Despite Cash’s cool control, Laura could feel the anger seething in him. His fingers would leave bruises on her arm. She was glad when he finally placed his order and paid for it, leaving it to be delivered later. The tension inside him would explode should someone look at him cross-eyed.
Cash’s strides slowed to a more sedate pace as they started back down the street they had just traversed. Laura knew he was practically daring anyone to cross his path, and she didn’t dare broach the subjects she had followed him to discuss. Frustrated, she ground her teeth and wondered if it made any difference at all what she thought. Others were so involved with their own problems, what would they care about hers?
Her unusual silence must have jarred Cash’s attention, for he finally bent his regard to her. The way he studied her made her uncomfortably aware that she was wearing the same old-fashioned bonnet he had seen her wear a thousand times before. Without a word, he swerved to stop at the window of the previously maligned milliner’s.
“The hat with the turned-up brim and the spray of pink roses, don’t you think?” he asked out of the blue.
Laura stared at him as if he had lost his wits; then, deciding this was better than having her arm ripped off, she turned to admire the dainty confection. She didn’t have to look to know which one he spoke of. She had admired the hat weeks ago, before Easter, but she would never have enough money to own a hat like that. Neither had anyone else in the county, obviously.
“It’s lovely, and Dorothea would be delighted to have it taken off her hands, I would say. But will Sallie wear anything not from New York?” She had to throw in that word of caution. The coldness between husband and wife was too obvious, and she greatly feared Cash would get his hopes up about the effectiveness of such a gift. After a day like today, Sallie’s rejection of his gift could be disastrous.
Cash ignored her warning and steered Laura inside the shop. The milliner instantly appeared at the sound of the bell and smiled in delight. “Miss Laura, welcome back! You’re looking lovely today. I daresay Mr. and Mrs. Wickliffe have been taking good care of you.” She threw Cash a shrewd look.
Not raising an eyebrow at this blatant flattery, Cash pointed to the object of his attentions. “We want that hat in the window. How much will it be?”
Already aware of customer reaction when she stated the price, Miss Dorothea hesitated, then offered a simpering smile. “Why, don’t you worry ’bout that, Mr. Wickliffe. I’ll just bundle it up so you can carry it off and send you the bill later. Would you like anything to go with it? I have in some of the loveliest lace mittens . . .”
This time, Cash did raise a brow, but he followed it with a slow smile as the stout lady reached into the window for the hat. “I like your style, Miss Dorothea. Let’s have a pair of those mittens and some of those ribbons over there on the counter, and I want you to make up one of those little bonnets with all the frills around the outside. Green would be a good color, I think, green and gold. Use your own judgment in the decoration.”
The milliner frowned briefly. “Mrs. Wickliffe doesn’t wear green much. She favors blue. Would you prefer it—?”
“Green, Miss Dorothea,” Cash insisted firmly. “Spring green, like new leaves.”
She nodded hurriedly. “Yes, sir. Shall I send word when it’s done, sir?”
Laura kept her mouth closed in amazement as they concluded this transaction. She was well aware that Cash had paid hard money for everything he had bought this day. His generous reaction to Dorothea’s offer of credit indicated his awareness of the insult offered by the other merchants.
Her uncle and Ward had never carried money with them. They had always paid the bills when the crop came in. The merchants’ demand for payment up front was a slur to Cash’s character.
She understood that. But why on earth did he insist on a green bonnet? Sallie hated green.
Laura hurried after him, allowing him to assist her into the carriage without her usual protest. When Cash climbed up on the other side, tilting the springs with his greater weight, she couldn’t confine her curiosity any longer.
“Why, Cash? I know Dorothea is thrilled, and she’s a good lady and I’m happy for her, but Sallie will throw a tree-topping rage when you present it to her. Do you like making her mad?”
Cash merely nodded at the bandbox at her feet. “Put it on. I want to see what it looks like. And throw that mangy article you’re wearing out in the ditch. I wouldn’t give it to a goat.”
This command finally blew the lid off Laura’s long- simmering rage. “How dare you! What do you think I am, Cash Wickliffe, to say such things to me? I know I’m not pretty like Sallie. I’ll never be pretty and I don’t want to be. It certainly hasn’t made her any happier. And I can’t afford the best hats and gowns, but I do the best with what I have, and there is nothing wrong with this perfectly good bonnet. It belonged to—”
“—Sallie once,” he mimicked in tandem with her words. “And I’m certain a decade ago it looked just fine. On Sallie. But you’re too small and delicate for that kind of monstrosity, which is why she gave it to you in the first place. I’m not a blind man, Miss Kincaid. I know my wife for what she is. I’ve always known. To my regret, I’ve not always used my knowledge, but that’s beside the point. Now, throw out the ugly bonnet and put on the new hat. I want to see your face when you spit fire at me.”
“I will not.” Laura crossed her arms and stared stubbornly ahead. “You have no call to order me about. I don’t belong to you. I’ll buy my own clothes, and as soon as I find another house, I’ll take care of myself.”
“That you will not,” Cash informed her, bringing the carriage to a halt. “And unless you want me to forcibly remove that piece of trash, you will humor my whims in this too. You are entitled to my support as any other member of my household. Do you want the entire county clucking their tongues and shaking their heads when they see Sallie gowned in all her finery and you trailing along behind in rag-picker’s attire? Is that how you plan to get even with me, Laura? It’s certainly a more subtle method than most, but I had thought of all the people in this damned county, you were the one friend I could rely on.”
Tears sprang in her eyes, tears of frustration and rage and something else, and Laura jerked her head away from that long dark face and glared out over the fields. “Go ahead, play on my sympathy, Cash. You’re stronger than I am. You don’t care when they whisper behind your back, but I do. It hurts, and I’m tired of it. I just want to live my life in peace, give Mark a life of respectability. How will it look if you start buying me gifts and parading me about while Sallie stays home growing big with your child? Use your head, Cash. Before long they’ll start taking another look at Mark and tongues will be wagging all over again. As it is, they don’t know whether to call me Kincaid or Brown, and they’re none too sure if Mark is Jonathan’s son or Marshall’s. I really don’t think I could bear it if they add your name to the list.”
Cash grabbed the back of the bonnet and with a single rip loosened the ribbons and heaved it into the road. “I will assume for now that you object to having three men on the list and not to my name in particular, although you might correct me if I’m wrong. And you’re right, I don’t give a damn if they all know Mark is my son. But for your sake I’ll forgo my claim in public. But not in private, Laura. He’s my responsibility as well as yours, and I mean to see that he has everything I never had. And I can’t do that if you go wandering off in search of your damned independence. You can do as you will, wander as you like, but Mark stays with me. Is that understood?”
“No,” Laura whispered, but she knew he wasn’t listening. Already he was turning the horses back to the road, and she could see her bonnet lying crumpled and muddy in the field beside them.
She didn’t understand him. She never would. She’d spent a lifetime ignoring what lay behind the faces that people present to the world. How could she ever hope to plumb the depths of a man like Cash Wickliffe?
She couldn’t, an
d there was no use in trying.
With the bandbox lying untouched between them, Laura stared at the road straight ahead, while Cash silently whipped the horses into a trot.
Chapter 21
The short hairs on Laura’s brow stuck to her skin and curled in the sultry heat as she hurried up the back stairs, following the sound of an infant wailing. She dried her hands on her apron as she ran, wondering if it would have been better to bring Mark outside with her while she supervised the laundering. The heat upstairs could easily be worse than that outside by now.
Jettie was already changing the infant’s diaper when Laura arrived. She flashed a knowing smile as Laura began to unfasten her bodice. “Won’t be too long and this one gonna be bigger than you are. You’d best let me start feeding him something more solid or he’ll eat you up.”
Laura acknowledged the truth of that statement with a nod and a wince as Mark grabbed hungrily at her breast. His insistent pull kept her attention, however, and she scarcely noticed when Jettie slipped from the room.
A fresh breeze drifted through the open window, lifting the loose hairs at her nape where she had pulled the length of her hair up and tied it with a scarf. She looked no better than the black laundresses below, but comfort was more important than appearance on wash day.
From the veranda outside she could hear the low rumble of Cash’s voice and the sharp reply of Sallie’s soprano. They had been sniping at each other for days now, and she wished it would end. June was only half over, and it promised to be a long, hot summer. With Sallie’s pregnancy to add fuel to the fire, it promised to be one potboiler of a season.
Mark protested as Laura tensed with a renewed explosion from the couple below. She made an effort to relax and concentrate on the babe in her arms, admiring the thick dark hair Jettie kept telling her would wear off, watching the intensity of the infant’s expression as he drank his fill.
Laura wished she had a better memory of Cash’s face as he had touched her there, but that day was a jumbled blur of emotions and sensations. She remembered the thunder, the sense of safety in Cash’s arms, the feeling of belonging, but they were all twisted up in the act that had created this child. Obviously what they had done together did not bring the peace she had felt at the time.
A door crashed below and Laura could hear Sallie’s quick footsteps on the stairs as she stormed to her room. From the far end of the hall came the sounds of drawers being jerked open and slammed shut, the squeak of wardrobe hinges, and Sallie’s enraged cries for her maid. Then the repeat of angry footsteps as Sallie took to the stairs again.
Laura sighed and switched Mark to her other breast. If Sallie didn’t watch out, the child she was carrying would be born with a temper as terrible as hers. She wondered what Cash had done to provoke it this time. It didn’t take much. If Sallie had hoped for another Ward Breckinridge as husband, she had lost that round. Cash wasn’t about to cater to her every whim.
Laura tried to shut the sounds from Sallie’s bedroom as she did at night. She didn’t want to imagine Cash in Sallie’s bedroom, demanding his husbandly rights. She had to get out, if only to save her sanity.
She had finally written to Jonathan, explaining everything. It had taken her weeks to pen the tale and scratch and scribble and rewrite so be would understand that she was fine, that he needn’t trouble himself, but could he use some company? Cash would be furious when he found out, but she had to think of herself, since no one else would.
Perhaps Cash thought her no more than a useless doll without feelings of her own; that was the only reason Laura could find for his callous behavior. Did he truly think she wouldn’t feel anything when she saw him and Sallie together, heard their fights, watched their hurt, proud faces as they parted in anger? She wasn’t a piece of stone.
Caught up in these reflections, Laura didn’t notice a footstep in the hall until the click of the door made her jump. Mark wailed as he lost his grip, then settled down again as Laura adjusted him.
Her heart stopped at the sight of Cash leaning against the door frame, arms folded across his half-open shirt. She tried to avoid looking at the dark curls above the taut cotton, but the hungry gaze focused intently on her held her frozen. As Cash drank in the sight of his son, tension seeped from his shoulders.
Ever since the episode in town, he had done his damnedest to behave with propriety toward Laura. Her words had chipped at some hard part of him that he had considered inaccessible, but they had brought a reluctant awareness of her position. He was doing his best to treat her with the respect she deserved.
But sometimes there was a weakness in him that could not be averted. Right now was one of those times. He had not come up here expecting to find Laura. She had been busy with the wash below when he had last seen her. He had meant only to steal a moment of peace in the nursery with his son, the one being in this world who accepted his presence unequivocally and with joy. To find Laura ruling the peace of this private kingdom disrupted his illusions.
But even at odds with himself, Cash couldn’t tear away his fascinated gaze. He knew very little of art, had admired a few landscapes in the museums in New York, but he knew the picture before him deserved immortalizing in oil.
Laura had always called her hair a mousy brown, but it glimmered in the sunlight from the window, the frail wisps refracting the light around her face, spilling like molten gold to her bare breast. Her skin had the same glow, as if sprinkled with diamond dust. He regretted that the day he had known all of her had been a dismal one, hiding the beauty before his eyes. Color suffused her cheeks at his steady perusal, but Cash couldn’t tear his gaze away. This was how motherhood should be, he told himself, but the hot surge in his loins spoke another message.
When the babe’s attention finally wandered from her breast to his surroundings, and Laura held him to her shoulder, the spell broke and Cash lifted himself from the wall. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
Awkwardly Laura tried to close her bodice while bouncing the wide-awake infant on her shoulder. “You could at least turn your back,” she said without rancor.
Being more base than gentleman. Cash responded to his own deeper instincts. Instead of turning, he removed the infant from her hold, admiring what she’d uncovered until she had her bodice fastened.
“He must grow an inch a day,” he said as he dangled the child admiringly. The babe kicked his long legs and gurgled happily at the sound of his father’s voice, then promptly brought up a stream of milk. “Ugh. Are all babies so disgusting?”
“‘You haven’t seen the half of it yet.” Laura shakily finished fastening her buttons, then went to the washbowl for a rag to clean him off. Cash had never made her this nervous before.
“Oh, yes, I have. I came up here the other night when Jettie Mae was scolding like a magpie. You must have been exhausted not to have heard her. I think I would have thrown the kid out with the bathwater if I’d been left to clean that mess.”
Laura chuckled as she wiped at the milky streak down Cash’s cotton-covered back. “I heard about that. I think I’m indebted to Jettie for life, according to her. I do hope you’re paying her adequately. I’m not at all sure she’s worth a cent, but I couldn’t do without her.”
“I think Jettie Mae is one of those subjects we have yet to discuss, but I’ll not turn her out if you say she stays.” Cash flinched as his son made another belching noise, but this time his dinner stayed with him.
Laura giggled softly at this reaction. “I’ve seen you with blood streaming down your face, and drenched in sweat and rain, and you never flinched. Is your son so scary as all that?”
“Blood doesn’t smell like he does. I feel like I ought to go take a bath. Maybe I ought to return to California and not come back until all these monsters are grown up. Sallie wouldn’t object to that.”
Cash didn’t surrender the infant when Laura held out her arms but walked to the window and stared blindly out. Laura didn’t want to hear what he had let slip. She
wanted to go back to genial banter, but for whatever reasons, they were too close for that.
“Sallie’s spoiled. You knew that when you married her. The only way anyone can get along with her is to agree with her. Uncle Matt sometimes threatened not to buy her the new hat she wanted if she didn’t behave, but I don’t think that threat is very effective anymore. What is it she wants now?”
Cash shrugged. The damp spot on his shirt clung to his skin, emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders. “She has some bird-brained notion of spending the summer at some resort. I’ve told her I have too much to do here to attend her, but that’s scarcely a deterrent. Isn’t it considered improper for a lady to appear in public in the latter stages of pregnancy?”
Just the topic was highly improper, but the two of them had never stood on formality. Laura wrung the rag out in the bowl. “You’re asking me about propriety? I’d suggest you find a better authority. But I daresay she wants to go with the Breckinridges; they used to go every summer. If Eliza and Steve’s mother think it’s all right, then I guess you can’t find a better authority. It’s cooler down by the springs. Maybe it will take some of the edge off Sallie’s temper.”
Laura would have said more, but the nursery door slammed open and Sallie stalked in, rage coloring her cheeks. “Who the Sam Hill do you think you are, Cash Wickliffe? That’s my carriage and my stables, and I won’t be denied the use of them! You go down there right this minute and tell those black devils of yours that I want the carriage hitched, and I want it now.”
Cash stood still, staring out the window a minute longer, until the infant on his shoulder squirmed uneasily at Sallie’s strident tones. Then wearily he turned and handed the babe to Laura. He touched the babe’s thick black lock while he replied.
“The carriage and the stables are mine, Sallie, bought and paid for with my money, just as I paid the mortgage on this land and the upkeep on this house. I don’t want my money going to destroy my child. I’ll not have you taking the carriage out without someone to handle the horses and look after you. You have to grow up sometime, Sallie.”
Shelter from the Storm Page 22