The Duke of Ice

by Lisa Andersen

  He broke off here, shaking his head from side to side as he shut his eyes tight.

  An uneasy silence descended between them as he stood stock still in his place; a single telltale tear descending his carved cheek as he considered what seemed to be unthinkable.

  Squeezing his hand in hers, an empathetic Elena stepped forward to wipe away the tear; all the while allowing a few of her own to fall free down the length of her fair skinned face.

  “Justin,” she said his name on the wings of a whisper, adding with a visible wince, “Your wife. Did she pass in childbirth?”

  Justin nodded, and his eyes flew open as he pinned her with a wide eyed look that bespoke his keen, unspeakable agony.

  “It was all my fault, Elena,” he insisted, voice trembling beneath the weight of his guilt and shame, “If it wasn’t for me, then she would not have been placed in that delicate condition. I was just a poison in the life of the woman I loved more than anything else in the world.”

  Elena shook her head.

  “Please don’t think that, Justin,” she plead with him, adding as she made a broad gesture between them, “When my husband contracted the sickness that ultimately killed him, he and I were working side by side in the fields. That is what married couples do. Your wife’s pregnancy was also the result of something that married couples do—and providing that you did not force yourself on her or otherwise abuse her, then she was a willing participant; chances are that she wanted the baby just as much as you did. And, tragically, sometimes babies pass—and so do their mamas.”

  For the first time since the inception of his confession—and, or so she suspected, for the first time in a long time, Justin exhaled—sweeping her up in two strong arms and pulling her closer to him.

  “You know, Elena, my chief ranch hand here told me the same thing—and it was him, in fact, who wrote and placed that ridiculous ad,” he revealed, adding as he buried his head in the fresh blonde mass of her long, luxurious hair, “As many times as I insisted to him that I never could love again, he told me the exact same words that I just told you. He insisted that I was too young and vital to live in the past. He said that livin’ in the past just isn’t really livin’.”

  Elena nodded.

  “You will always love and remember your wife—just as I will always adore my husband, and recall with fondness the magical life that we shared together,” she assured him, adding as she wrapped her arms tight around his muscled shoulders, “Yet now they’re gone. So what do we do?”

  “I have an idea.”

  Elena gasped outright as an ardent Justin pulled back to seize her lips in a hot, passionate kiss; his full, moist lips stroking and massaging hers as she sighed with contentment.

  Angling his head over hers to intensify the kiss, Justin plied her lips with the greatest affection as his strong sturdy hands ran down the length of her back.

  Leaning full and hard into his kiss, Elena gasped against his lips as their tongues entangled between them; their chests pressed together as he pulled her closer still.

  Sinking deep in his arms, Elena felt her senses awakened and revitalized by this dream of an intimate kiss; one that made her heart and pulse pound in a single accord as she came to terms with a certain truth.

  Never had she been loved like this before; and never, ever had she known such grand passion.

  “Not even from my husband.”

  The thought, although vague, still penetrated her psyche with the ferocity of a bullet; driving her out of Justin’s arms as she made fast distance between them.

  “This is not right. We are not married,” she reminded him, holding a firm finger up before him as she remembered the timeless teachings of her mother and church—and, of course, her husband with his gentle smile and loving ways. “And I feel as though I am betraying my husband—and you, your wife.”

  Although he stood a respectful distance from her in the meadow, Justin shook his head from side to side in response to this assertion.

  “Of course I never would want to do anything to hurt and offend such a fine lady,” he insisted, tone soft and conciliatory. “Yet you yourself just said it, Miss; our spouses have left this earth, while the both of us remain.” He paused here, adding with a near desperate shrug, “Are we to spend the remainder of our lives in mourning for our loved ones? I guess I could accept that idea if I was 80—but I’m only 25, Miss. And I reckon that you’re about the same age. Do you not believe that our loved ones would want us to be happy?”

  Elena thought a moment, then shook her head.

  “At this point, Justin, I frankly don’t know what to do—or, for that matter, what is right,” she admitted, adding as she turned for the gate, “I do believe that I made a big mistake by coming here, Justin. I’ve done little more than make a spectacle of myself and wasted both of our time.” She paused here, adding as she shut her eyes tight in a show of keen abashment, “I have a ranch to run, and so do you. So what do you say we cease this juvenile nonsense and both get back to work?”

  “Elena, please.”

  The frowning woman stopped in her tracks as she heard her own name—expressed in a voice that seemed laced with no small degree of sadness, along with just a hint of out and out pleading.

  Still she refrained from turning around and making eye contact with the man who called her back to him. Indeed, she was too afraid that—if she beheld his beauty, his strength, his vulnerability one more time—she’d never be able to leave him.

  “What, Justin?” she asked over her shoulder, all the while keeping her gaze trained on the gates that would take her far away from this place—and far away from the temptation it represented in the deepest confines of her heart and mind.

  Her host sighed.

  “I cannot tell you, Ma’am, just how regretful I am that I have offended you,” he told her, tone dripping with the sounds of genuine sorrow. “Please accept my deepest apologies, and also consider this offer made in earnest.” He paused here, adding in a more businesslike tone, “Look, before my ranch hand went and placed that knuckle headed ad, I myself was not so sure that I needed a mail order bride. What I do need for certain, however, is some more help around this place. So what do you say we strike a deal? You can stay on here for a few days and help me tend these flowers; judging by the success of your own rose ranch, you certainly do seem to have a way with them. Then we can hightail it to your place, and I can help you tend your fields, do any repairs you need—just lend you a little manpower, not that you need it. We can split both of our profits both ways and keep our relationship strictly business.”

  Elena pursed her lips.

  “Strictly business?” she confirmed, adding as she turned finally to face him, “I do indeed need some help around the ranch. I mean, I did ask my neighbors to watch over my crops and feed my animals while I embarked on this little madcap adventure of mine. Yet I cannot expect them to neglect their own lands in favor of mine; and even if I did return to my ranch, I no doubt would have to eventually admit that I do indeed need help around the place.” She paused here, adding with a firm finger raised for emphasis. “Now I never was a lady of leisure, mind you. Nor was I ever simply a farm wife who stayed in the kitchen while my husband worked the fields. I worked right alongside Blake in the gardens and the fields, every day of our lives together.”

  Justin nodded.

  “And I am sure that you did a cracker jack job,” he assured her, adding with a slight shrug, “You have to admit, though, that it would be mighty difficult for one farmer—be they male or female—to tend a ranch all by their lonesome.”

  Elena nodded.

  “You speak the truth—and my back ain’t arguin’. Not one bit,” she admitted, wincing in spite of herself as she contemplated the hours of hard labor she’d invested in her farm since the death of her husband and business partner. “And I don’t exactly have the coins to hire a ranch hand—not right now, anyway.”

  Justin smiled.

  “Then stay here with me a wh
ile,” he invited her, adding as he made a broad gesture across the vast expanse of the golden fields around them, “We can work the day away in the flower beds then go home to my ranch house—where beautifully kept lodgings and delicious home cooked meals always will await us, thanks to my house staff.” He paused here, adding as he raised his strong sturdy hands before him in what seemed a defensive stance, “And every evenin’ after supper, you can feel free to retire all by your lonesome, and to the privacy of your guest room.”

  Elena considered his words for a moment, then nodded.

  “And whenever we make the hop, skip and the jump back to my place, you can stay in my best quarters—though in comparison to this mansion you have here, my ‘guest quarters’ probably will bear a closer resemblance to a dag gum horse stall in serious need of mucking,” she scoffed, adding as she cast a stray glance at the lavish ivory ranch house that lie just beyond the fields, “That is, if I ever choose to go back. At all. And at any ol’ time.”

  She jumped then as her beaming host met these words with a loud resounding whoop; emphasizing his robust cry of “Yipee ki yi yeah!” with the high and hard toss of his ivory hued cowboy hat.

  “That, my lovely Miss, is exactly what I wanted to hear,” he announced, catching the hat and tossing it in an arty swirl atop his bronzed head.

  “Yes, I guessed as much,” Elena marveled, adding as she raised a firm finger for emphasis, “Only make no mistake, Justin. I’m far more than a purty face. As you are about to find out, I work very hard day in and day out—and I have every aim to turn your ranch here right square on its ear.”

  *****

  Proving her words throughout the next few days, Elena joined her host in the fields and the rose garden; planting, tending and sewing the hours away as her companion praised and encouraged her every effort.

  He was so impressed by her labors, in fact, that each evening he saw fit to treat her to a proper country dinner in the even more proper dining room of his lavish and exquisitely appointed ranch house.

  An impressed Elena gaped outright the moment she first stepped in to this exquisite dining area, which came complete with a long lace covered central table, matching curtains lining its broad bay windows, a corner ivory corniced cabinet filled to the rim with rose print china, and an overhanging candle lined chandelier engraved with images of additional florals, painted in a striking shade of pure scarlet red.

  “Well I gotta say it, Mr. Justin,” she commented, easing herself into the soft lavender cushion that lined the chair he pulled out for her, and at the head of his candlelit table. “For a strong and manly cowherd such as yerself, you do seem to be mighty partial to roses.”

  Claiming a seat beside her at the table, Justin shook his head from side to side as he explained, “Actually Ma’am, it was my mother and wife who favored flowers. I learned to grow roses at my mother’s sidein her garden, and also helped her to sell her best buds at the market. We turned a pretty profit, that’s for sure—and also attracted the attention of a lovely young filly who visited our booth on a regular basis.” He paused here, smiling at the memory, “Deidre and I would stand around for hours at our booth, buyin’ rose after rose while she and I talked about everything under the sun. Then finally I took the hint, bought her some roses myself and eventually mustered up the courage to ask her to supper.”

  Elena nodded.

  “Was Deidre your wife?” she asked, tone low and gentle.

  Justin nodded.

  “Hence began our life together,” he revealed, adding as he stared out his wide bay window with a wistful, starry eyed gaze, “It only seemed natural for two smitten kids to grow roses on their ranch; and we often talked of passing on our land—and our prized crop—to the child that we waited for with such great hope and excitement.” He paused here, adding with a slight chuckle, “If the new child happened to be a girl, in fact, we planned to call her Rose.”

  Elena smirked.

  “And what if the child had been a boy?” she queried, adding with eyebrows arched, “Would you have named him Bud?”

  Justin guffawed.

  “Well now we never did think of that one,” he chortled, adding as he took her hand in his, “You know what, lady? This is the first time that I’ve been able to talk and laugh when I talk about my Deidre,” he paused here, raising her hand to his full moist lips for a gentlemanly kiss, “As a matter of fact, this is probably the first time I have laughed at all since…well, you know. You, Elena, are something of an elixir.”

  Elena nodded, pursing her pearl pink lips as she considered these all too relatable words.

  “I myself thought my days of fun and laughter were done and gone when I lost my Blake,” she revealed, adding with a slight smile, “Yet this day that we’ve shared has been so much fun, I can’t begin to tell you.”

  Justin made no verbal reply to these words, instead making a broad gesture in the direction of the impressive spread that lay before them on the table; a grand Southern feast that consisted of country fried steak, buttered mashed potatoes, fresh vegetables and hash brown casserole—along with a hearty sampling of Texas brewed tea and some delicious hot buttered biscuits.

  “Our evening aims to be even more fun,” he assured her, adding as he graced her with a playful nudge, “So let us eat, drink and forget about our troubles—at least for one evenin’.”

  Following her host’s directive with particular glee, Elena dove right in to her homemade feast as she and Justin traded jokes and stories of their lives on the open range.

  Having been confined to a limited budget back at her own ranch, one that restricted her and her husband to very simple and rudimentary meals containing basic ingredients they had grown on the farm, she took endless joy in devouring the meal before her; also in the fact that, unlike many gents she’d come across, Justin encouraged her to eat as much as she liked and enjoy the experience—as opposed to expressing his keen concern that her actions were unladylike, or that she just might bust a corset or (horror of all horrors) gain a half inch around her slender waist if she dared overeat.

  “Even my dear Blake would cast a somber look in my direction every time I ate a bite too much—not that such overindulgence was ever possible, given our budget and the diet it ensured us,” she mused, adding aloud and with a warm smile to her host, “You know what, Justin? You’re all right.”

  She thought he was really all right a couple of hours later, when he showed her to her guest room at the ranch house; a room that he explained once served as a feminine retreat for his wife and—when they were visiting—his mother and sisters.

  After gracing her with a chaste but very warm kiss on the cheek, one she nonetheless felt right through to her soul, Justin bid her good night and wished her sweet dreams; sending her into just the sort of ethereal paradise that could serve to inspire and oversee these very dreams.

  Bordered by walls covered in a paper of shiny scarlet brocade, the room came complete with polished ivory bureaus and wardrobes that shone in their brass trim; as well as a corner pair of crystalline paned French doors adorned with thick, lush floral jacquard curtains.

  Serving as the centerpiece of this luxurious, very feminine room was a bed that seemed a place of dreams; doused as it was in a lace trimmed rose print comforter and overseen by a sheer lace canopy.

  Changing quickly into the plain gingham nightgown that she’d brought along for the trip, a happy but exhausted Elena collapsed between soft cotton sheets and blew out the blazing white vanilla candle that burned at the center of her bedside table.

  Shutting her eyes tight, Elena drifted off to sleep almost immediately; expecting once again to meet her dear departed husband in the realm of their own personal dreamscape.

  She jumped in her bed moments later, as the man who approached her in this ethereal plain—one filled on all sides with light fluffy clouds and overseen by an illuminating beacon of pure golden light—seemed all too familiar in appearance; not to mention downright handsome.


  He was not, however, the man she married.

  “Justin?” she called out to him, squinting to make out the tall muscled figure who emerged like a faraway dream from the clouds before her. “Is that you?”

  Nodding in silence as he seared her with one of his devastating white toothed smiles, her ethereal host—clad only in a long ivory white toga that likened him much to an angel in repose—advanced toward her with slow, smooth strides; holding his arms open to her as he invited, “Come to me, my darling.”

  Soon the couple linked arms between them and launched their bodies into a heavenly reel; their joined beings moving closer and closer together as they stared deep into one another’s eyes.

  Justin and Elena spoke no words as they danced this slow, intimate waltz; and indeed needed no music as they swirled and swayed across a celestial skyscape. All they needed was the cadence of their slow, even breathing, and the joined pounding of their own besotted hearts.

  Staring deep into his azure blue eyes as she pulled her dance partner closer than close, Elena sank happily into his arms as he swept her up two strong arms; bending her body backward in a thrilling dip as his whisper soft lips touched hers once again.

  “Be mine,” he whispered soft against her lips. “Be mine, Elena. Now and forever.”

  With these words their bodies rose together in what seemed a binding embrace; twirling and swirling in a radiant constant until—slowly but surely—two became one.

  Suddenly a sweaty Elena bolted upright in bed; raising her calico covered arm to wipe a line of telltale sweat from the surface of her feathered brow.

  “Criminy,” she gasped out loud, adding as she blew out a long gust of hot, frustrated breath, “What is that man doing to me?”

  *****