by Anthology
Surely Annie was mistaken. He thought of the expensive velvet gown, the rings and bracelets Vanessa had worn.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rob finally replied. It was too much to hope for, that he and Vanessa were on equal footing. That she would welcome an offer of marriage from a poor man. “I thought her deceased husband was wealthy.”
The cook snorted with derision. “He was—once. But he made reckless investments. Lost everything in the Panic.” Fixing him with her shrewd gaze, she asked, “Why do you think Mrs. d’Aulaire lives with her parents? They’ve never treated her good. Her stepfather grudges every mouthful of food she eats, every bit of soap she uses. She teaches piano to children and he takes half of her earnings for her room and board.”
Blood pounded in Rob’s head. Uncontrollable anger shot through him. He wanted to grasp Vanessa’s stepfather by the neck and squeeze until he was dead.
“He took scissors to Miss Vanessa’s red gown—the one she wore for you when you came to tea,” Annie went on, her mouth quivering. “He cut her only decent frock into tiny pieces. Now he’s ranting that she’ll marry the barber today or leave the house with nothing.”
Rob gasped, unable to believe such cruelty.
* * * * *
“I will not marry Horace Bigbee,” Vanessa declared. The fury radiating from her mother and stepfather horrified her, but she stood her ground. “I do not love him.”
“Wanton strumpet!” her mother snapped. “You should be glad to get any husband after your infamous behavior! Horace may not even take you once word gets around town. We must seal the marriage quickly.”
Her stepfather came close, his face red with rage. Vanessa took an involuntary step backward, afraid he would strike her.
“Harlot!” he cried. “Your soul is black with sin!”
How could anything so beautiful be sinful? Oh, Rob, if only I could see you again.
“My only daughter—a fallen woman!” her mother moaned. “I never suspected such vileness.”
Vileness? It was pleasure beyond any I have ever known. Pleasure, desire and…love.
Her stepfather pounded the table with his fist. “I won’t allow you to drag our good name through the mud. If you won’t marry, you will leave my house today.”
Vanessa glanced at her mother, wondering whether she would protest her husband’s decision. Instead, the other woman gave a firm nod.
“I will leave, then—with my clothing and my steamer trunk.” Vanessa raised her chin, trying to make her voice sound strong. The money she’d saved over the last eighteen months was hidden in the trunk. Those carefully hoarded coins meant the difference between starting a new life…or utter destitution.
“You own nothing,” he told her. “You came to my house a beggar and you will leave as one.”
Rob, she thought, her heart filled with despair. She was sure he had already left town.
Now she regretted the pride that had kept her from revealing her true circumstances to him. He had viewed her as a prosperous lady clad in fine garments. The adoration in his eyes had pleased and flattered her. The dread of seeing his adoration change to pity had kept her silent.
Her stepfather loomed over her. “I have sent a message to Bigbee. If you will not agree to accompany him to the courthouse and marry today, then you must go to live among strangers and never return here.”
“Then I choose to live among strangers,” Vanessa said. “No doubt they will be kinder than you!”
“You wound me,” her stepfather said. “I am thinking only of your welfare.” Stepping to his big oak desk, he unlocked one of the drawers.
Vanessa moved closer, wondering what he was doing.
He held up a black velvet purse, heavy with coins. “I found this when I searched your trunk this morning.”
The world was suddenly unsteady beneath Vanessa’s feet. “My money!” A savage impulse rippled through her to thrust herself forward and tear the purse from his grasp. “Give it to me!”
Before she could move, he dropped the purse back into the drawer. “I will entrust it into your husband’s keeping once you are safely married.” His eyes raked over her scornfully. “Bigbee will arrive soon. Go to your bedroom and don suitable clothing.”
Vanessa paced futilely around her tiny bedroom, pondering the best course of action. She had thought her money safe. That forty-two dollars would have allowed her to buy a train ticket to Cleveland, to pay the weekly rent in a boarding house, to place an advertisement in the Cleveland Gazette for piano pupils.
Without her savings, she was helpless. She had no friends who could lend her money. She had nothing valuable to sell, for her husband’s creditors had claimed everything after his death.
She sank down onto her narrow bed, her mind whirling. She needed a plan—and quickly. Yet her thoughts dwelt on Rob. His mouth on her breasts, his mustache tickling her skin. His hands caressing her, arousing her senses. His cock stroking inside her, providing such incredible pleasure.
So much about him appealed to her. When his plans to farm had fallen through, he’d set out with new goals, writing a book and taking to the road. His ambition was admirable. Recalling the way he’d treated his horses yesterday, she smiled. A man who was kind of animals and pleasant to servants would also be good to his wife.
Whoever that lucky woman would be, Vanessa envied her.
She rose from the bed and opened her trunk. Digging down to the bottom, she found “suitable clothing”.
The rapping of the doorknocker sounded throughout the house as Vanessa entered the study. She braced herself. Mr. Bigbee must have arrived.
Her stepfather frowned. “Is that gown one you deem appropriate to receive your suitor? Your widow’s weeds?”
Vanessa smoothed her hand over the black bodice. “Perhaps you should not have been so quick to destroy my other frock,” she responded coldly.
The doorknocker sounded again. “I sent Annie to the store two hours ago,” her mother said. “Whatever can be taking so long?” She gestured impatiently at Vanessa. “Answer the door, girl. Show Horace to the parlor and let him propose to you.”
Feeling as though she were walking to her own funeral, Vanessa went to the front door and let Horace Bigbee into the house. He must have smoked a celebratory cigar on the way over, for the gray ashes decorated his suit.
“Mrs. d’Aulaire, I was overjoyed to receive your father’s note this morning.” Grabbing her hands, Mr. Bigbee pulled her close. He smelled of tobacco and hair pomade. She turned her head just in time to avoid the press of his thick lips.
“Modest,” he said, patting her cheek. “I like that in a woman.”
To encourage herself, she thought of Mr. Bigbee’s fine brick house on the town square, of his motherless children. Surely marrying him would be preferable to a life of penury, living in a boarding house and teaching piano.
But could she bear to marry a man she didn’t love? To live with him for the rest of her life and never allow herself to think of Rob again?
She led him into the parlor, her soul filling with darkness.
With a flourish, Mr. Bigbee pulled a small box from his vest pocket. “My dear little flower, you know I have always held you in esteem. Make me the happiest of men by accepting this ring.”
She took the box and opened it. The ruby ring was lovely—and familiar. She had seen it many times on the hand of Mr. Bigbee’s third wife.
“I hardly know what to say.” Revolted, Vanessa snapped the box shut.
“Say yes,” he urged. “My house needs you to make it a home. My little ones cry for a new mama. My dear mother, who lives with us, longs to share the housekeeping duties with a strong young woman.” Mr. Bigbee wagged his finger playfully. “Socks don’t darn themselves, you know!”
“I am not sure…” She cleared her throat. “Although you do me great honor, I am afraid I must—”
“I hope it is not the neighbors’ unkind gossip that makes you hesitate,” he interrupted. “I assure you, my c
hildren are not evil. Merely jolly and high-spirited.”
“I am used to children. I was a schoolteacher before I married.”
“That is why I thought you would make an excellent mama for my dear ones.” He leaned forward earnestly. “The twins meant no harm when they tied the hired girl up and pelted her with arrows. They love to play at being wild Indians.”
“Boys will be boys,” Vanessa murmured.
“And Oswald wants to be a naturalist. When he woolgathers, he forgets what he has in his pockets. He didn’t intend to start the toad infestation.”
“I am sure he didn’t.”
“I particularly wanted to mention that it is not true about the cats,” Mr. Bigbee continued. “All of their fur eventually grew back.”
“What cats?” Vanessa gasped.
Ignoring the question, Mr. Bigbee continued, “And Esmeralda needs someone to nurture her wayward spirit. No matter what the minister says, she is not possessed by an imp from Hades.”
Vanessa stood, squaring her shoulders. Rather than wed Mr. Bigbee, she would take up residence in the poorhouse.
Before she could speak, the parlor doors opened. Her mother and stepfather entered, their faces like granite.
Vanessa wet her dry lips. “Mr. Bigbee, I am afraid I must refuse your proposal.”
Her suitor stared at her in shock, open-mouthed, while her mother put a hand on her heart and rolled her eyes upward.
Her stepfather rushed forward, face flushing. “How dare you! Who else will have you, foolish girl?”
Rob, she thought. If only she’d put her pride away and begged him to take her with him. He wouldn’t have had to marry her. Even living in sin with him, as a woman outside society, would have been preferable to marrying Mr. Bigbee.
She was suddenly certain that living in sin with Rob would have been glorious.
The front door flew open with a crash, causing china knickknacks to dance on their shelves and a slender vase to careen wildly. With a shriek, Vanessa’s mother caught the vase and clutched it to her bosom, flowers and all.
Rob strode into the parlor. Vanessa’s heart soared. An avenging angel sent directly by God could not have appeared more wondrous.
“Sir!” Vanessa’s mother stared at him, outraged. “You have not been announced!”
A thrill ran through Vanessa as Rob advanced on her stepfather with flashing eyes and clenched fists. “You, sir, are a scoundrel! I have learned of your abominable treatment of Vanessa. It will cease from this moment on.”
Her stepfather’s mottled face went from scarlet to puce. “You impudent young dog! Who are you?”
“Professor Robert Woodcock, author and lecturer.”
“Was it you who entered my house like a thief in the night?” her stepfather demanded. “Are you the man who debauched Vanessa?”
“I am the man who loves Vanessa,” Rob answered. “And I am taking her away from here—today.”
Mr. Bigbee gasped. “What of my little ones?” he cried. “What of Mother?”
Vanessa hurried to Rob’s side. Without looking away from her stepfather, Rob put his arm around her shoulders, giving her a delicious feeling of comfort and safety.
“Take your hands off my stepdaughter, sir!” Her stepfather grabbed Vanessa’s elbow and tried to pull her away from Rob. Raising his fists, Rob moved in front of her protectively.
“I hesitate to fight a man who is twice my age,” Rob said. “But touch Vanessa again and I will not be responsible for my actions.”
Showing prudence, her stepfather released her. Glowering, he said, “You will never leave this house with Vanessa in your possession!”
Vanessa raised her chin. “Oh yes, he will.”
* * * * *
“Thank you, Annie.” Seated on Rob’s wagon, Vanessa blinked back tears as she bade the servant goodbye. “I’m so sorry you lost your position.”
Annie tossed her head. “Don’t you be worrying about me, Miss Vanessa. I have plenty saved, even after toiling for that miser stepfather of yours. And Mrs. Skylar over on Bay Street has been wanting me to work for her for the last six years.”
Rob stowed Vanessa’s steamer trunk in the back of the wagon, then came and kissed the old woman’s forehead. “Thank you, Annie. I’ll never forget what you’ve done for us.”
“Don’t you be forgetting your promise, Professor—that’s all.”
He nodded and jumped up to the seat beside Vanessa. They both waved to the servant as she disappeared back into the house to pack her belongings.
Her soul swelling with happiness, Vanessa asked him, “What did you promise?”
He turned to her with a sly grin. “To name our first daughter Ann. Are you ready to head to the county courthouse and get married?”
“Yes, Rob.” Tenderly she stroked his cheek.
His expression turning serious, he captured her hand. She sighed happily as his gentle lips caressed her palm. “Are you sure this is what you want, sweetheart? Are you prepared to be a wandering ne’er-do-well with me?”
“I want to be a wandering ne’er-do-well and then a farmer’s wife.”
He blinked, but continued doggedly, “You needn’t marry me out of desperation. If you choose, I will drive you to another town and help you start a new life.” His blue eyes darkened as his gaze met hers. “Marry me only if you truly love me.”
She smiled. How could she help loving this man who had fearlessly stormed into the house and claimed her as his own? Who had told her parents he was taking Vanessa’s trunk and nothing would prevent him? Whose righteous anger had intimidated her stepfather into handing back the money he’d stolen?
“Do you love me, Rob?” she asked.
“I’ve loved you since I was sixteen years old,” he said, the serious tone of his voice allowing no contradiction. “And I will never stop loving you, Vanessa.”
“I love you too—Professor Woodcock.” She looked into his eyes, thinking he was everything she’d ever hoped for in a husband.
His passionate kiss made her heart leap with delight.
Sexual congress is one of the most beautiful experiences we humans can know, but it is only part of love. A marriage founded on love is a tiny piece of Heaven. Love that continues throughout marriage is the greatest gift we can receive and the highest emotion we can feel.
Professor and Mrs. Woodcock’s Guide to Success and Happiness in Marital Relations (2nd edition, 1897)
Return to Xander
Rowan West
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Titanic: Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation
Chapter One
The club smelled of excited women and raw men. Mia didn’t particularly want to spend the evening surrounded by sweat and alcohol but, as maid of honor, giving the bride what she wanted was part of the job. Her friend Helen had wanted a bachelorette party on Ladies’ Fantasy Night at Club Odeon, so here Mia sat, playing with a tiny paper umbrella and trying to make small talk over the pounding music. Although the club usually catered to a male clientele and had female strippers, once a week the tables were turned and male strippers took their clothes off for a female crowd.
So far they had downed three rounds of fruity drinks and been entertained by a pirate named Jack Spear-Oh then Officer Cuffs, the hot cop, and Mr. Grades-Me-Hard, the teacher you would do anything for to get an A. The exotic dancers were young, sexy and good at parting women from their money. Mia had nothing against a fun night out with the girls but she’d had a busy week at work and a lonely month since the end of her last relationship. Okay, maybe six weeks of sporadic dates and lackluster sex were stretching the definition of relationship but that was as good as it had gotten in the last couple of years. At least building her new business made her happy. It wasn’t keeping her warm at night but she looked forward to work every day.
“Time now, ladies
, for your next fantasy,” the announcer broke into her thoughts. “Picture the scene. It’s afternoon. You’re relaxing on the couch with a book and a glass of wine when the doorbell rings. You’re not expecting anyone but you go and answer the door anyway. And who should be there but Mr. Overnight—our special delivery guy!”
To cheers and whistles, out walked a hunk wearing a recognizable brown delivery uniform and carrying a huge box. A cap shaded his face. He started the dance moves that were already becoming familiar at this point in the evening, gyrating around the stage, making certain all the women had a good look at him. And there was plenty good to look at. Tanned and muscular, he must have stood over six feet tall. The low visor of his cap made it tough to see the upper part of his face from a distance but a shadow of stubble covered his lower jaw. Poking out from underneath the cap, his dark hair looked short and wavy, the kind that allowed a man to towel dry and instantly look great. When he ripped off his top, Mia saw that, unlike the other dancers who had gone before him, he hadn’t shaved his chest and her eyes were drawn to the smattering of hair and the dark line that arrowed into his brown shorts.
“Come on, ladies. Show our man here some appreciation. Don’t you want to see his package?” Shouts of encouragement and waving dollar bills followed that announcement.
“He’s the hottest guy so far,” Helen said, leaning over and talking directly into Mia’s ear.
Mia nodded. He was very sexy and it wasn’t just his build. It was the air of confidence and power that rolled off him and stood out in a place like this.
Helen waved a five-dollar bill to get his attention. “Let me give you a tip, big boy,” she shouted. Mr. Overnight danced over and leaned down to let her put the bill where she wanted. His face still in shadow, he stroked her cheek. Then he turned and glanced at Mia as he was leaving. As he did, a stage light hit his face beneath the cap and she made eye contact with him. Green. His eyes were an undeniable “can’t-get-it-from-contacts” green. There was only one man with eyes like that. Xander.
