Linese held up a burgundy twill and peered skeptically at her reflection in her looking glass. The deep wine color was flattering against her pale hair, and the scooped neckline was tempting in the muggy April heat, but Linese finally admitted to herself that the dress had been designed for a more festive occasion and was definitely not appropriate for day wear.
She sighed and pulled the material taut against her slim waist for one last look. It did compliment her form, and she was almost giddy at the prospect of spending the day in Chase’s company. On an impulse, she decided to be bold and wear the dress, even though the wagging tongues of Mainfield would probably rip her reputation to shreds for wearing such a gown before sundown.
“Silly goose,” she told her grinning image. “He’s your husband, for goodness’ sake. You don’t have to fret so much about dressing up for him, or what people might say about how you look.”
But the fact that Chase had asked to spend time with her was no small consideration. It was a new beginning in her eyes, one she was going to treasure. And she hoped the time they spent together today would lead them into a romantic night, when at last perhaps, Chase would welcome her back to his bed.
Chase stretched and opened his eyes. The sun was blazing through the windowpanes opposite his bed. He realized, with no small amount of amazement, that he had slept the whole night—slept well, in fact. When he moved his leg, he found no stabbing pain in his hip. It seemed like an omen that he could slumber peacefully and wake feeling almost whole again, at least physically whole. He wondered exactly why he felt so good. Then it came to him.
“Linese.” He was going to spend the day with Linese. His eyes slid over to the small wrapped package sitting by the lantern on his chest of drawers. He had been tempted to give it to her last night, but for some reason he held back.
The small cameo was a special secret, different from the other things he kept from Linese. It wasn’t dark and depressing and he prayed the small gift would make her happy. He savored the unique feeling of doing something nice for her. It assuaged some of his guilt about deceiving her.
There was a light knock on the door. He strode across the room in his stockinged feet and opened the door.
Linese looked up at him and smiled. He was jolted by a ribbon of emotion. It was odd how this woman who was still a stranger could bring out the deepest response in him with no more than a look or a smile.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Good morning, Linese.” He stood there awkward and electrified while she looked at him. A strange sort of knowledge coursed through him.
He had thought she was pretty at the train that first day. Now he looked at her and knew she was nothing less than magnificent.
Her hair was pulled up and caught in soft, loose curls of gold by a wide black ribbon. Several flaxen tendrils had managed to escape and now they flirtatiously brushed along the sides of her face, as he wished his own fingers could.
The dress she wore was the rich hue of wine, and the effect it had on Chase was nearly as intoxicating. A low neck done with tiny close stitches of dark thread complimented the texture of the flawless skin on her throat and upper chest.
She looked like the image on the cameo. She looked too perfect to be real, and more than he deserved.
“Did I disturb you?” Her eyes traveled from his coat, still tossed on the bed, to the lack of boots on his stockinged feet.
“No, not at all. Come in.” He stepped aside and gestured with his hand. He thought she must think him a complete fool, inviting her into her own bedroom, a room she had been forced to leave, because of him.
“I was on my way downstairs. I thought you might like to have a cup of chicory with me before we go to Mainfield.”
A flutter of his pulse proved how much the small invitation meant to him.
“Just give me a minute to put on my boots.” Chase sat down in the chair and picked up one boot. He saw Linese flick a quick glance around the room. A swelling of anticipation filled his chest when he saw her eyes linger on the small package.
“It’s for you. You can open it now, if you like.”
Linese’s gaze snapped back to his face. “For me?”
Something in the breathy question made Chase think he had not been much accustomed to giving her gifts in the past. Was he a miserly husband, a man who cared more for his purse than the happiness of his wife? He jerked on his other boot and stood up.
In three long strides he was beside her. He picked up the box and placed it in her hands. Her fingers were trembling. It shamed him to know such a small gesture could affect her so profoundly, shamed him to think he had done so little for her in the past. He held her hands around the box and did not let her fingers go.
She looked up at him. “But why?” she asked. “It’s not my birthday, or any special day.”
For one insane minute, Chase nearly blurted out the sorrow he felt. He nearly apologized for not bringing her more gifts before the war. He wanted to ask pardon for slights he did not remember, and make promises about a future that was uncertain.
But he could not.
“You’re my wife. A man should buy presents for his wife.” Chase was stunned by the force and conviction of his own words.
For the first time since his return, he actually felt Linese was his wife, and not some beautiful stranger who knew him better than he knew himself.
A burst of pride expanded in his chest. He meant it, a man should give his wife little tokens of—affection.
Did he feel affection for her? a little voice in his head asked.
“Oh, Chase, you shouldn’t have,” she murmured. “It is too dear—how can you afford it?”
“That’s not important. I did it and I’ll probably do it again. Open it.” Chase released her hands, but the warm softness of her touch lingered inside his palms. It was nice, the way it felt to hold her small hands within his own rough fingers.
He wondered what it would feel like to lie beside her, to caress her throat and listen to the steady beating of her heart. The thought brought a wave of heat rising through him.
Linese blinked twice and turned the small box around. She seemed hesitant to open it. He longed to know what kind of relationship they had shared in the short time between meeting and marriage.
But he could not ask.
Chapter Seven
Linese glanced once more at Chase, then she ripped the tissue paper off the box. Hesitance and incredulity shone in her eyes when she lifted the lid and saw what he had given her.
It made Chase squirm inwardly. He tried once more to concentrate on the past, to dredge up some memory of their time together. The strange ringing started in his head once again. He blinked hard and shook his head, but though it became less pronounced, the eerie sound remained with him.
“I—I never expected—never thought,” Linese stammered.
“Open it.” He couldn’t stand to watch her hold the box with such reverence any longer. Every time she blinked her eyes to keep the glistening tears at bay, he cursed himself silently.
Linese gulped and stared at the cameo. The tears made her eyes more blue, more luminous, more wrenching.
Chase struggled to swallow the hot lump in his throat.
He wanted to say something, do something, but for the life of him, he didn’t know what to say or do. This should have been a small event in the life of a married couple, but with each passing minute, it took on more significance. Why did she have the power to turn him inside out when he knew so little about her?
“Oh. Oh, my.” She bit her bottom lip.
“Is that a good oh, or a bad oh?” He wanted to tease another grin from her to lighten the moment.
Her lips trembled.
“Linese, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to see you cry. I never intended to make you cry….”
He had given her the gift to please her. He never dreamed it would make her unhappy. He closed the distance between them and took hold of her shoulders. She felt small, an
d appealing to him in a way that challenged explanation, defied logic, sundered his control. He had no idea why touching her should make his blood rush through his ears like a rain-swollen river overflowing its banks, or why the temperature in the room should suddenly have risen ten degrees, but it did.
“I love it. I will treasure it—” she sniffed “—always. I will keep it near me—forever.”
Her lips curved into the most poignant expression of happiness Chase could have imagined.
It was his undoing.
In the tiny space of time it took for her to say those words, he had been conquered body and soul.
“Would you pin it on for me?” Her soft request made his knees weak.
Chase gulped down the flood of emotions and rubbed his sweaty palms along the front of his pants. Lord Almighty. Could he stop his insides from trembling long enough to pin the cameo on her dress—on her low-cut dress?
“If you’d like,” he managed to croak out.
He stepped closer to her and reluctantly took the cameo from her fingers. Suddenly his own hands were clumsy and refused to manage the clasp. He felt his cheeks flame with heat while his wide fingers failed to open the simple mechanism.
“Let me help.” She giggled and reached up to assist him. When their fingers met, he felt a sensation of charged air between their hands.
“Maybe I’d better not—I’m too awkward,” he stammered. He took a step back, retreating again from his sweet, soft adversary. A voice inside his head told him to turn away, leave her, escape before it was too late. The personal hazard from being too near Linese was greater than any peril he faced at war.
“You have never been awkward, Chase. Pin it on me and I’ll wear it today.” Linese tipped her head to better expose her bodice, a bodice that was seductive, scented with the indolent odor of flowers, warmed by the ambient heat of Chase’s own yearning.
Chase slowly drew in a calming breath. He tried to ignore the feel of her creamy, soft flesh against his skin while he stuck two fingers behind the fabric to shield her, lest he blunder with the sharp pin. The flowery fragrance that he had come to associate with her wafted around his body and made him light-headed.
He stuck the pin through and made the mistake of looking at her face. A temptress stared back at him.
“How does it look?” she asked.
He groaned inwardly when he looked back at the cameo. “It’s crooked.”
“Well, try again,” she suggested.
He stifled the moan that nearly escaped his lips, while he steeled himself to make another agonizing attempt. When he glanced up, he found Linese watching him with a languid expression on her lovely face.
She looked like a cat in cream. Her lips were alluring. Her eyes were sultry and perceptive. The hollow of her throat above his hand pulsated with life.
Instinct and smoldering desire drove him toward her against all reason, against all hope. When their lips met, an icy-hot electricity jumped between their bodies. It was mystifying to Chase. Having no memory of ever having kissed any woman before, the experience was singular. Feelings and passions that were completely new to him, because he had no previous recollections to judge them against, sprang forth fully formed while he drank in the essence of Linese’s mouth.
The stupefying sensation traveled down Chase’s limbs and pooled around his toes. He was sure the floor was going to open up beneath him.
If this was a sample of what they had shared in the past, if this was how he had held her and kissed her…
Chase jerked his head up as if stung by a yellow jacket.
Fool, he silently cursed himself.
Chase stared at Linese, gauging her reaction, watching for some indication she knew about his madness, his missing memory, his flaw, but she seemed lost in her own world. Her fingertip traced an imaginary line around the row of tiny pearls on the outer edge of the cameo.
“Thank you, Chase.” Her voice was satiny in his ears.
He gulped down his confusion. A part of him wanted to flee the room and find a place where Linese could not affect him so. Yet all the while he wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to run his hand down her throat and hold his palm over her breast. He wanted to feel her pulse quicken and watch her blush with each bold advance he made. He wanted to explore her personality and learn all the secret things about her.
“Do I look all right?” She brought him out of the clouds with the simple question.
“What?” Chase felt like a man trapped in a dream. This could not be happening, he should not have allowed this to happen. The more he permitted himself to care about her, the more risk he took—and the more at risk he put her, in the bargain.
“How does it look?” She lifted her fingers and met his own, which he had not realized were hovering near the cameo at the juncture of her breasts.
“You look beautiful, Linese.” Chase gulped down the lump in his throat. “I can’t remember you ever looking any more beautiful than you do right now.” The poignancy of his truthful statement sent a lance of pain through his heart.
He didn’t remember her at all, before he stepped off that train, but dear God, how he wanted to remember everything about Linese Cordell.
The buggy ride from Cordellane seemed to be going by faster than usual. Linese touched her fingers to the cameo and felt her smile return. She didn’t want Chase to think she was being foolish, but his gift meant so much to her. He was finally acting as if he had missed her.
The unexpected token made her feel as if she were being wooed for the first time, since their meeting and marriage had been so quick. She knew that she and Chase had not been unusual in that respect. Many young men had chosen brides and married quickly before they went to war. It was human nature, Linese suspected, to grab happiness desperately with both hands, especially when death lay just over the horizon. Or perhaps each couple prayed for a son to carry on the father’s name, in case.
She sighed and thought back to that magical time two years ago. When Linese had met Chase and he had announced she would be his wife, it had been like being swept into a raging river. She had been so mesmerized by his forceful nature and strength of will that she had yielded to his wishes without question. She had never realized how much she had missed. Not until today.
She had missed being wooed. She missed the charm and the courtship every girl dreams of having. Now it appeared that Chase was doing his best to make up for that lacking in their relationship. It gave her just that much more incentive to find a way to span the narrowing gulf between them. Linese felt her thoughts changing, growing bolder each time she found Chase staring at her surreptitiously from under his thick, dark lashes. And she smiled again, knowing that inch by inch she was making the journey to his heart.
Suddenly Chase jerked the reins up sharply on the poor startled horse. Linese blinked and grabbed the edge of the seat to keep from sliding out of it. The horse had nearly run over a group of men gathered in the street. They were huddled over something on the ground. It took her several seconds to realize the form was a man.
He was lying in a bloody heap in the center of a circle of men. Linese wondered what on earth had happened. Then she saw two men deliver bone-breaking kicks to the man’s ribs, and the cause of his distress became apparent to her.
Before she even had time to react to the incredible situation, Chase leapt from the buggy, spun one assailant around and hit him straight in the face with his clenched fist. She watched in amazement as a hairline of blood appeared horizontally on the bully’s square chin.
Chase’s healing hip didn’t seem to slow him down in the least while he strode to the other attacker and hauled him up by his shirtfront, until their faces were scant inches apart.
“Damn you, I’ll not tolerate any man being kicked when he’s down.” Chase spat out the words. The tight circle of onlookers opened in the face of his furious wrath and gave Linese clear view of the events.
“You gutless curs,” Chase growled.
“He’s no
thing but a dirty Southern sympathizer,” the man with the bloody chin blurted indignantly. “His kind don’t deserve your help, Major Cordell.”
Only when Linese heard the man address Chase by name did she realize she knew them all. Most of them were neighboring landowners, merchants, people she had come to know while Chase was fighting for the Union. The thought that she had lived among them and yet never knew they were capable of such savagery sent a chill of shame up her spine.
“Whatever his loyalties, the war is not being fought here in the street. Not like this, not with a mob on one-single man.” Chase let the man’s shirt go and he shoved him away in disgust. “Don’t you have any honor?”
Linese watched Chase flex his empty hands tightly at his thighs. Silvery flames of fury burned in his eyes. The passionate, reckless part of him she had first seen in the Presbyterian church had burst to life in front of her. Indignant violence raged within him. The look on his face sent her heart beating a rapid staccato.
He was quite a man—and he was her man.
The group of men began to filter away and disappear into the alleys and adjacent streets rather than face Chase’s fierceness. He bent down and helped the beaten man up. When he was more or less standing, with Chase’s assistance, Linese saw it was Ira Goten.
“Thanks, Chase. This is sort of like the first time, ain’t it?” Ira wiped his torn sleeve across the blood dripping from his mouth. He inhaled slowly and winced from the effort.
“The first time?” Chase had no idea what Ira was talking about, but he glanced over to see Linese sitting in the buggy, listening intently. Her bottomless blue eyes focused on him.
Linda Castle Page 9