Ashes in the Wind

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  “She must have loved you, Cole.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I don’t think she was capable of loving anyone. She enjoyed playing the wealthy mistress. Perhaps she was even proud to claim me as her husband before I was wounded. She enjoyed dressing herself in expensive clothes and liked to show off her beauty, but it wasn’t for me. That was about as deep as her love flowed. She was like a shallow stream, all bright and pretty on the surface, but murky and dark with slime underneath.”

  Alaina held up the repaired dress, seeking to divert the conversation to a less disturbing topic. “You have excellent taste, Doctor Latimer, and this color should suit Mindy’s fair skin and dark hair quite well. She’ll be a little beauty.”

  Cole rubbed his leg as a cramp began to grow in it; it was what Alaina had been watching for, that slight indication that he was in discomfort. She rose to her feet and sought to take the child from his lap, but he laid a hand on her arm, delaying her.

  “You have quite a mothering instinct, madam. You ought to have several of your own.”

  Their faces were only a short distance apart as her translucent gray eyes, glowing with warm lights, shone into his. Her voice was low and husky as she questioned, “Are you suggesting something, sir?”

  Cole leaned his head against the tall, tufted back of the chair and arched a brow wonderingly. “And what if I am?”

  She lifted the child from his lap and smiled poignantly. “Then I would remind you, sir, of our marriage arrangement.”

  A lesson in the proper morning grooming of a young lady preceded breakfast with Doctor Latimer the next morning. Having frequently watched Alaina from hiding, Mindy readily copied her manner. The example was already set, and the child was as swift of mind as she was at mimicking. But then, there was something about the lady that had sparked a memory of her own mother.

  In the ensuing days Mindy responded readily to the firm but loving warmth of Alaina’s attention. After the discovery of small, dried thistles hidden beneath the child’s lower sheet, Mindy’s aversion to the bed became understandable. Still, a goodly measure of reluctance to be left alone in the room remained in the girl. Thus Alaina sought out Cole and asked his advice. His solution was to move the child into another bedroom where she would be away from that cauldron of hatred that had been well steeped into the old mistress’s rooms. The idea seemed to delight the child and her eagerness was readily apparent as she helped move her clothes and possessions to the new location.

  Alaina gave a last pat to the freshly made bed in the newly occupied room and sat down on it, facing Mindy. She smoothed the quilted bedspread beside her as she asked, “Will you sleep here now?”

  Mindy’s nod came without hesitation, but again there were no words, only the fleeting smile, then a wide-eyed attention as if she waited, almost fearfully, for some bad dream to return.

  “Oh, Mindy.” Alaina’s heart twisted in pity. “Poor child.” She held out a hand and, when the small girl took her offer, gathered Mindy into her arms. She lifted the thin body onto her lap and caressed the soft hair. “We’re a pair, the two of us,” Alaina whispered sadly. “But at least my trials were a matter of choice, and I know full well why the choices were made. But yours were none of your own making.”

  Mindy bathed that evening in Alaina’s tub and, when she had dressed herself in a long nightgown and warm robe, sought out her doll and the empty candy tin, gathered them into her arms and allowed Alaina to tuck her into the new bed without a whimper. She listened to a brief prayer as Alaina knelt at her bedside, then closed her eyes and when the lady pressed a kiss to her forehead, a tiny smile came—and stayed.

  Chapter 33

  ALAINA had already realized that when Cole Latimer set his mind on having something, he was not easily dissuaded from that end. Indeed, he could be steadfastly persistent, never wavering far from his purpose. Most often he won the prize of his attention through relentless pursuit. Thus, when Alaina found herself to be the thing he purposed to have, she knew that she faced a struggle of temperaments ahead, hers pitted against his. As yet he had not issued forth with any verbal commitment that would reassure her she was not going to be used for a whim, and she was most reluctant to trust his amorous attentions.

  He became outright bold in the way he courted her, not making any attempt to conceal the fact that he wanted to bed her, or that he considered her to be his property that he could casually touch and freely handle. He restrained himself only to the point that he didn’t force her to serve his pleasure, but Alaina was not quite sure just how long he would hold himself in check.

  He introduced her about as his wife, and because he had business in St. Anthony, took her with him, acquiring a hotel suite with two bedrooms only because she had gently insisted that they should take Mindy along.

  She had shared one of the rooms with the child, leaving Cole to take the other, but he had even gotten around that marital separation, at least for a night, by accepting an invitation to stay with friends after the theatre. Alaina had no choice but to share his room in order to keep up appearances, an arrangement that left her more than leery. While Mindy was safely ensconced in a room of her own down the hall, Alaina had to face the prospect of not only sharing quarters with her husband, but a bed besides.

  “You’ll, of course, be sleeping in a chair,” she remarked hopefully when he started undressing for bed.

  Cole looked at her in surprise. “It was not my intention at all, madam. The bed is large enough for the two of us.”

  “I thought you had trouble stretching out in bed with your leg.”

  His smile brazenly hinted of his amusement. “Does bedding down with a Yankee frighten you so much?”

  Alaina glared at him coolly. “You don’t frighten me at all, sir.”

  “Pray tell me then, madam, why you have turned out all the lamps to undress?” His chiding laughter struck a cord of irritation in her. “If not for the fire in the hearth, I swear I’d have to fumble around in the dark to find my own clothes.”

  “It would help considerably if you did find some,” she retorted with rampant sarcasm.

  “My apologies.” His long, naked torso bent slightly in a mocking bow. He seemed casually unconcerned that the shifting firelight boldly portrayed him as a man. “I was not aware that your nature was so tender to the honest sight of a little bare skin. However, I must warn you. I do not intend to keep myself forever bound in a cocoon for your peace of mind.”

  Modestly Alaina clutched the folds of her nightgown to her bosom as he neared the darkened corner where she had sought seclusion to undress. She had only been successful in removing her gown and petticoats, having found the corset strings as difficult as usual. He saw the hesitancy in her eyes as she raised her gaze to his, and smiled gently.

  “Do you wish some help?”

  Uncertainly Alaina presented her back, allowing him access to the corset strings. It was a long quiet moment that passed between them as he concentrated on the task at hand, but once free of the garment, she waited, scarcely breathing, as he caressed her loosened hair and the silkiness of her bare arms. Stepping nervously away, she pulled the nightgown over her head and released her undergarments beneath its protective shield.

  Limping to the head of the bed, Cole folded aside the top covers and sat on the edge, taking up a cheroot to light as he casually observed her progress in modesty. After donning her robe, she came around to the other side of the bed and, quickly slipping beneath the covers, stayed as close to the far edge as allowable without falling to the floor and clutched the silken quilt high beneath her chin. She was no more willing to spend the night in a cold, hard chair than he was, and had quickly given up the idea when she saw what choices were open to her.

  Raising the bedcovers, Cole slipped in beside her, keeping his leg bent to ease the drawing tightness in his thigh. As he smoked his cigar, he noticed that she lay with her eyes open, watching the trail of smoke curling upward toward the ceiling. He could not help but wonde
r at her thoughts. She had been most charming throughout the evening, acting the loving wife for the benefit of his friends and, with her simplest touch, arousing his desires more than she could know. After Roberta, his friends had been much taken with her graciousness and cheerful wit. He couldn’t blame them any. She was quite a delectable bit of fluff.

  He rolled his head on the pillow to whisper a question. “Warm enough?”

  Alaina nodded shyly. “And your leg? Does it hurt?”

  “Nothing to worry yourself about, madam.” He shifted the cigar to his other hand and reached across to pull the downy quilt over her shoulder.

  “Thank you for letting Mindy come with us, Cole.”

  “Hmm.” It was his only reply as he continued smoking. Before he finished the cigar, his wife was asleep, but it was a long time before he could find that same nectar of peaceful repose.

  Alaina’s slumber deepened as the moon continued its flight across the heavens. She nestled against the warm body beside her, liberated in the blanketing arms of Morpheus. Then, there was a tickling in her ear, a whisper so soft she could not distinguish it from her dreams.

  “Alaina, are you asleep?”

  “Cole?” she sighed in a soft, drowsy breath, unable to break the lingering essence of silken sleep. She pressed closer, lulled in the security of his presence. He rose above her slightly, laying an arm along her back and nuzzling his nose into the fragrant, curling tresses above her ear, while his lips moved against it.

  “Unless you wish to fall victim to circumstances which could rapidly advance beyond my control, Alaina, I suggest you remove yourself—at least, to a more modest distance.”

  Her eyes flew wide as she realized full well of what he spoke. She lay on her side facing him with her left leg raised and resting intimately across his bare loins. The branding heat he displayed was graphic proof of his words. His manhood was firm and hot against her, searing her flesh.

  “Excuse me,” she mumbled in roweling embarrassment and moved quickly to the far side of the bed where she lay staring at the ceiling. Now they were both wakeful, their nerves stretched taut like the strings of an archer’s bow. It was a long time before dawn came to release them from this mutual torture chamber.

  Once at home again, Alaina felt on safer ground, though she still had to bear his untimely intrusions into her bedroom. Sometimes at night she would awake to find a long shadow beside her bed, and there was be no mistaking his broad, naked shoulders against the moonlit windows. Once again his restless prowling had brought him to her side.

  She had all but given up barring the doors with chairs, for she could not bear his sarcasm that ridiculed her fear of him. She was just ornery enough to show him that she was not afraid of him, but then, after discontinuing the use of such safeguards, she could not dismiss the idea that she was playing right into his hands, for he now went in and out of her rooms as he pleased. He seemed especially wont to intrude upon her baths.

  “I would enjoy the privilege of showing you off about town this evening,” he announced after such an interruption. “And this time,” he drawled leisurely as his eyes dipped meaningfully to the pale breasts she sought to cover, “wear something that will compliment you as a woman. You must forgive me, but I’m a bit tired of the gray.”

  Compliment me as a woman! Alaina’s mind railed as he withdrew from the bathing chamber and wisely closed the door. She restrained the urge to throw something at the portal, but only because he’d just laugh at her display of temper. By heavens, she vowed, she would show him just how much of a woman she really was!

  She labored most of the afternoon to make adjustments to a velvet gown which, other than the gray, was the last of her personal wardrobe worthy of compliments. As she studied the neckline, pondering whether it should be demure or bold, something savage rose up within her, and she applied the scissors until the décolletage was well below what propriety dictated. Cole seemed to have a penchant for bosoms, and she was well fired to whet his appetite to the full measure!

  When it was time to dress, she propped a chair against her bedroom door to prevent Cole from wandering in unannounced. She wanted the shock to be sudden and ruthless, and she was determined that after tonight, he would never again question her womanhood.

  At her light rap on his bedroom door, she heard him call out, bidding her admittance, and primed herself as much as Roberta had ever thought of doing. As she entered, Cole turned, working the studs through the tiny openings in his shirt. He halted as his gaze came upon her and boldly stared his appreciation until Alaina had the distinct feeling that his imagination plunged far below the limits of her gown. In that same moment she realized that she had struck her goal as well as could be expected, for Cole absently tried to work a stud through his shirt where no hole existed.

  “You’re not dressed,” she murmured.

  Cole limped near and, at closer range, leisurely inspected her, letting his gaze follow the course of the golden chain that disappeared into the deep, inviting valley between her breasts. An enticing bit of lace had been added where the neckline plunged sharply down the crevice, and its transparency stirred his curiosity no small amount, for he could only wonder at the brevity of the shift she wore, if she wore one at all.

  Though Alaina was bound and determined that he would never again treat her casually, she realized, as her own pulse throbbed an unsteady beat, the possible danger for herself. Cole was no dawdling schoolboy, and she would have to be cautious, lest the limits of his self-control be exceeded.

  She smoothed the deep, rich burgundy velvet. “Is this womanly enough for you?”

  Cole laid a hand on the slim column of her throat, feeling the rapid pulse beating there and, with a thumb, lifted her chin until her eyes raised fully to his. “Were it any more womanly, madam, you would not escape my bedroom tonight. It is as much as I can bear and still retain my modesty.” His hand slid downward over her breast and around her waist, then slowly up her, back, gently pressing her closer to him. “Are you sure,” he whispered hoarsely, “that you would not rather spend the evening right here?”

  Alaina braced her elbows on his chest to prevent her bosom from coming in contact with him and laughed softly as she inserted the studs into his shirtfront with quick dexterity. “Mind your manners, sir,” she cajoled. “Olie will be upon us to find out the delay. I heard him bring the carriage around sometime ago.”

  Cole released her and picked up his cravat, muttering angrily, “Olie! Mindy! Annie! Miles! Someone is always threatening in this house.” He snugged the cravat about his neck. “I shall dispense with the lot of them”—he moved to the mirror as she flipped the striped silk into place—“and rape you at my leisure.”

  Light laughter echoed through the bathing chamber as Alaina retreated to the shelter of her own room. “So the cock crows,” her voice came chidingly. “Search out your vest and coat, milord. We are late.”

  Cole gave a lecherous grin to the image in the mirror before hastening to comply. Taking up a tall hat and throwing an evening cloak over his arm, he stepped from his room and met his wife as she entered the hall. He was taken aback a notch or two to find that she had donned the hooded, fox-trimmed cloak he had bought for her and had covered her charmingly upswept coiffure with an exquisite black lace shawl.

  Master Latimer was at his very best behavior as he handed his wife into the waiting brougham. He slid into the seat beside her and thumped the head of his cane against the roof, signaling Olie to get under way, then leaned back to place an arm about his wife’s shoulders and bestow upon her his full attention. The carriage lanterns leaked their shifting light in upon her, casting a soft glow on the enticing cleavage as he plucked away the sheltering folds of her cloak.

  “It pleases me that you’ve worn the cloak, my love,” he murmured huskily. “It suits you.”

  The endearment came from his lips like a tender caress, strumming the strings of her heart. Yet for all of her longing to be soft and responsive to him, she was mos
t wary. She could hardly feel confident in her ability to handle him, having failed at least once before. In many respects he was like some, sharp-fanged, wary-eyed wolf, ready to devour, but at the moment, temporarily pacified. She had cause to be cautious.

  “I’ve never worn anything so luxurious before, Cole.” She smoothed the fur trim shyly. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Only because you’re wearing it, my love,” he breathed as he bent his head near to brush his lips against her hair. “You smell as pretty as you look. All woman, soft and sweet.”

  Alaina privately conceded that his taste in perfumes suited her mood of the evening, but she was becoming increasingly aware that her ploy as temptress was quickly diminishing to the role of cornered hare. He had latched on to the game with fervor, and was chasing her down, wearing down her resistance with honeyed words and gentle caresses. What woman wouldn’t find her defenses much askew when boldly courted by the likes of such a handsome and zealous suitor? She was not to be blamed because she wanted it to continue, even though somewhere further on she must find the will to hold him off.

  Sometime later Olie pulled the carriage to a halt before a large, three-story, yellow building, the high gables of which were elaborately decorated with openwork. A porch, bearing the same plethora of gingerbread, stretched across the face of the structure.

  “What kind of place is this?” Alaina questioned eagerly as Cole handed her down from the brougham.

  “The best the town has to offer,” he stated with a grin. “But then, madam, you must remember that this is not New Orleans. Hardly comparable to the St. Charles as a hotel I’m afraid.”

  “Hotel?” She stared at him in wide curiosity.

  “Stearns House, madam. We’ll have a bite to eat here,” he obliged her further. “I’ve heard there’s a traveling troupe in town. Perhaps we can catch a performance after we dine.”

  “Will we be staying the night here?” Her voice was soft but the question blunt.