by Lynda J. Cox
A.J. crossed the street to the hotel. Already the temperature had dropped enough that he could see his breath. While sleeping out on a cold, cloudless night wasn’t anything he ever enjoyed, he had done it often. But there wasn’t any way in hell he could ask Allison to sleep out in the cold. Some things he just wouldn’t do.
He fit the key into the door lock, twisted it and turned the knob. He stepped into the room and came to a halt. Allison peered around the rice screen, and held the derringer pointed at him.
A.J. threw his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Don’t shoot.”
She lowered the pistol onto the table top. “I won’t.”
He lowered his hands and turned the door lock. “I don’t think that partition is much of a bulwark. You can come out.” He set the package from the mercantile on the small table next to the door. Stripping his gray coat off, he tossed it across the foot of the bed.
She shook her head, and the hair she had twisted up and piled on top of her head fell, cascading in damp waves over her face. She impatiently shoved it away. “I can’t. I’m not dressed. I just couldn’t bring myself to get back into those filthy clothes.”
“Really?” A.J. held the package from the mercantile up, letting it dangle from his fingers by the thick string wrapped around it. “I suppose you’ll want what’s in here, then.”
A smile lit her face. “Clean clothes?”
“Yep.”
“If you wouldn’t mind draping my clothes over the top, I can dress back here.” She ducked back behind the screen, obviously waiting for him to toss her new clothing over the top. When no clothes were forthcoming, she prompted, “A.J., I’m getting cold.”
A.J. dropped onto the Chesterfield. He stretched his legs the length of the sofa, crossed his ankles on the arm at the other end and kept the screen in full view. He set the package on the floor next to him. “Come and get it.”
An outraged yelp broke from Allison. “That isn’t even amusing, A.J. Just hand me the package, then.”
“Nope.”
Her head appeared around the edge of the screen. Bright color suffused her cheeks. “You, sir, are no gentleman.”
He laughed. “So you’ve already told me several times. I did warn you when I saw the dime novel you were reading not to believe a word of that drivel.” He started unbuttoning his shirt.
“What…what are you doing?”
“I’m going to get into a hot bath.” If he told her what he was actually planning on doing, she’d be reaching for that derringer. In the past few days, he’d had his hands around her waist, imagined and then learned how long and lithe her legs were—aided admittedly by a strong prairie breeze molding the material to those legs and the necessity of shedding her rain soaked skirt. He had held her partially clad form to him, and kissed her until he couldn’t breathe, but he wanted more.
Her mouth dropped open and she appeared to be struggling to form words. At last she sputtered, “You can’t come back here. I told you, I’m not dressed.”
A.J. sat up, his shirt completely unbuttoned. “In a moment, I won’t be either. And, I don’t know what you’re so upset about. We are married.”
“We are not. We’re just saying we are.”
He stood and unbuckled his gun belt and then the belt to his denims. The first button on the pants opened.
“All right. All right. Stop. Wait. I’ll come out and get that package. But, you’ve got to promise to stop undressing out there.”
He heard the panic in her voice. “You’ve got until I count to three. One…”
Her head disappeared behind the screen for just a moment.
“Two…”
When she stepped out, A.J.’s breath caught in the back of his throat. She was wrapped in a small towel. The towel went from the top of her breasts to barely past the top of her thighs. One hand held the top of the towel, the other kept it wrapped as best she could around her. She reached for the package, and it was apparent she couldn’t grab it without losing most of the scant protection of the towel.
Allison stomped her bare foot. “If I wasn’t holding this towel, I’d be slapping you.”
He shouldn’t be amused by her dilemma, he knew it, but he couldn’t stop the laughter that broke from him. “If you drop that towel, you can slap me.”
A strangled cry sounded from her and she stomped her foot again.
A.J. grabbed the package and stepped behind the screen. Her dirty clothes were on the floor. This was an unexpected development in his favor.
“You can’t do that. I came out.” Frustrated disbelief sounded in her voice.
He sat on the edge of the tub and tugged off his boots. He tossed both of them into the room, and then pulled off his socks. He stood and threw his linen shirt to the floor near the Chesterfield and unbuttoned his denims and shimmied out of them. He tossed those out into the room, turned to the tub and twisted the hot tap. After a moment, he turned on the cold water, adjusting the temperature. He then stepped into the tub, sinking under the rapidly rising hot water. He mentally calculated how long it would be before she asked again.
He picked the package up and put it on the other side of the tub, placing it between the tub and the wall.
“A.J…”
Sooner than he had expected, which surprised him because until this moment, patience had seemed to be one of her strengths. “Come and get it.”
“You aren’t being fair.”
That was a new tactic. He sank lower into the tub. “A wise man once said that all is fair in love and war.”
“It figures a man said that.”
He picked up a clean wash cloth from the small rack next to the tub and lathered it with the soap sitting in the dish. His nose wrinkled with the faint aroma of vanilla. It was soap, he reasoned, and heaven knew, he needed a bath.
Allison listened to the water splashing behind the screen. She perched on the edge of the Chesterfield, debating her next course of action. Even the clothes she didn’t want to put back on were in there with him.
Her gaze fell on his white shirt at her feet. A smile crossed her face. The water was still splashing and he was whistling Dixie…oh, she was about ready to tell him to go whistle Dixie. She dropped the towel and grabbed his shirt.
She pulled his shirt on and buttoned several of the buttons, not caring that it wasn’t buttoned right. She just needed it on long enough to go grab that package. And to ensure his cooperation, she picked up the tiny derringer from the table.
Without any announcement she stepped around the screen into the bathing area.
He had the audacity to grin at her. He slid a little further into the depths of the warm water, propping his arms on the tub’s edge and made no attempt to cover himself. Water droplets trickled from the hollow of his throat, down the clearly defined muscles of his chest to his ridged stomach. Don’t look down! Allison jerked her gaze up and pointed the pistol at his chest. “I would like that package, if you don’t mind.”
A.J. trailed the back of his hand up the outside of her leg from her knee to the hem of the shirt. Her throat tightened with the contrasting sensations of his wet hand, hot with bath water against her skin. Her heart started racing and a very different heat settled deep in her. Allison shivered with the new sensations assaulting her.
“You look incredibly good in my shirt.”
Her breath caught as he slid the back of his hand a little further up her leg. “A.J., please, hand me that package.” Even she heard the catch in her voice.
His smile changed, grew heated. “Why don’t you put that little pop gun down and convince me another way to give you that package?”
Allison shook her head. “I heard the church bells just before you came in. It’s already half past five and supper is promptly at six.”
His expression shuttered faster than Allison would have believed. He sat up in the tub, reached over and picked up the package. He threw the bulky package at her and Allison scrambled to catch it without dropping the derringer
.
“Go get dressed.”
What in heaven’s name had she said so wrong? “A.J.?”
“Get out. Just leave my clothes on that small table.”
Allison sat on the edge of the bed and unwrapped the brown paper. Several articles of clothing fell onto the bed: a pair of denims that were much too short to belong to A.J., a flannel shirt too small for him, a pair of bloomers, a camisole, and a simple day dress in soft heather gray cotton. Three pair of socks, one pair larger than the others, and one pair made of fine silk, completed the undergarments in the package. A second pair of denims were obviously his, as well as a new linen shirt. A smaller pair of boots fell to the floor. Lastly a boar’s bristle brush tumbled to the bed.
She put his denim trousers and the linen shirt on the round table, glancing around the screen. A.J. sat with his head bent almost to his chest, gripping the edges of the tub so fiercely his knuckles were white.
“A.J.?” She still didn’t have the slightest idea what she had said to have created such a change in him.
“I’m fine.”
No, you’re not, she wanted to shout at him, but she didn’t. Instead she backed away and began to dress in the clean clothing. As she pulled the day dress over her head, she heard the water sloshing in the tub. Silently, she fastened the tiny pearl buttons making their way up the bodice.
She methodically dragged the brush through her hair, tugging at the snarls and wishing for a ribbon. She wasn’t going to be able to pull it up into its normal chignon. During the past days, she had lost every comb and pin that kept her hair under a semblance of control. She startled when A.J. slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her against his chest. His body curved around her and he pressed his damp head to hers. “Forgive me.”
“Whatever for?”
“I had no right to be angry with you. You have no idea what you said or why I reacted the way I did. The church bells outside of Infernum were the only way we could tell time but you couldn’t know that. Forgive me.”
Allison covered his arms with hers, melding more fully to him. “There is nothing to forgive. You survived hell. Please just tell me when this happens, instead of shutting me out and pushing me away. That I find much harder to forgive.” She leaned her head back into the juncture of his neck and shoulder.
The muted ringing of the church bells down the street rang the top of the hour. Allison felt the tension in his frame before he let it go on a long breath. “Think we can get to the dining room before the last bell?” she asked.
His arms tightened while his deep chuckle vibrated through her. “Let’s live dangerously and be a minute or two late.”
As they walked down the hallway to the dining area, A.J. slipped his hand into the small of Allison’s back. The warmth of his palm spread through her, pooling in her depths. She glanced up at him. A tiny tremble settled in her chest and made breathing difficult. He was dressed in a dazzling white linen shirt, a gray wool vest, denims, and a black silk string tie. He had insisted on donning the vest and tie, because a “gentleman never went about in his shirt sleeves and certainly did not escort his wife to supper in such a manner.”
Allison glanced down at the modest gray of her dress. They certainly looked the part of a married couple.
A heavily German accented voice echoed up the hallway.
“Nellie! Vhere ist dat gurl? If she ist late again, I vill have something to say to her vater and mutter.”
Allison lifted her head to A.J., meeting his gaze. His brows were raised and laughter danced in the cobalt depths. He whispered, “We might have gotten more danger than we bargained for.”
She couldn’t stop her laughter. A.J. guided her into the restaurant, his large hand never leaving the small of her back. Helga Oaks turned to them. She was a tall, slender woman, her white blonde hair coiled neatly in a tight, regimented braid atop her head, and possessed the most piercing blue eyes Allison had ever seen. She dragged that blue eyed gaze over them.
A.J. offered a dip of his head. “I apologize for being late, Mrs. Oaks, but my wife has been exhausted and I insisted she close her eyes for a few minutes. She fell asleep and I was loath to wake her.”
Every line of the woman’s expression softened with A.J.’s words. “Ja, Bradley told me that your liebchen vas tired. Commen sie hier. I vill take care of you.” She gestured to a table.
Slipping his hand up her back to rest lightly between her shoulder blades, A.J. guided Allison to the requisite table. He pulled a chair out, and waited until she was settled before he took the seat across from her. Helga handed them each a menu, and then turned away with a promise to return for their order. Allison stared at her menu, finally admitting, “I am so hungry it all looks good.”
A crooked grin lifted A.J.’s mouth and danced with seductive lights in his eyes. “Order it all. No one is going to say anything. You’re supposed to be eating for two.”
“Only if I am in that condition by immaculate conception.”
A.J. set his forearms onto the edge of the table, leaning closer to Allison. “If I’d had my way earlier…”
Allison’s breath caught again in her throat. Did he have the slightest idea what he did to her insides when he looked at her as he was at that moment? Clean-shaven, the silver winging his gleaming blue-black hair at his temples, and his eyes darkened in the low pitched lamp light, this man could have been the ideal for any of the great Renaissance artists her father insisted she study as a part of her education. Disoriented by the path her thoughts took, she dropped her gaze to the flame dancing in the lantern on the table.
His low laugh brought her head up. “You’re blushing again. Please tell me that this time I am the reason for the lovely color on your cheeks.”
“Are you flirting with me, sir?”
His smile faded and his eyes darkened exponentially in something Allison couldn’t define for a moment. “No, madam, I’m not flirting with you. My intention is seduction.”
Her insides clenched and Allison shifted in her chair. The temperature seemed to have increased dramatically. She was spared having to say anything by Helga’s return to the table.
“Have you decided vat you vant?”
Without breaking eye contact, A.J. said, “I know what I want.” A renewed smile lifted the corners of his mouth. Then he averted his gaze and turned that smile on Helga. “We’ll have two of your steaks, mashed potatoes, and the candied carrots. Sean said you make the best candied carrots this side of the Rockies.”
“Oh, dat man!” Helga blushed to the roots of her white blonde hair. “I vill bring that out as soon as I can.” She hurried away, barking orders at the hapless Nellie.
“Who’s Sean?”
“Her husband, the barber.” A.J. toyed with the stem of the water goblet on the table, and Allison watched as he drew his finger-tips up the length of the stem. Heat seared her face as she envisioned these fingers on her. She forced herself to look away from his hand only to be met with his knowing smile, and a smoldering heat in the depths of his eyes.
Two of the local town folk entered the restaurant, followed by Brad Schaffer. Schaffer walked to A.J., leaned over and murmured something in his ear. A.J. nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Schaffer.”
“Not a problem. I’ll leave you and your wife to your supper.”
Allison tilted her head at A.J., wondering what that was about.
“I couldn’t carry both packages from the mercantile, so I asked if they could deliver the other one tonight after they closed. He told me he put it in our room.”
To Allison’s relief, while they ate, A.J. relented in his stated purpose of seducing her. Instead, they talked about her childhood, growing up as a twin, with a father who taught medicine at a university and who insisted his daughters have the same classical education as any young man. He told her of his childhood and all the trouble he and Harrison had created in the small town of Straight Creek, so much so that “everyone was finally sighing with relief when Harrison and I were both
accepted and then promptly shipped off to VMI when we were fifteen. And there we racked up demerit after demerit because we both seemed to believe that rules weren’t really rules, but rather suggestions.” Mirth danced in the cobalt depths of his eyes.
“Tell me about Cathy.” Even though he had not said a word of his marriage, Allison felt a need to know about the woman who had been his wife, the woman who had shared his life. “Tell me why talking about her death is something you avoid.”
The mirth faded. “Tell me about your beaus and I’ll tell you about Cathy.”
Allison took a sip of her water. “I was a wall-flower. Even though Alice and I are twins, we look nothing alike. She was always the pretty one. I was the smart one. According to her, I was too opinionated, too outspoken, and too intelligent for most of the young men my age so there is nothing to tell. I just could not play the simpering belle long enough to hold their attention. There was also a dearth of young men my age, so if they were intimidated by me, there were many other willing young ladies. And, I refused to be courted by the old men. So there are no beaus to tell of. Your turn now.”
A.J. stared into the dancing flame. For several long moments he was silent. His expression grew pensive and even though he was looking at the flickering flame, Allison knew he was hundreds of miles and years away. “Cathy was what could only be called a ‘classic beauty.’ She was tiny and delicate, had hair the color of strawberry wine, and blue eyes that reminded me of a spring sky. She was beautiful…”
Of course she was. She could only imagine what a striking image the two of them would have made, him with his devastatingly dark good looks and Cathy with her “delicate beauty.” For a moment, Allison was jealous of the dead woman.
“She walked into a ball at her uncle’s—Harrison’s father was her uncle—and I was completely and totally smitten. It was the first time I saw her and she was wearing a gown of silk in some shade of rose. She had been raised to be a lady and heaven help the man—or in my case, the boy—who forgot that. I was just a boy the first time I saw her. I was thirteen. She was fifteen. I told Harrison I was going to marry her. Being her cousin, he was not that impressed.” He lifted his head to Allison. “I loved her. I clung to her memory at Infernum and there were moments when her memory was the only thing that kept me alive. Not even my desire to avenge myself for what Harrison did had that kind of strength. I was going to stay alive to go home to her.”