by Sofia Hunt
“Well, hello, pretty lady, and why aren’t you out on the dance floor?”
Startled, Lizzie looked up into the gray eyes of Miles Petty, surprised to see he was actually addressing her. The men in this remote area obviously weren’t picky about their women if he thought she was anything but plain.
Though Attractive in a classical sense, Miles didn’t look anything like the bigger, rougher Gallaghers. Miles’s curly blond hair and fair skin resembled one of those Roman statues she’d seen in books. Without waiting for an invitation, Miles took the seat next to her, dressed in an unusually nice suit for this area. Her grandmother would’ve called him a dandy. Irritated at being left alone by Gage without any explanation, Lizzie extracted a bit of revenge by smiling at the man. “Hello.” Her note of dismissal did nothing to deter him.
“You came to the dance with Gage, but you were dancing with Logan.” Miles’ conversational tone didn’t fool her one bit.
“I danced with both. I don’t see where it’s any of your business.”
“I make it my business to know everything about my cousins. Rumor has it Gage and Logan stamped their brand on you.”
Lizzie sat up straighter. “No man stamps anything on me.”
Miles laughed. “I love a woman with spunk. I see why they’re attracted to you.”
Attracted to her? Gage and Logan? Miles needed spectacles. Men did not find her the least bit attractive. Even Herbert, her geriatric husband, found her undesirable.
She’d even run through several scenarios in her mind as to why they’d been showing interest in her and developed a few theories. As the plainest bride, they hoped their interest would attract other men’s interest. It’d worked with Miles. They felt sorry for her. Or they figured no one else would want her so they might as well get a bride for their investment.
Lizzie glanced at Miles, who stared at her as if he were removing her garments one at a time. She pretended interest in the dancers. Not entirely comfortable with the way Miles eyed her, she regretted her rash decision to converse with him. Though ignoring him would have most likely goaded him into harassing her even more.
Miles held out a hand. “Shall we dance?”
“I’m afraid I’m quite tired and—”
“Nonsense.” Miles grabbed her hand with amazing strength and squeezed it hard. He pulled her to her feet, not interested in her protests. She suppressed a shiver. A dangerous glitter shone in his cold eyes.
He yanked her to him, holding her closer than was considered decent. She tried to put space between them, but he was too strong.
Their gazes level, Miles smiled at her, but his smile didn’t reach his calculating eyes. She avoided his gaze and stared at a point in the distance, unseeing. His body brushed against hers.
“I understand you’re the self-proclaimed spokeswoman for the brides.”
“They elected me”
“Constance told me all about that election.” The vehemence in his sneer sat her back on her heels
“I don’t see how that’s any of your concern.” Lizzie didn’t like the man, so she saw no reason to be more than distantly cordial.
“My brother and I have approached Constance regarding a much more sophisticated celebration for the women.”
“I appreciate your offer, but our dance cards are full.” Now she understood his purely selfish interest. Lizzie possessed something he wanted, the brides.
“Never too full for adoring men with a more cultured and civilized air in this wild land.” His hand tightened on her back, almost in warning.
“We’ve gone over this. I have yet to see the inn you claim to be building. We have an agreement with the Gallaghers, and we’ll honor it. If you wanted to participate, perhaps you should have invested the needed funds rather than attempting to steal from your cousins.”
“I am no thief.” Miles glared at Lizzie. His lips curled into a threatening snarl. The intensity of his anger stunned her into silence. She’d pushed him too far and made a formidable foe in the process. He leaned closer, and she could smell his breath, a combination of whiskey and cigars. Repulsed, she attempted to pull back, but he held her steady.
“You think the Gallaghers are so wonderful. Let me warn you, Lizzie. Their carnal desires are warped. A lady like you would best stay away for fear of being debauched by their depravity. Sharing dance partners isn’t all they share.”
She shivered at the menace in his eyes. Herbert had preferred depraved activities, though with other women., but at times he’d attempted to elicit her participation in his cruel perversions. She’d resisted, but her defiance earned his retaliation in other ways. Had he lived, she feared what might have happened, not just to her, but her sisters as well.
Miles Petty reminded her of a younger version of her husband, a realization that alarmed her. She’d best tread lightly around the man. His claims regarding the Gallaghers unsettled her, though she didn’t believe a word from his mouth.
“I’ll be by for tea tomorrow at one in the afternoon.” Miles didn’t ask, he told.
She bristled, ready to give him the dressing down he deserved. Tread lightly be damned.
“She won’t be meeting you for tea tomorrow or any other day.” Gage smoothly cut in on Miles.
Miles’s eyes flicked to the Gallagher crew standing nearby, every one of them with fists clenched at his sides, legs braced apart, jaws rigid, and chests puffed out. Knowing he was seriously out-numbered, Miles acquiesced to Gage’s demand. Lizzie suspected the Pettys preferred to do their fighting under the cover of night rather than through up-front confrontations.
Miles bowed low to Lizzie. “It was a pleasure, Lizzie. I’ll be calling on you.”
“Like hell you will.” Gage’s hand splayed across her back. He blocked her from Miles’s view and whisked her away.
Lizzie regarded Gage through lowered lashes. She’d not seen this protective side of him. He might be quiet and shy, but the same strength ran through him that ran through his older brother, just not as obviously.
“Stay away from him,” Gage ground out through gritted teeth.
Borrowing a page from Amelia’s book, Lizzie smiled sweetly at him and batted her eyelashes. “I’m not your property or your brothers’ property, regardless of the agreement we signed.”
Gage’s next words came out more cajoling. “Lizzie, Miles is a dangerous man with few scruples. You’d be wise to keep your distance.”
“Miles said the same thing about Logan and you.”
Gage’s eyes lit with an angry fire. So the man had a temper. He wasn’t all composed and unflappable. He held Lizzie in an iron grip as they danced woodenly around the room. She stared at his shirt, afraid to look into those unfathomably blue eyes of his.
“I think it’s time I escort you back to the Cedar Plank. Are you ready?” He refused to look at her.
“Yes, I’m ready.” She followed him into the night. The earlier clouds had given way to a spectacular full moon and star-filled evening. An owl hooted in the distance, while frogs croaked nearby. Water lapped on the shores of the bay.
Lizzie paused and took in the beauty. Gage stood beside her, hands in his pockets, and seemed to relax a little.
“It’s so beautiful here when it’s not raining.” Lizzie breathed deeply.
Gage nodded. “I never get tired of this. It makes all the gray, wet days worth it.” He reached for her hand and entwined his big fingers with hers. He steered her down to the shoreline instead of to the inn. They strolled in silence along the sandy beach. The stately cedars stood sentinel along the water’s edge. The calm water reflected the light of the moon.
“I can see why you’d think that.” She took it all in. This place so different from Boston had started to feel like home. Despite the relentless rain, monstrous slugs, and lack of civilization, Lizzie had developed an affinity for Bachelor Bay. Days like this one made her forget all the gray ones.
Gage stopped under a crooked Madrona tree with iridescent red bark. He tur
ned to her, his handsome face earnest with concern. “I’m sorry, Lizzie. I’m furious at Miles, but I took it out on you.”
“Your two families aren’t particularly fond of each other.”
Gage laughed. “That’s an understatement. The Pettys cheated my parents out of a large amount of money and land. We don’t forgive too easily. They can’t be trusted. Miles figures if he can drive us out of business, he’ll cheat us out of the remainder.”
“He’s a ruthless man.”
“That he is.” Gage smiled wryly. “Even worse, he’s underhanded and shifty.”
He tilted his face downward. The moon cast shadows on his angular features. His blue eyes searched hers, as if he expected to find the answer written on her face. Her heart thumped in her chest as his face moved to within inches of hers. She held her breath and waited in anticipation. She wanted him to kiss her, to feel his lips on hers. She wanted to know what it felt like to be kissed by a man who attracted her instead of repulsed her. He smelled of soap and fir needles. So appropriate for a man who made his living from timber.
He hesitated, his shyness returning. “Do you mind if I kiss you?”
“I don’t mind.” Her voice came out in a raspy whisper.
Logan’s lips brushed across hers and came to rest against her neck. She shuddered at the feel of his warm breath on her skin. His arms tightened around her waist, pulling her closer to his body. The muscles in his chest flexed against her breasts. His hips pressed against hers. The hardness between his legs gave evidence of his arousal. Obviously the scarcity of women in Port Steele made any woman desirable. God knew under normal circumstances, she’d never attract the attention of two such virile and attractive men.
At one time, Lizzie would have melted from embarrassment and shame. This Lizzie was no longer an innocent young girl. Her virtue was tarnished and no longer intact, but he did not know that. No one did but her sisters, and no one would know.
Feeling like a tart yet unable to control her body, she rubbed her hips against his. He groaned in her ear. His mouth rained kisses on her neck. His strong hands molded her to him. Unbidden feelings surged through her, strange, new feelings. She’d gone from frigid—according to her departed husband—to brazen with one touch of this man’s lips.
He turned his head to study her mouth. His clear blue eyes glowed with desire. She’d seen desire in its more deviant form, seen its abhorrent effects and demands. She’d observed forbidden acts when Herbert forced her to watch his dalliances with other women and shuddered to realize the only thing that had spared her had been her undesirability. Gage’s desire didn’t repel her. Instead, his kisses, his touch, swept her along like a Port Steele rainstorm. Her good sense deserted her. Her inhibitions battled with her yearning to satisfy her cravings. She wasn’t a pure woman. The normal barricades for a lady didn’t exist for her as she’d been with a man before. She’d suffer little repercussions by dallying with Gage, other than her own self-respect and possibly his.
Her analysis ground to an abrupt halt when Gage’s heavenly mouth settled on hers. He exerted a soft, insistent pressure against her lips, warm and moist. One hand weaved through the strands of her hair and loosened it from Hattie’s intricate hairstyle. Holding the back of her head, he held her in place while his mouth moved against hers.
“Open your mouth,” he whispered, his breath hot against her lips.
Lizzie didn’t understand. Herbert had hated kissing. But then once he’d determined he could not get an erection when in her presence, he’d confined his interest in her to cruel words and forcing her to watch how other women excited him. She did not understand why she could arouse a man like Gage, when she couldn’t a lecherous older man. But then, her experience with such things was limited. A lady never discussed fornication—didn’t even say the word out loud—and her mother had been a lady descended from a gentile family in England.
“Lizzie, open your mouth,” Gage repeated.
Lizzie opened her mouth. To her surprise, Gage’s tongue slipped past her teeth and touched her tongue. She froze, not certain how to react, what to do.
“Relax.” His muffled voice spoke into her mouth. He ran his tongue over her teeth, across her tongue, inside her mouth.
Lizzie closed her eyes and lost herself in the feel of this strong man performing this intimate gesture. She imitated his movements, tentatively touching her tongue to his. He gripped her tighter and moaned. Encouraged, she slipped her tongue into his mouth.
“Liz, what you do to me.” Pulling back, he stared into her eyes. She looked away, fearing he read too much, saw too much. Guilt assaulted her, surprising her with its intensity. He didn’t know. He believed her to be an innocent.
She was anything but innocent.
His mouth came back down on hers, stronger this time, more demanding. The rugged edge of desire bombarded her senses and swept away her misgivings. If he threw her over his shoulder and carted her off to the woods, she wouldn’t protest.
Except...
Then he’d know. He’d know what a fraud she was. A liar.
“Gage, stop.” She pushed at his chest and separated their bodies. He shook his head, attempting to focus. Shame spread across his face.
“Lizzie, I’m sorry. I got carried away. I don’t know what came over me.”
She did. The same thing that had come over her.
And it could not happen again.
Chapter 5
Lizzie’s Journal, July 1, 1864
Port Steele, Washington Territory
Preparations for a festive Fourth of July are in the works. While the unpredictable weather puts a damper on our enthusiasm at times, when the sun comes out, it’s all worth it. Never have I seen a more beautiful place, even in paintings of foreign places.
Miles Petty surprised Olivia with a box of the latest books from back east. She rewarded his efforts with a peck on the cheek and a painting of his mountain. The Gallaghers and Pettys each own their own mountains and log large tracts of land. Regarding the tension between the cousins, I understand if either group fails to maintain a successful lumber business, the other gains the assets. Competition is stiff, and the brides are stuck in the middle of the tug of war. I’ve avoided contact with the Pettys. They disturb me, and I can’t help but worry I may regret having angered Miles.
Mr. Farrier continues to be a disturbing presence, and his apparent friendship with Constance and Miles worries me. Attempting to elicit information from Lucy proved futile for once.
* * * *
For the next few weeks, Lizzie’s inclination to avoid contact with men clashed with her attraction to the two oldest Gallagher brothers.
Gage stepped up his efforts to court her, bringing her wild flowers, escorting her to church services, and community socials. Logan kept his interest more subtle, but she’d be a fool to miss the hot looks he cast her way as he and his men worked on improvements to the old inn.
How she’d gotten in this position, she hadn’t a clue. Men had never paid her any mind before. Even her late husband had preferred her younger sisters until Lizzie intervened and offered herself, rather than sacrifice Olivia and Amelia. She’d caught the lecherous gleam in the old man’s eye, witnessed his disregard for others, and knew as the strongest of the sisters, she’d be best equipped to deal with the man. Her uncle didn’t care which one he married off first and was glad to rid himself of the old maid. He wanted the three girls out from underfoot so he’d be free to exploit their inheritance in the form of the family business and assets.
The two Gallagher brothers interest perplexed her.
In an attempt to avoid Gage and Logan, not to mention the bothersome Mr. Farrier, Lizzie toiled in the garden with Patience and in the kitchen with Hattie. Constance looked down her nose at the sad state of Lizzie’s hands. Lizzie preferred rough hands to Constance’s rougher tongue.
As Lizzie knelt over a particularly stubborn weed, the hairs prickled on the back of her neck. She sensed someone behind her. Ris
ing to her feet, she turned to address the gawker. Every muscle in her body stiffened at the sight of Mr. Farrier.
“Miss Prescott.” Mr. Farrier spoke with the smooth Boston accent of a well-educated man. His fine suit hung on his tall, lean frame. Sharp brown eyes assessed her, as if dissecting her every weakness. Lizzie fought the urge to squirm under his astute gaze.
“I’m afraid we haven’t been introduced.” The man opened the gate in the picket fence and stepped to within a few feet of Lizzie. Not caring if she appeared rude, Lizzie turned away. The man gripped her arm and spun her back around.
“I’m Winston Farrier at your service, ma’am.” Winston bowed low.
“It’s rude to stare at a lady, Mr. Farrier.” Lizzie lifted her chin in defiance.
“But then we both know you’re no lady, now are you, Mrs. Stein?”
Lizzie attempted to yank away from his tight hold on her arm, but he squeezed harder. Turmoil erupted inside her.
“You’re hurting me,” she whimpered as tears rose unbidden in her eyes.
“Am I? What a pity.” His cruel smile reminded her of her uncle. “Do the Gallaghers know one of their virgin brides is a widow? A widow who may very well have murdered her own loving husband.”
Murdered her own husband? Her uncle must be spreading such a story to force her to return to Boston, possibly in chains. Lizzie’s stomach lurched from a mixture of fear and revulsion. She’d underestimated Uncle Robert, a huge mistake on her part.
“You have me confused with someone else, sir. Please unhand me. You’re hurting me.” Lizzie’s shaky voice betrayed her.
“No, I know exactly who you are. You don’t remember me, do you?” The man’s eyes glittered like those of a wolf preying upon an injured animal.
Lizzie shook her head violently. “I have never met you.”
“Perhaps not, but I know you. I did bookkeeping for your parents at one time when I was much younger.”
Lizzie pulled away and ran around the corner of the inn. Once out of sight, she wretched in the bushes, emptying her stomach of its lunch and breakfast.