Rowena's Hellion

by Velda Brotherton

  For a moment she continued to kiss his chin, his cheek, his eyelids. He spread a palm over the back of her head and tucked it against his shoulder. For just one more moment in time he closed his eyes, breathed in her essence, imagined life with her.

  Whispered in her ear. “Not now, not like this.”

  “Yes, yes, please.”

  “You don’t mean that. You can’t.” He tried a bit of humor, hoping to still her passion. “What would the nuns say?”

  “What do they know? They’ve never felt like this, or they would tell me to do it. I feel all itchy and fuzzy inside. Here, let me show you.”

  She took his hand, guided it between her thighs until his fingers trailed over the moistness within her. “Please touch me. I want you to do that.”

  Outside the wind howled, beating at the window panes as if frantic to get inside.

  He bit his lip, nodded, and slipped his finger gently inside the sweet cave.

  She cried out, pushed against him until his fingertip slid deeper and deeper. A fleeting thought: No virgin this one. Then, head swimming, he massaged her until she folded around his embrace, fingers biting into his arms while she made mewling sounds, mouth wet against his chest.

  Then he took her hand. “Here, let me show you.”

  He guided her down inside his pants and curled her fingers around his erection, a pounding so loud in his head he could scarcely hear. “Like this.” He moved her fist slowly until she got the idea, then stroked her in the same rhythm. Slowly at first, then faster and faster until he came in an explosion of white hot rapture that seared into his brain. Raw noises escaped his throat to join hers. She wrapped herself even tighter around him, and he clung to her. Shuddering, he slid down from the edge of rapture, kept her close and still. Their breathing in unison, hearts beating together.

  After a long while, she asked softly, “What did we do? Did we make love?”

  He trailed his lips along the lobe of her ear. “Yes, my sweet.”

  “I never knew, never thought I could feel this way.” A long pause. “Could we do it again?”

  “We need to marry, Rowena, but—”

  Her head bobbed up and down against his jaw.

  A flash of a dead child in a pool of blood. He blinked it away. Not here, not now. He had to tell her something. Something very important.

  “I’m sorry, but you need to leave now.” His voice sorrowful and resigned.

  For a moment, she clung to him, then appeared to understand. “I’m not afraid to stay with you. I mean, maybe I can help you. Blair, you asked me to marry you.”

  “Yes, I know, but you have to know some things. I can hurt you if you do not know them.”

  She caressed his stubbled jaw with the palm of one hand. “You told me you would never hurt me. I believe you. I want to marry you. I thought you would never ask.”

  “I know, and the only way I can assure your safety is to stay apart from you.”

  “After tonight, I’m not sure I can accept that. What is it that drives you to such wild ravings? You see things, don’t you? Terrible things.”

  “Oh, God.” Throat raw, body sated from her caresses, he groaned. “Don’t even think you can cure me.”

  “Are they here now?”

  He couldn’t help himself. He stared from the corner of his vision at the bloody soldier, nodded. Her gaze tracked his.

  “There? Over there?” She gestured with her head, keeping hold of his arms with both hands.

  “No. Stop it, Rowena. Stop it now. You cannot cure me. If we marry, you must understand. You will not live with me, but separate. When I am well we can be together like this. Only if you say you understand can we continue to talk about this.”

  “Don’t be foolish. I cannot marry a man and then never be with him. Blair, if he is real, then I can see him. And if not, if I can’t see him, then you will know he is not really here.”

  “Dear God, don’t you think I know he isn’t real? Still he keeps coming back, because of what I did, and I can’t stop him or the others. Neither can you.”

  “Not me, but perhaps someone who knows—”

  “No. Doctors can do nothing but give me laudanum, or morphine laced with opium, and I refuse to remain drugged out of my head. At least I have a semblance of a life this way. When the spells come on I handle them, bad as they are. But not with you. Do not try to cure me, please. I want so desperately to have you. Will you listen to me? Believe me?”

  She took his hand, held it against her heart. “I love you.”

  He bent forward and kissed her hand holding his so close to her breast. Oh, God, if only love were a cure. But he didn’t believe that. Never could.

  “I wasn’t going to suggest a doctor. Well, not exactly. I just heard of another form of treatment. Have you not heard of phrenology?”

  “Lord, no. It sounds like some sort of disease in itself.”

  “No, not at all. It’s a way of defining what makes our brains drive us to do what we do by reading the bumps on our head.”

  “Doing what?” Unconsciously, he put his fingers to his head, massaged the curvature. “My head doesn’t have bumps on it. And if it did, what could that possibly say about my behavior?”

  “Would you be willing to try it? There’s been great success. The Queen—”

  “I don’t give a damn what the Queen does. Look, Rowena,” he said, fighting the anger in his tone. “I know why I’m the way I am, and there’s no way to change it, to cure it, for God’s sake. It’s best if we stay away from each other from now on.”

  Despite his struggle to pull from her grasp, she managed to hang on. “No. I accept your terms. I will live apart from you when we marry. Just don’t shut me out. I love you, and that should be enough.”

  He pulled her head against his chest so she could not see his expression or the tears that filled his eyes. “You accept?”

  “Yes. When will we have the ceremony?”

  “Well, I think it best to do it here at Fairhaven, so if something happens it can be handled by Simmons. Are you agreeable to that? I know you probably always dreamed of a big wedding in a church.”

  Her breath came warm and moist against his chest. “Anything you wish.”

  What a bastard he was. Wanting to have her love without the responsibilities of marriage. Yet he wanted her so badly he was willing to make this devil’s deal.

  She raised herself up, found his mouth with hers, and kissed him deeply. He responded without pause, then pushed away.

  “Rowena, you must leave now. As soon as I can arrange for the reverend to come out here, we will have the ceremony. I will not ruin your reputation in this way.”

  “I do not care what people think.”

  “Well, you should, my love. You absolutely should. We will do this as quickly as possible. But you must promise me you will abide by the agreement and be very careful. Simmons will help you to understand just what can happen. Go now, my sweet.”

  “All right, Blair. I’m leaving. Please think about consulting a phrenologist. I want you to get better. Please, at least try.”

  “Go.” He pointed at the door, then turned his back, found the bottle of whiskey, and turned it up to drink.

  She scuttled across the room and out into the hallway, hoping no one saw her running half naked to her room. They would be married, but her sorrow was so great she could not celebrate. What a dreadful pact to have made, just to have his love. Well, she would keep it, as long as was possible, but eventually he would let her be with him. She just knew it.

  Later she readied for bed, still sorting through her jumbled thoughts. Buried beneath all that sorrow and rage lived a good man, and she would bring him back to life permanently, somehow. He had awakened her womanhood, and this mock marriage would not be the end, by any means. Blair did not know how determined she could be. This was only the beginning.

  But she needed a plan to get him to see the phrenologist, and she would have to have help. With Tyra involved in Lizza’s
recovery, that left only Marguerite, or perhaps Annie and Nellie.

  First, she must learn if there was a phrenologist in Victoria, and Marguerite would be able to get that information. Then she would arrange to get Blair and this person in the same room together. That’s where Nellie and Annie could help.

  She fell asleep, excited about the coming marriage and feeling better for having devised a plan to help Blair, even though it was far from implemented. First thing in the morning, she would get the buggy and go to town to speak to Marguerite, who would not be too happy about the planned wedding. She would tell no one under what circumstances Blair would marry her. That was between him and her.

  Sometime in the night, when darkness enveloped the world and no moon shone, she heard Blair pass her room and go down the stairs. By the time she reached the hallway, the large front door slammed. Back at her window, she struggled to see him cross the yard, but the darkness was too complete. She waited there, shivering in the cold dampness, until she heard his horse leave the barn, hooves beating off into the night.

  For a long while after the hoofbeats faded, she remained propped in the window. Where did he go, and what did he do? If only she could ride, she would follow him one night and find out. Perhaps when Tyra returned to Fairhaven she could teach her.

  After a nearly sleepless night, in which she relived lying enclosed in Blair’s arms and dreamed of when they could be together, she dressed and hurried downstairs. She followed her nose to the kitchen, where Annie fried bacon and eggs and served them with a healthy helping of beans and bread. Nellie joined them at the small kitchen table.

  “His lordship went out in the night,” Annie said, peering over her teacup.

  Rowena hoped she didn’t blush as she nodded. “Yes. I approached him about trying a phrenologist. He refused, but I have a plan.” She held close their marriage plans. It would be up to him to make that announcement, but she could scarcely keep the secret. Perhaps she could tell Tyra and pledge her to secrecy.

  Annie grinned. “Oh, what is it? Can we help?”

  “You can indeed. We have to think of a way to get Blair and this phrenologist, whoever he might be, in the same room together.”

  The ever practical Nellie huffed through her lips. “That doesn’t guarantee a thing. Perhaps they will fight. His lordship might box his ears for him, or worse.”

  “One step at a time. I thought we might have a little party. Invite Marguerite and Mr. Chesshire, Dr. Weatherby and his wife, perhaps some other people you might know. Surely Blair would not show his bad side in a room filled with people.”

  “Oh, what a wonderful idea. I will make a rack of lamb, some leek soup, a fine pudding. I do so love parties.”

  “Pish tosh. What do you know about parties?” Nellie said.

  “Well, I’ve never been to one, but I have heard talk.”

  “Then it’s settled. But first I must go to town and talk to Marguerite, then visit this phrenologist, if there is one, and make arrangements. Where is Simmons? I’ll need the buggy later.”

  “Oh, dear. What will we do if there is no phrenologist in Victoria?”

  Footsteps approached down the hallway and through the breakfast room.

  “We’ll face that when we come to it, but I can’t imagine there not being one, considering their popularity. We are, after all, a Victorian settlement with all the accoutrements.”

  “Good morning, ladies,” Simmons said. “May I have some breakfast, Annie?”

  “Of course, sir.” The girl jumped up and prepared more eggs and bacon and dished out some beans.

  “Simmons, I’ll need the buggy in a little while. When you’ve finished there, would you ask Grady to bring it round?”

  With a frown, Simmons said, “You may go out and ask him yourself, if you don’t mind. I have plenty to do without fetching for you.”

  Annie made a face behind his back and Rowena laughed. She couldn’t help it. Annie and Nellie laughed with her, holding their hands over their mouths to be polite.

  “I see nothing funny,” Simmons said and stirred sugar into his tea noisily.

  “I shall just go fetch the buggy myself, then,” Rowena said and left to the sound of Nellie and Annie continuing to laugh.

  What would Simmons think when Blair told him? Perhaps he had already done so and that explained his sharpness with her. He would never approve, of that she was sure. But what could he do?

  Chapter Five

  “Where to, ma’am?” Grady asked from the driver’s seat when they entered Victoria.

  “Let me off at Doctor Weatherby’s surgery. I want to check on Lizza and see Tyra. Then, if you don’t mind, just go on over to the Chesshires’ and wait there for me.”

  “It’s pretty cold out here to be walking. That wind’ll plumb blow you off your feet.”

  “Mmm, but the sunshine feels good, and I need some fresh air.”

  “Well, then, if you’re sure.” Silence for a beat. “It’s a shame about his lordship.”

  “What?”

  “I mean his drinking. That’ll kill a man, he keeps it up.”

  “That’s really none of your business.”

  “Nope, I reckon not. Still…”

  “You westerners don’t mind poking your nose where it doesn’t belong, do you?”

  “No, ma’am. I ’spect we don’t. We care about other folks, is all. I like Mr. Prescott when he’s not drunk.”

  “Lord Prescott.”

  “Oh, well, if you don’t mind my saying so, I’ve only got one Lord, and he isn’t a damned Englishman, if you’ll excuse my language.”

  “Watch your tongue.”

  “Yes’m.” His tone did not sound the least bit contrite.

  When Grady offered his hand to help her from the buggy, she refused and hopped down by herself. This was a man she liked, but his attitude about Blair upset her. Probably because it was so near to the truth.

  She found Mrs. Weatherby in the waiting room at the doctor’s surgery and was directed to Lizza’s cubicle, but Tyra wasn’t there. Lizza sat in a chair near the window, staring down into the street. One look showed she was not conscious of what was going on around her.

  Rowena touched her shoulder and the girl jerked under her hand, gazed at her as if she didn’t know who she was.

  “Sorry, it’s me. How are you today? You’re looking much better.”

  “I’m fine, thank you.”

  “Good. Lord Prescott has invited you to recuperate at Fairhaven, if you would like to accompany me there today.”

  Fear touched the girl’s eyes. “What happened to Bart? Do you think he’ll find me out there?”

  “No, dear.” Rowena sat in the chair next to her and took her hand. “Your husband is in jail in Hays City, awaiting trial. You do not have to worry about him doing anything to you.”

  “Oh, you don’t know him. He’ll get out, and he’ll find me, no matter where I go.” Tears filled her eyes. “He’ll kill me the next time. You saw how he is.”

  “Yes, I did, and that is precisely why he won’t be out any time soon. Come with me to Fairhaven.” Rowena glanced around. “Where is Tyra? I really need to speak with her.”

  For a moment Lizza appeared confused, then her face cleared. “Oh, yes. Some handsome young man came and they left together.”

  “Where did they go?”

  Lizza shrugged. “She didn’t say, and it wasn’t my place to ask. She called him James, I believe. Yes, that’s it. He looked like a westerner.”

  Interesting. Rowena had never heard Tyra mention anyone by that name. “Oh, that child. I don’t suppose we shall ever hold her down. She has truly turned western.” She rose. “Well, come on then. It’s time you left this place and saw your health restored. You are pale as a sheet.”

  Lizza gazed up at her. “Are you sure? I mean, I’ve heard tales about the lord of Fairhaven. He might be as bad as Barton.”

  “Nonsense. He punishes himself, I agree. But he would never mistreat a woman under his pr
otection.” Would he? She mentally shook herself. How could she even think such a thing? After all, she was going to marry the man. It was still something she could not believe, it had happened so fast. She dragged herself back to the poor, delicate child. “Where are your clothes?”

  “I have none. There was blood on what I wore when…when Bart… I have nothing else to my name.”

  Lizza stood and gestured toward the dress she wore. Loose enough to hold someone else, the hem struck her at mid calf. “Mrs. Weatherby lent me this.” Glistening blue eyes huge in a wan face, she stared at Rowena.

  “Well, that will never do. I’m on my way to Chesshire’s. They have some ready-made dresses. You look to be about Tyra’s size. I shall return shortly with something. Perhaps Nellie can stitch you up a frock or two once we get to Fairhaven. Or you can have Tyra’s things. It appears she will not be in need of dresses.”

  Lizza collapsed in the chair and buried her face in both hands. Whatever she said wasn’t understandable, and Rowena simply patted her shoulder and reassured her everything would be all right. Poor little thing. To be in such a fix and with no one to turn to. She hoped Blair did not change his mind.

  Round as a ball, Mrs. Weatherby bustled in. “Here, here. What’s going on? You’ve upset the wee child.”

  While Lizza shook her head no, Rowena explained her plans to Mrs. Weatherby and took her leave for the time being.

  A brutal gust of wind whipped at the hem of her dress when she hurried from the surgery toward Marguerite’s. Immediately she regretted telling Grady to take the buggy to Chesshire’s. Bits of debris cut at her cheeks. A storm in the offing. She must make haste. Hunching into her cape, she trotted along the boardwalk. By the time she reached the shop, her teeth were chattering. Grady sat huddled inside the buggy, which he’d turned around to protect himself from the wind. Ignoring his gloved hand raised in greeting and something shouted but lost to the rising wind, she rushed inside and through the empty shop, her shoes clomping on the hardwood floor.

  Marguerite met her halfway. “I heard the bell. Mercy, you’re half frozen. Whatever possessed you to come out on such a raw day? The way the air smells, it will snow before nightfall.” Marguerite led the way to the back corner and seated her.