by Caroline Lee
Mrs. Blakely was very definitely not looking at him. Instead, she stared down at her butler. “Martin, when these two miscreants have left my home—and they will do so immediately—please help Master Blakely up to his room and send Mrs. Evans to tend to him.”
“I’m fine, mother.” Nate was impressed the man was still conscious, truthfully, and resisted the urge to pound his face in again.
“Immediately, Martin.” The old lady turned and haughtily climbed the staircase again.
Wendy swallowed, and turned to the butler. “I am not leaving this house without my journals, Martin.”
“Yes, Miss Murray. Please hurry, though.”
“I’ll go up the back stairs.” Before she left, she held her hand out to him, and the older man gripped it firmly. “Thank you for your kindnesses, Martin.”
“I’ll have your trunks packed up and sent to you tomorrow, if you’ll leave me an address.”
“I will.” Her whisper was almost lost as she hurried towards the back of the house, without once looking in Nate’s direction. And again, that felt worse than any other blow.
Martin glanced at Steven, and one lip turned up slightly before he slammed his austere expression back onto his face. “Mr. Barker, you’d better leave.”
“Well, I’m not leaving without Miss Murray, Martin.”
The old man nodded once, and Nate thought he saw a hint of approval there. “Well then, perhaps I’ll wait with you on the porch, and you can give me her forwarding address.”
And so they did. Nate propped his hip against the garland-hung railing, and shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his coat, and watched Martin shiver until he’d copied down Mrs. Gardner’s address. When the old man left, Nate turned to the street and tried to figure out what the hell just happened.
Wendy had lost her job, and her home because of him. She had nothing now, because he couldn’t let an insult to her pass by. He didn’t regret teaching Steven a lesson—maybe he’d think before he insulted a lady so egregiously again—but he did regret Wendy taking the brunt of the punishment.
Her immediate shock and disapproval of his actions suddenly made sense. She must have known that this would happen.
He was all she had now. It was too late for her to get a room; he’d let her have his bed at Mrs. Gardner’s. Twenty minutes ago, after that kiss, he might have tested the waters to see if she’d mind him sharing it with her. But now his ardor was decidedly cooled, and hers was positively frigid.
He wouldn’t be surprised if she’d refused to even look at him, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He’d gotten her into this mess, and he was going to take care of her, by God.
Nate had always been good at talking himself out of bad moods, and now was no different. Sure, she was jobless now, but at least she wasn’t living with that horrible family anymore. Why, maybe he’d be able to convince her to head back to Cheyenne for a spell. Just to visit the family, if nothing else. To meet Rose, and see Serena, and spend another Christmas with those who loved her. Like him.
After the New Year, he could offer to help her find a job closer to home. Sebastian would probably jump at the chance to hire another teacher with her experience, even if she’d never gone to a fancy college like him. Nate looked up at the moon, which suddenly seemed a little brighter. Yeah, and if she stayed in Cheyenne to teach, he’d be able to court her properly, and prove that he was worthy of her love.
But when the door opened and she slipped out, gripping a large satchel and her muff, he remembered that he wasn’t worthy. He’d just proved that he was the savage everyone called him. He could tell from her expression—she refused to look at him—that he’d lost whatever gains he’d made in her affections over the last week.
“Come on.” He took her bag from her, and she followed him meekly down the steps. “I’m taking you to Mrs. Gardner’s house. You can have my room.”
“Very well.” Her whisper barely traveled, and he was glad he couldn’t hear what must be the ice in her tone.
“Martin’s sending your trunks there tomorrow. She’ll store them for you.”
“Very well.”
He opened his mouth to assure her that everything would be okay, but stopped. Everything wouldn’t be okay. He had royally, completely, absolutely screwed up her life.
She was never going to forgive him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
She was never going to forgive him.
He had completely, utterly ruined her life, and she refused to even speak to him. Why hadn’t he listened to her, trusted her judgment?
How could he have acted so… so rudely? He’d ruined a beautiful evening, an evening that she might have remembered for the rest of her life for its perfection. She wouldn’t forget it now, though, oh no, but it was the horrible ending that she’d remember. Nate had always been so gentle with her, so thoughtful and kind… it was hard to grasp he was the same man who had just mutilated Steven with his fists, despite her begging him to stop. Why hadn’t he listened to her?
He’d always hated the term ‘savage’, and Wendy had spent years trying to convince him that the word didn’t describe him. But, if she was honest with herself, the little bit of primitive wildness he did possess was part of his appeal. Even when they were younger, she was drawn to the untamed part of him. Apparently while she’d been gone, he’d become even less… tame. How could someone who appeared to be such a gentleman fight like such a barbarian? He’d been like a character from one of her books.
She could have told him that this would be the result of that fight. Just inviting Nate into the Blakely house was probably enough to be let go from her position; bringing in the man who nearly killed her son was as good an excuse as any for Mrs. Blakely. And now she had no home, no job, no purpose. Thanks to Nate.
Wendy had to admit that she wasn’t entirely sad to be leaving the Blakely house. If it wasn’t for Jeremy, she would have hated it there. As it was, she’d miss the boy, but more miss the chance at preparing him for school. He deserved better than his mother could give him. But she’d actually been looking for a new position for quite a few months now, in contact with the Mulligans and Mr. Morgan at the High School, but nothing had come up.
Thus, she knew there were no other positions available as a tutor for young deaf children. She could always go back to teaching, but she really lacked the patience for discipline. It’s possible that she could earn enough by writing, but rent was expensive in the city, which is why she preferred positions where board came standard.
So when she’d left the Blakely house that night, she’d known that she was out of luck. No job, no way to pay rent, no place to live. She thought that not speaking to Nate was the least he deserved. I knew this would happen if he let Steven provoke him! Why wouldn’t he listen to me?
The ride to Mrs. Gardner’s house was icily silent, with Nate not even bothering to defend himself, just staring out of the street car’s windows broodingly. Like he had a reason to pout. But his landlady was kind and solicitous, despite the look she’d thrown in Nate’s direction promising that he would explain later.
Wendy had ignored them both, except for a whispered ‘thank you’ when Mrs. Gardner led her to an empty bedroom. She hadn’t had to share Nate’s room after all, and was frankly a little disappointed. The lout deserved to sleep on the hard floor after what he’d done. But that would have meant sleeping on his bed, wrapped in his scent and warmth, remembering what it was like to be held by him… and frankly, that wasn’t going to help her snit.
The morning after her world had fallen apart, she’d been sitting alone in Mrs. Gardner’s parlor when both of her trunks had arrived from the Blakelys. Wendy had put down her writing and stood at the window to watch Nate help unload them, and then tip the delivery driver. So she wasn’t entirely surprised when her old friend opened the door and joined her.
The entire room seemed to get smaller as he’d leaned one elbow on the mantel above the small fire. She tried not to look his way, but it
was almost impossible; everything about the blasted man drew her attention and her eyes. Why did he have to be so handsome? Still, she did a tolerable job of pretending interest in the street outside of the window.
“You got any prospects in the city, Wendy?” She turned a blank look on him, and he’d elaborated. “I mean, do you have any reason to stay here? Any jobs lined up? A place to live?”
Mutely, she’d shaken her head, managing to keep the tears from her eyes. Had he come here to rub in her total humiliation, then? Damn him.
“Then I’m taking you home.”
Home. A simple enough word, but a complicated concept she’d fought for a year. She missed her family terribly, but had been strong enough to keep her shame from them for this long. Now, there was no way she’d be able to hide her secret; with no job and no way to live in the city, she would have to go back to them in disgrace. And God knew what they’d think of her then.
Her despair must have shown on her face, despite her best efforts, because Nate had hurried to reassure her. “It doesn’t have to be forever, Wendy. Just a visit. Just for Christmas. Come home and see everyone who misses you, meet your niece.” She’d turned away then. He knew exactly what to say to make her long to return to Cheyenne. “Use the time to try to find another job, even in this city, if that’s what you want. I’ll come bac…”
He’d cut himself off then, and Wendy hadn’t been able to guess what he’d been about to offer. She wasn’t even sure if she cared. He swallowed, and then continued, quieter. “Just for a visit Wendy? Please don’t say no.”
Damn.
Well, it wasn’t like she had any other option, was there? And it was stupid to keep fighting against something that she wanted so desperately anyhow. But she didn’t want Nate to think he could get away with planning her life so absolutely, so her whisper was icy when she agreed. “Very well.”
From the corner of her eye, she’d seen him wince, and then begin to say something else and think better of it. When he’d left the room without speaking, a defeated look on his face, she tried to feel victorious, but the emptiness inside her was too vast.
So now they were on a train, heading west. It was only her third train ride in her life, but it was impossible to be excited. Whereas both of her last journeys by train had taken her towards her new life, a future filled with possibilities, this one was taking her home. Defeated. Her purpose in life, her job, had been removed, and she had no hope of obtaining another. She’d left home years ago, determined to make her own way in the world, and she had. But now she was returning, beaten and hopeless, and it wasn’t even her fault.
Every mile that took her closer to Cheyenne meant that she was a mile closer to facing her doom. What would they say if they knew? Would she be able to keep her secret while visiting her family? How could she explain why she’d been so distant, without telling them the truth? Oh God, how had she gotten herself into this mess? It had been so easy to ignore their questions when she was a thousand miles away, but soon she’d see them, hug them, and see the hurt and accusation in their eyes.
Was it any wonder that she still wasn’t speaking to Nate? She’d managed to keep her snit going throughout the whirlwind of activity it took to close up their affairs in St. Louis and secure tickets west. Wendy said her goodbyes to Mrs. Gardner—who hugged her surprisingly warmly—and insisted on stopping by the telegraph office on the way to the train station, to inform Mr. Lee of her new address.
When they’d boarded the train, she’d been staggered to discover that Nate had splurged on a spot in the sleeping car for the two of them. There were comfortable, private seats with a beautiful picture window and a little table, and two comfortable bunks that folded out from the wall. The sheets were clean and straight, and there was a porter who was in charge of just their car. It was positively luxurious—and only one step below a private car.
When they were shown to their seats, Wendy turned an amazed look on Nate. He actually looked chagrined. Rubbing the back of his neck, he shrugged. “Well, it’s not like I don’t have the money. And you should be comfortable on the trip.”
“Just me?”
“Well, there are two seats here…”
She wanted to smile, but she didn’t dare. Instead she gave him her shoulder and watched the departure preparations out the window, and let him think she was still stewing at his high-handedness and savagery. Which she was. Right?
The problem was that deep-down, she was glad to be going home. She was looking forward to hugging her sisters and Serena again. She wanted to spend Christmas with her family. But it wasn’t her choice, it wasn’t on her terms, and she definitely wasn’t prepared to explain her treatment of them. And that’s why she was still incredibly irritated with him.
And now, after almost a full day on the train, she still wasn’t speaking to him. He’d given up trying to make conversation, and now just spent most of the journey staring out the window at the snow-covered plains flashing by, his long booted legs propped up on the seat in front of him. He’d changed back into his old clothes, but didn’t look the same with his hair cut short. As Wendy surreptitiously studied him, she realized that his short time in the city had changed him, and she wondered if it was permanent. When he was back home, back to his element, would he forget about the harsh lessons learned in St. Louis? About the cruel people who doubted him because of his skin color? She hoped so, for his sake.
She’d spent most of her time writing, frantically scribbling in her journal. Because even if she never taught another deaf child, she still had her writing. And she still had a deadline she had to meet; Mr. Lee had agreed to accept her manuscript by post from Cheyenne.
She was working on her Hero story again, but it had taken a decidedly less-romantic turn.
Betrayal! Her heart felt like it was breaking in two! How could he do such a thing to her? How could he treat her so callously?
“Trust me, beloved, I have done it for your own good.”
“Ha! As if you have any idea what is good for me! You are still too stubborn to see that I can manage my own affairs. Still too ignorant to acknowledge my mastery of my own life.”
“I only want what is best for you. I have only ever loved you.”
She laughed in his face again, but it was bitter. “Impossible! You have loved many women. I can see it in your face; hear it in your words. You believe yourself to be an expert on women.”
“Lies! You are the only
Wendy gasped as her journal was yanked from under her pencil. Nate had casually leaned forward and pulled it away from her where she’d labored over it on the small table between them. Now he spun it around and started reading the exchange she’d been working on. Before she could gather breath to protest—and get past her shock long enough to find something coherent to say—he’d flipped back several pages and started reading from the beginning of that section.
“How dare…! Give that back!” Wendy reached out try to snatch it back, but Nate was faster. Casually, he lifted one booted foot and plunked it on the table between them, forcing her to pull back or run the risk of draping herself across the dirty shoe. “What...?” She took a deep breath and pushed her spectacles back up her nose. “Nathanial, remove your foot from my workspace.”
“Shhh.” He turned the page, apparently engrossed in her writing.
“Nathanial.”
“Shhh, reading.”
“Nate. Give me back my journal.”
“No.” He flipped another page, and she was angry enough to scream. Instead, she took another deep breath, placed her hands in her lap, and started to pretend she had his neck between them.
“Nate, you’re making a scene. This isn’t proper.”
“Don’t care; reading.”
He looked so intent, so silly—reclined with his boots up on the table of a Pullman car, for Heaven’s sakes—that she burst into laughter. She immediately tried to clamp down on her mirth, but it was too late. He lowered her journal, and his feet, with a grin on
his face.
“I knew you couldn’t stay mad at me.”
“Then you don’t know me quite well enough. I’m still livid.”
Nate sighed, and returned his attention to her story. She could tell that he wanted to argue, and was almost disappointed when he didn’t. “Well, at least you’re speaking to me again.”
“Hmmm.” Eyes narrowed, she refused to admit any such thing. “Give me back my journal.”
“Okay.” Carefully, he closed it and passed it to her. She snatched it back, and pressed it to her breast. “That isn’t the story you were working on in the Blakelys’ parlor.”
“No…” She didn’t want to admit that she’d started a new one after he’d sauntered so sexily back into her life.
“I like it. I’m looking forward to reading more of it.”
“Well, if you can bring yourself to ask next time, maybe I’ll permit it.”
“Really?”
“No, I’m still very angry at you.”
He shrugged, as if awarding her a concession, and it made her feel better somehow. “There’s more passion in this one, Wendy. Like your first books. The last two have been… I dunno.”
“What?” She rarely got to speak with someone who’d read her books, because so few people knew she was the author. Only her editor gave her any feedback. Still, it felt odd to be listening to Nate’s opinions about her stories. Her curiosity about his opinions was enough to bring her out of her snit.
“They’ve been good, don’t get me wrong. I’ve liked the adventures. But they didn’t exactly have a Happily Ever After, did they?”
She harrumphed. Is that what he meant? “They weren’t supposed to. As an author, I’ve grown past the need for unrealistic platitudes, and have learned to write life as it is.”