The Right Wife

by Beverly Barton

  She didn’t want to love him. She wanted to hate him, and a part of her did. That aching part of her heart, that tortured part of her brain that could so vividly see his big, gloriously naked body twined around that brunette whore. Oh, God! The pain. He didn’t really love her. If he did, he couldn’t do this.

  Placing the rosebud back in her pocket, she jumped up and ran to Thayer’s desk, rummaging through the drawers, feeling over the contents there in the darkness. She found a cigar, pulled it out of the box, and held it in her trembling fingers. Holding it to her nose, she breathed deeply, inhaling the aroma of tobacco as she crushed it in her hand. One by one, she took them from the box, crumpling them to pieces, letting the fragments fall across the desktop.

  When the tears began again, she brushed them aside with tobacco-stained fingers. She moved to the window, standing solemnly as silent cries of suffering filled the room. Staring out the window, she caught sight of Daisy moving across the backyard from the cabin toward the house. Wondering why the servant girl was up and entering the house at this time of night, she decided to find out.

  When Maggie entered the kitchen, she quickly blew out the candle she held since Daisy had apparently lit the kerosene lamp that was burning brightly on the square, wooden table. The servant was just starting a fire in the cook-stove.

  “Daisy, what are you doing?”

  Daisy gasped and jumped. “Lordy, Miss Maggie, you scared me.”

  “It’s not daybreak yet. What are you doing heating up the stove?”

  “I wasn’t feeling none too good, Miss Maggie. I figured I’d make myself some coffee and get me an early start.”

  Maggie stared at the woman, suddenly noticing how pale her golden skin appeared. There were dark circles under her eyes and her hands were shaking.

  “Daisy, what’s wrong?”

  “Sit down and let me fix that coffee. You ain’t been to bed all night, have you?” Daisy quickly placed coffee beans into the grinder, turning the crank. “Don’t worry yourself so about Mr. Micah.”

  “You know where he is?”

  “Yes’am. My Phineas was driving them there.” The girl poured the freshly ground coffee into the metal pot, added water from a nearby bucket, and placed it on the stove.

  Maggie pulled out a high-backed chair and sat down at the table. “Aaron went with them.”

  “Yes’am.”

  “I think he’s with that horrible Verda. You know, that woman who came by here the other day.”

  “Does that bother you more than knowing, if he marries Miz Arnold, he’ll be in her bed every night?”

  “Oh, Daisy,” Maggie cried.

  Daisy held her seated mistress against her, stroking her hair, patting her back. “Hush now, Miss Maggie. You going to make yourself sick. Things is the way they is. Ain’t no need to fret so.”

  Pulling back, Maggie looked up at Daisy. “Nothing’s gone right since we came here. All my plans have been ruined. Micah’s out getting drunk and . . . and half the town thinks Aaron and Thayer are passing me back and forth like a bottle of whiskey. And you, Daisy . . . look what happened to you.”

  “Don’t you worry about me. Things is working out. Phineas done ask me to marry him.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful.” Maggie jumped up, swinging the girl around and around.

  Daisy laughed, but jerked away, holding on to the table. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I’m getting sick again.”

  “What is it?”

  “It ain’t nothing catching. It’s just a sickness a woman sometimes get when she’s going to have a baby.”

  “Daisy?”

  “Phineas knows. That’s why we want to get married next week.”

  “A baby. Oh, Daisy, are you happy?”

  “Oh, Miss Maggie, I wish I was.”

  “But why aren’t you? You and Phineas love one another, and you’re going to be married.”

  “Sit down, Miss Maggie. I’ll see about the coffee.”

  Daisy took two stoneware cups and saucers from the small corner cabinet and placed them on the table, then poured them full of fresh, hot coffee. Seating herself, she turned to her mistress. “We want to marry next week and move to White Orchard. Phineas don’t want nobody to know about the baby till after we’re married.”

  Maggie smiled, thinking how kind Daisy’s future husband must be to want to protect her. Under the same circumstances, would Aaron do the same? “He’s trying to be gentlemanly.”

  “He’s trying to protect me from this baby’s father.”

  “What?”

  “This ain’t Phineas’s child. We never been together yet. After what happened, I didn’t want nobody touching me.”

  “Are you saying that this child belongs to the man who beat and raped you?”

  “Yes’am.”

  “Oh, dear Lord!”

  “You won’t never tell nobody, will you, Miss Maggie?”

  “Oh, Daisy,” Maggie cried, her hands covering the other woman’s as they lay on the table. “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. Everything. I should never have brought us here.”

  “You hush up. It ain’t your fault. You did what you had to do.”

  “He asked me to marry him.” Maggie looked Daisy squarely in the eyes.

  “You know, don’t you? You knew today when he left here.”

  “Yes, I know. I finally realized that Wesley is insane. Oh, not the good Reverend Peterson part of him that he shows to the world. That side of him had me fooled. He was so good to me. To all of us.”

  “That’s why I couldn’t tell you. You was counting on him and his ma to help you with Mr. Micah and Miss Jude.”

  “Oh, Daisy, when I think about what he did to you.”

  “Don’t. I try not to. You just stay away from him. He said I’d been sleeping with Phineas. He had been watching us. He was standing in the shadows, watching Phineas kiss me good night. He said I was the devil’s seed, put on this earth to tempt men to sin.”

  “Does Phineas know that it was Wesley?”

  “Oh, no! He must never know. He’d kill that man if he knew.”

  Daisy laid her head on the table and cried as Maggie comforted her, the two women sharing a secret they could tell no one.

  Maggie wondered if Aaron Stone was half the man his black friend was. Phineas loved Daisy enough to marry her knowing that she carried the child of the madman who had raped her. Would Aaron be unselfish enough to give up his obsession for respectability to marry the mother of his unborn child?

  She wasn’t positive, but she had suspected that she had conceived Aaron’s child the first time they had made love. She had missed her monthly flow for the first time since it had started when she’d been eleven.

  Should she tell Aaron? Would he marry her? Would he even believe the child was his with half the town thinking she was Thayer’s mistress? Perhaps she should tell Thayer. Maybe he could help her. He was Aaron’s best friend. He knew him better than anyone else.

  Without a husband, she would be branded a whore and her child a bastard. If that happened, there would be no hope for them anywhere, and the fate that had befallen Aaron would haunt his own child. And Jude, poor little Jude. Any hope for her future would end.

  “Please, dear God, help us,” Maggie prayed.

  Aaron had seen the light in the kitchen before he helped Phineas drag the two drunken men onto the back porch. Micah had passed out on the carriage ride home, and Phineas had the boy thrown over his shoulder while Aaron supported a staggering Thayer.

  Aaron wasn’t surprised to see the two women sitting at the kitchen table. He had suspected that Maggie would be waiting up for them.

  “Oh, Lord!” Maggie screamed, running to Phineas, touching her brother’s tousled auburn hair. “What happened? Is he hurt?”

  “No, ma’am,” the big black man said smiling.

  “Calm down, Maggie. He’s fine,” Aaron assured her, his arm under Thayer’s arm as he pulled him through the room. “He’s drunk. He passed out.”r />
  “Damn your rotten hide, Aaron Stone,” the redhead yelled.

  “Oh, Maggie, sweet Maggie,” Thayer blubbered, reaching out to her.

  “We’ll get these two to bed, Miss Maggie,” Phineas said as he looked at Daisy, his dark eyes warm with love.

  “Sit back down, Miss Maggie,” Daisy said. “Phineas will take good care of Mr. Micah.”

  “Go on, Phineas,” Maggie said. “And you help Thayer. But I want to have a word with you, Aaron Stone, unless you’re about to pass out drunk yourself.”

  “Leave it be, woman,” Aaron said, leading his friend out of the kitchen.

  Angry and determined, Maggie followed the men to the back stairway. “Don’t you order me around. I’m not through with you.”

  “Then shut up yakking, and we’ll have ourselves a real showdown as soon as I put Thayer to bed. Just wait right here.” Aaron moved slowly up the steps, a tipsy Thayer humming happily, and Phineas following, Micah still out cold across his big shoulder.

  Maggie paced back and forth in the dark hallway. Men! They had to be the dumbest creatures God ever made. How could getting so drunk you couldn’t even stand on your own two feet be fun? She had a few things she wanted to say to Mr. Stone if he could find his way back downstairs. Well, if he couldn’t she’d just go upstairs after him. She intended to find out just what had happened to Micah tonight, and she would ask Aaron, point blank, if he had bedded another woman. She had tried to convince herself that, no matter what he said, he would never marry Eunice Arnold because he didn’t love the woman. But if he had made love to one of Loretta’s whores, it would mean he didn’t really love Maggie either.

  She stomped her foot and whirled around, going back into the kitchen. She was tired of waiting in the dark hallway. She’d just pour herself another cup of coffee and bide her time. If Aaron didn’t have enough nerve to face her, she’d know the truth.

  Aaron opened the kitchen door quietly and looked inside. Maggie stood, coffee cup in hand, looking out the back door. Her green dress was terribly wrinkled. Her long, cinnamon hair hung in loosely tangled curls to her tiny waist. He wanted to go over and take her in his arms, but he knew she would turn on him like a spitting kitten if he touched her. She was primed and ready for a fight, so he decided it was best to get it over with. Then, maybe . . .

  “Micah’s in bed, safe and sound,” Aaron said.

  She kept her back to him. “I want to know exactly what happened.”

  “Every detail?”

  “The main details.”

  “We drank, played cards, told jokes, and were entertained by Loretta’s ladies.”

  “Micah didn’t have much money.”

  “It was our birthday present. I think he enjoyed it.”

  “How would he know? He passed out. He probably won’t even remember.”

  “He didn’t pass out until we were on our way home. And believe me, he’ll remember. This was a night he’ll never forget.”

  Maggie turned to face her tormentor. “Did he . . . was he with . . .”

  “We introduced him to Verda. You’ll have to ask Micah if you want the details on what they did alone together in her room.” Aaron walked into the kitchen, a smile on his handsome face.

  “You didn’t mind sharing Verda with my brother?” Maggie’s eyes flashed amber fire. “Did you have her first, or did you have to wait?”

  “My dear Miss Campbell, that’s a very personal question.”

  “Damn you,” Maggie screeched, hurling the empty coffee cup at Aaron’s head. With a resounding thud, it clipped him directly above his right eye, then fell, crashing onto the floor.

  “Good God, woman. Are you trying to kill me?” He reached up, running his fingers across the small bump swelling at his brow.

  “Yes. Maybe Rube Whitcomb will shoot you again now that he’s escaped. He’d do the world a favor by killing you this time.”

  “So, you’d rather see me dead than in the arms of another woman?”

  “You can bed as many whores as you want to. I don’t care. I just want you to stay out of my life and out of Micah’s.”

  “I can’t do that,” Aaron said, looking down at the stain on his fingertips. That darn fool woman had actually drawn blood. “Micah’s leaving in a few days to start work on the Chattanooga Belle.”

  “Why couldn’t you and Thayer mind your own business?”

  “Micah’s a man, old enough to make his own decisions.”

  “With a little help from his new friends. Are you proud of yourself ? Proud that you introduced a boy to . . . to . . .”

  Aaron moved toward Maggie, who backed up against the door. “Why don’t you say what you really mean? Why don’t you admit what’s bothering you?”

  She glared at him, damning him to everlasting torment. “How could you make love to that . . . that . . . woman . . . to any woman, if you really love me?”

  He reached out for her hand, but she jerked it away, bracing herself against the door, her tense stance daring him to touch her.

  “I really love you.”

  “Then how could you . . . I closed my eyes and all I could see was the two of you.”

  “Don’t, Maggie.” He grabbed her trembling hands.

  “Don’t touch me. I hate you!” She pulled out of his grasp, rushing past him through the kitchen.

  “Maggie, wait. Please listen.” He followed her out into the dark hallway.

  “I won’t listen. I don’t want to know.”

  “I didn’t make love to Verda.”

  “I . . . don’t . . . believe . . . you,” she cried, stopping at the foot of the back stairway, her uneven breathing punctuating every tortured word.

  Please God, make her believe me. Aaron felt helpless against the lie he had presented earlier and had tried to perpetuate. He had wanted Maggie to think he was going to bed with the luscious Verda. It had been a mistake. The only woman he wanted to bed was Maggie. Going to Loretta’s had only confirmed his suspicion that he had no desire for other women, no matter how seductive their charms.

  “I haven’t had another woman. Not tonight. Not since the day I met you.”

  Maggie held her breath. Could she believe him? Would he lie? If he were telling the truth . . . if he really loved her.

  “I swear, Maggie. I swear it’s the truth.”

  “Aaron?”

  He wanted to touch her, but he was afraid. He couldn’t bear it if she rejected him. “I want only you.”

  “But it doesn’t matter. Can’t you see? If you’re going to marry Eunice—”

  “It does matter. It matters that you believe me.”

  “Go away, Aaron. Go away and leave me alone. I can’t stand any more of this. I hurt . . . I hurt so badly.”

  He felt as if his heart had been ripped from his body. He could feel her pain, was actually experiencing the anguish she suffered. He had never known it was possible to become so much a part of another human being that her joys and sorrows were his own. What had he done to this woman? She had loved him and forgiven him of so much already, would her generous heart pardon his selfishness one more time?

  “Let me take away the hurt,” he pleaded. “Let me show you how much I love you.”

  Not waiting for a response, Aaron swooped her up into his arms, her soft body instinctively cuddling against his massive chest as her hands closed about his neck.

  “I hate you for doing this to me,” she said, listening to the hammering of his heartbeat as her head lay against him. “Loving you is destroying me.”

  Part of her wanted to resist him, knowing that she would never be more to him than a mistress, but the ancient female animal within her demanded satisfaction. Held securely in his arms as he took the back steps upward to her bedroom, Maggie longed to know again the passion she had shared with this man. It didn’t matter that he smelled of whiskey and stale smoke, or that his coat reeked of cheap whore’s perfume. Deep within her heart of hearts, she knew there had been no other woman for him.

>   He wanted to be inside of her now, finding the sweet oblivion that could be found only in her. He was obsessed with this temptress whose innocent love had captured his rogue’s heart and possessed his very soul. Had his father felt this way? Had his insides burned with desire every time he looked at the woman he loved? Was that why Richard Leander had bedded a girl his daughter’s age, impregnated her with his bastard child, and had never been able to give her up? Was that how it would be for him? Would he be able to stay away from Maggie once he was married to Eunice?

  Pushing the door to Maggie’s bedroom open with his booted foot, he moved to the oak tester bed, laying her tenderly upon it. Huge, sculptured posts and an intricately carved headboard supported the gossamer lace canopy. The summer light covers were turned back, revealing the pristine whiteness of the soft cotton sheets and delicate, hand-embroidered pillowcases.

  Maggie’s long, red hair spread across the pillow like a fire blazing in the snow, and her topaz eyes gazed up into his, shining with a hunger that was ravaging her woman’s body.

  The soft, hazy light of dawn shone through the windows as the heavens gave birth to a new day, the first filtered rays of sunlight permeating the room. Aaron could see her clearly, warm and waiting, and his. She was so beautiful.

  His big hands, trembling with desire, slowly, methodically began to undress her as she lay pliant and willing. He threw her dress to the floor, and then stroked the creamy softness of her naked shoulders and arms. He watched fascinated by the way her body quivered with longing as he continued to stroke her, his fingers caressing her slender neck, brushing across the upper swell of her breasts still hidden beneath the thin chemise.

  “I want to look at you,” he whispered, his lips almost touching her ear as he eased her chemise off, tossing it aside. “I want to see your breasts fill my hands. I want your nipples to grow hard beneath my fingers.”

  She arched her back, lifting herself to help him discard her corset. When he covered her breasts with his palms and squeezed gently, Maggie whimpered, ripples of promised pleasure dancing across each nerve ending.