by Heidi Betts
Why the hell would Rebecca ask about Josephine? Lord, he hadn't heard that name in more than ten years. And how had Megan found out about her?
When Rebecca returned to the dining room, she continued clearing the table, remaining so determinedly silent, he thought his head would explode with the tension. She moved into the kitchen again for a moment, then reappeared and started toward the hall.
"Rebecca,” he said, rising from his chair to stop her. She turned to look at him, and he was struck by the hurt in her eyes. She didn't intend to press the issue, wouldn't nag him senseless as his sister was likely to do. And yet he felt the uncommon urge to explain it to her anyway.
"I was sixteen,” he began, not quite sure how to go about divulging such a painful part of his past. He'd never spoken of it before to anyone. He was blunt now. “And Josephine was the love of my life."
He saw Rebecca flinch slightly at that declaration.
"Or so I thought at the time. She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. She had long black hair that fell well past her hips, and skin as soft as satin. Every man in New York City wanted her. Including me."
His fingers clutched the back of his chair, the knuckles white against the dark mahogany. “Many men had her, I'm sure, but I was the only one who ever offered marriage. You see. Josephine's bloodlines weren't pure. No upstanding gentleman would take her as his wife, but every one of them wanted her as his mistress."
"Caleb,” Rebecca whispered when he paused. “You don't have to tell me this."
He shook his head. “No, I do.” He concentrated on loosening his grip on the chair back, then raised his eyes to hers. “I want to."
She stood not three feet from him, patiently waiting for him to continue at his own pace. For the first time in his life, he felt that he could talk about Josephine's deception, about the naivete of an adolescent boy.
"She didn't want to marry right away, but she was more than willing to take me to her bed. And then, after about a year of my proposing every month on bended knee, she said yes. My mother was furious, of course. considering Josephine's reputation, but I went ahead with the wedding arrangements."
He shifted uncomfortably, reliving it in his mind, once again seeing the coquettish Josephine with her painted, lying lips.
"About a month before the wedding.” he continued, his voice growing harsher, “rumors started circulating that she was keeping company with another much older, much richer man.” He gave a sharp bark of laughter. “I didn't believe it, of course. After all, Josephine had agreed to marry me. She was in love with me and would never be interested in another man."
He fixed Rebecca with a hot glare, telling her without words just how gullible he had been.
"That's what I believed. Silly me. Turns out the rumors were true. And I found out in the most convincing of manners. When I walked in on her in bed with the other man."
Rebecca's gasp cut to his heart, but he steeled himself against the emotions her reaction threatened to evoke. He'd be damned if he would let the memories hurt him after so long.
"What did you do?” Rebecca's soft voice questioned.
"I called off the wedding, of course. And I never let another scheming bitch take advantage of me again."
Chapter Sixteen
Caleb regretted the words the moment he saw Rebecca's lower lip begin to tremble. She thought he'd meant her. Considering their rocky relationship, he could have, but he hadn't.
"Rebecca, I—"
"Thank you for telling me, Caleb,” she said, cutting him off. “I know it was difficult for you."
Head high, shoulders back, she strode from the room.
"Dammit,” he muttered, giving the dining room chair a vicious shove. A perfect ending to a perfect day, he thought. Doubtless he should simply allow them both time to calm their agitation. But he turned and followed the sound of her footsteps on the stairs.
As soon as he opened the bedroom door, Caleb smelled the mixture of cinnamon and roses that always seemed to follow Rebecca. He expected to find her in a huff. Instead, she was curled up quietly in the over-stuffed armchair in one corner of the room.
When she heard the door close and saw Caleb, she jumped to her feet, wiping at the wet paths that coursed down her face. “I can be packed and out of your way by morning,” she said, moving toward the wardrobe.
"Rebecca.” He grabbed her wrist as she tried to pass by. “I don't want you to pack."
Her eyes widened for a minute before she took a deep breath and locked her jaw. “That's not how it sounded downstairs. You do consider me just another ‘scheming bitch,’ don't you?” She pulled out of his grasp and headed for her valise.
"Come here,” he said, once again taking hold of her arm. He led her back to the armchair and sat down, pulling her onto his lap. She immediately began to struggle.
"Stop it, Rebecca,” he said, holding her tight. “I just want to talk to you. When I'm finished, if you still want to leave, I'll let you, all right?” She stopped moving.
"Good."
He settled himself in the chair and arranged her more comfortably on his thighs. He tried to avoid being distracted by her sugar-and-spice scent and the way her breasts rose and fell with her exertion.
It didn't work, Caleb thought, shifting slightly.
"Now,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “I apologize for what I said in the dining room.” She opened her mouth to argue, but he placed a finger over her lips. “I realize how it must have sounded, but I was talking about Josephine, not you."
"Are you sure?” she asked, sniffing to clear her tear-clogged nose and throat.
"I'm sure,” he said. “We've nearly gotten our lives back to normal here. Can't we enjoy it for a while before getting into another argument?"
"What about my mother?” she asked.
He sighed. Her mother. Another distasteful subject.
"Your mother won't be bothering you again,” he assured her.
"How can you be so sure?” Her nose crinkled with her frown.
"Because I paid her. Not a thousand dollars, but enough to keep her quiet. And, I admit, I did a little threatening of my own to ensure her cooperation."
A smile as tentative as the dawn appeared on her face. “What did you say?"
Caleb chuckled at her expression. He ran a finger down her cheek. “I told her I didn't take kindly to anyone upsetting my wife."
"And what did she say?"
He looked away for a minute, not sure he wanted her to know. But she asked again, and he knew she wouldn't let it rest. “She said the money would keep her quiet—for now.” He felt Rebecca go tense in his arms. “I said it would keep her quiet forever, or else. I said you're my wife, and you're going to stay that way."
Rebecca leaned back and held his gaze. “Really?"
Caleb watched emotions leap across her face. Her eyes were both eager and wary. Did she want to hear that he loved her, that he wanted to be with her until his dying day? Despite those very words seeming to claw at his gut, he could not say them. Especially when he wasn't sure he was capable of meaning them.
"I married you, didn't I?” Rising, he set her aside, loosening the buttons of his shirt as he moved to the dresser. If he didn't do something to put her at a distance, he was sure to take her to bed. And the way he was feeling, words of love and devotion might come pouring out of his mouth whether he meant them or not. He couldn't risk that.
"No matter what our personal preferences are, we took the vows. We're bound by them now.” He shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it over the dressing screen.
Suddenly Rebecca was beside him. And when she brushed his chest tentatively with her fingertips, his breath caught.
"What are you doing?” His voice sounded gravelly and strained.
She lifted her face and pressed her lips to his. “Making love to my husband."
Caleb swallowed and stood perfectly still, unsure of this new side of his wife. A sensual, provocative side. As many times as they h
ad been intimate, she had never initiated their lovemaking. Until now. He liked it.
"Come,” she said and led him to the bed by hooking one finger in the waistband of his trousers.
He followed willingly. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he watched as Rebecca turned her back to him to tug off his boots. Her bottom moved from side to side in her struggle, and she gave a groan of frustration when the boot stuck. Caleb smiled and at last uncurled his toes, the sudden release launching her forward.
She whirled around, hands on hips, one boot dangling from her fingers. “You held that on on purpose."
He gave a chuckle. “The view was so appealing, I wanted to make it last."
"Oooh!” She snorted and tossed the boot at his head.
He put up his hands, and the boot bounced harmlessly to the floor. Being so warned, he didn't give her a problem with the next one. She let it drop and turned to face him, slipping the buttons of his pants through their holes. Caleb lifted himself from the mattress enough to allow her to slip the trousers and cotton underwear down his legs. She pushed the clothing over the foot of the bed.
He drew her close, holding her face in his hands, drinking in the sweet warmth of her mouth. Then he pulled back, resting his hands on her shoulders. “Take your dress off,” he said. “I want to look at you."
She straightened and began slipping loose the pearl-shaped buttons at the front of her bodice. With excruciating slowness, fabric fell away to reveal lush, flawless flesh.
Caleb closed his eyes for a moment to regain his equilibrium. When he opened them, Rebecca stood in her camisole and drawers, the dress pooled around her feet. White stockings sheathed her long, slim legs. Matching garters with tiny pink rosebuds kept the hosiery in place. She remained there, letting him look his fill, awaiting his next command.
He stared at her, memorizing every angle and curve of her. The way her flowing chestnut hair fell over one shoulder, curling just below her right breast. The smooth planes of her face and slight flare of her hips. She began to fidget, twisting the hem of her camisole between her fingers, too long under his scrutiny.
He held out a hand. “Come here."
She did so, putting her palm in his and balancing on her knees on the bed. Her hair cascading like a silken curtain about them, she began to kiss him. First his mouth, then the lobe of his ear, the bridge of his nose. Back to his lips.
He caught the nape of her neck, bringing her closer. His hand slid down the length of her body to cup the roundness of one buttock. His tongue delved between her lips, and he moaned at the honeyed heat he found there.
Rebecca pulled away, sitting back on her heels. He tried to bring her back, desperate to taste more.
"Wait. Caleb, let me,” she said, her voice a bit breathless.
Levering herself from his chest with her hands, she proceeded to kiss his jawline, the dip of his throat, the Adam's apple that bobbed when he swallowed. She giggled, then kissed it again. Then her lips moved lower, caressing his collarbone and chest. Her tongue darted across one taut male nipple, and Caleb shuddered with the shock that ripped through his body.
She smiled wickedly and kissed a path to its twin, teasing, taunting, rolling it into a small pebble of acutely sensitive nerve endings. Then the devastating touch of her mouth moved lower, her hands at his waist. When she came to within inches of his straining manhood, she stopped.
Caleb held his breath, waiting to see what she would do. He half hoped she would continue her sensual journey but he didn't know if he could handle that much pleasure.
She lifted her head. Her eyes were filled with trepidation, and she licked her lips nervously.
He smiled and tugged at her elbow, bringing her body atop his. He reminded himself that Rebecca was not as advanced in sexual prowess as his past women had been. And he was strangely glad.
Caleb kissed the tip of her nose and hugged her tighter until her breasts flattened between them. He spread his hands across her bottom, drawing one leg up to his side. His thumb ran in circles over her thigh as he focused on her mouth.
His need grew to a fever pitch, and he quickly relieved his wife of her camisole and drawers, leaving only the stockings. He enjoyed the feel of the garters and hosiery against his legs and found the sight of her making love with them on erotic. He urged her to straddle him, her long hair tickling his sweat-dampened chest and driving him to the brink of insanity.
She welcomed him with a breathy sigh, sinking down on his full, rigid length. Caleb groaned and held her still for a moment, dragging deep gulps of air into his lungs to keep from reaching a climax too soon. He wanted this to last.
Rebecca whimpered softly and nipped at his chin, her teeth running roughly along his skin.
He bucked upward, gasping at the friction the movement caused. His mind spun away, reality somersaulting into pure sensation.
Rebecca was so hot, so wet and ready for him, and so damn willing. Her body moved above him, her low moans mingling with his. Caleb thought he might die from the desperate, animal release that lingered only moments away. It spiraled through his veins, roiled in his stomach.
He clasped Rebecca close and took her mouth with a frenzied kiss, rolling her beneath him. With a final thrust, Caleb buried his face in the hollow of her neck and felt his life flood into her. Her muscles contracted around him as she came, her cries of ecstasy echoing in his ear.
When he was once again able to move, he tucked his wife's limp body into the curve of his arm, her head resting on his shoulder. Her even breathing soon told him she had drifted into spent silent sleep. Caleb's mouth turned up in a grin, and he closed his eyes, ready to float off to slumber himself.
But sleep didn't come. He lay awake late into the night, wondering what fate sent this amazing, troubling woman his way.
"I talked to the marshal,” Caleb said the next morning at the family breakfast table.
Rebecca abruptly raised her head to meet his eyes. He winked to assure her he would not reveal things she would rather leave unsaid in front of Holbrook. She looked down at her scrambled eggs and tried not to blush.
"He said he'd go to your place and take a look, but he hadn't heard any commotion over that way. He'll keep an eye out."
"Thank you."
Caleb nodded, swallowing a gulp of coffee. “Probably just some dumb, rough types looking for something to do after a couple of drinks at the Dog Tick, and your cabin happened to be empty."
In truth, she hadn't given her house much thought, not when there had been more important things to worry about. But Caleb had assured her that her mother was gone, and for now, at least, her reputation was safe, and that was what mattered.
"There was a young girl in town yesterday inquiring about work. I told her we needed a housekeeper and cook. She ought to be out sometime within the next few days.” Caleb pushed back his chair and finished the last of his coffee. “You and Megan can interview her and decide whether or not she gets hired. It's up to you. You know what we need better than I do."
"Can I go into town with you this morning, Caleb?” Megan dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin and began to stand. “I want to get a few things at the mercantile."
"I can pick them up for you, if you'd like."
"No. I'd much rather go myself. You'll be all right by yourself, won't you, Rebecca?"
She gave a little laugh. “I will as long as these dirty dishes don't decide to band together and rebel."
Caleb put his hands on her shoulders from behind while he kissed her cheek and whispered, “I'll be home early tonight."
She ducked her head in embarrassment, glad that Megan and Holbrook had already left the room. A grin spread across his face as he sauntered out. She was beginning to suspect that Caleb enjoyed making her blush. He seemed to do it often enough.
As the lumbering sound of the buckboard began to fade in the distance, Rebecca cleared the table and put a pot of water on the stove to boil. While she waited, she decided to go through her sewing ba
sket. The Wednesday Group would be stopping by tomorrow, and she might need more supplies to fill their orders. If so, she should have sent a list with Megan, but it was too late for that. Perhaps Caleb would take her back to town tonight if need be.
Unless he had another idea of how to spend the evening hours. Her blood heated at the very thought. She buried her face in the patch of soft, cool satin in her hands and waited for the uncontrollable leap of passion to die down.
"That bastard! First he fucks her, then he marries her."
Sabrina Leslie paced back and forth across the dirty cabin. Mud, dust, and mouse droppings covered the floor, discoloring the hem of her pink taffeta gown. She gave no notice to the conditions around her, her mind too set on revenge.
"Word is, she's got him wrapped around her little finger. The whole town's talkin’ about the rings he bought her. Most expensive set they had."
Sabrina stopped and fixed her gaze on the man speaking. He was leaning back on two legs of his chair, a big chaw of tobacco bulging his lower lip. He moved his head only a fraction of an inch to spit and didn't seem to notice the long line of saliva dripping down his chin.
She reminded herself that she needed to keep him around only until Rebecca Adams was good and dead. Then she would be back in Caleb's arms, able to have the finest of everything.
No longer would she have to reside in this hovel. No more beans and bacon for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Soon Rebecca would be gone, and she could once again seduce Caleb into her bed.
She, not that mousy Rebecca, deserved to be taken care of by such a prestigious, wealthy man. Not to mention such an attractive, virile one, perhaps the best lover she'd ever had.
True, she hated Leavenworth. Kansas was swelteringly hot, especially at the end of August. And there was nothing here, only dust and heat and vulgar cowhands. She would have to convince Caleb to go back to New York City, ill father or no. She couldn't possibly survive out here much longer.
A bead of sweat ran between her breasts, adding to her discomfort. She tugged at her bodice and ran a hand over the pile of tangled hair atop her head. There wasn't even a mirror in this hellhole, so she couldn't curl and arrange her tresses properly. She had to take Bart's word that the walnut coloring hadn't begun to wash out.