by Debra Glass
They politely questioned her about her teaching and Cathleen replied, wishing she could follow Ransom inside and speak with him. She longed to bask in that adoring gaze once more.
“Aren’t you lovely?” Mrs. Cheairs exclaimed.
“One of these Maury County boys is sure to steal her away from you, Dan,” Major Cheairs remarked.
“Don’t I realize it, Nat!” Mr. Byrne agreed.
Cathleen smiled politely.
“Come inside,” Mrs. Cheairs said, taking her hand and leading her into the carriage entrance.
The house glowed with the light of a hundred candles. Servants moved seamlessly between a sea of brightly colored skirts that seemed to float around these women like gossamer wings. Laughter filled the high-ceilinged rooms, and in one of the parlors, a grizzled black man, clad in a smart brown frock coat, called the moves to a Virginia reel.
Cathleen sought out Jenny, who looked fresh and pretty in her lemon-yellow gown. Ransom stood at her side. The boy who wanted to court her approached and Cathleen smiled as Jenny’s face colored with a soft blush.
Andy guided Jenny’s lace-gloved fingers around a cup of punch. Ransom whispered something in her ear and then his head lifted and his gaze swept the room.
Cathleen wondered for whom he was looking—until that penetrating gaze stopped on her. His lips curled into a smile and he started toward her, weaving through the crowd.
Mrs. Cheairs had disappeared into the throng of guests.
Every step that brought Ransom nearer caused Cathleen’s heart to beat that much harder. He seemed fixed on his quarry, predatory. Desire threaded through her and pulsed between her legs. Suddenly, the corset seemed more confining than before. Clutching her skirts to keep her hands from trembling, she struggled to draw a deep enough breath. Every illicit act they’d committed flitted through her head.
“You do look remarkably lovely tonight,” he said once he was toe to toe with her.
She considered debating him, telling him it was only Jenny’s dress. Instead, she offered him a tiny smile.
He fingered one of the curls bobbing at her jawline. “Looks as if you made up with Aunt Chloe.”
At that, Cathleen laughed. Ransom’s smile broadened and the sight of those twin dimples sent something spiraling through Cathleen that made her want to forget voting and rights and schools. That something struck a chord of insecurity coupled with thrilling excitement in her heart. She didn’t understand it.
All she knew was that she never wanted this moment—or this enthralling feeling—to end.
In the other room, the reel ended and couples applauded. “Choose your partners fo’ the waltz!” the sonorous voice of the dance caller announced.
“Miss Ryan,” Ransom said with gallant bravado. “Would you honor me by being my partner for this dance?”
This and every dance thereafter…for the rest of my life. “Yes, of course I will,” Cathleen said, playfully mocking the Southern accent.
He chuckled and led her into the parlor.
The string quartet in the corner began the waltz with an elaborate introduction. Couples took their places. Ransom rested his hand on the small of her back. The heat from his touch permeated the fabric and spread through her like wildfire. She swallowed thickly as she gathered the side of her skirt with one hand and set the other on his shoulder.
Nearby, Jenny timidly prepared to waltz with Andy.
“Are you ready?” Ransom asked, his voice but a silken whisper.
“I don’t know,” Cathleen managed, but before she could finish her sentence, Ransom began whirling her around the room.
Skirts swept against skirts in such a tight-fitting conglomeration of dancers, the heart of pine floors disappeared in a wash of taffeta and satin. Couples chattered all around them. The bass violin’s notes reverberated in Cathleen’s chest. She lifted her eyes to Ransom’s, and for a scant instant, she saw something there that hinted at promise, at an emotion far deeper than desire. Straightaway, the look evaporated and a voracious glimmer took its place, leaving Cathleen humming with sexual need.
“I’ve missed you,” she dared.
The muscle in his jaw clenched, making her regret her emotional declaration.
“Have you been staying out of trouble?” he asked, changing the topic of conversation.
A wisp of disappointment snaked through her but she wouldn’t let him see what she’d risked. “Who, me?” she asked and batted her lashes coquettishly. Good God, what was she becoming? Right before his eyes, she was allowing herself to turn into one of those insipid fools who clamored shamelessly for a man’s attention. She had to get a grip on her…oh sweet heavens…her emotions.
But her flirting achieved results. He pulled her closer so that only a hairsbreadth of distance remained between them. His legs pressed into the bell of her hoop, causing her skirt to sway rhythmically with every step of the dance.
“What would you say if I told you I’d taken advantage of your absence to do the most scandalous things imaginable?” She couldn’t stop herself.
He laughed, the sound as low and rich as the most decadent chocolate. His cheek brushed her temple. His lips grazed her ear. “I suppose I’d have to punish you.”
A tremor rattled her, almost causing her to falter in the steps. She would have were it not for his steely arm around her waist. The whirling couples around them blurred and ceased to exist. She could barely hold his gaze as his eyes bored into hers. A question hung in his too intimate stare, urging her to ask what he was thinking. She bit her lip to keep from speaking the inquiry aloud.
Warring emotions battled inside her. The thought of meeting him after the dance thrilled her, but opposing that, the knowledge they’d be separated sometime in the future—probably forever—made tears burn her eyes. She couldn’t sort it out.
She’d come here to teach, to educate.
She had not come here to…to fall in love.
Cathleen searched Ransom’s eyes, seeing the candlelight reflected there and so, so much more.
This was impossible.
Instinct urged her to run, to board the first train back to Boston. Desire compelled her to stay right there in his embrace.
All her life, she’d known what to do. How to act. She’d always finished the task before her prior to moving on to the next. Indecision and confusion had never plagued her.
Until this moment—this instant when she realized she was hopelessly in love with Ransom Byrne.
“Come to me tonight,” he told her.
Her heart ran wild.
The waltz ebbed to an end and the men stepped back to bow to their partners. Cathleen curtsied on weak knees and wobbled as she straightened. She felt overwhelmed and confused. “I need some air,” she blurted, and dashed from the dance floor despite Ransom’s call after her.
As she neared the rear entrance of the room, she glanced back. He’d started after her but had been halted by a man with jutting white whiskers who seemed determined to engage him in conversation.
Cathleen slipped out the back door and found herself in a brick-paved courtyard, where she gulped a lungful of fresh air. With her hand over her chest, she took several faltering steps toward the center of the area.
“Miss Ryan, is it?”
Shocked, Cathleen whirled to discover a woman who was every bit as fair as she, Cathleen, was dark.
Two blonde ringlets meandered out of her jaunty black fanchon bonnet, cascading with the ribbons over her shoulder and down into the décolletage of her cherry-and-white-striped gown.
A black belt encircled her tiny waist, accentuating her hourglass figure. She was magnificent. Beautiful.
And Cathleen knew, without a doubt, this was the Widow Bostick.
Cathleen felt sick.
Damn Aunt Chloe for lacing this infernal corset so tightly.
“Y-yes,” Cathleen stammered.
“Harriet Bostick,” she introduced with a smile so dazzling it made Cathleen want to shrink. Why did the
widow have to be so breathtaking?
She stepped into the courtyard, flashing the toe of a dainty, bow-trimmed black slipper as she descended the three brick stairs.
Cathleen could have dealt with meeting the widow any other time except now. Why now?
“You’re Jenny’s teacher.” The widow’s smile indicated she knew secrets.
Cathleen prayed Ransom hadn’t discussed their trysts with this woman. Surely he wasn’t that callous. Oh, why wouldn’t the earth just go ahead and swallow her up? She’d been a fool to think she could ever mean more to Ransom.
Mrs. Bostick laughed. “My, but you must think me impertinent. I’m an old—and very dear—friend of the family.”
I’m sure you are. “It’s nice to make your acquaintance,” Cathleen said. She hated the way her voice faltered. Most of all, she hated the way her insides churned at the knowledge Ransom had done the same things to this woman he’d done to her.
The widow’s gaze raked her from head to toe. “You’re hardly the little mouse Ransom described.”
Little mouse? The idea Ransom had discussed her with this creature caused bile to rise in Cathleen’s throat. She swallowed it back down and for the thousandth time tonight, wished her corset wasn’t so confining. He’d called her a mouse? No wonder he’d always denied her when she’d wanted to fully consummate their…
What exactly did they share? She wouldn’t call it a relationship. He was hardly courting her. Thinking back, she’d suggested the entire thing they had together. She had requested that he punish her, that he touch her and kiss her. And not only had he been cold during their last encounter, he made her leave before he’d attained satisfaction and had cut a trail to get out of town.
She’d thoroughly shamed herself in front of him.
“A word of advice,” the widow purred. “Ransom Byrne is not a marrying man.”
Cathleen started shaking. “I think you’ve mistaken my intentions. I was hired to tutor Jenny.”
A little laugh rumbled in Mrs. Bostick’s throat. “There’s no mistaking the look you were giving our mutual friend on the dance floor.”
Cathleen’s lips parted. Had she been so obvious? God forbid Ransom realized it.
A sinister smile played on the widow’s lips. “Nor is there any mistaking the look of a woman in love.”
Cathleen curled her fingers into fists.
“I just wouldn’t want you to get your hopes up,” Mrs. Bostick said condescendingly. “In the event Ransom hasn’t confided in you, as a woman, I feel I must. He only hired you so you’d give his sister some purpose, get her back out into society.”
“What do you mean?”
The widow leaned close. “You didn’t know? As soon as Jenny is capable of performing day to day tasks, he’s planning to move west as soon as possible.”
“Move?”
The widow nodded.
Panic blossomed in Cathleen’s breast. She’d been a fool. No doubt. But she’d not let this woman bully her. She lifted her chin. “Mrs. Bostick, you have the wrong idea about me. I’m not the type of woman who’d lower her standards for a man in hopes of swaying his attentions with loose behavior.”
“I wasn’t implying—”
The hell she wasn’t! Cathleen didn’t give her an opportunity to wheedle her way out of it. “Besides, Mr. Byrne is certainly not the kind of man in whom I’d be interested at all.”
Mrs. Bostick gawped.
“It was a pleasure meeting you,” Cathleen ground out. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
But as she swept by the widow, her gaze riveted to Ransom, who stood on the back porch. Cathleen hesitated. His look was black. How much had he heard?
It didn’t matter. She was done with him. She’d allowed herself to be distracted from her cause. And at what cost?
Head down, she rushed past him and back into the house.
He didn’t follow.
Ransom debated his choices. Go after Cathleen. Or throttle Harriet.
From what little he’d heard, Cathleen had handled herself remarkably well. Icily, in fact. Mr. Byrne is certainly not the kind of man in whom I’d be interested at all.
He sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. The entire time he’d been gone, all he could think about was Cathleen Ryan. Her ridiculously austere mourning attire. Those eccentric-looking spectacles. Her sighs. Her moans. Her kisses.
Her submission.
At some point, he realized she wouldn’t offer herself to him that way if she didn’t trust him implicitly. The thought of it staggered him.
His admiration for her abilities as a teacher and a companion for his sister only grew day by day. And in spite of her troublemaking ways, the idea that she possessed strong convictions impressed him. He’d once held such convictions about life, about horses, about people, about ideals.
He’d tried to get away from her, from the long ago part of himself her presence had revived. But he couldn’t. He didn’t want to.
And now he couldn’t imagine a life without her in it.
He’d returned to tell her just that, to lay claim to her—to marry her.
Well, she’d made it known how she felt about that. He’d been an idiot to think she would give up her aspirations to settle down on a farm in Tennessee.
Yes, he’d deal with Cathleen in private.
As for Harriet…
“Can you believe it?” she asked, her voice carrying through the courtyard. “That little mite is in love with you.”
Ransom shook with rage. He’d always known Harriet was a cat, but he never expected this sort of venomous behavior. “Take care not to insult Miss Ryan in front of me,” he said, his voice low but charged with warning.
Harriet’s lush lips parted. Her hand flew to her chest. “Oh my!” She laughed. The sound of it made Ransom’s nerves crackle.
“Oh my,” she repeated. “Who’d ever have thought you, Ransom Byrne, would lose his heart to a Yankee hireling.”
Ransom bit his tongue to keep from telling her exactly what he thought of her petty ways.
She persisted. “I heard about the little talk she gave on Jessie Peters’ daddy’s front porch. Frankly, I’m surprised Sissy would let you keep such an upstart on the payroll. Aren’t you concerned she might have Jenny getting ideas in her head about voting and working for a living?”
He shouldn’t dignify her with a response. He found it too difficult to resist. “I find it admirable that a woman would seek to make her own way in the world instead of dabbing it up with every man she can find in hopes of ensnaring one to marry.”
Spite flashed in Harriet’s eyes. “Have you let her stay all night in your bed, lover?”
“That’s enough.”
Harriet gathered her voluminous skirts and started back inside. “Never mind. I was finished.” She pinned Ransom with a hard look. “And so are we. I’ve wasted plenty enough time waiting for you to get over your guilt.”
Ransom stepped aside to let her pass.
Harriet was wrong. Cathleen wasn’t in love with him. He’d heard her words. More importantly, he’d spoken with her privately. She’d been adamant she wasn’t the sort to marry. She’d told him so plainly enough.
And now that Jenny’s future held promise, the best thing he could do was to head west before this insanity with Cathleen progressed any further.
Chapter Nine
Cathleen breathed a sigh of relief as soon as Aunt Chloe released her from the confines of her stays.
“Did Jenny have a good time at the ball?” Aunt Chloe asked, draping the gown Cathleen had worn over a chair.
“She had a wonderful time,” Cathleen said, pulling on her dressing gown. Which is more than I can say for myself.
Aunt Chloe reached for the brush.
“I can manage to take my hair down,” Cathleen said. “Thank you.”
Suppressing a yawn, Aunt Chloe nodded.
“Good night,” Cathleen told her.
“Night,” Aunt Chloe said and quietl
y left the room.
Cathleen dropped onto the stool of her dressing table and buried her face in her palms. Tears sprang to her eyes but she refused to let them fall. She had no one to blame but herself for making her look like a fool.
Come to me tonight.
Her stomach tightened at the memory of Ransom’s request. She glanced toward the window and the door that led out onto the back balcony and to the stairs she would have stolen down to go and meet Ransom.
Not tonight.
Not ever again.
She practically ripped the pins from her hair and then raked the brush through the once fashionable curls. How could she have let this happen? How could she have fallen for a man such as Ransom Byrne? He represented everything she railed against.
And now to discover that he planned to move away as soon as Jenny was stable…
Once she’d brushed her hair straight, she cupped her hand over the lamp’s globe, blew out the flame and crawled into bed.
She wondered if Ransom was waiting for her. Twisting onto her side, she tried to shut him out of her mind. The lump in her throat wouldn’t go away but she wouldn’t give in. She would not cry.
She hadn’t gone into her licentious agreement with him in hopes of anything but physical pleasure.
Without warning, the door to the balcony opened.
Gasping, Cathleen flipped over and sat. There was no mistaking the hulking silhouette blocking the doorway.
Ransom.
“What are you doing?” he asked. “Why aren’t you—”
“Hush. You’ll wake the whole house.”
“I asked you to come to me.”
She gathered the covers over her bosom. “I’ve changed my mind,” she whispered hotly.
He tramped into the room. Moonlight filtered in with him, revealing he still wore the dark trousers he’d had on at the ball. He’d forgone the frock coat and vest and now only wore a white shirt. He exuded sex and Cathleen struggled to maintain control of her emotions.
“Changed your mind? Why?” he demanded. “Because of Harriet?”