Pace buried his face in his pillow and felt the ache take over his body. "Hers isn't the only one," he complained.
"Would you like a tonic?" she asked innocently, still soothing infant whimpers.
Pace turned and gave her an evil look that she couldn't see. "I need a tonic all right, but it ain't the kind you drink."
His tone must have finally registered. She turned her worried look on him. "What would you have me do?"
"Just lie beside me and let me groan. I'll recover." Not anytime soon, he could tell her, but he didn't. She ought to feel something of the driving passion he felt. She would learn how it lingered until satisfied. But she was still recovering from childbirth. She probably didn't feel it as strong yet. He would only make things worse by encouraging her as he had tonight.
Dora finally got the child quieted and slipped beneath the covers with him. Pace could feel the brush of her night shift against his legs. He had only to pull up the hem and he'd be back where he'd been a little while ago.
Although she lay awake and willing beside him. Pace turned his head and shoved his hands under the pillow. For once in his life, he would do the right thing. He just had to figure out what the hell it was.
* * *
Dora admired the dark outline of Pace's broad shoulders against the pillow in the dawn's light. His auburn hair lay tousled and falling across his brow. The sheets had fallen back to cover only the lower part of him, and she had the urge to push them away from the narrow line of his hips, but she didn't have the courage to follow through.
Frances was already making waking-up noises in her cradle. She wouldn't have time to persuade Pace into changing his mind. She wasn't a natural-born seductress, but she knew Pace. Last night had given her some modicum of confidence. She could tempt him somehow, she knew. And she meant to. Not just because of how he made her feel, although the memory of last night burned sharp and clear in her mind. But she had to tempt Pace to hold him. She knew once the possibility of another baby had entered the picture, he would never let her go.
That was an utterly foolish and insane thing to believe after he'd left her last time, but Dora knew it with all confidence. She understood him. Or she understood enough to know that she was his wife now, his possession, and Pace had very few of those to claim his own. He might let her go under some misguided attempt to see her better cared for, but he would fight until death for any child of his. The idea of marriage as ownership had terrified her, but she thought perhaps it worked a little both ways. She owned some small piece of Pace, and that knowledge gave her the confidence she needed to protect what was hers.
Gently, she ran her fingers over the wide curve of his shoulder muscles to the broad expanse of his bronzed back, then trailed down the naked hollow of his spine. He stirred restlessly and started to turn over. Dora darted from the bed before he could reach for her.
She sat beside him and nursed Frances before he opened his eyes. She felt a tingle and knew he watched her. She had never given much thought to what it meant to be a woman, but Pace was so much a man that she felt small and delicate with his shoulders looming beside her.
He stayed silent so long that she feared his anger, but when she cast a glance in his direction, he was only watching as Francis nursed. At Dora's glance, he looked up.
"The two of you scare me sometimes," he said without inflection, the green of his eyes muddied. "Somehow, I've got to keep you in clothes and food and protect you for the rest of your lives. I've never had this much responsibility laid on me before."
Dora felt a place inside her tighten as she studied the lines of worry and pain around his lips. He held his right arm, as if it pained him this morning. She bit her lip as she realized the burden she would dump on him should she put her plan into action. Perhaps she shouldn't... She didn't know which voice to listen to, whether she heard her own selfishness or God or worldly temptation speaking.
"I don't want to be a burden," she answered. "I want to help, if you'll just let me."
"That's not the way it's done," he responded gruffly, rolling over and throwing off the sheet as he stood up, "A man takes care of his family."
Dora felt a flare of anger. She didn't know where it came from, it just materialized. She watched him jerk on his drawers with his back turned toward her. "And what does a woman do?" she demanded, trying not to admire the interesting aspect being covered.
He glared over his shoulder while he pulled on his shirt. "Dress in pretty clothes and smile, I guess. How the hell should I know?"
The anger dissipated as quickly as it had appeared. Dora smiled at the interesting picture he painted. Of course he didn't know what women did. The only woman in his life had spent the better part of it lying in bed contemplating the ceiling. She would teach him differently, if he gave her enough time.
She wouldn't think about that. She had to believe that she was here to stay, and that Pace would stay with her. She placed Frances over her shoulder and daringly answered, "Thou hath found the wrong wife for that then. Shall I fetch Josie for thee?"
Pace scowled and reached for his pants. "She'd bankrupt me in a hurry. Now isn't the time to tease, Dora. I'm not in the mood."
"I can see that," she said serenely. "Is it nobility or frustration that makes thee nasty in the mornings?"
He gave her a glare, grabbed his boots, and stalked out.
Dora wanted to laugh, but her own temerity scared her. She had actually dared say what she thought, and retribution had not followed. A vast horizon of possibilities loomed before her. Did she dare take a step forward all on her own?
Chapter 34
Outside show is a poor substitute for inner worth.
~ Aesop, "The Fox and the Mask," Fables (6th c. bc.)
"The English gentlemen are staying with Joe Mitchell," Josie announced airily as she sauntered into the parlor.
"A man shall be judged by the company he keeps," Dora answered enigmatically as she took another stitch in the seam of one of the gowns Josie had given her. After all these years of wearing coarse gray cotton, she was a trifle overwhelmed by the wealth of material bestowed upon her, but she intended to make the best of it. She had plans, and these gowns would aid her in them.
If the Quakers no longer accepted her, then she need no longer accept their principles. She wasn't so certain she had ever accepted all of them, but some made too much sense to give up.
"Joe Mitchell is a gentleman," Josie replied.
"Joe Mitchell is rich," Dora agreed, knowing Josie wouldn't decipher the difference.
"Daddy has asked them all to dinner. I said I would help Mama."
Dora knew perfectly well that Josie looked for reasons why she shouldn't, but Dora had no intention of giving them. As far as she was concerned, her past was dead, and so were the people in it. She hoped their ghosts would go away, but she knew they wouldn't until they had whatever it was they wanted. Idly, she wondered if the local minister performed exorcisms.
"Dost thou wish to leave Amy here?" she asked calmly.
Josie clenched her fingers in her skirts and finally said with exasperation, "Quit playing the innocent, Dora Nicholls! You haven't survived in this household all these years without becoming as devious and conniving as the rest of them. You parade around with that meek and modest mask, but it doesn't fool me one second. If we're ever to be friends, you have to learn to talk to me."
Dora looked up in surprise at this outburst. "Are we going to be friends? Is that possible with Pace between us?"
Josie threw up her hands and walked the carpet. "Pace isn't between us. Pace lives in his own dratted world where men are men, and women are there to admire them. I'm not a complete fool. I've learned my lesson. I want a real gentleman, someone who will treat me like a lady. Pace doesn't even know I exist."
Dora bit back a smile at the irony of this conversation, but she wouldn't offer laughter at Josie's honesty. She shook her head and bit off the thread she'd knotted. "You and Pace would have made a good pair. He wo
uld have loved pampering you and giving you everything your little heart desired in return for your smiles. But he can't do that now, so he'll have to put up with me."
Josie's eyes narrowed shrewdly. "He wanted you enough to bed you. I expect that's enough for any man when it comes right down to it. Help me, Dora. Tell me who these Englishmen are. They're not rude and uncouth like these country louts around here."
Dora met Josie's eyes squarely. "I have never seen the older man in my life. I know nothing about him."
Josie gave her an impatient look. "What about the younger one? He's more to my liking. He's supposed to be an English lord."
Dora hesitated. She would prefer to leave the past dead, but she could not lie. With a sigh, she answered, "He would be worse than Charlie. Stay away from him, Josie."
Josie didn't want to hear that, but she couldn't argue when she had asked for it. "Will you give me reasons?"
"I was eight years old when I left England. How can I tell thee more?"
"Then you can't really know him now, can you?" Josie asked triumphantly.
"Skunks can't change their stripes, Josie. If you won't listen to me, then don't ask me. See for thyself."
"I shall. I think I should find it very interesting being called Lady Josephine." Josie started to leave the room until Dora called after her.
"You would be Lady Doran. Unless you have your own title, you must take your husband's."
It was a warning of sorts, but Josie chose not to hear it. Dora shook her head as Josie swept out. A man like Gareth would consider a woman nothing but a playtoy to treat as he wished. The nursery had been littered with Gareth's broken toys.
* * *
Dora twirled in front of the pier glass in Harriet's room as her mother-in-law looked on with satisfaction. Josie's refitted skirts swirled in soft blue waves around her legs, billowing with the flounced crinoline beneath it. The fitted bodice had scallops of blue silk at the daring low neckline, and Dora couldn't make herself look closely there. The tops of her breasts felt horribly exposed, but both Josie and Harriet had assured her that the décolletage was extremely modest. The sheered puff sleeves made her feel half naked, but those too were acceptable for evening. Still, Dora felt as if she understood why Quakers favored Plain Dress. She had never before thought of herself as an object of adornment.
But she did this for good cause. She must make Pace see her as his wife. If she must dress like Josie to accomplish that, then so be it. He wanted a woman he could set on a pedestal and cherish, so she would be that woman. If he needed a wanton in his bed, she could be that, too, and a lot more willingly than sitting on a pedestal. She blushed as she admitted that to herself. The woman in the mirror blushed with her.
" 'Tis a pity you haven't any hair," Harriet complained. "I used to have such marvelous long hair. All the men admired it. At least you've got curls," she added generously.
Dora looked at the tousled mop of her hair with despair. She knew nothing about fixing hair. Hers wasn't long enough to pull into a neat chignon. She'd let it grow out lately, but it still just made a riotous cascade that barely touched her shoulders, and the sides were too short even for that. She'd wrapped a blue ribbon around her head to at least hold some of the waves out of her face since she didn't wear her cap, but she didn't think that she had accomplished much. The woman in the mirror didn't look very polished or sophisticated. She just looked young and very exposed.
"You look quite lovely, Dora," Harriet assured her, then ruined it by adding, "you ought to have a little more color."
Dora pinched her cheeks and bit her lips as Josie had shown her how to do. That made her a little pinker. She just thought it would look a trifle odd if she spent the evening biting and pinching herself. She turned to admire the huge satin sash at her back. That was a touch she could appreciate.
"I'm afraid this is the best I can do. Dost... Do you think Pace will like it?"
"He'd not be a man if he didn't." Harriet listened to the sound of feet on the stairs. "He's coming up to change. Hurry, and you can slip downstairs after he goes in your room."
Dora leaned over and gave her sleeping daughter a kiss, gave Harriet a hurried hug, and left Amy playing happily with a doll. As the sound of boots disappeared into the bedroom, she dashed into the hall and down the stairs. If nothing else, she would shock or surprise Pace into noticing her.
She checked the dining room to make certain all the best china and silver were set out, then hurriedly gave Annie and Ernestine last minute instructions. She'd promised them each a dress from Josie's discards for cooking and serving this special meal. The outrageous bribe so tickled the two women that they'd outdone themselves. It would be worth every bolt of cloth.
Dora rushed back to the dining room to light the candles, then arrayed herself on the sofa in the parlor, not a moment too soon. She heard Pace pounding down the stairs as she settled in. He would have a good appetite after a day in the fields. She'd sent out a cold dinner since they worked too far from the house to come home. He'd be ready for a big meal tonight. She tried not to laugh when she heard him hurrying for the dining room where she usually set out the meal for him. Tonight, she played the part of lady.
His gait as he returned down the hall was considerably slower than when he'd hurried to the dining room. Since he hadn't found her in either of the places he expected, he was no doubt puzzled. Good. She meant to keep him guessing.
Dora looked up from her embroidery as he stopped in the doorway. She had pressed Pace's coat and waistcoat and left them hanging out so he'd wear them. He hadn't bothered buttoning them, but she didn't mind. He looked splendid just the way he was, with his white linen starched and brilliant against the darkness of his face, and the soft gray coat clinging to the breadth of his shoulders. He gazed at her from beneath a hank of hair falling across his brow. Her gaze dropped to where his green silk waistcoat fell open, revealing the flat tautness of his stomach. She saw nothing of Charlie or Gareth's softness in Pace. He was all hard muscle and sinew. She quivered in anticipation.
He didn't say a word but stared at her with astonishment. She managed a tremulous smile. "Did you have a good day?"
Pace's hand went surreptitiously to the buttons of his waistcoat. He had one or two fastened by the time he recovered himself enough to enter the room. Dora could feel the heat rise in her skin as his gaze lingered on her shoulders and a little lower. She remembered how he'd touched her there last night, through her cotton gown. It had been dark then. It wasn't now. The lamplight surrounded her.
"I can't remember," he answered dryly. "Do you mind telling me what you think you're doing? Are we expecting company?"
He knew they weren't. She had set only two places at the table. Dora gazed at him through lowered lashes as she'd seen the other ladies do. "Just us. Josie is at her father's tonight. Would you like something to drink? Annie will call us when supper is ready."
He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and rocked back on his heels. "By all means, let's have a drink. What will you fix for me, my lady?"
Since he was perfectly aware she knew nothing about alcohol, he had a right to his sarcasm, Dora supposed. But she knew a decanter sat on the table with glasses beside it. She merely rose and poured half a glass for him. He could tell her what the liquor was easier than the other way around.
He continued eying her skeptically as she settled on the sofa again. "Annie is fixing supper?"
"Annie and Ernestine," she replied serenely, although her insides shivered as he continued staring at her. "I've asked them to fry ham and fix sweet potatoes since you had a cold dinner today."
"I see." He continued rocking back and forth on his heels as he sipped his drink and watched her with a cautious eye. "You're going to make me ask, aren't you?"
She glanced up at him with surprise, then read his expression and smiled. "I am wearing a pretty gown and smiling. Isn't that what thee wished?"
"What I wish?" His gaze raked over the cerulean blue of her skirts
and back to the tempting expanse of flesh above. "What I wish has absolutely nothing to do with pretty gowns. As a matter of fact, that gown is a hindrance to my deepest desires. But I won't ask you to take if off just yet. I think I'll need that ham first."
Oh, Lord, she remembered that look too well. Dora could almost smell the heated earth and fresh cut hay. She didn't think she could eat a bite of anything or even notice what was set before her. She didn't have time to worry about that. Annie called them for dinner.
Pace offered his arm and Dora took it as she had seen the other ladies do. His arm was strong and hard beneath the deceptive pliancy of his coat. When he led her to her seat, his fingers brushed her bare shoulders He'd shaved with that exotic-scented soap he'd told her smelled like sandalwood from Australia, and she didn't want him to move away. The knowledge that it would be hours before she could feed Frances again and retire to their bedroom gnawed at her. How could she do to him what he was already doing to her?
She realized he did it deliberately after she put her buttery biscuit down, and Pace took her hand before she could use the napkin. He took each finger into his mouth separately, sucking on them, then tracing the path of her palm with his lips before using his own napkin to clean what remained of the butter from her fingers. She didn't think she would ever use that hand again.
Dora stared mutely at Pace, at the way the candlelight gleamed in the auburn streaks of his hair, the sensual tilt of his lips as he smiled at her, the glitter of his eyes that told her he knew what she was doing but he was better at it. She didn't need to seduce him. He wanted what she did, at least in the physical sense. Whether his stubbornness would allow either of them to have it was another matter entirely.
"Who's taking care of Amy and Frances?" he asked as she sipped at her water.
"Your mother is. She's promised to put Amy to bed, but Frances will be hungry again before she'll sleep through the night."
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