The blue eyes raised slowly until they met hers in the mirror, then he went back to clipping the snag. “I shall endeavor to protect your reputation as much as I can by not asking for his assistance.”
“It’s a bit late to be concerned about my virtue, don’t you think, Major?” she replied with a bitter laugh. She shrugged, pushing a fallen tress from her brow, as he scowled at his hand. “I mean, you might have exercised as much caution the day I dragged you from the river.”
He tossed the scissors down with an impatient gesture. “At that time, madam, I believed you were what you claimed to be. Thus, you must accept part of the fault. You were most convincing.”
His remark stung like salt in an open wound. “You must have been very gullible that night, sir,” she replied with rancor. “You believed the lie Roberta told, too.”
“But yours was the one that settled the matter,” he remarked tersely, and for a moment Alaina was frozen by those eyes that swept her, peeling away the meager covering of her shift until she felt ravished by his stare. Then he returned to the bathing chamber and closed the door behind him without further comment.
Cole leaned back against the portal to slowly release his mind and body from the iron restraints of his selfcontrol. His insides were churned to a painful depth, for it had taken all his will power to refrain from a physical display. Somehow he must conquer this ingratiating weakness of his.
Chapter 35
THE upstairs maid, Gilda, had been originally hired as personal maid for Roberta and timidly offered her services to the new mistress in styling an upswept coiffure for the evening’s festivities that would be held at Latimer House. Alaina had never before had her hair dressed by anyone other than her own mother or herself, and it was a luxury she found most enjoyable. The dark, burnished tresses were artfully woven into a swirled grandeur that even complimented the widow’s garb she had temporarily donned to see to some last minute chores.
One of those labors was the supervision of Mindy’s bath. The girl had not yet conceded that washing was particularly good for a body, or, for that matter, even necessary, and unless encouraged, she avoided the toilette entirely. She was to be allowed to attend the festivities for a short time, at least long enough to sample Annie’s delectable confectioneries and to meet some of the guests when they arrived. Breathless with anticipation, she fidgeted nervously as Alaina helped her dress and repeatedly inspected her lace-edged smock of white and the new royal blue velvet gown. Then, in a most genteel and lady-like fashion, she descended the stairs and perched her tiny frame in the hall where the parlor settee had been moved to provide room for the dancing. There, she was prepared to meet the first arrivals.
Alaina hurried down the hall to her own chambers, and as she neared them, was struck once again with a feeling of being watched. This time she knew the source was not Mindy. She slowed to a hesitant walk and, reaching her door, half turned and peered down the lighted hall. There was no place for even a small form to hide. Then, as her eyes scanned the corridor again, she noticed that the door to Roberta’s suite stood slightly ajar. Curious, she returned to the portal and pushed it wider. The room was dark, and no movement hinted of another’s presence.
“Cole? Cole, are you in there?”
No answer came to reassure her. Taking a lamp from the hall bracket, she cautiously entered. Her eyes moved about the room, roaming the deep shadows beyond the glow of the lamp. As the light fell upon the bed, a gasp was torn from her throat. On the gold satin coverlet lay a ball gown of blood red hue, the sort that Roberta might have worn. In such a dress she would have demanded the attention of every young swain in attendance.
A chill went up Alaina’s spine. She almost expected her cousin to flit gaily from some darkened corner and swoop up the dress to don it, while laughing at the ruse that had been played on the unsuspecting “Lainie.” Here she was all this time, she would warble, right beneath a MacGaren’s nose, still married to Cole, and he part of the scheme to dupe the younger cousin. Only a prank, she would shrug. Only a prank to fool “Al.”
Alaina took a firm grip on herself, thrusting down those errant fears that threatened to cartwheel out of control. Someobdy in the house was playing tricks all right, but hopefully not the sort that she imagined.
The lamp shed a dim aura of light as Alaina lifted it higher. A reflection from Roberta’s writing desk caught her eye, and she remembered that the desk had been closed several days before when she had entered the room. Now it was open, and a journal was spread wide beneath a quill pen that slowly leaked a dark blot onto the page, forming an outsized and misshapen period to the writing. The blot was still wet beneath her testing finger, and as Alaina looked closer, she recognized the elaborate script as Roberta’s own.
Her hands trembled as she set the lamp on the desk and lifted the book to read the last page of the dead woman’s memoirs.
“I see it in Cole’s eyes. He stands at the end of the bed, knowing what I’ve done, knowing I’ll soon be gone from this world. He makes a pretense at helping me, but I know he’s anxious to be with her again—that little tramp cousin of mine, and he’ll go to her again when this is done—this dying. Oh, why—why did I let myself be used like this?”
Alaina’s heart took up a frantic beating as she flipped back through the pages to where her husband’s name again caught her eye.
“I almost wish Cole could have seen me today, spreading myself for that stinking oaf’s delight and pretending to swoon with passion when he took me. How I loathe them both, Cole for all of his lusting after Lainie, his tricking me, and this fool I killed with kindness—“
Alaina turned forward several pages, and her puzzled gaze scanned the writing she found.
“I need no fool to tell me what must be done. Cole would be amused if he knew. He’s not tried my door since he learned that Lainie was the whore in his bed that night. But I will not give him the pleasure of knowing my condition. I’ve been told there’s a woman in town who will help me rid myself of this thing. I must not delay.”
Pages flitted through Alaina’s fingers, and her eyes searched each with an eagerness that was spurred ever on by the writings.
“The filthy fool thought to have me at his beck and call because he caught me hiding my treasure, but my secret is safe again, well hidden from prying eyes and such scum as he. It’s mine now, and I’ll leave here rich!”
Alaina was not sure how long she read bits and parts of the diary, but she suddenly became aware of Cole calling her. Voices were drifting up from the downstairs hall—a good many voices mingled with laughter. It suddenly penetrated her awareness that the party was well on its way without her, and that Cole was searching for her.
Tucking the book beneath her arm, she lifted the lamp and hurried from the room. She found Cole pacing her bedroom in a very agitated state. When he saw her, he appeared much relieved.
“Madam, where have you been?”
“Cole, just look at this—” she began, holding out the book toward him.
“There’s no time, Alaina.” He took the diary from her and tossed it casually upon the bed. “Half the guests are here, and they’re threatening to tear the house apart if you do not soon appear.”
“But the book is important,” she insisted. “It’s Roberta’s diary!”
“Forgive me, madam, but I am not the least bit interested in reviewing what she might have written. I am more interested in getting you downstairs. At least half the guests have vowed that they will take the house apart stone by stone if I don’t return with you posthaste.”
“Really, Cole,” she chided. “You exaggerate.”
“Madam, you do not know my guests!They’ve already depleted the wines that were brought up from the cellar and have begun to raid the pantry for more.” He pulled her across the room as quickly as his awkward gait would allow and halted before the armoire. Impatiently he flipped through her personal wardrobe, then growled, “There must be something better than this.” He turned to her,
slipping into his military tone of command. “I care not for the color or pattern, but tonight you will garb yourself as befits a Latimer woman.”
His haste drove all caution from his mind, and he forgot the fate of those who dealt roughly with this small wench. Her suddenly angry glare should have warned him away from further foolishness.
“Sir,” she snapped. “I will garb myself as befits a MacGaren.”
“A MacGaren!” he barked unreasonably loud. “Kin to one of those damned Irish clans, I’d wager!”
“Eh, nay, sir!” She rolled the r in a manner that would have made her father proud. “Nane o’ yer flatland Irish litters, but one o’ the foinest highland Scots!”
“A bunch of paupers, by the looks of you and that damned black rag!” He flicked the open collar with a derisive snort. The sight of it was too much for his pride to bear.
“Black rag!” Her voice rose in incredulous question. “It’s a fine piece, and it’s served me well! And if I see fit, it will serve to greet the best o’ yer Yankee backwoodsmen!”
Cole peered at her closely, irate suspicion boiling near the surface. “And you’d do it, too, just to humble me in front of my friends.” Her look of defiance boded ill. “Well, madam, we shall see about that.”
Before Alaina could move or retreat, he reached out and, catching his hands in her open bodice, split the gown and, because she wore no corset, all beneath it to her waist. Alaina stumbled back and gaped down at her overextended décolletage. She raised her gaze just enough to see his vest, and her eyes flashed with wicked intent for the barest moment, then she became all woman, soft and appealing as she moved toward him apologetically.
“Cole?” she murmured softly and smiled up at him as she rubbed a hand against his chest.
Now, when Alaina MacGaren Latimer became sweet and gentle, Cole had learned to be wary. He tried to brace himself against whatever it was she intended, but he knew not from which direction it would descend upon him. Her hand slipped down and began to slowly undo the buttons of his vest.
“I—was—wondering”—she worried coyly at the last button—“How”—smiling sweetly, she tugged his shirt free of his trousers—“you would like”—a sound much like a purr came from her throat as she laid her hands on the front of his shirt—“your clothes”—then she snarled in rapid fire—“torn off you!”
With a quick movement she sent a full front of shirt studs sailing about the room and, in the process, laid bare his chest. Satisfied, Alaina smiled and flicked a finger against his loosely dangling cravat before she stepped away, leaving him to stare down in absolute stunned amazement at his ruined clothes. Having a choice of further violence or retreat, the master of the house wisely chose retreat and started for the bathing chamber door and the shelter of his own rooms, only to find that his wife had proceeded him.
“Use the other door, please,” she bade him pertly. “I’m going to finish my toilette.” Before he could protest, she stepped within and closed the portal behind her.
Muttering to himself, Cole opened the hallway door, but as he limped to his door, he immediately wished that he hadn’t, for Carolyn was at the head of the stairs conversing with Miles. Her jaw sagged in astonishment when she glanced down the corridor and caught sight of him. Miles turned slowly to follow her stare, and a wide range of expressions crossed the servant’s face in the half second before he regained control. Cole gave a curt nod of greeting to them, then, opening the door, entered as casually as possible.
A few moments later, with a fresh shirt donned, he was amid his guests and renewing acquaintances that had sagged in disrepair for many months. As he waited for his wife, he noticed that every time he turned, Carolyn was watching him, but whenever he caught her eye, she quickly hid her face behind a gloved hand or faced in another direction. Though he was the prime target of her curiosity the whole evening, the sight of him obviously upset her.
He had only consulted his pocket watch thrice when suddenly the room grew quiet and the guests moved aside, opening a corridor before him to the parlor entry. Alaina stood in the open doors, her wide-hooped skirt brushing either side. The silence in the room was as much stunned awe as anything. There had been rumors drifting through the area about Latimer’s new wife, but most had dealt with a small plain-looking woman. Nothing had prepared them for this.
Cole felt the weight of her beauty, and if any tiniest bit of irritation remained at her tardiness, it immediately vanished at the sight of her. To his supreme gratification, she was wearing a gown he had purchased for her, a most charming creation of pink taffeta that bared her shoulders sublimely. She saw him, and it was as if the whole room brightened in the dazzling radiance of her smile. He moved toward her and decorously presented his arm, while his eyes glowed warmly into hers. Turning to the guests, he introduced her, immensely proud that he could say the words.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” His voice rang out loud and clear. “My wife, Alaina.”
Immediately a buzz of voices filled the silence, and guests came eagerly forward, bestowing good wishes on the newly wedded couple and clasping Alaina’s hand in ready friendship. Names became a blur of confusion for her as Cole introduced their guests. His arm remained about her, claiming her as his possession, as he lightheartedly conversed and bantered with acquaintances.
Through the maze of faces Alaina caught sight of Braegar and nearly broke into laughter at the outrageously lecherous leer he cast toward her. At his elbow Rebel obviously found his humor wanting, for she gave his sleeve an angry jerk and tossed a glare toward Alaina.
When some of the throng moved away, Alaina found Mindy’s hand snuggling timidly into hers and the dark eyes proudly perusing her as if to convey a certain satisfaction that no other lady was quite as pretty. An affectionate hug from the young woman made those eyes even more radiant.
“Madam, I believe this is our dance,” Cole announced as he signaled the musicians to begin. He smiled into her amazed countenance. “I believe I can manage the slow steps, never fear.”
She blushed lightly at his gentle chiding. “It’s just that I never considered that you’d be dancing.”
Bringing her into his embrace, he swept her into the waltz. “I may not be the most graceful of your suitors, my sweet, but I must be the most determined. And I’ll not give you up without a struggle to the hordes of fawning youth who are waiting to claim a dance with you.”
“I would say that you dance much better than most,” she stated with truthfulness. Indeed, he waltzed with a sureness of step that gave no hint of his affliction. Meeting that engulfing blue gaze with warmth, she relaxed against his arm and questioned, “Do I meet the standards of a Latimer woman, milord?”
“Madam, I fear not.” Cole swung her in a dizzying whirl, then brought back her smile as he continued. “They are dashed beyond repair. You have set such standards I seriously doubt that they’ll be matched for at least the next thousand years.”
“And do I meet your standards, sir?”
The heat of his stare lent the weight of truth to his words as he gave an answer. “Were we alone, my love, I would swiftly prove the ardor you have stirred.”
“What about the arrangement?” she reminded him gently.
“Blast the arrangement!” He lowered his voice as eyes turned to stare at him curiously. He brought her nearer. “I have a far better arrangement in mind, much more in keeping with the whole idea of marriage.”
Something caught at Alaina’s heart, a warming hope that all would be well between them and that they could enjoy each other without restrictions. Still, she was hesitant and murmured, “We should discuss this further.”
“You are right, of course. But in a more private place.”
“My bedroom?”
“Perhaps. Or mine.”
“Later?”
“As much as I would like otherwise, it must be.”
Alaina’s left hand rested on his shoulder, and few of the other dancers noticed that it crept upward until it r
eached the top of his starched white collar where it dallied, gently caressing the nape of his neck.
“Aren’t you the tiniest bit interested in the book I found this evening?”
“Roberta’s diary?” He arched a brow questioningly. “Should I be?”
“It was a very personal account of her thoughts.”
“Then I think I am better off not knowing them,” he said, derisively.
Alaina searched his face. “Roberta once declared that she would never have a baby, and from what I was able to gather from her writings, she tried to do something about her condition—and that you knew what she had done.”
“I was aware of what she had done after she went to the butcher,” he admitted. “I tried to do what I could to save her, but the fever took her.”
“Uncle Angus blames you for her death.”
“I guessed as much.”
“He blames me for bringing you to the house.”
Cole grinned suddenly. “I think I should have taken you in to live with me the first time I saw you. The one thing I would have done was clean you up a bit, then your secret would have been out for sure.”
“I probably would have shot your leg off, or something worse,” she chuckled. “I had a real aversion to Yankees then.”
“What about now?”
“I can stand a few,” she smiled, and her eyes glowed as he squeezed her hand in warm communication.
As far as Mindy was concerned, heaven began the moment the master of the house asked her to dance. They walked through the steps, and under Cole’s guidance, she caught the rhythm, following his deliberate small steps with a natural grace. The young girl beamed, and for a few moments at least, Cole took his attention away from Alaina as she was swept about the room in another man’s arms.
“Mistress Mindy, have you considered that you’re the belle of the ball?” Cole asked debonairly, smiling down into the child’s radiant face.
A quick, negative shake of the dark head and a nod in the direction of Alaina answered him. Cole had to agree with the girl. Alaina was like a shimmering butterfly, rid of its dour cocoon, now bright, beguiling, mesmerizing, a fascination to watch.
Ashes in the Wind Page 57