Ashes in the Wind

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  “Poor judge of character!” she railed, wrestling the gown over her head. She flung it over the armoire door and retraced what was quickly becoming a well-worn path through the bathing chamber, while she plucked at the ties of her petticoats.

  “Invite him! What do you mean, invite him?” she demanded.

  Cole paced restlessly about his room, snatching open his collar and unfastening his shirtfront. “He obviously knew I was gone.”

  “He dropped by to see you, sir!” she explained irately. “And stayed until you came home! When it became apparent that you were not in the mood to discuss anything with him, he left. Do you find that questionable, sir, or imagine it as some illicit affair? Will you say you’ve been cuckolded again?”

  She wiggled out of her petticoats and, tossing them over her arm, stalked back to the armoire where she dragged forth her overly mended gown and wrapper. Cole returned to her door, pulling the tail of his shirt from his trousers. Letting the shirt fall open, he braced a hand high on the doorsill while she, in tight-lipped silence, pointedly ignored him.

  Cole knew he was being unreasonable, but he plunged recklessly through this madcap folly with the gift of a fool. “You have many admirers, madam, but in this case, have not the sense to know what that bastard is after.”

  Alaina threw her night garments on the bed, incensed by his insult. She faced him with arms akimbo, well fired to lead a crusade against ridiculous nonsense despite the fact that she wore nothing more than camisole, pantaloons, and corset. Indeed, the garments might have served her as more gallant armor in a different joust had she given even the merest thought to her state of dress.

  “I was well chaperoned, sir! A full half dozen of your servants can vouch for my conduct. Ask Annie, Miles, Peter, or Mrs. Garth! You may question them all if you doubt that I was anything less than proper.”

  “Proper! Ha! Sitting at the table, letting him drool over you! As for the servants, I’m beginning to think the lot of them would lie themselves blue in the face to protect you!” He jerked off the shirt and rumpled it into a ball as he returned to his own chamber.

  Alaina was only a step behind as he entered. “Lie to protect me! You boneheaded mule! They are your trusted servants! Why, they’ve been giving me excuses all afternoon and so sheepishly that, were I the suspicious sort, I could believe you had run off to seek your pleasure with some loose-minded hussy!”

  Cole flung the shirt across the room, thrust his right foot into the bootjack and began to carefully work the boot off. “And what if I did?” he ground out. “Have I been awarded such favors in this place that my honest urge would be dampened?”

  She glared as he seated himself on the foot of his bed to tug off the other boot. “Well, Doctor Latimer, you sent your man quickly enough when the terms were drawn! So now you can stew in your own kettle!”

  She retreated into her bedroom and kicked her slippers into the corner, nearly sizzling with indignation. That he should dare accuse her of withholding her favors when it was he—

  “Did you fear that it would be ‘Al’ who would greet you at the dock, Major?” she called through the open bathing chamber. She perched on the stool in front of the dressing table and rolled down the knee-length stockings, dropping them carelessly to the floor. “You bawl so loudly about your restrictions now, you undoubtedly expected me to be less than worthy of your attentions.”

  “Oh, I knew you to be worthy all right.” His voice came angrily through the open doors of the bathing chamber. “It was your game that set the trap for me. If not for you, I would never have married Roberta.”

  Alaina shot to her feet and strode barefoot through the middle room, seeking some outlet for the indignation she felt. “And you never once doubted that it might have been somebody else!”

  Cole threw up his hands in exasperation. “How the hell should I have known? I thought there were only two women in that house.” Standing tall, lean, and muscular in the narrow fitting underwear that boldly displayed the bulge of his manhood, he casually arched a brow at her and mocked, “Should I have given the credit to your aunt, my dear?”

  “Ooooohh, you’re a cad!” she cried and padded irately over the familiar trail to her haven.

  “Perhaps I should have blamed that dirty-faced Al,” he followed her to scoff. He destroyed the idea with a quick slashing of his hand. “Absurd! I would have thought, not knowing of course that he was a she lurking beneath a rascal’s garb. Nor would I have expected a proper young lady to disguise herself as a woman of the streets and apply herself to the part with such vigorous enthusiasm.”

  Alaina gasped in outrage and dashed after him as he strode arrogantly back to his room. If he thought to leave on that last word, she had something more to say in her behalf. Undaunted by his broad shoulders and bare back, she caught his elbow and tugged him around until she could glare up into his face.

  “For your information, sir, I did not apply myself like that at all!”

  “You came to my room willingly enough.”

  “You were drunk, and I was afraid you’d wake the house and get shot for an intruder.”

  “So! Should I be grateful for what you did?” His tone was caustic. He left her standing with hands clenched in rage, throwing back over his shoulder, “Do you mind if I was not too overjoyed with being left in Roberta’s care?”

  Alaina scuffed a small, bare foot against the floor as she meandered back to her room. “You were so eager to give her all the honors. How could I have stopped the marriage? Had I spoken up, I might have rotted away in one of your filthy Yankees prisons.”

  “So you saved yourself,” he jeered through the doors.

  Pricked by his scorn, she flicked the hem of several skirts hanging in her armoire. “And you, sir, think to compromise me with fine dresses and costly gems!” She moved toward the door, wanting to see his face when she hurled the full accusation in it.

  Cole jammed his trousers in the wardrobe and slammed its door. That little, virgin-minded temptress! He would see that she understood the full weight of what she had started.

  They met at the foot of the tub, angry face to angry face.

  “Perhaps you have women you can buy so cheaply, Major, but I’m not for sale!”

  He laughed in derision. “If it’s a matter of cost, madam, what do you think that medallion you wear around your neck is worth?”

  His taunt was too much! She would give the blasted thing back to him! She jerked the necklace off, unintentionally striking him across the face with the light chain as she whipped it over her head. Her arms were raised, and it seemed to Cole that she meant to vent her rage in a more physical manner. He caught her slim, corseted waist and snatched her to him to prevent her from striking again.

  Alaina’s breath left her in a sudden gasp. She was immediately aware of his naked chest and the manly feel of his lean, muscular body pressed to hers, while he was made totally conscious of her meagerly clad form. They stared at each other for a second of suspended time, which could as well have been a century or two. Then slowly, almost haltingly, Cole lowered his mouth to hers.

  The shock was abrupt, and the first gentle touch of his lips turned to a heated, crushing demand. Rage had become raw hunger; agreements and contracts were cindered beneath the white heat of their mutual desires. It all came upon them in a rush, the awakened fires, the hungering lusts, the bittersweet ache of passion so long restrained. Cole knew the lithe form in his arms from a half dreamed night long ago, and the warmth and softness of her set his mind and body aflame.

  Alaina clung to him, aware of his desires, knowing what he wanted her to yield. She waited again for the screaming denial to come from some dark, unfeeling recesses of her brain, this time determined to squelch its intrusion. But strangely she found only empty silence as if her conscience watched in amused approval.

  Cole straightened slightly, and his blue eyes burned into hers with an unspoken question: Would she deny him again, as she had in the past? Would he be turned
away once more with this craving hunger still gnawing at the pit of his belly?

  The pendant slipped unheeded to the floor as Alaina raised on slim toes, reaching parted lips to meet his and sliding silken arms tightly about his neck. She came to him with an eagerness that astounded him, having no thought of holding back or refusing him. This was Cole—man. And she was Alaina—woman. No hint of Al remained between them, and each found the other as a long-tended seed came to fruition. Their lips blended with an impatient urgency, and, locked in each other’s embrace, they were caught up in the fierce tide of passion.

  Muttered, unintelligible words tumbled from Cole’s lips as he pressed fevered kisses along the ivory column of her throat and the beginning swell of her breasts, arching her backward over his arm, while his other hand stroked the roundness of her buttock and a shapely thigh. There was a haste in him to know and touch every part of her, to claim her as his own, to let his lips wander at will over her soft flesh. His lean fingers worked between her breasts until the chemise fell open above the corset, exposing the tantalizing fullness of her naked bosom to his sight and hand. Glowing waves of pleasure spread like quickfire through Alaina’s body as he caressed the silken curves. He bent and swept her up into his arms, and his eyes met hers with an intensity that took her breath away. Then, as she stared, his gaze lowered, and she was devoured as he boldly drank his fill of the vision of her creamy flesh. His head came down, and a breathless moan slipped from her as his mouth caressed a pink, pliant crest. His tongue branded her with its fiery torch, and her lithe form shook with the fervor that built within her. Her lips brushed his cheek, and she traced the tip of her tongue around his ear. His face turned, and his mouth was suddenly there, tasting hers with a hunger they both shared.

  Vaguely Alaina was aware of the tremor in his arms, of his movement toward the massive four-poster in his room. They were in a world alone, apart from the whale oil lamps that were left burning, the scratch of the barren limbs against the windows, the crackling fire in the hearth. Even the realization of his wound was dimmed, for he moved with an easy strength that belied his lameness.

  Beneath the edge of the heavy tapestry that bordered the high tester, Cole withdrew his arm, letting her legs slide down against him. Before her feet touched the floor, the corset fell upon it. The blue flame in his eyes flared brighter as the underbodice parted to the waist. His mouth lowered to savor the sweet, heady wine-nectar of her lips, and his tongue chased hers in a provocative play that traversed the warm cavities of their mouths. The straps of her chemise were brushed from her shoulders, and Alaina shivered in ectasy as his hands leisurely stroked downward over the heaving roundness of her breasts. They swept her hips, loosening the pantaloons, and aided their descent to the floor. His hand slipped between them and released his undergarment, and for Alaina the shock of his bold, manly flesh was renewed and remembered, just as startling and awesome as that night long ago.

  Like two feathers caught on an airy breeze, they drifted down to the soft comfort of his bed, their mouths clinging, their sighs mingling into one breath. His hand stroked her body in a long caress, then wandered along more intimate ground, stopping her breath with his boldness. Her thighs quivered and loosened beneath his questing search, and her eyelids fluttered as a rapturous bliss washed through her. Her breathing was shallow and rapid, while her heart thudded a wild, frantic rhythm.

  “Oh, Cole,” she sighed in a soft, trembling breath. “What are you doing? Is this some torture you’ve brewed for me?”

  “Eh, no torture this,” his ragged whisper came against her lips. “But love, as we make it together.”

  “Then love me more,” she pleaded. “And let me love you.” Hesitantly she brushed her fingers along his scarred thigh. “Is it—permissible to touch you?”

  Cole held his breath as he guided her hand to the hard, heated shaft where throbbed the pulsing hot blood of his desires. His whole being turned to liquid as her cool, gentle fingers explored his man’s body, igniting too many fires for his crumbling restraint. Shaking, he raised above her and lowered his hips between her thighs, pressing his entry home as his hard belly caressed the softness of hers.

  It was a merging. A blending. A coming together. Man with woman. Husband with wife. Softness yielding to hardness. Wonder turning to rapture. Bodies straining and cleaving together. Two beings wrapped in the pure bliss of their union, proceeding in eager, uncaring haste, giving all to the other and in return finding everything and more.

  And it came, just as it had before, whatever it was that made their coupling unique. As waves of pure physical pleasure washed over her, Alaina could only sense that theirs was a special nectar of love. Cole knew it. It was what had held his mind in tow all these many months, and now he poured himself into her, groaning, shuddering, reaching into her very soul with his possession of her and binding their heaving bodies in total consummation.

  A fine film of sweat glistened on their bodies as they lay entwined in the afterglow of love, their passions spent, their muscles drained of strength. Cole turned his face into the rumpled, fragrant hair that spilled across his shoulder and inhaled the delicious scent of her, remembering the many nights of torture when he had not been able to banish her from his mind. For some time he had known that she was the catalyst that stirred his blood until his passions seethed. He had been a man burning with desire—but always for her. Now sated, he could only marvel at the peace of contentment.

  Freezing temperatures after a heavy fog had frosted the barren limbs of the trees, dressing the landscape in a bedazzling array of crystals that shimmered and danced beneath dawn’s rising sun, that same which tentatively thrust its rays into the room to awaken the sleeping woman. Alaina stretched languidly beneath the cozy luxury of the down-filled comforter before she realized she was alone in the oversized bed. Clutching the covers to her naked bosom, she sat upright and glanced about the empty room. A crackling fire danced in the hearth, chasing the chill from the room, but it was a poor substitute for the warmth she felt in Cole’s presence. Then, from the open door of the bathing chamber, drifted reassuring sounds of his proximity. Wrapping the sheet about her, Alaina ran across the cold oak floor into the adjoining room where Cole sat relaxing in a steaming bath. Her mood was gay, almost flippant as she rushed forward to bestow a lingering good morning kiss upon his lips, sending his mind reeling back to the memory of her shy but captivating boldness of the night before. He found himself much enamored with this lighthearted sprite who had come into his life with her unquenchable élan. There was more woman here than he had ever realized, and it was not the calculated femininity of Roberta, but an easy, natural thing that never failed to stir his ardor. He savored the warmth of her mouth eagerly conforming to his and sighed as her lips left his. Her eyes sparkled above a puckish smile as she gave him a long, deliciously lecherous perusal that took his breath away.

  “Need any help, Yankee?”

  “As a matter of fact,” he breathed, crooking an arm behind her neck and pulling her back for another kiss, “I am in dire need of a little feminine companionship.”

  The sheet dropped as he tugged it free, and he pulled her down on top of him, spreading wanton kisses upon her mouth and bosom.

  “Finally,” he murmured huskily against her throat, “my threat has been carried out. But little did I think when I issued it that bathing you would be so pleasurable.”

  Chapter 37

  XANTHIA Morgan descended from her modest carriage with the help of her driver and paused on the front steps of Latimer House to cast her eyes toward the dark, lead gray sky that hovered close above the rooftop. Her breath was an icy frost in the chill air, while the crisp sting of the north wind hit her full in the face. She would have to conclude her business here quickly if she intended to make it back to St. Cloud before the gathering storm descended.

  Shown into the parlor by the butler, she seated herself on the settee to await the entrance of Alaina. Earlier in the morning she had seen Cole pass
the shop in his buggy, and she had seized upon the opportunity to meet his young bride. At least she had the advantage of surprise. The girl would be totally unprepared.

  Slipping off her gloves, Xanthia glanced about the room with a critical eye. Roberta’s tastes had always leaned toward the garish, and this crowded, overdecorated room suited the woman’s overbearing personality. Of course, there really hadn’t been time for the new mistress to change things, but Xanthia was most curious to see if Alaina was of the same type. Rumor had it that she was hardly more than a child, and from Rebel Cummings’s careless chatter, a cloying little mouse of a girl. Though men could be unpredictable in their tastes, Rebel’s opinions could not be relied upon either.

  Roberta’s haughty arrogance had displayed itself on her many visits to the millinery shop. In search of some trinket to appease a momentary whim, she had often ripped off a veil, flower, feather, or whatever ornament she had found displeasing on a hat, then, upon trying it on, she had many times decided she preferred something else entirely.

  Quick footsteps sounded in the hall, almost running, and a breathless voice addressing the butler, “Oh, Miles, will you ask Annie to prepare some tea?”

  The chimes of the clock brought a gasp from the unseen woman, and her distress was obvious in the barely subdued whisper that reached Xanthia’s ears. “Two! Half the day is gone! Why didn’t someone wake me sooner?”

  Xanthia did not lay the cause of the girl’s tardy rising to a night and morning spent in amorous lovemaking. She could only think that the new mistress was as lazy as the old.

  “Doctor Latimer left explicit instructions that you were not to be disturbed this morning, madam,” Miles quietly informed his mistress. “And he said to tell you that he had business to attend to in St. Cloud and would return as soon as possible.”