Ashes in the Wind

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  Cole frowned harshly. “Your sympathy is too much to bear.”

  Alaina tipped the glass slightly. “You seem to rely heavily on spirits for your comfort.”

  “I know of nothing else that will give me like comfort without an undue amount of complaint,” he rejoined meaningfully.

  “I shall assume you refer to your late spouse,” she replied brightly, “since I complain not at all.”

  Cole snorted. “True! But I’m wary of turning my back for fear you’ll find a handy weapon and take your revenge.”

  “And I, sir”—she raised a brow—“will be more cautious of my bedchamber hereafter.” He looked up at her, and she questioned innocently. “Or did you have some matter you wished to discuss with me?”

  He reached for a cigar and carefully inspected it. “In truth, madam, there is much that we have to settle between us.”

  Alaina leaned forward until she drew his gaze. “Was I mistaken, sir? I thought we ended that discussion at the hotel.”

  Cole flicked a thumbnail against the head of a sulfur match and watched it flare into a bright flame. “Do not be mistaken, Alaina. The argument is far from settled yet.”

  Footsteps came across the hall, and with a brief knock, Mrs. Garth entered, carrying a tray that bore a cup of steaming coffee and, beside it, a crystal decanter of brandy. Placing it on the table before Cole, the housekeeper poured a liberal draught of liquor into the coffee, and after emptying the ash-filled dish and removing the dirty glass, she quietly excused herself and left.

  “Is that what you have for breakfast?” Alaina asked in amazement.

  “You should try it, my love,” he responded mockingly. “I have heard that it warms the coldest of hearts.”

  “I have seen no evidence that it has warmed yours, Major,” she retorted glibly, and with a fine flick of her heel, she left him, not waiting to hear his grumbled reply.

  Once in her room, Alaina set about choosing her apparel for the day. Her wardrobe was barely adequate, but limited as it was, no room remained in the tall armoire. It was jammed full of the same sort of gowns, cloaks, and dressing gowns that had filled Roberta’s, leaving no space for her own meager possessions. Some other place would have to be found to store her cousin’s garments, she firmly decided. She didn’t want them in her room.

  An armful of costly gowns came out and were tossed upon the bed. Cloaks followed, long and short. Coats, shoes, bonnets. Most of the clothes displayed no sign of ever having been worn, and she became utterly amazed because Roberta’s castoffs were far richer than anything a MacGaren had ever known. The selection of the clothes had been well exercised, for each garment was exquisite in detail, structure, and design. There were silks and plush velvets, plaid taffetas and plain, hats with plumes or feathers or with drapings of sheer cloth that would sweep dramatically beneath the chin. She was greatly saddened by the waste, and she had to fight a feeling of depressing envy that threatened to undermine her pride. How very easy it would be to relent to Cole’s demands and allow him to dress her in such a grand manner.

  A half dozen large buckets of hot water had been placed in the bathing chamber, and with five of them, Alaina indulged herself in a leisurely bath. After having to contend with the grime of Al’s masquerade, she had promised herself, once free of it, she would enjoy the luxury of being a woman. With that purpose firmly in mind, she used the perfumed oils Cole had sent, reasoning that her utilization would not greatly compromise her refusal to wear his gift of clothes. She rubbed lotions into her freshly bathed skin and savored the sumptuousness of her toilet. She brushed her hair until its sheen matched the costliest satins and left the softly curling mass hanging free while she dragged on cotton pantaloons. Trying not to dwell on the soft and dainty undergarments Cole would have her wear, she perched on the edge of the chair in her bedroom and donned knee-length black cotton stockings. The laces had been taken from the new satin corset to replace the broken ones in the old, and she had repaired her undergarments. Even after his assault on her clothes, she had only been reduced to accepting the lacings. But no one knew what a great temptation his gifts really were. The silk stockings were a luxury she had never known, while the corset was a dreamy vision for her hungering eye.

  A door slammed in the room beyond the bathing chamber, and Alaina froze in sudden horror. Someone was there! Someone with a cane and a limp! A tall, standing mirror had been added to her bedroom furnishings sometime during the prior evening’s dinner hour, and she gaped at her reflection, elbows jutting above the head, bosom bare beneath the binding, half-donned camisole, and gray eyes wide over the top. With belated perception, she realized what had so amused her husband the night before and just where his bedroom was. Of all the rooms in this overstuffed house, she had to pick the one that joined on to his.

  Alaina gritted her teeth at the thought of her own foolishness and jerked the shift down, though it seemed each rustle of cloth would remind him of her presence. Still wiggling to set the undergarment in place, she stepped to the dressing room door and eased it shut with as little noise as possible. The door had no lock, as she had discovered the night before, and abruptly it came to her that she had seen none in the house except on that huge front door.

  Much to her consternation, the far door in the bathing chamber opened. Water splashed in the basin, and an unfamiliar noise puzzled her until she realized he was stropping his razor. Alaina hurriedly resumed her dressing. If he meant to shave, she might have a few moments to adequately garb herself.

  She eased into the old corset, fearing to breathe lest she make some small sound that would draw Cole’s attention. The new laces, drawn through the smaller eyelets, tangled themselves hopelessly into a knot, frustrating her every effort. Chewing her lip nervously, she fumbled behind her back and finally tugged the garment around to better fight the knot. The best her haste accomplished was a broken fingernail and the loss of her temper, for without warning her dressing room door was pushed open. Wearing nothing more than trousers, Cole leaned casually against the doorframe and wiped the last of the lather from his face as he contemplated her plight.

  Venting a groan of despair, Alaina presented her back to him and jerked the corset about until it approximated its proper position, all the while savoring several fates that could befall the inconsiderate oaf who would so rudely intrude upon a lady’s privacy.

  “Are there no locks in your house, Major?” she asked in rancor.

  “I have never found a need for them,” he replied confidently. “Everything in this house is mine.”

  Alaina considered him coolly over her shoulder. “I suppose that includes me.”

  “Most especially you, my love,” he laughed. He threw the towel over his naked shoulder and limped across the room to take the knotted corset strings in hand. As if by magic, the cords came free beneath his fingers. With a deft motion, he settled the stays into place and began tightening the laces.

  Alaina tried to look more indignant than she felt as she gazed over her shoulder, but the truth of the matter was that she enjoyed the husbandly service he performed. Besides, he managed the laces so well, it seemed to her advantage to let him.

  His labor finished, Cole caressed the well-rounded posterior fondly, then brushing aside her hair, he leaned down to murmur in her ear, “I’ve heard it often said: all’s well that ends well. But you, girl, are the best ended thing I’ve seen—well, in a long time anyway.”

  Still not ready to forgive him, Alaina whirled to face him, but immediately realized her mistake. She was far too close to that hard muscular chest, and a brief glimpse of her reflection warned her that she was not as well covered as she had supposed. A trembling set in, and it had naught to do with fear. She saw an excuse to gain some distance from him without retreat seeming obvious and sought out her petticoats. In an attempt to ignore him and thus urge him on his way, she slipped them quickly over her head. She had no wish to appear vulnerable but Cole Latimer posed a definite threat to her peace of mind and compo
sure.

  “Was there some reason you came in here?” she asked through the cloth.

  “There was a matter,” the reply came.

  Alaina snatched the petticoats down into place and found Cole leaning against the bedpost counting out several large bills. Drawing near, he reached to the top of her chemise and stuffed a large roll of notes down between her breasts. “You were a charming hostess last night. Braegar was most impressed.”

  Cheeks hot with indignation, Alaina snatched the wad of bills from her bosom and, copying his bold manner, hooked a finger into the top of his trousers and tucked the roll inside the front of them. She smiled tightly. “I wouldn’t take your money in a month of Sundays, Major Latimer.”

  He raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Have you changed your mind?”

  “Oh, don’t worry yourself, Major. I’ll be here to protect you from your frivolous affairs, but you can keep your money.”

  Cole limped back to the bed and lifted a sleeve of a pink taffeta. “If you will not accept the money, then this should be worth about as much.”

  Alaina was astounded at his suggestion—and hurt to the quick. “You’d have me wear Roberta’s clothes?”

  The scowl that came on Cole’s face made hers seem gentle by comparison. “Do you think I would garb my wife in secondhand rags?” The notion made him irate, and he swept his arm around to indicate the large heap of clothes on the bed. “These were purchased all for you, madam!”

  “Oh, Major,” she moaned, suddenly chagrined by her error. “I can never repay you for even a small part of—”

  “Major!” he roared, and his voice carried thunder. Rage gathered like a storm cloud across his face. “By damned, woman, have you also set your fangs to striking me? Will you greet my guests this evening and make of me a miserly penny pincher? I forbid it!”

  The force of his words made Alaina grind her teeth in stubborn defiance. Eyes flashing fire, she flared, “I will be garbed in such a manner that you will have no qualms, Major Latimer!”

  “You will garb yourself as befits my wife! And if you can bring to tongue no better form of endearment, you will at least address me in the presence of others by my given name!”

  Cole spun on his left heel, and a moment later the slamming of the bathing room door made Alaina’s ears ring.

  Breakfast passed much as dinner had the night before. Cole was tersely silent, while Braegar supplied all the conversation. After the meal, the glib Irishman said his farewell with the assurance that he would be back that evening with his kin. Left alone with Cole in the dining room, Alaina felt his gaze move dispassionately over her simple printed gown of wine muslin as she moved to stand before the windows. To avoid another confrontation, she directed the subject to a less volatile matter.

  “I should like to look about the house if it’s permissible.”

  “Of course. I’ll have Mrs. Garth show you about,” he muttered into his cup. “I have some accounts to look over in my study.”

  “I wasn’t asking to be escorted,” she carefully explained. “I don’t wish to put anyone to any trouble.”

  “Madam,” he sighed wearily. “I have never known you to ask for anything, and I find that almost as maddening as Roberta crying for the moon. The servants are here for your convenience, as well as mine. Mrs. Garth will escort you.”

  On that final word, he rose from the table and limped from the room. Several moments later, when Alaina crossed the hall to the stairs, she noticed that the study door was closed against any casual intrusions. Even Mrs. Garth, as she led the tour about the mansion, avoided that portion where the master chose to remain closeted.

  The house was a mystery. The rooms were either overly embellished or, in sharp contrast, stark and barren. Only the servants’ quarters on the third floor seemed appropriately furnished. The tour did little to lighten Alaina’s mood, and she was almost regretful of having asked to see it. An aura of gloom pervaded the rooms, and she was glad when the tour was ended and she could escape from the house. The study door was open when she passed it, and she could only guess that Cole had finished his business and left for some other part of the house.

  From the porch, she let her eyes feast upon the natural beauty of the hills and forests. The bracing breeze had only a hint of chill in it, and she filled her lungs with its heady autumn scent. She meandered the length of the veranda and back, peering off into the distance from each end, familiarizing herself with the landscape of this northern clime that intrigued her more than the house could ever do.

  A large bell was mounted on the post beside the front steps, and she watched in wonder when Miles came out and rang it, striking it twice, apparently as a signal, then, after giving her a polite nod, reentered the house.

  On the west side Alaina roamed through the weed-filled rose garden, but the sight of the stunted bushes and the spindly yews were hardly pleasing to the eye. She knelt beside a thorny bush where a lone flower struggled for survival and plucked the weeds from around it, but her attention was rather belated, for the evening frosts had already nipped the edges of the leaves.

  Alaina paused, suddenly convinced that someone was watching her. Shading her eyes, she looked up and realized Cole’s bedroom window overlooked the garden above the parlor. The polished glass was a black void, preventing any glimpse behind them. Yet, as her eyes raised, Alaina thought she caught a fleeting shadow on the widow’s walk. Was he up there? Was he still brooding? Was he sorry he had married her?

  The questions were not for her to answer. Indeed, she might never understand him, for he seemed intent upon keeping himself apart from her.

  A buggy came briskly up the lane to the house, and Alaina recognized Olie in the seat. When it stopped, the man jumped down, tipped his hat, and called a cheerful morning greeting to her. “Yu be out here enjoying the sunshine, missus?”

  “Oh, yes,” she laughed. “It’s a beautiful day. Much better than yesterday.”

  “Yah! Yah! A goot day for a ride, maybe?”

  Reluctant to admit that Cole had not invited her, Alaina nodded toward the bell. “What’s it for, Olie? I heard Miles ring it some time back.”

  “Oh, dat be the signal to let us at the barns know if the doctor be wanting the brough’am, or dis here buggy. It be a fur piece to come ’cause the old master had this here big house built after the outbuildings were raised down yonder a ways.”

  “And this rose garden, Olie. Is there no one to tend it?”

  “Maybe no.” He lifted his cap and thoughtfully scratched his head. “We not see the last gardener for some time now. The first one never came back from de war.”

  “Were you in the war also, Olie?”

  “Yah, I tend de horses like I do now.”

  Cole came out onto the porch, casually dressed in narrow black trousers, silk shirt, and leather vest of the same hue. With a wave, Olie hurried to meet him, and they talked for some moments as Alaina unobtrusively observed her husband. She could not help but admire his tall, lean but muscular physique and the tanned handsomeness of his features.

  In the hushed stillness that followed Olie’s return to the stable, Cole half turned to stare at her. The low-crowned hat shaded his eyes, but she was aware of the harshness that still marred his brow. Alaina waited for him to speak, lifting her woolen shawl closer about her shoulders. A long moment passed, and he did not. Then, without a word, he climbed into the buggy. Propping his left foot on the dashboard, he lifted the reins, but paused, staring at the horse’s rump. Eyeing him furtively, Alaina walked slowly around the end of the porch toward the front steps and was about to climb them when he relented.

  “Was there something you wished, madam?”

  She turned hesitantly. “I haven’t seen Saul around, and I was wondering how he’s faring. He has so few clothes—”

  “Climb in,” Cole urged, sliding over to make room for her. “I’ll take you down to see him.”

  “I’ll get my cape,” she said with more enthusiasm. Before she could o
pen the door, Miles pulled it wide and stepped out to hand her a long, hooded cloak her husband had purchased for her. “You will be needing this, mum.”

  Alaina glanced back at Cole, wondering if he had ordered the butler to fetch the garment, but he stared off into the distance, appearing unmindful of the exchange. Whether he had or not, she was caught, and rather than air her arguments before the servant, she accepted the cloak.

  Taking the hand Cole offered her, Alaina climbed into the buggy and settled herself in the space provided on the narrow seat. He held her hand longer than seemed necessary, and when she looked up into his face, she saw that his frown was tempered by the barest hint of a smile.

  “I warn you, madam, there is a cost to this. For the duration of the tour you will utter only kind words.”

  She was suddenly contrite and lowered her eyes to the open collar of his shirt. “Cole—” Her voice was tiny. “I’m sorry about the clothes. If you will be patient with me, I’ll try not to embarrass you. But I cannot accept more than I can repay.”

  “Why not?” he asked quietly and met her gaze directly. “I owe you and Saul more than I can repay.” He dropped her hand and smothered her reply in a command to the horse, giving her no choice but to clutch the armrest of the seat for security. In the brisk morning air, the steed’s high-heeled trot stretched out until they fairly raced down the hill toward the thicket of trees Olie had disappeared into. After skidding around the trunk of a huge, spreading, autumn-painted elm, they entered a narrow lane bordered on either side by towering maples. The buckboard dashed through the sun-dappled shade with a speed that dazzled the eye and, a brief moment later, burst out into a sprawling field where a nest of buildings clustered together in the middle. Among them were several small houses, a long shed, and a huge barn that dominated the rest like a mother hen does her chicks. As they neared the barn, a loud baying heralded their arrival, and Cole slowed the horse to a more sedate pace. A huge black dog, bigger than a colt, broke from the thicket alongside the road and loped along with them. When Cole drew the buggy to a halt, the beast sat on his haunches and waited until the man stepped down, then, with a glad bark, he charged, swung aside at the last moment and made a lap around the buggy and horse before skidding to a stop before Cole again. He seemed confused and disappointed when Cole reached up to lift Alaina down.