by Merry Farmer
She hid her grunt of disgust by shaking out her nicest dress—one she would wear to the supper Josephine was hosting for friends that night. It would have been easier if her disgust was for Charlie, but no, she was disgusted with herself. Because the reason she hadn’t been sleeping well was because her dreams were filled with the memory of Charlie’s arms around her, his lips pressed to hers, his tongue teasing.
Why couldn’t she put all that out of her mind and focus on the duties in front of her? She hadn’t wanted to be married in the first place, and certainly not to Charlie Garrett. He wasn’t pressing things, which led her to wonder about his motivations for making the bet. On top of that, her family had never been demonstrative that way. She’d never bothered with hugs and kisses before. So why did the very thought of him holding her send hot tendrils of longing all through her?
“I’ll tell you what.” Charlie pushed away from the wagon, slipping his hands into his pockets and following her to the side of their camp. “We’ve got our first big river crossing coming up in a few days. I hear tell there’s a trading post on the far side. Once we reach it, you can buy me a drink at the saloon.”
Olivia huffed and shook her head. She hugged her best dress to her chest to still the tremor his impish smile caused. “I wouldn’t dare show my face in a saloon.”
“Dare?” Charlie’s brow rose.
Olivia swallowed. “Meaning a woman of honor has no business spending time in such a place.”
Charlie laughed, stepping closer still to her. “A saloon is nothing more than a place where easy-going people spend time relaxing and enjoying life.” He paused, leaned back, and narrowed his eyes at her. “On second thought, you’re right. You don’t belong there.”
A quick lash of hurt tightened her throat. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Only that, as you like to remind me, you’re a woman of duty and purpose, not fun and relaxation.”
Was that why Charlie hadn’t tried to kiss her again?
“I know how to have fun and relax,” she insisted, taking her dress to the shady side of the wagon where she could change without too many prying eyes.
“Is that so?” Charlie followed her. So much for privacy. “What kind of fun do you know how to have?” He held out his right arm so that she could drape her dress over it, and seemed delighted at the opportunity to play a coat rack.
“I attended every church social in Fairfield,” Olivia insisted, untying the apron she wore over her everyday dress, then draping that over Charlie’s left arm. “I even baked pies and cookies to sell for the benefit of the school.”
“Mmm, I’ll have to get you to bake for me.” His reply smacked of an invitation to do something far different than baking.
Olivia turned her back to him, starting on the row of buttons down the front of her blouse. “I danced every time I was asked,” she went on, although heaven only knew that she should have turned down Silas’s invitation from the start.
“Then we’ll have to find an opportunity for the two of us to dance.” Charlie’s voice was a shade rougher.
As Olivia slipped out of her blouse, revealing bare shoulders and a corset that had seen better days over a worn chemise, she frowned at him over her shoulder. When she twisted to drape her blouse over his arm, she caught his eyes dropping straight to the swell of her breasts. The swirl of heat and frustration that brief, salacious glance brought with it stoked her temper higher. If he liked what he saw so much, why didn’t he do something about it?
No, no. Why was she encouraging him in her thoughts?
Because for the first time in her life, she knew how good it felt to be held.
“I’ve been known to play kickball with my students a time or two as well,” she continued, snapping away from him and unhooking the back of her skirt. Lord knew where his eyes would travel if she had to remove her petticoat along with her skirt.
Sure enough, when she turned to hang her skirt on his arm, his eyes flicked up from the vicinity of her backside. The grin he wore was smug enough to dry a pond. Irritated by the whole thing, she snatched her dress from his right arm and gathered it to tug on over her head.
“I would enjoy things much more if those around me who are intent on having fun would include me and get on with it already.” She punctuated her comment by thrusting her arms into the sleeves of her dress and hiding her face by pulling her dress over her head.
What had she just said? If Charlie didn’t take those hasty, frustrated words as an invitation to behave like a rake with her, then he was thick in the head. Why was she tempting him? Had all the fresh, prairie air gone to her head?
She wriggled into her dress, letting the skirt drop over her petticoat and shaking her hips to settle the waist around her middle. The buttons for this dress ran up her back, and as she worked them closed from bottom to top, she scolded herself for being so forward with a man. No good could come from letting go of her control.
“Would you help me with these last few buttons,” she sighed at last, glancing over her shoulder at Charlie.
The sight of his dark eyes flashing as he watched her and the flush that stained his cheeks was enough to send another burst of energy through her. Gone was his roguish playfulness, and in its place was a predatory heat—one that had her stomach fluttering and things lower than that aching.
A heartbeat later, Charlie sucked in a breath, his smile returning. “Why certainly, Sweet Pea.” The words came out more like a growl of possession than an offer for help.
She turned her back to him and lifted her hair, face heating. “I don’t know why you insist on calling me that.” When his fingers brushed her back between her shoulder blades, she jumped, then scolded herself for being so sensitive.
Sensitive was a good word for it. Every touch as he fastened the last of her buttons seemed heightened. It didn’t help that his hands lingered when he was done, sweeping down her back to her waist. For a moment, Olivia was convinced he would slide those hands around to her stomach and pull her into an embrace.
“Who didn’t include you in their fun?” he asked instead, taking a large step away.
It felt like a cold breeze blew in between the two of them. She turned, fighting not to look forlorn. When was he going to kiss her again already?
When was she going to stop wanting him to? Heavens above, he had her head spinning.
She crossed her arms to ward off the confusion and the longing. “The girls my age. They were thick as thieves with each other. It was a game of theirs to exclude me from whatever gatherings they held.”
Charlie blinked, and his tempting desire turned to indignation. “How catty of them.”
Yes. Yes, it was catty. Her arms loosened to her sides. “My mother seemed to think I wasn’t trying hard enough to be friendly, but to be honest, the way they behaved, I preferred the company of my books.”
“And rightfully so.” Charlie gathered her discarded clothes and walked to the back of the wagon to lay them inside. “I never did like the prissy, mean girls. Give me a woman who thinks more of others than of herself any day.”
Olivia held her breath. Was he teasing her? First by looking at her with eyes that could start a prairie fire and now by agreeing with an opinion she’d held fast to, in spite of her mother’s opposition?
“In fact,” Charlie went on. “I believe a woman of honor who thinks more of herself than others and has been woefully excluded from the fun of others deserves a little reward. Stay right there, don’t move an inch.”
He hopped into the wagon before she had her mouth halfway opened to ask why. She snapped it shut and hugged herself as she stood beside the wagon, listening to the scrape of trunks and crates being moved and the shuffle of items being tossed around.
“I hope you aren’t making a mess of the wagon,” she said, if only to hide the fluttering curiosity that had her dizzy with anticipation.
“Whatever is made a mess of can be set straight in no time,” he called through the canvas, as i
f reciting an old saying. It wasn’t a saying Olivia had ever heard.
A few minutes later, after another round of shuffling and movement, Charlie hopped down from the back of the wagon. “Turn around and close your eyes.”
Olivia huffed with impatience at his games, but did as she was asked. Charlie was no better than a grown up boy at times. He seemed to think that life was still a game to be—
She gasped as something cool and heavy settled around her neck. Charlie stood at her back. His fingers brushed near the top of her spine as he fastened something.
“There. You can open your eyes.”
As soon as she did, Olivia reached up to touch the necklace he’d given her. She gasped as her fingers met a row of diamonds and sapphires. “Where did you get this?” She snapped to face him, eyes wide.
Charlie shrugged, his grin entirely too satisfied. “Devilish gamblers like me win all sorts of things, not just adorable wives.”
Olivia gaped at him for a moment before swallowing. She lifted the priceless necklace to get a better look at it, her hands shaking. “This is too much. It’s far too fine for the trail.”
“But not too fine for a supper with friends.” Charlie winked, then glanced around. “Although it might be wise not to draw too much attention to it.”
Olivia lowered her hand. The necklace did look rather fetching against the faded blue of her best dress. Still, her heart raced to have something so valuable resting so close to it. She met Charlie’s sparkling, satisfied expression with a hint of suspicion. “What other things have you won playing cards?”
He laughed, though there was something strained around the corners of his eyes and mouth. “A good gambler never tips his cards, Sweet Pea,” he said. “Not even to his lovely wife.” He stepped closer, stealing the briefest of kisses from her surprise-slackened lips.
The kiss was too quick for Olivia to do anything about it, even if she hadn’t been too shocked to react. She placed a hand over her thumping heart, fingers brushing the jewels. Not for the first time, she found herself wondering what she’d gotten into by marrying Charlie.
He had a winning hand. That much was as sure as the sun sinking toward the horizon in the west. Charlie strolled down the line of wagons to Josephine’s camp, Olivia looking as dazzling as the jewels that circled her neck. He didn’t know what had possessed him to dig into his treasure trove to fetch the extravagant necklace for her. No, on second thought, he knew exactly what had possessed him. She had. Olivia and her innocent, artless beauty. She was enough for him to forget every lesson of caution his infamous career had taught him.
“Well, don’t the two of you look a sight,” Josephine commented as they stopped at the edge of her camp.
A table had been found and draped with a simple linen cloth in the center of the camp. Eight places were set around it using a hodge-podge of settings. Josephine had even found a candle and some flowers to form a centerpiece. Graham Tremaine was already seated at the table, Estelle by his side, head lowered.
Josephine marched forward to greet them, holding out a hand for Charlie to shake like any man would. She then offered that hand to Olivia along with, “Oh my dear, where did you get such glorious jewels?”
“I—” Olivia gave Josephine’s hand what must have been a limp shake, turning to Charlie for answers.
“Don’t you worry about posting guards over my wife’s new necklace.” He leaned close to confide in Josephine. “Those stones may sparkle, but they are, in fact, glorious fakes.”
They were no such thing. The smallest gem on the necklace was likely worth five hundred dollars. Josiah Hurst had spoiled his wife fiercely, just as Charlie intended to spoil Olivia. But neither Josephine nor the others—from Graham, who sat straighter and craned his neck to get a look, to pretty Libby Chance, who bit her lip in longing—needed to know that. He’d deal with the suspicious look Olivia gave him later.
“Real or fake, welcome to supper.” Josephine laughed, extending a hand to the table. “Libby and Muriel have been working mighty hard to get things set up for you all tonight.”
“I picked the flowers,” little Muriel informed them.
“They’re lovely,” Olivia answered, on her best teacher’s behavior, even as she touched her necklace without being aware of it.
“Sorry we’re late.” Lucy bounded into the camp, Gideon following closely behind her. “I wanted to make sure I looked my best, so I had to search for my nicest dress. Gideon climbed into the wagon to help me, and before we knew it—” She stopped her story with her mouth still opened, peeked at Gideon, then blushed up a blue streak.
“Well done,” Charlie whispered as Lucy scurried up to Olivia’s side to inspect her necklace.
Gideon answered with a sheepish grin. Everyone with eyes knew that he and Miss Lucy had been getting on with things since the thunderstorm that had stopped the wagon train in its tracks a few days ago. Bravo for them, as far as Charlie was concerned, though others in the train didn’t share his liberal opinion of things. In fact, Olivia was giving Lucy a look right now. Although there was an even chance that look was one of jealousy.
His body flushed hot at the thought. It hadn’t been his imagination that his sweet wife had been flirting with him earlier, though she had her own unique way of doing it. Asking him to do up buttons on the back of her dress? It’d been all he could do not to cancel their dinner plans to start a little something of their own in the back of his wagon. All in good time, though.
“Miss Estelle.” Charlie strode over to the table, conjuring up one of his brightest smiles for Olivia’s friend. “I’m so sorry to hear that you’ve been having trouble lately.” He may not have known much about living a straight and narrow life, but he did know that the best way to win a woman’s heart was to win the hearts of her friends.
“It’s nothing,” Estelle answered, lowering her eyes.
“It most certainly isn’t nothing.” Charlie took a seat across the corner of the table from her, squeezing her arm in friendly support. “One’s past should never be held against them when a genuine effort is being made to create a new and better life.” He snuck a glance toward Olivia.
Though she was standing to the side, Lucy and Josephine admiring her necklace, his Sweet Pea heard every word. She swallowed, her eyes growing soft and then suspicious by turns. He was getting somewhere.
“Would that everyone saw things your way.” Estelle returned Charlie’s comment with a weak smile.
“Those that matter do, and those that don’t, don’t matter.” He punctuated his words with a wink, then shifted in his chair. “Why, I’ve known many a fine octoroon in New Orleans who not only held important positions in society, they owned some of the most successful businesses in town.” And as long as no one asked what businesses those were, he might come off looking like a hero for a change.
“Thank you, Mr. Garrett.”
Estelle’s smile lifted enough to send Charlie glancing to Olivia to see what she thought. His darling wife’s eyes had brightened, though she was still reserving her approval. He’d coax it out of her yet.
“Are you ready to eat yet?” Luke’s voice broke through the awkward silence that followed Charlie’s exchange with Estelle.
Josephine sighed and threw up her hands. “Land sakes, Luke. You’re meant to be a waiter, not my father.”
Charlie broke into a chuckle. Luke met it with slumped shoulders and a resentful frown. He twisted and leaned into his chair to face the boy. “What seems to be the trouble with you, son?”
“Luke is being punished,” Muriel informed Charlie, unable to hide an impish grin.
“Shut up.” Luke stalked off to the fire, where Pete was tending several pots.
“Mind your manners,” Pete warned him. “We’ve got company.”
“Manners should be minded even when there is no company,” Charlie insisted, then jumped out of his seat to hold the one next to it out for Olivia.
“That’s right.” Josephine backed him up, finge
r pointed as if delivering a lesson, meeting each of the Chance children’s eyes. “Manners are what separate men from the apes.”
“Josephine, don’t go talking about that Darwin fellow during supper,” Pete sighed. He stood, moving the pots off the fire and gesturing for Luke and young Freddy Chance to take plates to the table as he served.
“What’s wrong with Mr. Darwin?” Gideon asked as he held a chair for Lucy. He might have looked offended if he had eyes for anything other than Lucy’s lovely smile.
Charlie imitated Gideon’s love-struck gallantry by taking Olivia’s hand as he helped her to sit. She fixed him with a stare that was censorious at best. He replied by lifting her hand to his lips and leaving her with a kiss.
“There’s nothing wrong with Darwin’s theories,” Josephine insisted, as though halfway through an argument with Pete.
“Men are not monkeys,” Pete grumbled.
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Josephine murmured to Olivia as she took the seat diagonal from her.
Charlie would have laughed, but Olivia glanced his way and hummed.
Pete echoed Charlie’s indignant thoughts by dropping a spoon of boiled peas onto a plate next to a meager steak with a grunt. Charlie’s humor returned at the gesture. Ah well, the trail wasn’t exactly a fine restaurant. He would eat what he was given with a smile.
Luke brought the plate to the table and plopped it in front of Charlie, then stomped back to get another.
“Luke.” Josephine sighed and shook her head in frustration.
“Don’t mind him,” Charlie said. “He’s probably still mad at me for my part in retrieving Miss Josephine’s purloined brooch.”
Luke’s scowl deepened in confirmation.
“What’s purloined?” Muriel asked from the smaller table that had been set up for the Chance children and Tim beside the larger table.
“It means stolen,” Olivia answered in her teacher voice.