“How do I know this is the right thing to do?”
“Lori, honey, it’s the only thing to do. Now hurry up and get your dress on before Adam Ross thinks you changed your mind and left him standing at the altar.”
***
Adam wasn’t really standing at the altar. He was standing in his front parlor, or rather pacing in his front parlor. He’d been pacing so long that his leg had started to send up its usual protest, but Adam welcomed the discomfort. At least it provided some distraction.
“Where could they be?” he wondered aloud as he stared out the window in the direction of the road where he still saw no sign of them. “I sent Oscar for them over an hour ago.”
“You know how women are, son,” Judge Fairweather said from where he sat on the rosewood sofa, his gouty foot resting on a stool. “She’s probably still primping. Wants to look her best for her wedding day.”
“The judge is right,” Reverend Hartsfield agreed heartily. “In all my years, I don’t think I’ve ever had a wedding start on time.”
Adam glanced at the two old men whom he had known all his life. The minister was as thin as the judge was stout, and while the sunlight streaming through the windows shone off the judge’s bald pate, it gleamed in the minister’s thick, snow white hair. Adam wondered what they were truly thinking. They had been his father’s friends, and surely they would both share his sense of what was right and proper for Chet Ross’s eldest son. Marrying the McClintock girl would not fall into that category, he was certain.
At least they had not tried to dissuade him, as he had feared they might when he had approached them about being present on this day. But they were both men of the world who had seen enough of life to easily guess the real reason behind Adam’s choice of a bride and the need for haste. They might think him a fool, but they would never try to stop him from doing the honorable thing by a girl whom he had gotten in trouble. He couldn’t help wondering how supportive they would be if they knew it wasn’t his own honor he was trying to protect by marrying her.
The sound of a carriage outside drew him to the window again, and he saw that Oscar was pulling the carriage right up to the door. For an instant, he felt relief, and then a brand new set of apprehensions gripped him.
Was he really doing the right thing or was he actually robbing Eric once more of the love and happiness due him? If Eric truly loved this girl, then Adam would be cheating his brother out of her and her unborn child—just the way he had cheated Eric out of their father’s love for all of his life. But then he forced himself to remember that Eric was no longer the vulnerable young boy whom Adam had been unable to protect. That boy was long since dead, and in his place, inhabiting Eric’s body, lived the heartless young man who had stood over Adam as he lay writhing on the ground, his leg shattered, and laughed.
Ruthlessly pushing the memory from his mind, he turned to his companions and said, “They’re here.”
Not certain of the etiquette of such a situation, Adam decided to meet his bride at the door. Automatically picking up his cane from where he had set it just inside the parlor door, he hurried out. When he stepped outside, he saw that Lori and Bessie had already descended from the carriage, apparently without waiting for Oscar to help them, judging by his disapproving frown, and they were standing uncertainly in the yard.
“Good morning,” he said, although he was fairly certain that the day had already passed officially into afternoon.
Lori looked up in surprise, and he was stunned by the shock of reaction he felt at the sight of her. She looked like an angel. A very well-dressed angel.
Bessie’s first request of him had been a sum of money which she could use for clothes. “Can’t have the girl standing up on her wedding day in rags, now can you?” she’d asked. Apparently, they had spent the money wisely. Lori’s outfit consisted of a fitted jacket and the bell-shaped skirt that virtually every woman wore nowadays. Instead of being the ubiquitous black, however, this one was a lively plaid of reds and blues and greens. The jacket sleeves were belled, and cuffs of lace were visible beneath them.
But it was not the dress alone, although he realized he had never seen Lori so elegantly attired. The dress simply served to emphasize her own natural beauty, which seemed somehow magnified today. Her riotous curls had been drawn up onto her head and fell now in well-disciplined ringlets. Her satiny skin was pale but luminous, as if some inner light made her radiant, and her dark blue eyes glittered with intense emotions. As he crossed the porch and drew closer, taking care not to thump his cane too loudly on the board and draw attention to it, he recognized at least one of her emotions, a pure, unadulterated terror.
“Lori,” he said, and he had to clear his throat. “You look very lovely.”
Her full, lush lips quivered a bit before she finally said, “Thank you,” so quietly he almost didn’t hear it. Were those lips as soft and sweet as they looked? He realized with a jolt of sexual awareness that he would soon be able to find out for himself.
“Come in, come in,” he urged too heartily to cover his own unseemly reactions. “Everyone else is already here.”
Although Adam would have thought it impossible, Lori grew even more frightened. “Everyone?” she echoed in alarm.
“The preacher, of course, and I’ve asked Judge Fairweather to stand up with me.” He didn’t think he needed to explain that the men he would normally have asked, men his own age whom he counted as his friends, had long ago gone off to fight the war, some of them never to return. And he and Bessie had agreed that the more private the ceremony, the better, so no other guests had seemed necessary or advisable.
Lori, however, appeared ready to bolt at the news that anyone at all was here to witness the ceremony. She might have, too, but Bessie took her arm and whispered something to her, and Lori straightened her shoulders determinedly and finally began to walk toward him. No one, he realized as he watched her, would ever think of her at this moment as trash.
Lori didn’t believe she had ever seen Adam Ross looking so handsome—or so intimidating. Vaguely, she was aware of the hugeness of the house they were approaching, a house she had seen many times during her life but never actually entered. And seeing him here, on its porch, made her more aware than ever of his power and his position. And of her absolute lack of both.
She felt oddly detached from all of this as she carefully climbed the few steps to the porch, mindful of her stiff, full skirts and the fact that she couldn’t see her feet. Her lungs demanded that she take a deep breath, but when she tried, her tightly laced corset prevented her. Why had she allowed Bessie to truss her up like this?
But of course she knew perfectly well why. “That’s how fine ladies dress,” Bessie had said, and the dressmaker had confirmed it. If Lori wasn’t a fine lady, she could at least look like one, so she wouldn’t shame Adam on his wedding day. Even if it meant she wouldn’t be able to draw a proper breath all day. And although her stomach was tied in knots, at least she didn’t have to worry about being sick. She hadn’t swallowed a bite of food since midday yesterday.
When she reached the top of the steps, Adam offered her his arm and a smile. She took his arm and tried to return the smile, although her face felt stiff with tension. Feeling as if her head was no longer attached to her body but floating somewhere above it, Lori stepped into the entry hall of the Elmhurst mansion.
She was vaguely aware of rich dark wood and gleaming crystal and floors polished so brightly that she could see her own reflection. Adam ushered her into one of the rooms. It was enormous and had the musty air of a room that was seldom used, and she realized this was the “company” parlor. Two men waited there, and she needed a moment to remember who they were, although she’d known them most of her life.
“Miss Lori, how pretty you look,” Judge Fairweather said, bowing over her hand. His smile was warm beneath his thick mustache, and Lori found herself wondering vaguely if he had actually polished his bald head because it was shining so brightly. “I kn
ow your father would have wanted the privilege of giving you away. He would have been very proud of you.”
Lori wasn’t quite so sure, but she thanked the judge and returned the minister’s equally effusive greeting. By the time the two men had paid their compliments to Bessie, Lori felt a little calmer, although she still had that strange, detached feeling, as if this were just another of her improbable dreams. Perhaps it was just as well, she reasoned, thinking that if she really believed she was marrying Adam Ross, she might not have the courage to go through with it.
Suddenly, Lori realized an awkward silence had fallen, and everyone seemed to be looking at her expectantly. She had no idea what they expected until Bessie said, “Well, now, what’s the hold up? Shouldn’t we get started, preacher?”
Reverend Hartsfield jumped guiltily, although Lori was sure he had nothing about which to feel guilty. “Yes, yes, of course,” he said, glancing around with an air of confusion. “Shall we stand over by the fireplace?” he asked Lori.
Lori did not believe this was her decision to make, so she glanced at Adam for approval. He was smiling, but she could see the strain behind the smile. His eyes looked almost bleak as he said, “That would be fine,” and led Lori over.
They took the places the minister indicated, with Bessie standing to Lori’s left and the judge to Adam’s right. Reverend Hartsfield cleared his throat to begin, but before he could speak, Adam suddenly stiffened.
For a second, she was afraid he had finally come to his senses and was going to call a halt, but then he said, “I almost forgot,” and turned toward the door. “Sudie!” he called.
The woman appeared so suddenly that Lori had the impression she had simply materialized in the doorway. She looked as grave as if she had been summoned to witness a death, and Lori noticed she pretended not to see anyone else in the room except Adam.
“Would you summon the others? We’re about to begin,” Adam said.
She simply nodded and came in. For a moment Lori thought the woman was blatantly refusing to do her master’s bidding, but close on her heels came the rest of the house servants, and she realized they had been waiting just outside, more aware of what was happening in this room than those who were in it.
All of them were dressed in what was obviously their best attire. Some were smiling and others appeared uncertain, while Sudie and the man named Oscar who had fetched Lori and Bessie this morning—a man Lori knew because he was the one who usually brought them the food Adam had sent through the years to keep them from starving—both appeared so solemn they could have been in mourning.
The group amounted to about a dozen or so, and Lori couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable in their presence. She had been raised to despise slaves, although she had never quite figured out why. Her father had always spoken against slavery, insisting that the slaves should all be sent back to Africa before they could rise up and murder all the whites in their beds. Of course, the McClintocks had always been too poor to afford slaves themselves, and Lori had often wondered if her father’s opinions would have changed if his circumstances had been different.
Then Lori realized in surprise that in a few minutes, her circumstances would be different. In marrying Adam Ross, she would become a slave owner, too, and mistress of all these present and several dozen more who were working in the fields. Before she could even begin to understand what that would mean, Reverend Hartsfield began the ceremony.
“Dearly beloved,” he said, and Lori felt a whole new set of terrors welling up inside of her. Why hadn’t she thought about this longer? Why hadn’t she realized that marrying Adam Ross involved more than just the two of them? Why hadn’t she considered what her role would be or the fact that she had absolutely no qualifications for becoming mistress of a plantation?
“Join hands.”
Adam took her hand in his, making her aware of how icy her own had become. He seemed surprised and wrapped his fingers around hers more securely, as if he could warm them. She looked up into his face and almost felt as if she were seeing him for the very first time.
Standing this close, she could see he had shaved closely. His hair gleamed from the oil he had used to tame it, making it several shades darker than the golden blonde she knew it to be. But his eyes were what she noticed the most. The other day, when he had proposed to her, she’d thought them the color of the Texas sky, but now that sky was cloudy, as if a storm approached. And he was looking at her as if... as if he wanted to devour her.
“Miss Lori?” Reverend Hartsfield asked, startling her.
She turned to him in alarm.
“You must say ‘I do,’ ” he explained with a warm smile. Behind her, one of the slaves chuckled quietly, and Judge Fairweather coughed behind his hand.
Her face flaming, Lori quickly said, “I do.”
A few moments later, Adam said it, too, promising she knew not what, but very adamant about it.
Then Reverend Hartsfield said, “Miss Lori?” again, and when he was sure he had Lori’s attention, he said, “Please repeat after me.”
Determined not to make another mistake, Lori did as he instructed, pledging to love and honor and obey Adam Ross. For better or for worse. Wasn’t that why she was marrying him, to make things better? In sickness and in health. How could she do any less? Forsaking all others. Something Lori was only too willing to do.
From this day forward.
Lori’s mind desperately seized on this phrase. Yes, of course, from this day forward. They wouldn’t look back, wouldn’t dare, because the past could only hurt them. She would only look forward now, toward making a life for herself and for Adam and for the child. From this day forward.
When she was finished with her vows, Adam repeated his own, although Lori noticed his voice sounded faint, as if he was afraid to speak out too loudly. Or perhaps he simply didn’t mean them. But that wouldn’t make any difference, would it? They would be just as married in the end. From this day forward.
Adam’s eyes looked so strange. She’d never seem them like that before. They almost looked like... But no, Adam wasn’t him. Adam was different. Adam would never...
A ring appeared as if by magic, and Adam slipped it on her finger, making still more promises, something about his worldly goods. She would have taken him with nothing at all, and heaven knew, she had nothing to offer in return—except herself. Which was, she understood instinctively, all that he wanted.
She could see that in his eyes, in his beautiful eyes. She’d seen that look before, in another pair of eyes, just before the lust gave way to fury and the man became a monster.
No! her mind screamed in denial. Adam wasn’t like that. Adam would never...
But what had Bessie said? All men would. All men did. And now she was Adam’s wife, and he could do with her what he willed, and she had no doubt of what he willed because she could see it plainly in his beautiful eyes.
Dear God, how could she have been so stupid? How could she have believed him so different, so pure? Why hadn’t she listened to Bessie? And what was she going to do now, because Reverend Hartsfield was pronouncing them man and wife, and it was already too late.
“You may kiss the bride,” the minister said with a smug smile.
Adam’s eyes took on an almost feverish glow as he lowered his face to hers, closer and closer, until it wasn’t Adam’s face at all anymore but his face, closing in, sucking the breath out of her, crushing her beneath his weight until she thought she was going to die.
She gasped or tried to, but her corset wouldn’t allow it, and her head was floating and the room was spinning and the blackness was beckoning, dark and welcoming. Lori gave a small cry before closing her eyes and surrendering to its oblivion.
CHAPTER THREE
Adam managed to catch Lori and prevent her from falling to the floor, but he couldn’t do any more than hold her since his bad leg would never support him if he tried to lift and carry her.
“Oscar!”
His servant was there in an
instant, taking Lori’s dead weight and easily lifting her into his strong arms.
Bessie was sputtering in outrage, something about letting a slave touch a white woman, but Adam ignored her.
“Put her down on the sofa,” he told Oscar, who obeyed without a word. His chocolate colored face looked as if it were carved from stone, and Adam noticed he didn’t so much as glance at the still sputtering Bessie.
“Leave her feet on the floor!” Bessie shrieked when Oscar would have placed Lori on the sofa completely prone. “Don’t want none of them lookin’ up her dress!” she explained at Adam’s startled glance, jerking her head in the direction of the servants.
Considering how many petticoats Lori was undoubtedly wearing beneath her gown, Adam wasn’t sure what could possibly be visible, but he noticed Oscar obeyed her command. The instant the sofa bore Lori’s weight, Oscar released her and stepped quickly away, turning his back lest he be accused of some other imagined impropriety.
“Lori, honey, are you all right?” Bessie demanded, swooping in to kneel beside the unconscious girl. She took one of Lori’s delicate hands in her larger one and began to chafe. “Lord Almighty, she’s like ice. Lori, can you hear me?”
If she could, she gave no sign. Her face was chalk white, and Adam hovered over her helplessly, desperate to assist her but not having the slightest idea how to do so.
“Maybe something she ate disagreed with her,” Judge Fairweather suggested anxiously, wringing his plump hands. Sweat had beaded on his bald head.
“Can’t be somethin’ she ate,” Bessie snapped impatiently. “She ain’t swallowed a bite of food since yesterday.”
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