Lynette Vinet

by Wild Eden Wicked

  “No tea,” Jock proclaimed, and stood up to take Eden by the arm. “We’ve got shopping to do and you’re coming with us.”

  “What?”

  “Yes,” Marjorie instantly exclaimed, grinning broadly.

  “I want you to come with me to the dressmaker’s so I can choose a wedding gown. I do so admire your taste in clothes, Eden, and would appreciate your help in picking my trousseau. And I’d be most honored if you’d consent to stand up with me. Jock is Bert’s best man and you’re the only person I’d consider for a maid of honor. Please say you’ll agree, please.”

  Marjorie’s pleas and Jock’s insistent tug on her arm left Eden no choice but to agree. She couldn’t see any reason not to help Marjorie with her trousseau or to refuse her invitation as the young woman’s maid of honor. The wedding would take her mind off Damon.

  For the first time in days, Eden laughed. “Let me get myself together,” she begged them.

  “You look beautiful,” Jock whispered in all sincerity.

  She thought she looked wretched, but Jock’s heartfelt compliment buoyed up her spirits.

  Perhaps life wasn’t so awful after all.

  The gown that Marjorie chose was a light shade of pink, edged with white lace on the high neckline and long sleeves, a dainty cluster of roses on the bustle. Eden knew Marjorie would look lovely in the color and that the gown’s design would cause her figure to appear fuller. They discovered how much fun it was to ooh and aah over the sheer lace undergarments the dressmaker showed for their approval, to touch the silk chemises and pantalets. But in the end, the ever-practical Marjorie ordered two cotton slips, one pantalet, devoid of decoration, and a blue nightgown which would show little more than her face.

  “We’re shopping for your trousseau,” Eden reminded her. “You must buy something frilly and lacy and very feminine.”

  “Why?” Marjorie turned her attention from a gray serge skirt she was inspecting.

  Eden spoke to her in a whisper so the dressmaker and her assistant wouldn’t hear. “Because your groom will expect you to wear something special on your wedding night.”

  Marjorie’s cheeks paled. “I didn’t realize. What … what do you suggest?”

  “Choose whatever you like,” Eden offered. “I’ll make a present of it to you.”

  “Oh, Eden, I don’t know what Bert would prefer. I’ve never ever thought about this.”

  Eden thought Marjorie was going to faint and led her to a sofa. From the window behind them, Jock was visible as he waited outside. “Should I call Jock to take you back to your rooms? You look ill.”

  “No, no.” Marjorie took a deep breath and the color, little that there was, seeped slowly back into her face. “I’ll be all right in a few minutes.” She smiled sadly, her gaze fixed on the floor. “I’m a pitiful example of womanhood, aren’t I?”

  “Don’t be silly. You’re having an attack of nerves. All brides do.”

  “But not all brides are marrying a man whom they don’t love.” She lifted her gaze to Eden’s and clutched frantically at her hand. “I don’t believe I can abide being married to Mr. Carruthers. The thought of living in the same house with him is awful to consider, but … but I can’t even think about—that other part.” A shiver wracked her slender frame.

  Eden pitied her. She couldn’t imagine being intimate with someone she didn’t love. “You’ve been married, Eden,” Marjorie noted, and swallowed painfully. “Is that other part so very dreadful?”

  How could she tell Marjorie that the very act she feared was wonderful and totally earth-shattering, but that the man who had possessed her body and soul hadn’t been her husband? She doubted Marjorie would understand or forgive such a transgression, yet she had to put her friend’s mind at ease. “Making love is quite natural and really very nice. Please don’t worry. Everything will be fine, just wait and see.” She gave Marjorie an affectionate squeeze. “Now choose something frilly and expensive and let’s have lunch. I believe Jock’s growing impatient.”

  Marjorie nodded and chose a sheer, lacy chemise of pale ivory. Soon they joined Jock but Marjorie begged off from lunch, declaring the heat had caused her to feel ill. She insisted that Eden and Jock dine without her; she would return to her room at the hotel.

  Much to Eden’s chagrin, Jock chose to eat at the restaurant where Joanie and Nick worked. She felt ill at ease for Nick to find her with Jock Sutherland, but he didn’t say anything untoward to her, and Joanie was her usual polite and friendly self.

  “You’re upset because I brought you here,” Jock noted, his eyes not leaving her face.

  “No I’m not.”

  A smile appeared beneath his mustache. “You’re a very poor liar. You’re worried that Mr. Patterson will think less of you for being with me. But you’re also upset that he’ll tell Damon, which is exactly why I chose this restaurant. I want word of our luncheon to reach Damon’s ears. Then he’ll know I’m in serious competition for your affections.” He sipped his sherry.

  Jock’s bluntness caught her off guard. “I had no idea I was some sort of a prize in a contest.”

  “You are, my dear, and you’d better get used to the idea of my winning you. I assure you my intentions are quite honorable where you’re concerned. I want to marry you.”

  “Marry me?”

  “Don’t look so stunned.” Jock grinned, and Eden realized he was really a handsome man—not incredibly handsome as Damon, but good-looking in his own right. “You must realize how I feel, how I’ve wanted you from the first moment I saw you.”

  “I didn’t,” she admitted, overwhelmed. “But I’d rather you asked to marry me. I don’t like being told you intend to marry me.”

  “All right, then. Will you marry me?”

  Eden’s head swam. Jock Sutherland was proposing to her, here in a public place. It wasn’t the most romantic of marriage proposals, she supposed, but it was a proposal all the same. If this man had been Damon asking to marry her, she’d have thrown her arms around him and immediately answered yes. But this wasn’t Damon. And she didn’t love Jock Sutherland. He hadn’t even kissed her, but he wanted to marry her. This marriage proposal was all very sudden and baffling. Did Jock want to marry her because he loved her or was this a way of settling things with Damon because of a long-ago feud over Tessa Alexander? Eden wasn’t certain about Jock’s motives and she didn’t have to accept him. There was no reason in the world to be saddled with a man whom she didn’t love. She was wealthy and didn’t need the security of marriage any longer.

  “I’ve been married, Jock, and widowed. I’m not ready to commit to a relationship as permanent as marriage now.”

  A nerve jumped near his right eye. For a moment his affable, hopeful expression darkened, but in an instant he smiled at her. “I’m not giving up, Eden. I always get what I want.” He lifted his glass to her in a toast.

  ~~~

  Damon would apologize to Nick and Joanie. He’d stupidly caused a rift with his old friend and must make things right again. He’d walk into the restaurant, say he was sorry for what he’d said, and wish them well. Granted, he didn’t mean the apology, still believing Joanie would make Nick unhappy. Damon hadn’t met a happily married man yet, but if lying meant he’d gain Nick’s friendship, he’d do it.

  And then he’d see Eden. Tiku told him where Eden was staying, and he’d decided he’d try to win her back. He missed her like hell, wishing to believe the very reason he missed her had nothing to do with loving her. Love was an emotion he couldn’t feel any longer, having inwardly turned to stone when he’d lost Tessa. But he needed to feel Eden’s soft, warm body against his again. His large bed at Castlegate was cold and empty without her.

  He felt certain he could convince her to return home with him that day because she loved him. And it was this knowledge which caused him to whistle as he entered the restaurant.

  As luck would have it, Nick was standing in the foyer looking into the large dining room where a number of patrons were ea
ting lunch. He turned at Damon’s voice seeming to be pleased to see him, but a panicked expression instantaneously overrode his delight. “I apologize for what I said to you and Joanie…” Damon began, not understanding why Nick steered him away from the doorway.

  “Aye, Damon, I’m sorry, too, for my angry words. All is forgiven, lad. Now let’s go into the kitchen and I’ll pour you a shot of the finest whiskey we have. Goes down your throat like silk.”

  “I’d like to apologize to Joanie first.”

  “She’s got customers. I’ll tell her what you said.”

  “Well, can I get some service here?” Damon laughed. “I’m hungry.”

  “The kitchen, lad. I’ll fix you something there.” Nick pulled at Damon, practically dragging him away, but Damon’s gaze wandered for a second into the dining room and he halted in midstride, rooted to the spot. Nick sighed. “I was hoping you wouldn’t see them.”

  But he did see them. Eden sat much too close to Jock at a corner table, looking much too beautiful and completely unaffected by her departure from Castlegate. A pretty smile lit up her face as Jock raised his glass to her. Damon would have sworn the earth shook at that moment.

  He’d lost her to Sutherland. Only four days had passed since she’d left and already Jock had made his move. And it was apparent from the way Eden peered at the man from beneath those long, velvety lashes that she’d made her choice. Well, it was as he’d expected and he shouldn’t be surprised. But he was more than surprised—he was shocked, and something in his chest hurt like hell.

  “Are you all right, lad?” Nick asked in concern.

  “Aye, I’m fine, man. No great loss, eh?” Damon moved off, blindly heading for the outside.

  “How about that drink, Damon?” Nick offered.

  Damon turned and sent Nick, such a cold smile that Nick felt chilled. “I’ll be having a drink, my friend, but not here. And don’t worry about me being alone, for I won’t be. My heart’s been bruised but a small bit. I’ll get over it. There are lots of beautiful, willing women in New Zealand. No need to pine for just one and she not even one of us.”

  Watching Damon depart, Nick sadly shook his head and thanked God he had his Joanie.

  ~~~

  “I do so like happy endings,” Marjorie gushed to Eden and Jock as they left the small theater that night. A traveling players’ group had put on a play, but Eden didn’t remember the name or what it had been about. During the whole performance, her thoughts had centered on Damon, even when Jock surreptitiously clasped her hand and held it against his chest.

  Jock was trying hard to win her. An hour after Jock had left her at her room that day, a delivery person arrived with a box of purple orchids. The flowers were from Jock, something she’d known before she read the card. On the heels of this surprise came another delivery—this one from the local jeweler. Inside the silk-lined box was a pair of earbobs made from greenstone, fashioned in the form of teardrops. To match your eyes, the card read. Wear these tonight. J.

  And that was the first she learned about the theater engagement.

  When Jock and Marjorie arrived to fetch her, she wore an emerald-colored gown which would have perfectly complemented the earbobs if she’d chosen to wear them. But they were noticeably absent, causing Jock to direct a baffled and displeased look her way. However, she did carry the orchids.

  Because the night was warm, they walked the distance to the theater. On the return trip, they had to pass through a very disreputable section of town, but then most of Skipper’s Canyon could be said to be disreputable with so many saloons and dance halls. Jock had just positioned Eden on his left side, away from the street, when out of a side alley came a man and a woman. She nearly collided with the pair, but Jock pulled her instantly back.

  “Hey now!” he cried to them. “Watch out. There’s a lady here.”

  The woman lifted her head from the man’s broad shoulder. And the man, who had been kissing the back of her neck, glanced their way. His laughter faded as he did so, and Eden thought her heart had stopped beating when her gaze met those familiar blue eyes.

  “Well now, fancy this,” Damon muttered to the woman in his arms. “It’s my neighbor, the high-and-mighty Jock Sutherland, and his sister.” He bowed to the Sutherlands. It was quite apparent he’d had too much to drink. He stumbled over his words and very nearly his own feet. But he didn’t bow to Eden. “And this,” he said to the woman, “is the Lady Eden, belle of the Old South. A true represen-ta-tive of American womanhood. Did you know, Sal, that she’s a Yank?” Damon grinned. “But don’t call her that. She practically bit my head off.”

  “Away with you, Alexander,” Jock demanded, rushing Eden and Marjorie down the wooden boardwalk.

  “Of course, Gentleman Jock. Mustn’t dirty the ladies.” He grinned at the woman. “Come on, Sal, give me a kiss.”

  Sal giggled, the low-cut gown she wore riding lower upon her breasts as she reached up to kiss him.

  Eden watched in revulsion, totally disgusted by this outrageous display but so jealous and hurt she couldn’t tolerate another second of watching Damon make a fool of himself, of wishing she were the one he held in his arms and kissed. Taking Jock’s arm, she turned away and flounced down the street. Her face burned with humiliation, and she was so relieved when they reached the hotel. Since the Sutherlands’ rooms were on the first floor, she told Marjorie good night and allowed Jock to escort her to her own room on the second floor.

  She couldn’t look at him, could barely open the door. Jock took the key from her trembling fingers and she rushed inside, Jock behind her. It was then she felt his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him.

  He tilted her chin and forced her to look at him. “Eden, I’m aware Alexander has hurt you and I’ve heard the rumors about the two of you. Are they true?”

  “Yes,” she admitted wretchedly.

  He took a steadying breath. “Thank you for being honest with me. Now I’ll be honest with you. I meant every word I said today. You are going to marry me, and one day you’ll laugh at how you felt about Damon Alexander. He’ll mean nothing to you, will be nothing to you but a misty memory. He doesn’t deserve someone like you and tonight proves it. A leopard can’t change his spots, and what you saw on the street is the real Damon Alexander. He’s had countless women and can drink larger men under the table. He’s rowdy, uneducated— and Irish. That about says it all.”

  “Please, Jock, I don’t want to hear any more.”

  “And I don’t want to say anything else about him. I want to kiss you, Eden. I want to show you what you can have with me.”

  “Jock…”

  But it was too late. His mouth swooped down, taking her lips like a greedy vulture. The kiss was filled with fire and daring, and it stirred something within Eden. She found herself kissing him back, her fingers clinging to his lapels. Then abruptly he ended it, and he grinned with satisfaction.

  “Now I know you aren’t cold. I think you could care for me.”

  He left her. For a long time she stood in the center of the room looking at the door. Then she went into the bedroom and took the greenstone earbobs from the box and put them on her ears. She examined her reflection, noting the way the stones flashed their brilliance, how they shimmered and matched her eyes. Damon had once likened her eyes to the fiery stone; she realized that was why she hadn’t worn Jock’s gift that evening.

  But now she purposely didn’t remove the earbobs. Somehow she must get over Damon and stop associating every little detail with him. Wearing the earbobs was a beginning, and she decided to wear them the next day when Jock met her for breakfast.

  There were worse fates than marrying Jock Sutherland, she decided. Loving Damon Alexander was one of them.

  Chapter 13

  Eden accepted Jock and Marjorie’s invitation to celebrate Christmas at High Winds. Since Marjorie’s wedding was to be on Boxing Day, the day after Christmas, and there was no reason to stay in town, the arrangement worked out perfect
ly.

  Garlands of greenery, interspersed with brightly colored wildflowers, hung across the doorway between the parlor and dining room. A freshly cut pine tree filled the house with its sweet scent. When Eden closed her eyes and sniffed, she smelled baked turkey and peach pie, part of the Christmas dinner at High Winds. She imagined she was a little girl again, at home with her parents before the war. A smile curved her lips because she felt safe and happy. She almost expected to hear her parents’ voices, but when she came out of her daydream, she found herself staring into Jock’s eyes.

  “Woolgathering, Eden?” he asked, and extended his hand to her to help her from her chair.

  Eden laughed. “Yes, forgive me. I was thinking about happier times.”

  His eyebrow shot up a fraction of an inch. “I’m sorry you don’t consider your time here with me to be happy.”

  “Oh, Jock, please don’t misunderstand. I’ve had a delightful visit. It’s just that my family is gone. I have no one to share the holidays with, and this time of the year used to mean so very much to me.”

  He bent low and brushed a tender kiss across her lips. “Consider me your family, Eden. You know how I feel about you, what I want from you.”

  She knew only too well what Jock wanted. He’d asked her once more since her arrival at High Winds to marry him, but she’d been unable to answer him, telling him she couldn’t come to a decision yet. The truth was, she couldn’t forget Damon. The blasted man haunted her thoughts and filled her dreams. It seemed there was no getting away from him.

  But Jock expected an answer soon. She sensed he wasn’t about to be put off much longer. She was spared saying anything when Bert Carruthers arrived, bearing a Christmas package for Marjorie. Soon they went into the dining room for the traditional Christmas dinner. Despite Eden’s preoccupation with Damon, she found herself enjoying the holiday and was almost beginning to feel that she belonged at High Winds.