Marjorie thought that over for a few minutes. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. But what if she hears this awful gossip from someone else? Really, I should do something.”
“Believe me, she’ll appreciate your silence. And if she hears this from another person, then so be it. At least you won’t be involved.” And neither would he. If he knew Mrs. Kensington and that niece of hers well enough, then the scandalous news would be spread throughout the countryside before the week was out. He believed he knew enough about Eden to realize she wouldn’t take kindly to the gossip but would demand Damon do the honorable thing by her.
And Jock knew Damon wouldn’t do that.
A lingering smile curved his lips. Soon he’d have Eden where he wanted her—in his bed as his wife. He’d simply leave all to the town gossips.
Marjorie’s groan disturbed his pleasant thoughts. Immediately he saw what caused his sister such distress. It was none other than Bert Carruthers behind the reins of his buggy. “Be sweet, Marjorie,” Jock advised. “Your fiancé is here and it looks like you might be in for a moonlit buggy ride tonight.”
“I’d rather swallow castor oil,” she hissed at Jock.
“You can always call off the wedding … but remember what will happen to a certain person if you do.”
Even with her sitting in the shadows, Jock saw Marjorie tense and knew he’d driven home his warning. Moments later he sent a beaming smile her way and graciously extended his hand to Bert.
Yes, Jock decided after Bert swept Marjorie away for a romantic ride, things were going well for the present, and they’d continue that way. All he had to do was wait.
Chapter 11
Eden had never been happier in her entire life. Damon, of course, was the reason for this newfound contentment. For the first time in years she felt she truly belonged, that the nagging insecurity which had plagued her was a thing of the past. Though Damon hadn’t confessed his love for her, it was impossible not to believe he didn’t love her. Each time he touched her, kissed her, or took her to bed, he gave of himself in more ways than just the physical. Their bond was emotional and mental, spiritual, too, though she knew Damon would have laughed if she’d told him she thought him spiritual.
Having accepted all these things about their relationship, Eden waited for the moment he’d tell her about Tessa. He knew all about her past, and accordingly she expected to know his. But the days passed and Damon didn’t mention his late wife. Were the memories too painful for him? Had he loved Tessa so much that just to speak her name would have been unbearable? Eden didn’t begrudge him the life he’d shared with Tessa, but she worried that Tessa’s memory was interfering with the start of a new life for herself and Damon. She wanted to hear him tell her that he loved her. She wanted to be his wife. As long as Damon clung to his private pain, there could be no beginning for them.
~~~
They were in town one balmy afternoon, having just eaten at the restaurant where Joanie worked. Nick was staying upstairs, and to Damon’s amazement, Nick was helping to run the establishment.
“You’re giving up prospecting?” Damon asked Nick when he joined them at the table.
Nick nodded. “Aye, I have. I thought it was about time I started settling down.” He shot a furtive glance in Joanie’s direction as she waited on another table. “I like it here, I do.”
Damon grunted. “I never thought you’d give up looking for gold.”
“Well, maybe I’ve found something better than gold, something more lasting.”
Damon didn’t immediately understand what Nick meant, but Eden wasn’t the least bit surprised when Joanie came over and Nick, beaming with joy, held out Joanie’s hand for their inspection. She wore a ring with a small sapphire stone on her third finger. “We’re getting married,” he proudly announced, and Joanie blushed a becoming shade of pink.
Eden congratulated the happy couple, the three of them waiting expectantly for Damon’s good wishes. But Damon sat there in stony silence. “Damon, aren’t you going to wish us well?” Nick asked, growing uncomfortable but holding tightly to Joanie’s hand.
“No.”
“Damon!” Eden’s exclamation slipped out, shocked that he’d purposely be rude to his friend.
“And why is that?” This question was posed by Nick whose tenseness was transferred to Joanie. She moved her hand away, a crestfallen expression on her pretty face.
“Don’t make me say it, Nick.”
“Aye, man, go on. Tell me why you can’t wish me and my Joanie good luck.”
“Nick, please don’t,” Joanie pleaded.
“Aye, I want Damon to tell me.”
Damon’s expression darkened with an unreadable emotion, his voice was low. “A man who marries is a fool, Nick. Joanie, as pretty and sweet as she is, is much too young for you. You’re asking for heartache by marrying her. What’s to prevent her from running off with a young fellow one day? And you’ll be left a bitter and broken man. I can’t give my congratulations.”
Joanie let out a little cry and fled from the room. Nick stood up, the veins in his neck bulging with his anger. He balled his hands into fists. “If you weren’t my friend, I’d bash your head in for what you’ve just done to my Joanie. Aye, I admit I’m older than she is, a great deal older, but I love her, man. And she loves me. That’s all I can ask for the moment. And if by chance she one day runs off with a younger man—a richer man—then so be it. But I’ll be damned if I become like you. You’re the bitter, lonely man, Damon, not me.” He leaned toward his friend, his words intended for Damon alone, though Eden heard them. “You can’t make a new life for yourself, you’re too frightened of being hurt again. You nurse old wounds because you want to, and you don’t want anyone else to be happy. You have the opportunity to start over and you’d better do something about it, otherwise you’re going to lose your chance.” Nick directed a look at Eden. “There’s a fine woman sitting next to you. Do the decent thing and make an honest woman of her. People are talking, you know.” With that, Nick left them.
Eden felt her face flaming, unable even to glance at Damon who sat for a few moments in moody silence. Finally, he told her it was time they started for home.
Nothing was said during the return trip, but Eden’s mind whirled with Nick’s words. The man was right. Damon must put the past behind him, accept Tessa’s death. He’d be so much happier if he could begin to live in the present and realize what a wonderful life they could have together.
And now it seemed people were talking about her living arrangements with Damon. Nick hadn’t said that directly, but that was what he’d meant. If Damon cared for her, even a tiny bit, he wouldn’t allow her to be hurt by cruel gossip. They’d recently attended church services, and now that Eden thought about it, she realized some of the people who’d been so warm and friendly the time before had been distant and cool this time. Jock and Marjorie Sutherland had been there. Jock, always the gentleman, had complimented her dress, but she’d been so caught up in her thoughts and feelings for Damon that she’d paid little attention to him. But it was Marjorie who had sent her a warning glance and said a bit too crisply, “Living at Thunder Mine is no place for a lady, Eden. Really, you should consider moving someplace else.”
Marjorie had clearly learned about her living arrangements with Damon. She knew Marjorie hadn’t meant to be unkind, that she wished to spare her embarrassment by warning her to think of living elsewhere. And Marjorie was right. She shouldn’t be sharing a house, a bed, with Damon. It wasn’t right or proper. If he cared for her, he should want to save her reputation.
She didn’t want to push him into a hasty decision, but she had to know where she stood with him.
Eden followed him into the house and then into the bedroom. She loved this bedroom with its magnificent view of the valley and the mountains. Each morning she awoke to a multicolored dawn lying in Damon’s arms. He was so tender and gentle, so passionate in their lovemaking. She adored him. But now he eyed her, his face gran
ite hard as he sat upon the bed.
“Come here,” he demanded, and held out an arm to her. Eden sat beside him, finding herself nestled within the depths of his embrace. He still wanted her, a good sign, she decided.
Damon began kissing her roughly, pushing her down upon the bed. His hands were everywhere upon her, but instead of arousing her, she felt fear. She noticed his eyes were wide open, but it was almost as if he weren’t seeing her but someone else. And her heart flip-flopped to think he might be imagining Tessa.
“Stop, Damon. You’re too rough.” Eden pushed at him, breaking away from his kiss.
His eyes were hooded. “Don’t push away from me, Eden. Never push away from me.” Once again he captured her lips, but his kiss bruised her mouth. This wasn’t the Damon she’d come to love, but a stranger, a man she didn’t know, a man she was suddenly afraid of.
“Da-mon.” She broke away. “What wrong with you? You’re scaring me.”
“Ah, Eden, give over. I’m not in the mood for a gentle wooing of you today. Come on, open your legs for me. I want to bury myself inside you.” He started kissing her neck and lifting her skirt at the same time. His hand snaked up her leg to the downy junction between her thighs, already probing inside her and readying her with her own juices.
There was something frantic and frightening about his efforts. It was as if he didn’t care about her at all. She wasn’t aroused; this was nothing like the other times they’d made love. Then, she’d felt loved and wanted for herself. Now she felt almost degraded, almost like Damon’s whore.
And that was what she was.
The truth hit her and stung her with such force that she groaned aloud. Damon was treating her like a whore, because he thought of her as one, even though he’d taken her as a virgin. He had a willing woman to bed whenever the whim hit him. He wasn’t married to her, hadn’t promised her anything, but allowed her to live in his fancy house and share his big, soft bed. She eagerly came to him whenever he wanted her. So, in Damon’s eyes, she was no better than his personal whore. And a man didn’t marry a whore.
“We have to talk,” she gasped when his mouth moved away from hers.
“I don’t want to talk, I want to…” and he whispered in her ear what he wanted to do. Eden colored furiously, not because she hadn’t heard the word before, but because it sounded so coarse, so callow—the way a man would speak to a whore.
She began pushing at him, her legs tangling with his. But he was far stronger than she was, and her frustrated efforts caused her to sob. “Let me go, Damon. Let me alone!”
It seemed that for the first time he really heard her. Thwarted desire shone in his eyes. “What’s wrong, Eden?”
“You’re being too rough. I don’t want to make love now.”
“Oh, aren’t I being gentlemanly enough for you? I saw you talking to Gentleman Jock after services this morning.”
“Stop being ridiculous and get off me! I want to talk to you.”
Seeing he was getting nowhere, Damon lifted his weight from her. Eden scooted away from him, risking his black look. “Talk,” he gruffly commanded.
“You insulted Nick and Joanie. I think you should apologize.”
He shrugged. “Fine, I’ll do that.”
“But you still believe he’s a fool for marrying her, though he loves her and she loves him.”
“Good for both of them. What now?”
He stood up, his back turned to her. The fact that she didn’t have to look directly at him boosted her courage. “Damon, what am I to you?”
She saw him stiffen, and she sensed he immediately knew the direction her question was headed. “What do you think you are?”
Eden didn’t like her question thrown back in her face, but more than that, he hadn’t answered her. But she was going to be honest with him, even if he wouldn’t be the same with her. “Nick said people were talking about us. I don’t like being the subject of gossip.”
“Don’t worry about gossipers. You know you’re not doing anything wrong.”
“But I am, Damon, though I’m living with you because I love you.”
“And you’re ashamed of loving me.”
“No, I’m not. Will you look at me, please? I hate talking to your back.” Damon faced her, and there was something so resigned in the gesture that her heart twisted. He stared at her with an implacable expression, almost as if he were a statue. She clutched her hands in her lap and squeezed the fingers together. Her face was open and beguilingly beautiful. “I love you as I never thought I could love another person,” she candidly admitted. “I want to know if you love me.”
“You know how I feel about you, Eden. I shouldn’t have to tell you.” He winked at her. “Don’t I show you in bed how I feel?”
She rose to her knees. “I recall seeing you with a whore at the Greenstone Hotel not too long ago. I suppose you touched her and kissed her, too. Am I to assume you consider me to be like her? Am I your whore, Damon?” Her voice rose higher with each word.
Grabbing her by her shoulders, he looked down at her anguished face. “You’re my woman, Eden. You know I care about you, so stop it!”
“I don’t want to be your woman!” she shouted at him. “I want to be your wife! I want you to tell me that you love me.”
Damon shook his head. “I can’t.”
She nearly choked on her own sob. It was true. Damon didn’t love her, he’d never marry her. “Let’s go on as we’ve been doing,” she heard him say. “We don’t need to be married to prove anything to anybody.”
But you must prove something to me, she thought miserably. He let her go, apparently deciding that the issue was settled. But as far as Eden was concerned, it wasn’t. “Damon, is the reason you don’t want to marry me, the reason you can’t admit you might love me—is it because of Tessa?”
Damon stood watching her in amazement for what seemed like a very long time. Then he wrapped a large, powerful hand around the bedpost and squeezed it. “Who told you about Tessa? Was it Jock?”
“No. Miranda Creig mentioned her. Why didn’t you tell me about your wife … her death? I would have understood.”
“No, you wouldn’t have understood.”
“Then tell me about her. Make me understand.”
“No.”
“Damon, please…”
He scalded her with his fury. “I never speak about Tessa to anyone—especially never to you, Eden. Not to you! Just leave it alone. I can’t bear your prying or your tears. Either be satisfied with what I’ve offered you or—”
“Or what? You’ve treated me like a whore, don’t care a damn what people say about me, so then I should leave Castlegate. Is that what you’re telling me? Is that what you want? You want to be free of me?”
“Do what you have to do, Eden. You will anyway.”
Damon seemed resigned that she would leave him, and it was true, she couldn’t stay here now, not when she knew how much he still loved a dead woman, not when she knew that in his eyes she was only as good as a whore.
As she got off the bed, she was shaking so badly she stumbled. Damon reached out and steadied her, not taking his eyes from her face. His arm around her waist clutched her to him, and she ached to stay there forever. But she couldn’t. He didn’t love her.
“Let me go,” she whispered hoarsely, wiping away the tears which spilled onto her cheeks.
He released her. “Where are you going?”
“I don’t know, but I’ve changed my mind—I’m not giving up my share in the mine. Shamus wanted me to have that.”
“Aye, he did.”
She turned away from him and rang for one of the servants to help pack her clothes. Within the hour she was ready and Tiku drove her into town. She never knew that Damon stood on the road and watched until the buggy disappeared from view.
Chapter 12
Eden took a room at one of the more fashionable hotels at Skipper’s Canyon. Her new residence included a nicely furnished sitting room and a bedroom
whose cheery yellow-and-white wallpaper did little to lift her spirits. She was miserable without Damon, hopelessly in love with him. But she foresaw no future with him, not if he couldn’t tell her he loved her and intended to marry her.
She meant what she’d told him about the mine. Part of it belonged to her, and she intended to consult Damon on its operation in time. The thought of seeing him now, so soon after her departure from Castlegate, tore at her heart. Eventually, after she’d put time and distance between them, she’d return to Thunder Mine. Perhaps then she’d be able to speak to him without breaking into a gale of tears as she was presently doing when a knock sounded on her door.
Dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, she opened the door to Jock and Marjorie. Inwardly she groaned. She wasn’t up to company now; she looked a horror with her eyes all red and swollen, her cheeks streaked with tears. But she managed a weak smile and invited them inside.
Marjorie placed her cane beside her on the sofa and removed her gloves. Jock sat across from Eden, his smile soft and filled with pity. Evidently they had an inkling of what had happened between herself and Damon, Eden thought. She flushed and presented a brave facade, not wanting or needing anyone’s sympathy.
“We’ve rented rooms in this hotel and wondered how you were doing,” Marjorie revealed. “Tiku dropped by to visit his mother, and it was through him we learned you’d left Thunder Mine.” She patted Eden’s hand affectionately. “You did the right thing by leaving. A mining operation is no place for a lady like yourself, Eden.”
Eden straightened, maintaining her dignity under Marjorie’s well-meaning scrutiny. She wanted to tell Marjorie that her place was wherever she wished, but she guarded her tongue. Marjorie had been protected all her life, sheltered from reality. She would never understand why Eden had gone to Thunder Mine in the first place and probably would have little inkling as to why she intended to keep her share in the mine. And as far as her love for Damon Alexander, Marjorie would never understand that either. Then, remembering the amenities, she offered them tea, pleased that Jock didn’t feel the need to say anything.
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