She brushed her hair to a silky sheen, parted it down the middle and, turning under the softly curling ends, gathered the sleek mass into a pale gray silken net. Between her breasts and behind her earlobes she applied the perfume that she had taken from the case he had sent to her. She had been unable to resist the delicate and elusive, hauntingly seductive scent, but she would never tell him of her weakness. Let him guess, if he could.
Her eyes ran warmly over a day dress of silver gray silk she had taken from her faithful wicker case. Cole would be surprised to realize that she was not a complete pauper, and she relished that thought. Carefully she raised the full-skirted gown above her head and guided it down into place. It was a garment she had managed to purchase with hard-earned coins but, like most of her wardrobe, it had been previously owned by another, a young friend of Mrs. Hawthorne who had arranged the whole transaction. The bodice simulated a jacket of Zouave design and was edged with pleated charcoal gray ribbon. Embroidered lawn duplicated a squarenecked blouse of mauve, and engageantes of the same cloth filled the open sleeves of the jacket. At least, wearing this, she could hardly be accused of looking like a homeless waif.
Cole had leaned back into the soft comfort of the settee to await the end of his wife’s toilette, and when she finally emerged from the bedroom, his gaze lifted from a sober contemplation of a tabletop. Nothing was more obvious to Alaina at that moment than those eyes that immediately took in every detail of her appearance. The greatest compliment he bestowed on her was rising quickly to his feet. Yet his visage betrayed his confusion.
“I don’t remember that gown among the ones I sent you.”
“I had some money,” Alaina murmured and lowered her gaze from his openly admiring regard, strangely thrilled by it, and a trifle pleased with herself because she had been successful in taking him aback a small degree.
“It’s most becoming,” he admitted.
Alaina acknowledged the compliment with a soft, tactful smile. It came to her that she might have approached this whole marriage business unwisely. Roberta would have been more cunning, using her wiles to win the advantage. At times, the older cousin’s methods had proven most effective. A little showing of the bosom, a little batting of the eyelids, and a little sweet talking went a long way to handling a man. Yet Alaina found it difficult to imagine Cole being maneuvered so easily.
Her eyes never wavered from his as he stepped near, and she had to still an urge to withdraw as he reached a hand to the top of her gown. His fingers were a brand of fire against her skin, slipping down within the crevice between her breasts to pluck the medallion from its warm nest. Drawing it into view, he examined it wonderingly.
“I thought you would have given up wearing this by now.”
Alaina met his questioning stare, fearing she had lost more ground than she had gained. Where his fingers had touched still burned, and she could not draw an even breath. “I wear it to remind me of foolishness past, sir.”
“Foolishness, madam?” He raised a brow. “Yours or mine?”
“Take it as you will.” She shrugged. “Can that moment be called anything but?”
Contemplating her flushed cheeks, he guided the golden disk back into its soft crevice and, with lavish care, straightened the chain around her neck. Alaina remained pliant beneath the roving hand, meeting his expectant gaze with a cool smile of mild amusement. Uncle Angus had taken great pains to warn her before she left that the law did not recognize the chaste marriage. Indeed, he had chastened further, the state of abstinence was to be diligently pursued as her only means of escape from wedlock when conditions warranted. His words came back to her with vivid clarity, “The man is a Yankee, and he has already abused my poor Roberta unto her death. I should be remiss in my guardianship if I sent you unprepared into a vile situation. And I shall further caution you that neither Doctor Brooks nor Mrs. Hawthorne bears any responsibility in this matter. That falls on my shoulders alone.”
Yet, here she stood confronting this “lecherous Yankee carpetbagger” in his plush lair, and her concern was more with her own response than with his lingering touch. Her breath nearly halted as his hand wandered downward over her breast and came to rest possessively on her hip. She raised an innocent brow to him, and like a stretching cat, tested the honeyed claws of her well-boned will.
“Doctor Latimer,” she murmured sweetly. “I believe we both agreed this would be a marriage in name only. Have you perchance forgotten?”
“I wonder,” he mused aloud, “if the agreement will outlast the testing of the flesh.”
Alaina laughed with velvety softness, recalling to Cole’s mind a burning vision of a young woman naked in his arms. “Nothing like vows of virtue to heighten one’s desire, eh, Major?” She tapped his lean wrist gently. “And where is my virtue but rent asunder on a Yankee’s couch?”
“So therein lies the rub.” Cole withdrew his hand and, struggling to subdue the hunger rising in his loins, faced the window. “Taken on a Yankee’s couch, you now seek vengeance.”
“Vengeance, milord?” Her chuckle was deep and low, gently chiding. “Pray tell, sir, what revenge can a Southern lady rest upon her Yankee husband?”
Cole swung around to face her and glared with some dark anger knitting his brows. “I believe, madam, I need not tell you that, for it seems to be very much within your knowledge.”
Alaina was aware that she had found a chink in his armor-plated hide, yet she was not quite sure what had opened it.
A moment sauntered past, widening the chasm between them. Cole’s scowl grew ominous, leaving her little of the reckless bravado that had carried her thus far. She was much relieved when a light rap came upon the door. Her gaze followed Cole’s limping progress to the door, and before he reached for the knob, she found the voice to speak. “Major, if that is someone you’re expecting, or have business with, and you wish to be alone, I can retire to the bedroom.”
Cole found it aggravating that she chose to use so formal an address with him. “Stay, madam,” he bade firmly. “I’ll inform you when I desire privacy. Until then, you have my permission to remain.”
Alaina folded her hands, feeling like a child rebuked, and wondered if he realized yet that she was a grown woman.
The door was opened, and at Cole’s urging, a portly man waddled in. After removing a heavy layer of wrappings from his short body, the rotund fellow picked up the small valise that he had rested between his feet and glanced about expectantly.
“Ah, I presume this is your wife,” he chortled and, hearing no denial, crossed to Alaina. “You won’t believe what your husband has ordered for you, madam. The very best! Absolutely!”
“Really?” Quizzical wonder betrayed itself in her lovely visage as Alaina glanced toward a suddenly stoical Cole.
“Oh, yes indeed, madam!” the obese one bubbled. Half facing the tall, lean man, he gestured to the case. “With your permission, doctor.”
Cole gave a curt nod, and eagerly the fellow unstrapped the valise. With an air of suspense gleaming in his eyes, he slowly lifted the lid of the case to display the contents before Alaina.
Stunned amazement swept over her, for there, arranged on dark velvet, was a small collection of precious jewelry that, she guessed, might be worthy of a queen. Surrounding a wide, gold ring, elaborately encrusted with diamonds and rubies, were several long strands of pearls, an emerald necklace, earrings to match, and a cluster of large diamonds mounted in an intricately worked gold pendant, with brillant teardrop earrings placed beside it.
Leaning on his cane, Cole came to stand beside his wife and reached down to inspect the pieces.
“Everything’s perfect, sir,” the jolly jeweler beamed. “I checked it all myself. Here, look at these diamonds. Have you ever seen any so brilliant? Will the madam try it on?”
Cole lifted the necklace and turned to Alaina. Short of angering him in front of the jeweler, she had no choice but to let him place it about her neck. He stood before her and leaned over her
shoulder to secure the catch, and for a moment Alaina was overwhelmingly aware of his loosely encircling arms and the hard, furred chest partly revealed by his open shirt.
“Beautiful!” Cole murmured in appreciation, hardly glancing at the pendant.
“Yes! Yes, indeed!” the portly man chortled.
“Alaina, my coat please.” Cole nodded toward the bedroom. “Can you fetch it for me, sweet?”
“Certainly,” she whispered, strangely warmed by the endearment and yet knowing it was only, as he had said, for appearances, just like the clothes and jewelry. His intention was to put on a grand front, and he expected her to do the same.
In the bedroom Alaina folded Cole’s jacket over her arm and thoughtfully smoothed the rich cloth. It was almost as if some magical presence were embodied within it, for she was caught for a moment by a yearning so strong and physical she found it hard to draw a breath. How easy it would be to let appearances slip into reality—if only there were not this arrangement between them. Cole was handsome and still young. Even if none of the gentler emotions such as love were present, they could still have a marriage. Who could predict what miracles the future might bring? Yet, it was his word that had set the boundary between them and her pride refused to let her cross it.
Cole accepted the coat from her when she returned to the sitting room and, drawing out his flat leather purse, counted out several large bills, and gave them over to the man.
“It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Doctor Latimer. You will let me know when I can be of further service, won’t you?”
Cole led the man to the door, politely assuring him. The jeweler nodded a farewell to them both and left.
Now the charade was over, Alaina mused wryly. At least, until that time when they would again be in the company of others. Cole could forget about tender endearments. And she had to remind him of her position.
“Major, I’m afraid it is impossible for me to accept the jewelry. I would never be able to repay you.”
“Don’t be absurd, Alaina,” he replied and reached down to lift her ring from its nest. “Of course you will wear these, and I will expect it.” Lifting her left hand, he slipped the brightly glittering band onto her third finger. “And this piece, madam, will never leave your hand.”
“A wedding ring?” Alaina whispered, staring at it in disbelief.
“Is it so strange an item for a husband to give his wife? Or is it that you entertained doubts of receiving one? I must apologize for the delay. It took some time to get the ring here.” He shrugged carelessly. “Some confusion about the inscription inside, I suppose. Perhaps the name baffled them.”
That was understandable since there were other variations of spelling her name. But that was not what concerned Alaina. Taking into account the arrangement, the cost of the ring seemed far out of proportion to their marriage. “Major, we’re not really—I mean—” Explanation seemed momentarily beyond her capability. “We are married, certainly. But then, we’re not really—” Cole watched her curiously until she blushed and turned away in confusion. “I just didn’t expect it, that’s all. I didn’t expect any of this.” She swept her hand to indicate the case. “I can’t possibly accept this.”
“That’s utter nonsense, Alaina,” he answered impatiently. “The value of the gems is not lost if you wear them, and you will. You will be presented as my wife, and you will dress yourself in a manner befitting your station.”
Appearances again! Her life was becoming a whole series of charades and false fronts. Somewhere she had to claim that right of just being herself.
“If, as you say, the pieces lose nothing of their value from use, then I consent to wear them.” She was not incapable of logic. “But the clothes, sir, are a different matter. I will wear them only when I can afford them.”
“How do you expect to afford them when you won’t even take money from me?” he demanded.
Alaina shrugged. “I cleaned the hospital for a wage. I can clean your house for the same.”
Cole flung up a hand derisively. “I have all the servants I need.”
“Then, in your practice perhaps. I’ve assisted Doctor Brooks—”
“That’s fine and good, madam.” His tone was caustic. “But unfortunately, I don’t have much of a practice anymore.”
Alaina’s brows knitted in bewilderment. “You mean you gave it up?”
“Something like that,” he said crisply and waved away further questions.
She had no wish to test his temper further. Nevertheless she stated her ultimatum firmly. “If you cannot find employment for me, Major, I must refuse the gowns.”
Cole’s frown was fierce. He knew the twit too well to treasure any hope that she would change her mind in a few days. But he was just as determined that she would not go about in rags. He laughed suddenly, drawing her somewhat leery regard, and posed the question, “Have you considered working at being my wife?”
Alaina stiffened, wary of what direction he would lead this conversation. “As the contract has been drawn, sir, no one will suspect I am anything less. Just what did you have in mind that I should do to earn wages?”
As if pondering her inquiry, Cole placed a thin knuckle thoughtfully against his lips. “I have a housekeeper, two cleaning maids, a cook, a boy to fetch, and a man to answer the door. If we exclude those duties, what else is there?”
The most obvious duty of a wife was boldly left unmentioned, but she would not fall prey to his buffoonery. “Sir, since we do have the arrangement between us, I must assume that you are talking about the duty a wife must perform as a hostess.”
“A hostess? Mistress of my house?” His gaze leisurely swept her. “Unskilled?”
“I learn quickly,” she informed him bluntly.
“Perhaps I have something else in mind,” he pointed out.
Calmly Alaina met his gaze. How she yearned to erase that smirking grin from his lips. Coolly she queried, “And what is your suggestion, sir?”
Cole opened his mouth to answer her, but some turmoil twisted just behind his face. From perplexity he changed swiftly to anger. “As you suggest, of course—a hostess,” he replied ungently. “You will provide me with a haven from a worrisome society of mothers who seem to detest the fact that an eligible man should remain single and from fathers with overlarge pistols. You will be my representative, my delegate-at-large, so to speak. That will be your duty!” He snatched his coat from the back of the settee and began buttoning his shirt. “And in return, madam, you will dress the part as befits my wife!”
She had no chance to argue, for he limped to the door, jerked it open, and sharply suggested over his shoulder. “Make yourself comfortable, my love. It might be a while before I’m able to remember that I’m still a gentleman.”
With that, he slammed the door behind him. Alaina heard the key turning in the lock before his uneven footfalls went down the hall. She released a trembling breath, realizing she had held it almost from the first moment of his tirade.
She passed shaking fingers across her brow. A prisoner she might be. After all he had locked the door. But at the moment, at least, she was free of his overwhelming presence.
Numb to the luxury around her, Alaina returned to the bedroom and put aside the silk gown and necklace. A great weariness descended upon her, and she felt in dire need of a nap. Matching wits with Cole had drawn heavily on her ready store of energy, and the few brief snatches of sleep she had been able to acquire during the night would be insufficient to uphold her resistance for long in the face of his assault. It loomed prominently in her mind that a night on the settee was well within the realm of possibility, for she could only consider that any bed and Cole Latimer was a combination for despair, and it was best to avoid that mixture like the pits of hell.
Thoughtfully, she pulled the encompassing net from her hair and shook out the luxurious russet mane. She reached behind her and tugged at the ties of her corset, but to her dismay the ancient lacings parted, and the stric
ture of the garment loosened itself, giving her a more rapid freedom than she had planned. In exasperation she threw the stays onto the low chest and, gazing down at them ruefully, began to free the waistband of her petticoat. She would have to borrow the lacings from the corset Cole had purchased for her, or go without. Sometimes this refusal to wear his gifts weighed more heavily on her than on him.
Much to her amazement, she heard a key rattle in the lock once more. Unable to fathom why Cole should return so quickly, she was somewhat fearful, knowing that the costly jewelry had been left in her care.
Snatching her woolen cloak about her shoulders for modesty, she stepped to the bedroom door and waited there to see the identity of the intruder. Instant relief swept her as Cole came through the portal. Scowling darkly, he tossed aside the coat he had flung over his arm, and when he turned to close the door behind him, Alaina saw that his trouser seam had separated down the whole length of his leg, leaving in view the white legging of his undergarment.
“Whatever happened?” she asked worriedly.
“I caught it on a damned nail,” he growled.
Alaina restrained the urge to giggle and, as she turned back into the bedroom, suggested over her shoulder with riant undertones. “If you will take your pants off and hand them in here, I’ll mend them for you.”
She took out her sewing kit and opened it on the bed in preparation, but Cole’s angry bark came from the other room. “Dammit, woman! Do you think I’m going to stand out here in my skivvies? I’ll just change, and the hotel can have these repaired.”
Alaina cautiously eased the door shut to deny his entry into the bedroom, but found to her dismay that the key was gone. A dull glimmer near the wall rewarded her hopeful glance about the floor, and she was just bending over to retrieve the wayward latchkey when the door swung open, rudely striking her broadside. She straightened abruptly, as if she were the stiffest of springs, and, feeling completely ridiculous, faced Cole’s harsh perusal.
“I find your penchant for privacy wears thin, madam. I have no intention of hopping about the parlor like a naked crow while I change my pants. I will do it here, in my bedroom, where it is fitting and proper.”
Ashes in the Wind Page 42