will do with money you give her.”
“I’ll be ther
e to see what’s done with it. That’s one of the reasons I’m accompanying her to London.”
“One? Ha!” Louise tossed her head. “Me, I guess the other.”
Zach straightened and pushed away from the mantel. He loved his mother with the same fierce devotion he did his father. Yet whatever it was that drew him so inexorably to Barbara pulled him just as inexorably away from his parents.
“You don’t have to guess,” he said, holding his mother’s scornful gaze. “I admit it freely. The woman is in my head, and in my blood.”
“Oh, Zach. I fear she’ll bring you grief.”
His mouth relaxed into a grin. “I don’t doubt she’ll try.”
The next day passed in a flurry of activity. Zach turned his ranger troop over to his second in command, arranged with the elderly freed slave who served as his groom to see to his horses, went over his financial dealings with his parents and spent a final few hours with Commissioner Ellsworth and Colonel Arbuckle. He left the meeting with the commissioner’s sealed report tucked inside his jacket and the colonel’s urgent messages for President Jackson about the importance of the proposed treaty burned into his brain.
The following morning the Natchez Star steamed up the river and dropped her gangplank a full two hours ahead of schedule. She was one of the newer packets, side-wheeled, white painted, drawing less than eighteen inches under her flat bottom. While Hattie and Barbara threw the last of their things together, Zach checked out their cabins and saw to the loading of their baggage. The paddle wheeler’s whistle was shrilling notice of its imminent departure when he arrived at Sallie Nicks’s house to collect the women.
“Where’s Lady Barbara?” he asked Hattie.
“In the back parlor, with your mother. She said they needed to finalize a few matters before we departed.”
Zach started for the closed parlor door. Hattie’s nervous twitter delayed him.
“I’ve never been on a steamboat before. I’m all sixes and sevens.”
“So I see.”
Amused, he watched her make several unsuccessful attempts to tie the ribbons of her bonnet.
“Here, I’ll help you.”
Despite his big hands, Zach fashioned a neat bow. “There, you’re all set. That’s a fetching hat, by the way.”
“Do you like it?”
“Very much.”
“Lady Barbara said it got too crushed in her trunk for her to be seen wearing it again. She was going to toss it on the rubbish heap, but I asked if I might have it.”
She was about to say more when the parlor door wrenched open and Barbara emerged. High spots of color burned on her cheeks.
“Your mother informs me you’ve assumed responsibility for all financial arrangements relating to this journey.” Her glance speared Hattie before slicing back to Zach. “And for the matter that brought me here.”
“That’s right. I would have informed you myself if I’d had ten minutes to spare these past two days.”
“Indeed?”
The scream of the steamboat’s whistle snapped her head up. Her jaw tight, Barbara snatched up her traveling valise. “We’ll finish this discussion later.”
They finished it that same evening, as Zach was preparing to leave his cabin and escort Barbara to dinner in the Natchez Star’s opulent dining room.
Like most of the steamboats vying for the lucrative river-passenger trade, this one boasted crystal chandeliers, linen-draped dining tables, a private salon for the ladies and a smoke-filled poker room for the men. Zach was considering the possibility of a few hands of five-card stud later that night when knuckles rapped sharply against his door.
Barbara stood on the threshold. Her eyes glittered as bright and hard as apothecaries’ glass. “May I come in?”
“Of course.”
He stood back to allow her entry and closed the door behind her rustling skirts. She still wore her traveling gown, he saw, but she’d put off her hat and gloves.
It soon became apparent she intended to put off her dress as well. She tossed her reticule on the bed, spun around to face him and began, methodically, to push the buttons of her bodice through their loops.
14
With every button Barbara worked free, her anger burned hotter. She didn’t so much as glance around the sumptuous stateroom. It matched hers, she supposed, with rich wooden scrollwork, crystal tear-drops on the oil lamps and a potbellied stove that glowed with a cheerful heat. Her entire attention was concentrated on the man who stood watching her with an air of polite interest.
Barbara considered herself something of a master at manipulation, yet Zachariah Morgan had out-maneuvered her at every turn. Worse, he’d played her for a fool. Not once, but several times over. By acting the backwoods ruffian. By promising so very earnestly to speak to his mother on her behalf. And, damn him, by feeding her that slop about how much he desired her.
How could she have been so stupid as to believe him? How could she have imagined he’d really look beyond her face or her past? He was like all the others. Dazzled by her beauty. Excited by her body. Determined to have her. The only difference between Lieutenant Morgan and the Bohemian baron who’d gifted her with a diamond bracelet was the price each was prepared to pay for her.
Barbara supposed she should feel flattered that he thought her worth five thousand pounds. Harry would certainly have chuckled with glee. Lightening men’s purses was what they did best, after all. This time, though, she intended to give full service for payment rendered. She couldn’t have said whether that rash decision sprang from anger or hurt or the perverse desire to prove what was said about her was true.
Her jaw set, she pushed the last button through its loop. Her hands were clumsy as she peeled off the puff-sleeved bodice and tossed it onto the bed to join her reticule.
Zach followed its course with every appearance of interest. He didn’t say a word, however. Instead, he merely folded his arms and propped his shoulders against the oak-paneled bulkhead.
Barbara’s chin came up. Her voice could have etched glass. “Shall I continue?”
“By all means.”
The lazy drawl set her back teeth on edge. She fumbled at the hooks at the back of her skirt, finally released them, and then kicked the garment aside to form a puddle of green on the cabbage-rose carpet. He let the pile of linen settle almost at the toes of his boots while Barbara yanked at the tapes of her petticoat. It, too, dropped to the floor. She stepped out of it and reached for the strings of her corset.
Still he didn’t move.
Her jaw clenching, she gave the strings a tug. Of course they had to knot. She tugged again and snapped one string off at the gusset.
She stood there with the thin cord clenched tight in her fist. For reasons she couldn’t begin to fathom, the broken lace seemed to represent everything that had gone wrong these past months.
“How is it you always manage to tangle yourself up in some manner?”
The amusement in his voice brought her head up. “It seems to be a particular talent of mine,” she replied with bitter irony.
“Do you want assistance with that knot, or has your fit of temper played out?”
“No, to both.”
Hooking her thumb in the strings, Barbara yanked hard. The knot gave. She plucked at the cords and pulled them through the metal gussets. A moment later her corset fell away.
“Do you wish me naked?”
“How could I wish anything else?”
She refused to acknowledge the laughter glinting in his eyes. She was done with games, done with being taken for a fool.
“Very well.”
Removing to the velvet-covered corner chair, she perched on the edge of the seat and bent to unbuckle her shoes. Her garters went next. Carefully, she rolled her silk stockings down her calves.
When she stood, she could feel the deck vibrating under her bare soles. And when she pulled at the ribbons gathering the neck of her chemise, Zach at last acknowledged that she was indeed serious. The lau
ghter disappeared from his eyes and from his face.
“What the devil is this about, Barbara?”
“I merely wish to make sure you receive full value for your money.”
He pushed away from the wall. “You know damn well I’m not trying to buy you or your affections.”
“You can’t imagine how relieved I am to hear it, as my affections are not for sale.”
His eyes hardened. “But you are?”
“Didn’t the inestimable Mr. Irving tell you so? Isn’t that what your mother and sister think?”
The mark hit home. She saw it in his face even as the bitter truth cut into her with the savagery of a lash.
They were right, she thought on a wave of disgust. Irving. Louise Morgan. Prim, disapproving Vera. Barbara Chamberlain was nothing more than a high-born slut. She smiled. She enticed. She promised. That she’d never before intended to make good on those promises placed her several rungs below the whores who sold themselves on street corners. They, at least, were honest in their dealings.
“It doesn’t matter what anyone says of you,” Zach bit out. “I told you as much not two nights ago.”
“Yes, you did.”
She covered the hurt of that with a brittle laugh. “To be frank, I find your nobility rather tedious. I’d rather be done with all pretense and act the strumpet we both know me to be. At least then you’d receive a proper measure of payment for your coin.”
“Dammit, Barbara…”
“I want to see it first, though.”
“What?”
“The color of your coin. I should like to have a bank draft in hand before we proceed any further.”
As angry now as she, he raked her with a withering stare. “You don’t trust me to make good on my promise to aid you?”
“I trusted your mother when she said she’d help me. As circumstances appear to change with the wind, I think it wisest to settle the matter of payment now.”
