Contract to Wed: Prairie Romance

by Holly Bush

  Jolene wondered what she would say, how she would feel, or react, if Maximillian whispered in her ear now and held her with tenderness and love. Some walls had lately crumbled around her heart. Walls that had guarded her from more hurt and pain . . . but the persons who brought her the most pain, and with whom she needed to be wary, were no longer in her life.

  She stood, with some trepidation for what she was going to do. It felt unnatural to offer some comfort, little that she had to give, to a man such as Maximillian. But she walked around the desk and placed a hand on his back, one on his arm, and reached down and kissed his cheek. “There is something troubling you, Maximillian. What is it? Perhaps I can help?”

  Maximillian looked up at her over his shoulder, patted her hand, and then held it. He searched her eyes and was fully focused on her, as opposed to the far-away look he’d given her a minute ago. “I don’t like to trouble you, Jolene.”

  “As I have troubled you when I cried on your shirt while you held me?”

  “It was never a trouble to hold you. Never a trouble at all.”

  “Then allow me the same opportunities. Tell me your problems.” Jolene poured herself coffee and sat down.

  “There’s a man from the Houston area who is going to whoop my ass in this election,” Maximillian said.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “We’ve got people working in that area, polling the men there, formally and informally, and reading the local newspapers to see who gets endorsed.”

  “What is his advantage?” she asked.

  “His father was an Alamo hero in ‘36 and helped bring statehood to Texas ten years later. Everyone knows his name and family and he’s a successful business man.”

  “Then you must go to Houston.”

  * * *

  “I went last fall not long before you and I corresponded. I spoke to all the right people and met with editors and business leaders. The population there and in the surrounding area is larger than Dallas, and I think the numbers will be overwhelming.”

  Max had been caught up in Timothy McCastor’s vision and his own ego, he thought with some regret, for getting involved in this election. He’d always been interested in serving, and when he mentioned that to Timothy one night over brandy, his friend had started asking questions of state leaders and politicians, and was convinced Max had a good chance to win. That was before Phillip Sutherland entered the race as a Democrat. Max didn’t like to lose, and he didn’t like disappointing people who’d put their hard-earned money towards his election.

  “You must go to Houston again, Maximillian.”

  “I don’t know if that will help, Jolene,” he said. “Sutherland’s got steam opposing the Lodge Bill that allows Federal agents to monitor elections. The Democrats want to keep the Negroes from voting, and he’s got a lot of support for it.”

  “Then you must go to Houston and tell them why you are right and Mr. Sutherland is wrong.”

  Max shook his head. “It’s not that easy.”

  “You are forgetting one critical point, Maximillian. Your strength of personality and character. You are not using it well right now. These men that are convinced that a certain bill is in their best interest and will vote for the candidate talking about it now, have not met you. You must meet them. Your greatest strength is not something as trivial as an opinion about a certain thing, it is your ability to inspire trust in those you meet. You must go meet the voters and shake their hands.”

  Maximillian listened intently to Jolene. Whether she followed politics or issues or not, mattered little to her natural instincts. No wonder her father had her charming customers and closing deals. She was most likely right. He would never win the Senate seat unless people got to know him and trusted him to do the right thing.

  “So I just pick up and take the train to Houston?”

  “Have Timothy gather some of your supporters together and see who has contacts in the Houston area. Perhaps someone knows the mayor or one of the bankers or the head of a business. He must arrange for parties and soirees and meetings with newspaper editors and others whose opinion is well-respected, perhaps at one of the Houston colleges.”

  Max was warming to this idea. “I might be gone a whole month.”

  “Of course, you will be. Mr. Moran is well capable of running the day-to-day operations of the ranch. I will manage the house and Melinda until I join you there for the last week of your visit. Maybe you’ll have gained enough supporters to have a ball.”

  “You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?” he said.

  “I’ve had my man of business from Boston, Mr. Dentraub, look into houses in Washington, D.C., Maximillian. You will need a home there, and I will need place to entertain when you win this election and I join you,” she said.

  Max chuckled. “It all sounds easy when you say it to me.”

  “It won’t be easy, as I’m sure you know. But your chances increase considerably with every voter you engage with.”

  Max stood up and perched on the edge of the desk in front of Jolene. “You didn’t come in here to get my campaign back in order, if only in my head, did you?”

  “No. I didn’t. I understand that you are building more bunk houses for ranch hands and some suited for families. I’d like you to build a room to be used strictly for a classroom. Maria has also told me that a daughter of one of the married couples here, Ferdinand and Alcinda, has recently graduated with a teaching certificate. I’d like us to hire her to teach the children here.”

  “I’d heard one of the older girls who can read has been teaching the younger ones at Maria and Pete’s, with your encouragement.”

  “That is true, but she does not understand mathematics. One of the requirements of employment at Landonmore was at least an eighth grade education. What is the point of hiring someone who cannot read or follow a recipe or understand measurements for fabric or the price of coal? I am not a sentimental populist, but rather pragmatic. Of course, many servants do not require skills such as reading and arithmetic, but certainly some of them do and the closest school is in Dallas proper.”

  “You’re right, of course. It just never occurred to me,” he said and smiled. “And I think you’re an old softie.”

  Jolene stood, bringing her within inches of him. She was not smiling. He’d only seen her smile one memorable time since their marriage, other than the times they were entertaining and she put on her hostess mask, but she did not seem unhappy as of late. In fact, they’d been in harmony. He picked up her hands from her sides. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for listening and taking care of all the things that you do, that I don’t even know about.”

  Jolene licked her lips and stared into his eyes. “The door between our rooms will be unlocked this evening, Maximillian.”

  “Will it, now?” he said and pulled her between his legs. He grinned. “This is interesting. Got any more of those slinky nightgowns from Mrs. McCabe?”

  Jolene stepped out of his hold and walked to the door. She turned back and looked at him. “What a silly question, Maximillian. I have negligees in every color.”

  It took all of Maximillian’s formidable discipline to not chase his wife until they came upon a bed, where he could strip her clothes and bury himself inside her. He’d been dreaming and reliving their one encounter since the night of the Cattlemen’s Ball.

  * * *

  Jolene’s body nearly hummed with anticipation. She and Maximillian had been polite at dinner, but there was a sensual undercurrent she felt, and was certain he felt it, too, coming from some seemingly innocent double entendres and heated looks. She took a long bath in scented water and had Alice brush her hair and wrap it in a loose coil on top of her head. She chose a black negligee that went to the floor, with lace insets over her breasts that narrowed into strips and stretched the length of the gown and around the hem. The neckline was a deep v and the straps thin ribbons of satin that crossed and ended at the small of her back. The robe matched with pleate
d ruffles of lace around the color and cuffs. She wore satin heeled slippers with open toes. She heard a knock on the door that led to Maximillian’s rooms.

  “Come in,” she said.

  Maximillian opened the door and walked directly to her. He was wearing his dungarees, his feet and chest were bare, and had a bottle of brandy and two glasses in one hand. He looked her up and down and tilted her chin up with his free hand.

  “You are gorgeous, Mrs. Shelby.” He poured her a glass of brandy and handed it to her.

  Jolene sipped her drink. “Have you spoken to Timothy about going to Houston?”

  “Yes, and after thinking about it for a few minutes, he started sending messages to our committee members that there would be a meeting this week about a month-long campaign visit in Houston.”

  “Good,” she said. “I think this is a wise decision.”

  Maximillian rubbed the back of his neck and sat down on the edge of her bed. “It is a good decision, Jolene,” he said and looked up at her. “One I’d have never made without you telling me to. Timothy said I’ll need to write some new speeches and gave me a list of issues that may come up during our visit so I’d have time to think about them.”

  Jolene sat her drink on the end table, shrugged off her robe, and sat down beside him. She guided his shoulders until he was turned with his back to her. She rubbed his neck, and he groaned and dropped his head forward.

  “You’re so tense, Maximillian,” she said. “Relax now.”

  Jolene moved her hands down to Maximillian’s broad shoulders and worked her fingers along the muscles of his back. His skin was warm and smooth, and he smelled like the minty soap that Maria made for the kitchens. She traced a line down the muscle in the back of his arm and kneaded the skin around his spine. He sighed in contentment.

  “That’s better, Maximillian,” she said as she leaned forward and reached her hands around his waist touching the ridged planes of his stomach as she did. Jolene opened the buttons of his pants, and the tips of her breasts touched his back. He hissed and was already rigid and straining in her hand, and Jolene stroked him with feather touches and finally a firm grasp.

  “Feeling better?” she whispered.

  “Feeling like I’m going to embarrass myself soon unless I get my hands on you pretty quick.”

  Maximillian stood and pulled his pants off as Jolene watched him. He stepped close to her, and she took a slow look at him from his powerful legs, to his flat stomach and broad chest. She looked at his face, with the shadow of a day’s worth of beard darkening his cheeks and chin. Maximillian’s eyes were hooded, and his nostrils flared as their eyes met. Jolene recognized his heated look for what it was and licked her upper lip. She looked down at his erection and groaned.

  Before Jolene new what he was about, she found herself flat on her back in the middle of the bed, Maximillian, stretched out over her. He kissed her neck and shoulder, found her mouth and covered it with his own. He rubbed her breast through the lace and pulled the fabric back to lick and suck her. Jolene heard herself moan, and her hips bucked against his as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “Jesus, woman, you are the sexiest thing I have ever seen,” Maximillian whispered in her ear, making a circle with his tongue. He nipped at her neck and pulled on her gown impatiently. “These frilly, girly gowns of yours make me crazy.”

  Maximillian got the hem of her negligee in his hand and shimmied the fabric up her body until she was exposed to him. He pushed her legs wide and laid a calloused hand on her. Jolene lay prone as he worked his fingers on her and in her until she was lazy-limbed and wet. She pulled his lips to hers and kissed him open-mouthed.

  “Oh, Max. I want you inside me,” she said and moved her hand up and down his erection.

  Maximillian loomed over her then and entered her with one swift, bold stroke. She moved with him as he set up a steady rhythm that gradually increased in speed and urgency. She drew a shuddering breath, and felt weightless as she relaxed under him, and felt his weight descend on her until he collapsed, boneless and breathing hard. He shook a final tremor and groaned.

  Jolene’s face was turned towards Maximillian’s where it was buried in her pillow. She felt his shoulders shake, and he turned his face and rubbed his nose across hers. He was smiling.

  “You should ask me for something right now, Jolene, because if I had to walk a hundred miles in bare feet carrying boulders to get it for you, I’d do it.” He chuckled and kissed her lips softly. He moved off of her just a bit and ran his fingers down the side of her face. “You are beautiful, do you know that, love?” he said and searched her eyes. “Do you know how much you please me? Do I please you? Tell me then, if I don’t, and what I can do to change that.”

  Tears filled Jolene’s eyes. “Don’t Maximillian.”

  He wiped her eyes and ran a hand through her hair. “Shush. Don’t cry,” he whispered. “We’ll be slow and steady, you and I.”

  * * *

  Max drew the blankets over them and turned her on her side so he could press up against her back. He fluffed the pillow and let out a long sigh.

  “Are you intending to sleep here?”

  Max nuzzled her ear and rubbed his thumb across her breast. “The last time, you up and left. I’ve been dreaming about waking you out of a sound sleep, getting you hot and ready for me again. So, yes, I am intending to sleep here . . . for a while anyway.”

  “Oh.”

  He was in love with his wife. As unsmiling and cool as she could be, there was no denying it. He wanted her body, craved it, to a degree far above anything he’d ever known. He valued her opinions and competent management of staff and of Melinda, and he wished he could overcome her skepticism and wariness. Maximillian had no intentions of straying; they were man and wife, and he would be loyal to her and protect her through whatever lay ahead for them. And there was a moment, just a flash as he stroked her face, when he saw the whole way through to Jolene. When he saw past her masks and hurts and fears and vulnerability to the real woman at her core. It was merely a glimpse, but she was there, every unsure, uncomfortable bit of her, hiding behind all the walls she’d built to guard herself from pain.

  “I love you, Jolene.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “My sister Jennifer is planning to travel here in October,” Jolene said. “I received a letter from her yesterday.”

  “Pass me the ham, Zeb,” Maximillian said and looked at her. “That’s great news! When does she get here? Will she be staying past the election?”

  “This one from the Dakotas?” Zeb asked.

  “No,” Jolene said and shook her head. “She’s unmarried and still at Willow Tree. I’m shocked that’s she’s coming here.”

  “Why” he asked.

  “Jennifer has never been one to be very adventurous. The idea of traveling this far must petrify her. Of course she’ll have her maid with her, but I doubt that she’s been more than ten miles from Willow Tree her entire life.”

  “I may not have much time with her since I’ll be going to Houston sometime that month. Can she stay for the holidays?” Maximillian asked. “Wait till Melinda hears this. We won’t be able to live with her.”

  “We’re nearly finished with the remodeling in the blue bedroom suite,” Zeb said. “Just the carpets to be laid and whatever paintings or decorations you’d like, Jolene.”

  “Thank you. Jennifer will like those rooms.”

  “Will you be planning a party while she’s here?” Maximillian asked.

  “I imagine I will,” Jolene said. “I would like to entertain a few times and spend some time in Dallas with her as well.”

  “Playing matchmaker, Jolene?” Maximillian stood, took a last sip of coffee, and winked at her.

  “Mother has been encouraging her to accept Mr. Rothchild’s proposal. He’s been a business associate of my father’s for years.”

  Maximillian picked up his hat and leaned down to kiss her, full on the mouth, and rubbed his knuckles acros
s her cheek. “I will see you this evening for dinner, and we can talk more about your sister’s visit then, sweetheart.”

  The door to the dining rooms closed as Maximillian left, and Jolene knew her cheeks were flaming. She looked up to meet Zeb’s eyes.

  “I think the boss is in love,” he said dryly.

  Jolene stood and walked to the door. She turned and faced him. “Speaking of which, do not dally with Alice. She has been hurt in the past, and I do not wish to see her hopes raised falsely.”

  “I’ve been nothing but honorable to Alice,” Zeb said as he stood. “I resent the implication I’ve been anything less than a gentleman.”

  “I’m certain you have been a gentleman in that regard. It is her feelings, not her person, I am concerned about. However, if you are sincerely in love, that would be a different matter.”

  Jolene was glad the opportunity had presented itself to speak to Zebidiah in private. She’d caught Alice straining to catch glimpses of him and was worried that her maid was entertaining thoughts of a relationship with Mr. Moran. He did not approve of Jolene or her background and could be prickly, but he managed the ranch efficiently and was a confidant of Maximillian’s. He also had a stake in two of the more successful oil wells, Jolene had just learned, and was amassing a significant amount of money, as well as being well-educated and cultured, even if he did dress and act the part of a ranch hand. But Jolene did not believe he was interested in her maid above what any man may be interested in a pretty, young woman, even if she was in service.