“Wow,” she murmured again, smiling that same smug smile.
Still. As wonderful, as exhilarating as was that whole night of musk and lust, Caroline had the sense that clinical, textbook knowledge had been involved in their coming together more than any actual feeling. Mere physical enjoyment and release. Then, even as that awareness flashed through her tired brain, there came with it a “So what?” moment.
This was what she had bargained for, after all: a mail order bride facing bankruptcy and penury due to a mountain of medical expenses, all now paid for, thanks to this arrangement. She would be living a life many others would envy, surrounded by comfort and ease. And now, as so ably proven by the Ten Buck master, absolute top-notch sex into the bargain, probably as often as could be arranged. What more could she possibly want?
Lovemaking? The actual, honest making of love?
“Hey, honey pot.” Emerging from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, Ben, bronze skin still beaded with moisture all the way down to the towel that encircled his waist, wandered toward her with the grin of a satyr. “Time to rise and shine. Otherwise, be prepared to accept the consequences.”
Settled face down and front, with her head resting on both crossed arms, she returned his grin with a lascivious one of her own. “Indeed. And just what might that be?”
The mattress gave way, just a little, under his weight. So, with the movement, did his towel. Her eyes widened at the truly awesome erection deliberately presented for her view.
“What d’ you think?” he asked huskily. “Ready for another go-round?”
“Ben. Seriously?”
“Naw. I rode you pretty hard last night. Better give this ole boy a rest. However,” he reached out to lightly slap her sheeted rump, “we do have things to do today. Got a museum tour scheduled, and lunch at a real nice restaurant, and an afternoon movie. How does that sound?”
“It sounds,” she told him gravely, and with appreciation, “as if you’re spoiling me. But I’ll enjoy every minute of it. Turn around, please.”
“Huh?”
“Please turn your back. I want to go take a shower.”
A rollicking gale of laughter, larger than life. “Darlin’, I’ve seen—and touched, and tasted—just about every square inch of that body you’re hiding. You’re trying to pull that same ole modesty thing on me that you used earlier?”
“For as long as possible,” she said with dignity. “Now turn around, or I’ll never get out of bed.”
“Well, that would be a real shame, because then I’d have to diddle you again. And then we’d argue some more. However,” still chuckling, he obliged with her request, “I bend to your will. Make it snappy, Hootchie Mama; I’m ready for breakfast.”
“You can’t have it both ways, you know,” Caroline complained, as she disappeared into her bathroom. “I can’t be a tramp and a puritan, all at once.”
“Different strokes, different moods,” he called back. “I’ll take what I can get, either one.”
Once dressed and on their way an hour later to the hotel dining salon, Caroline congratulated her husband on his magnificent restraint.
“Restraint?” Quirking a brow, he politely seated her at their small private table in a windowed corner of the room, then joined her opposite.
“Yes. Since yesterday morning, you’ve actually let our wedding, and the celebration and so on, take precedence over that everlasting corporation of yours. No phone messages, no faxes, no texts, no emails.”
Frowning a little now—with displeasure?—he picked up the heavy menu and began to leaf through its pages. “Don’t play wife with me already, Carrie.”
Stunned, Caroline could only stare at this man to whom she had just willingly handed over her body, if not her soul. Only to be so casually dismissed. “I—I beg your pardon?”
“Sorry to disillusion you, but—those few times I was out of your sight at the reception? Work. Last night, while you were getting undressed? Work. This morning, while you were in the shower? Work. Regardless of my private doings, that everlasting corporation, as you called it, goes on; and I have to go on with it.”
“I see.” Lips tightened with disappointment and displeasure, she opened her napkin. “Coffee, please,” she insructed the hovering waiter. “Lots of it.”
“Same here. Look, Carrie.” Earnest in his desire to emphasize a point, whether or not it caused hurt, he leaned toward her, handsome as all get-out in Sunday attire. “I expect you to find plenty to do around the ranch, taking care of Sophie and managing the household. Because you sure can’t plan on using me to stay busy and fill up your life.”
“I hadn’t thought any such—”
“That won’t make either of us happy. You do your thing, and I’ll do mine, and that’ll be what works. When I need you for some social function, or I want you in bed, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, rest assured that I’m not some moonstruck calf about to trail around behind you, ready to make your every whim come true.”
At his cool tone, at his insulting and insensitive words, color rose in her frozen cheeks, and a suspicious moisture beaded her lashes. More, as always when circumstances spun out beyond her control, her spine stiffened into Vermont marble.
Damn. And he had actually seemed human this morning, too, dressed in a casual polo shirt that brought out the blue of his eyes and pinned the dimples into play.
Which only rendered true the old saying that appearances can be deceiving.
Bastard.
“I am all too aware of that.”
“Well, good. Then we understand each other. You keep the personal stuff operating smoothly, Marilou can keep the office stuff operating smoothly, and I’ll be able to support all of us.”
“At Ten Buck.”
“Yup. Dunno where else I’d be.”
You utter fool, Caroline wanted to snap at him. That corporation runs you; you don’t run the corporation.
“Now then, what’re you having to eat?” Adroitly, man-like, he changed the subject. ‘I’m not a big fan of fancy dishes like this stuff with Hollandaise sauce or whatever. Just give me fried eggs, some big chunks of steak, and a bucket of hash browns.”
Dumped over his finely shaped head, possibly.
Swallowing her irritation for the time being, Caroline merely smiled her tight smile as she made a mental note of this conversation. One day. One day. She wasn’t sure what might happen one day, but she surely hoped to be around when it did.
Ben’s cell made its insistent, intrusive sound that seemed more growl than ring tone. With an apologetic glance across the table, he turned slightly sideways to answer.
Caroline was just beginning to realize what superb acting skills she had acquired. The man couldn’t even perceive that she was fuming like a hot teakettle, and ready to blow.
The rest of their honeymoon weekend passed by without incident. Without any kind of incident. In other words, a tad boring. A two-hour jaunt through the Museum of Sixteenth Century Art. Ho-hum. Even Ben, who had suggested the visit, seemed less than interested. Of course, why would he notice priceless paintings in baroque gilt frames, when his boon companion, that pesky little phone, kept him so entertained by contact with the outside world?
Was he buying and selling cattle futures? Arranging mega-deals and mergers? Changing the shape of the entire world?
Caroline began to wonder if stomping someone’s cell to death might be considered a punishable offense.
Lunch at some delightfully expensive restaurant, whose name she could not recall, was a quiet affair. In between courses, while Ben answered occasional calls and made more, Caroline contented herself with staring out the window, memorizing the vintage years detailed on the wine list, and chatting up the waiter. Next time she’d be foresighted enough to bring along a paperback.
All the while craving a soyburger from some fast-food place. Was that sacrilege, in cow country?
At least, seated in the darkened theatre for a showing of the most recent action movie, the phone
needed to be silenced. She’d forgotten the “Vibrate” feature. Since he had chosen an aisle recliner, Ben was able to slip out to the lobby whenever necessary, leaving Caroline all on her own. To watch some flick in which she had had no interest in seeing, anyway. Another lesson learned.
Their return to the Ten Buck, cushioned by the limo’s plush surroundings, was made in almost total silence.
Uncertainly, unhappily, Caroline was afraid this was setting a pattern for the rest of her married life.
It was a depressing prospect.
Chapter Ten
“Hey, Miss Sophie, ma’am, shall we go off on an adventure today?”
Five days had passed since Caroline’s departure to the big city as a spinster and her return as a spouse. Immediately Ben had taken up his old habits of spending more time with his secretary than with his wife and disappearing on unexplained business trips. If, by some chance, he had sought her out for a little frisky hanky-panky, she wasn’t aware of it. They maintained separate bedrooms, at opposite ends of the sprawling house’s second floor; and, after hours, her door remained locked to any visitor. Meaning her husband.
Caroline couldn’t help wondering about Diane Taggart, Ben’s late lamented wife. Had his coldness and unresponsiveness begun during that marriage? Or was his distant attitude a result of her death? How long had the two of them been married, and when and how had she died?
All nagging questions, to which she would appreciate having the answers. Not entirely out of idle curiosity, but because the knowledge might provide some means of dealing with this obstinate, irritating, arrogant man.
Meanwhile, she was concerned about the appearance of her stepdaughter, and determined to do something about it.
Far too used to being left in the hands of adults, or to her own devices, especially now that classes had been released for summer, the little girl seemed too quiet, too pale, for an active child almost seven years old. The only time Caroline had seen any typical chatter or giggles from her was in the company of her friend, Becca Sampson.
To that end, Caroline set out to win her over. Having already made a good start at doing so, on her very first day at the ranch, from here on should be an easy enough task.
Outdoor play was a must, in the cool of mid-morning. Wearing her rattiest pair of jeans and scuffed sneakers, Sophie hiked quietly along as they explored the ranch on foot. An old service road took them through summer woods, beside a sparkling creek, up gentle knolls and down again.
Sophie was entranced. Bugs, butterflies, small frogs, even a young snake all caught her attention, and she quickly cast off all inhibitions to race after whichever prize she sought while Caroline laughed at her antics. Being silly was a healthy attribute at that age (actually, at any age) and soon they were singing the old standbys of “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” and “I’m a Little Teapot.”
No matter how poorly Caroline admitted to carrying a tune.
After these excursions, several days running, they would return to the house dusty and briar-scratched and leaf-strewn, to clean up and face Mrs. Wyeth’s accusatory glances over lunch. Some quiet afternoon time meant board games or reading or playing together with Barbies, Shopkins, and the like in a magazine-perfect room filled with toys. Then bath and bed, to begin all over again the next morning.
Today would be an exception to this tentative routine.
Today they were accompanying Lila Sampson and little Becca to the Children’s Adventure Park outside of Austin.
“You’ve never been?” Caroline asked.
“Uh-uh.” The child’s big blue eyes stared intently into hers. “Will there be slides and swings?”
“Well, from what I saw on the website…” A description of the place followed: all sorts of magical rides, from antique cars to roller coasters to Ferris wheels; a discovery museum; and, the most fun of all, a huge water playground, complete with pools and fountains and sprinklers.
“So I’ll need a swimsuit?” Some interest had begun to show, and burgeoning excitement.
“You absolutely will. Me, too. Shall we go get our things packed and ready to go? Becca and Mrs. Sampson are picking us up in half an hour.”
Now, finally, Caroline could observe, and take delight in, the little-girl behavior of two little girls, belted securely into the back seat of Lila Sampson’s SUV. Giggles and squirms and joking and chatter—so right, and so necessary for children needing the sweet security of their upbringing. If nothing else positive was happening so far in this marriage, at least she was bringing Sophie Taggart out of her shell and into the normal world of juvenile antics.
Lila, meanwhile, seemed equally pleased.
“This is a great idea,” she admitted, from behind the wheel and her designer sunglasses. “I can’t imagine why I never thought of it before. Only—what, a couple hours’ ride away?”
“Not even that, according to info on the website. And at the speed you drive…” Caroline’s happy grin took away any possible sting from the words.
Lila gave her an eyeroll. “You mean he lets you have access to a computer?”
“I beg your pardon. Lets?”
“Well, sure. He likes to keep his women isolated on that godforsaken ranch of his. So you’ve actually been provided with a laptop, and a cable to run it? You can actually go online and check things out?”
“Lila—” Caroline’s voice had acquired a tinge of coolness, a hint of warning.
“Oh, honey, don’t get up on your high horse. I’m just tryin’ to prepare you for the real world of Ben Taggart. Wish I’d gotten hold of you before you married the stiff—I could have steered you away before you got in so deep. Marriage. Hah!”
Biting her lip in consternation, Caroline turned to glance out the side window. From there, and the attached outside mirror, she could see that the girls, involved in whatever play they were sharing in the rear seat—stickers being applied to the blank pages of an activity book, at the moment—were paying absolutely no attention to this adult conversation.
“Look, Carrie, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” Lila hastened to apologize. “I’m just a blunderin’ old fool, I admit, but I mean well. Hell, I went to elementary and high school with that guy. We had a few dates, and he tried to feel me up.” She chuckled. “Succeeded once or twice, too. So I don’t hate him. I just feel sorry for the women he hooks up with.”
Stiffly, Caroline murmured that there were extenuating circumstances.
“Oh, sure, there always are. Get off the road, you moron!” she suddenly diverged to yell at another driver, who couldn’t possibly have heard her. “Honest to God, some of these old fogies oughta be sittin’ in a rockin’ chair on their front porch, instead of causin’ trouble for the rest of us people on the road. I mean, sure, I have no doubt you both had your reasons for gettin’ hitched. But I like you, Carrie, and Ben is a hard man to deal with.”
“I’m finding that to be—true…” came the reluctant admission.
“You betcha. Here, this is our turnoff, right? I mean, correct? Left turn?”
“Yes, left turn. Then another few miles. We should be seeing signs for the entrance soon.”
“How are you settlin’ in at that great house, Carrie?”
“Well—getting used to things.” She managed a small mirthless laugh. “Especially Mrs. Wyeth. I’m afraid she and I don’t really see eye to eye on a number of points.”
Lila’s mouth twisted with understanding. “Oh, hell, no, of course you wouldn’t. That woman is a tyrant from the word go. She worshipped Diane, you see, and she probably resents you like the devil itself for darin’ to come into the place she’s been runnin’ for so long, all on her own, with Diane gone.”
“Mrs. Wyeth and I will have ourselves a nice little chat one of these days,” said Caroline quietly, almost to herself, as a pledge, “and make arrangements as to how we go forward. But, for now, my main concern is making sure that neglected little girl back there gets the love and attention she needs.”
“
And a wise course that is, honey. I agree 100 %.”
Suddenly Lila reached across to lay a supportive hand on her passenger’s bare forearm. Even though this was a casual outing, and would no doubt finish up with all four park visitors emerging drenched to the gills, that hand was weighed down by several rings, a watch, and two clunky bracelets. A string of pearls encircled Lila’s tanned throat, and her sundress and sandals subtly announced their designer labels.
By comparison, Caroline’s longish red hair was pulled back into a pony tail under her NYY ball cap, and she was wearing a faded beige tee and olive green Capri pants. Neither pretentious nor ostentatious, just simple and comfortable.
Still, despite the outward trappings that she so favored, Lila was a kind woman, and would be, Caroline instinctively felt, a good and loyal friend.
“Ben’s had some troubles in his life,” Lila told her now, quietly. “And it’s closed him off. I don’t know if he will ever be able to enjoy the normal things, like a wife and a daughter, and—well, something like our trip today. It doesn’t seem to be in him. The business comes first, last, and always, with no time for anything else.”
Caroline’s heart was sinking just a little at this bleak diagnosis. “Has he always been this way?”
“Noooo…No. Thinkin’ back, I noticed it more and more after he married Diane. That first year—well,” she shrugged, “it’s always tough for newlyweds, that first year, isn’t it? Adjustin’, and all. But—I dunno…it sure didn’t take long for the bloom to go off the rose.”
Here at least was someone who might be able to answer Caroline’s nagging questions. “What happened to her? To them?”
With a sigh, Lila lowered her voice. The girls seemed occupied, but Lord knew they had sharp hearing when they needed to. “Oh, honey, the most beautiful weddin’ you’ve ever seen. Eight attendants, a dress and veil to cry for, hundreds at the ceremony and the reception. A real society event, y’ know? They settled in at the Ten Buck and seemed as happy as clams.”
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