He placed the frame on the desk, then went to stand in front of the fire, placing more logs on it before spreading his hands before its warmth.
“This was my father’s study.” He folded his hands behind his back and stared thoughtfully into the flames. His deep voice seemed to fill the corners of the room as he continued. “I used to come here to find some peace, to think, to get away from”—he shrugged—“whatever bothered me.” He turned and unbuttoned his greatcoat, sweeping the room with his gaze. “Roberta came here looking for me about a week before she died, but I had gone into town. She found your photograph and flew into a rage.” Slowly his hand ranged about to indicate the mangled interior. “And you knew Roberta well enough to believe that when I returned the next day, she was still fit to be tied.” He chuckled briefly. “Miles had taken the day off, Annie was hiding in the fruit cellar, the upstairs maid and the downstairs maid were cringing in their rooms. Mrs. Garth was the only one who dared move about. Roberta accused me—and you, for that matter, of plotting the whole thing against her.” His lips twisted in a bitter smile. “She demanded to know where I was keeping you hidden.”
Alaina was confused. “But why did you keep the photograph?”
His eyes raised slowly to meet hers. “Don’t you know, Alaina?”
What she wanted to believe could not be reasoned out, not when the memory of Xanthia Morgan was harsh in her mind. She stiffened her neck and turned away from him, gathering the scattered papers into a neat stack.
“Did Roberta know about Mrs. Morgan?” she asked caustically over her shoulder.
“No,” Cole replied flatly. “And neither do you.”
She whirled, ready to beard this stumbling brute. “I know you were there yesterday—before you so tenderly came to me.”
“That’s true.” Cole stretched his shoulders back as if something in his chest pained him. “I went to her with the meanest of intentions, but nothing came of it. I realized before I passed through her door that it was a mistake. I could not reach out—or touch her—or find any desire to hold her. And nothing more happened, Alaina. Olie may attest to that. I joined him only moments after he left me at her door. He and I shared a cup—or two—or maybe it was three, I forget. If you wish, you may condemn me for the thought, but you must pardon me for the act.”
A warmness grew within Alaina that was not of the fire burning in the hearth. Her voice was tiny and hesitant as she questioned, “Why did you keep the photograph?”
Cole heaved a long sigh and, taking her hand, settled himself in the large overstuffed chair that faced the fire and pulled her down onto his left thigh.
“Is it so hard to understand, Alaina?” he queried, half frowning, half smiling into her searching eyes. Slipping off her damp shoes, he tucked her cold, stockinged feet onto the seat of the chair, snuggling them intimately between his thighs and bracing a hand on her buttock to hold her. “I have been in love with you for some time now. Even before I left New Orleans. I tried to discount it and lay it to infatuation, but I had to finally face the truth.”
“Impossible!” Alaina flung out a hand in a wild, flamboyant gesture as she protested his claim. “Our marriage proves it! If you had loved me, then you would not have demanded the arrangement.”
“Madam, you jest!” He laughed in amazement. “I never demanded anything of the sort.”
“But Uncle Angus said you did!”
“Then he lied and played us against each other, for I have a letter from your uncle stating it was your desire to have a titular marriage and that you would not come up here unless I agreed to such an arrangement.” His hand stroked upward along her arm. “I suppose Angus decided to brew the mischief after I wrote to Doctor Brooks and Mrs. Hawthorne asking them to approach him with my proposal.”
“You wrote first?” Alaina probed the translucent depths of those clear blue eyes.
“Mrs. Hawthorne wrote to inform me of the trouble you were having with Jacques. She said that if I cared for you at all, I’d forget about trying to appear indifferent and do something to help. I took her advice and offered marriage. If she hadn’t written, I might have wasted some time floundering around for an excuse to ask you to marry me.”
“Was it so difficult to propose?” she inquired softly.
“You put down my overtures so firmly in New Orleans, I had some doubts as to whether you would accept. I was after better odds.”
“You honestly wanted to marry me?” she questioned in amazement.
“Madam, I wanted you any way I could get you, and that’s no lie.”
Tears filled her eyes, and a softening warmth replaced the anger and mellowed her emotions. After all their battles and arguments, could she believe that he cared for her? Was this what she had coveted all those months when he had been with Roberta? His tender regard and his arms about her? Could she relax her distrusting vigil and be the warm, gentle woman she longed to be in his presence?
Almost shyly she slipped her arms about his neck, and as his open mouth found her lips, she returned his ardor hesitantly. Slowly the trembling lips parted and yielded to his passionate kiss.
Alaina pulled away slightly and tried to put her reeling thoughts in order as she leaned her brow against his cheek. She had to take this more slowly, get her mind organized. It was all happening too quickly, and she cautioned herself against stripping her vulnerable emotions bare too soon. She had hidden them so well for so long, it was hard to turn loose.
She steadied her quaking heart and postponed making important decisions by turning the subject away from her. “This place—tell me about it. Tell me about your family.”
Cole leaned his head back against the chair to stare up at the painting above the mantel. “There’s little to tell, really. My father built this house for my mother shortly after they moved here from Pennsylvania. She died after my first year, and he married again—I suppose he thought he was providing me with a mother. My stepmother demanded a better house be built for her. She designed and furnished the one we now live in, and my father was too busy with his patients to give much heed to what she was creating until it was finished. She might not have been altogether pleased with the house either, for it wasn’t six months after it was completed that she ran off with a gambler. It was the last my father saw of her. He was rather bitter you might say. When she left, she took what money and valuables she could lay her hands on. My father swore then that she’d never get another cent from him. He disinherited her and any offspring she might claim as his.” Cole rested his cheek against the softly flowing russet tresses as Alaina nuzzled her face against his throat. “It would seem that the Latimer men have not been altogether successful with their women—at least, not until now.”
There had been so much strife between them, Alaina longed now only to relish the tender, the softer emotions. It was much later when they returned to the house. Wrapped in a buffalo robe for the short ride home, she was scarcely aware of the fierce wind that swept icy rain down upon them. She needed only the presence of the man beside her to be content with her surroundings.
Cole halted the buggy in front of the house and, lifting her still bundled in the robe, carried her indoors where they were met by the anxious looks of the servants who gathered in the hall. Worry turned to relieved laughter as Cole unwrapped the pelt, presenting her safe and sound to the household. Mindy came timidly forward to clutch Alaina’s skirts and refused to relinquish her grasp until the young woman tucked her gently into bed and quietly assured her that she would not run away again.
Some time later, when Alaina entered her own bedroom, she came to an abrupt halt and glanced about. Her first thought was that someone was playing tricks with her. The armoire was gone. The rug had disappeared along with the chaise. Even the clock had been removed from the mantel. The room was no different from the first time she had seen it, the only exception being that several comfortable-looking chairs had been placed before the fireplace.
She swept a full circle in dismay an
d was ready to fly downstairs in anger. Then she heard Cole moving about in his bedroom, and a new thought dawned. She followed the mental urging and passed through the bathing chamber. His door stood wide, and she halted within its frame. Everything was there, the chaise before the window, the mirror in the corner, her armoire beside Cole’s, and the clock on the mantel as if it had always been there. Even the bare floor that had chilled her feet only that morning was now covered by the soft carpet that had been in her bedroom for these many weeks.
Cole sat before the cheery fireplace, his knee propped high to ease the tightness in his thigh. His eyes raised as she came to stand beside him, and her own shone softly.
“You’ve been playing games with me, milord, and adding my men to your side of the board.”
He smiled with disarming gentleness. “What better way to lure you into my bedroom?”
“We do have a marriage then?”
He arched a brow wonderingly. “Of course, my love. Have you ever doubted it?”
“On occasion, sir. But what once seemed a dismal bargain seems to have turned into something almost too good to be true.”
“And will you henceforth share the bed and the room with me, Mrs. Latimer?” he queried.
“Wait for me?” she questioned in a shy, soft whisper.
“Don’t be long.”
Pausing briefly to select a nightgown from her armoire, she retired to the bathing chamber to garb herself as befitting a bride. She was just slipping into the grayish blue gown when she heard Cole’s footsteps come to the door and pause on the other side, as if he were impatient with her toilette. After a long moment, the footsteps went away, leaving her to hastily brush out her hair to a soft, silky sheen.
No great amount of time had passed before she heard Cole return to the door and stand once again on the other side of the unopen portal. Smoothing her hair, Alaina slowly pulled the door open. He was there, tall and slender in a long velvet robe. The heat of his gaze ranged the full length of her in a long, slow, appreciative stare, pausing on the soft, pale nipples showing provocatively through the lace and admiring the womanliness of her that was readily visible to his hungering eye. It was unmistakably a gown he had purchased for her.
“You’re beautiful,” he breathed almost in awe.
Smiling timidly, Alaina reached out a hand, and with a single tug, the belt of his robe fell limp. She spread the garment wide and stepped close to him until the heat of his naked body blended with the warmth of hers. Then her arms were around his neck, and her lips met his with a fevered eagerness that never failed to amaze him. His arms swept her up. The bed beckoned, and they sought its downy comfort together as one, man and wife. For Alaina, it was like being home after an eternity away. He was home to her, and she was safe in his arms.
Chapter 38
IT was a swiftly fleeting hand of time that swept the days of the month past, speeding on the hours that were too sweet to lose so quickly. Yet now there was always the promise of more rapturous moments just ahead.
As Alaina contemplated leaving the cozy comfort of their bed this morning, she grew warm with the memory of the past month when in the hours of night she had lain in Cole’s arms before the crackling fire and answered his kisses and caresses, or talked quietly with him of intimate things and shared remembrances. She smiled as she thoughtfully fingered the medallion that was once again about her neck. The addition of precious gems had enhanced its beauty, but the script still boldly read, property of c.r. latimer. Now that they had a real marriage between them, Alaina found herself even more deeply in love with Cole. Though she would have denied it, and her pride and prejudices had struggled against it, love had rooted itself firmly within her heart long ago, moving out hate and intolerance.
Retrieving her gown from the floor, Alaina slipped it hastily over her head and donned her robe. She remembered that Cole had been restless during the night and had seemed in a great deal of pain after he had slipped on a loosened strip of carpet on the stairs. He might have plunged headlong to the bottom had he not fallen against the balustrade and managed to grasp the railing. She had noted the long bruise on his scarred thigh as he undressed for bed, but forgot about it when he came to her and began to remove the gown she had only just donned. The memory of what had followed brought a light blush of pleasure to her cheeks. Not too long ago, there had been a time when she would have torn the heart from anyone who would have dared to suggest that a bluebelly Yankee officer would be the doting joy of her life. Now he seemed the center of her very being.
Alaina’s slippered feet skipped lightly down the stairs. But halfway in her descent of them, she halted in surprise. Miles was stationed in front of the closed study door and appeared once more on guard against any possible intrusion. The servant hesitantly met her troubled gaze and conveyed his apology in his eyes. It was as before; she would be forbidden entry into her husband’s private domain.
“Doctor Latimer offers his apologies, madam,” he murmured in pained embarrassment. “And he begs you to forgive him. He will be unable to join you for breakfast.”
Alaina struggled through the day as best she could, unable to understand Cole locking himself in the study and setting guards at the door to keep her out. Later in the day, Olie relieved the butler, and Alaina’s vexation showed in her frowning visage as she faced her husband’s driver with arms akimbo. The man squirmed uncomfortably on his chair and, whistling an airless tune, fixed his attention on his feet.
The servants tirelessly guarded the study door for four straight days and were well into the fifth when Alaina lost patience with the lot of them. She could hear the faint, singsong voice of her husband behind the barrier they provided and the closed, forbidding door. As far as she was concerned, Cole had already steeped himself in too much privacy and brandy, and she grew incensed at the loneliness of her bedroom.
It was Peter’s misfortune to have drawn the afternoon watch at the door when Alaina’s pique reached its limit and she entered the hallway, determined to put an end to Cole’s monkish whimsy. The young man had been most wary of the first mistress, but this one he had come to idolize and consider her much in the same light as a small, delicate, fragile, china doll. Younger than she by only a hand’s count of months, he had led a sheltered life in this secluded place and had never known the shattering effect of a full broadside of feminine wiles.
His heart pounded as she came toward him with a smile designed to melt honey from any comb. He came to his feet in an awkward scramble, ignoring the book that spilled to the floor.
“Keep your seat, Peter,” she bade the youth sweetly. “I was just going to have a word with the doctor.”
Peter began to obey, then his bedazzled mind recalled the reason he had been posted at the door. “Uh, mum?” He hastily took a position in front of the portal to deny her entry. “Doctor Latimer’s orders were to—uh—keep you out.”
“Oh, really, Peter!” Alaina placed a hand gently on the lapel of the boy’s coat and observed that he seemed to be having some trouble with his breathing. “You know it’s touted that a man can’t have any secrets from his wife. Now, I realize the doctor likes a fine brandy now and then, and of that I have no complaint. But this sort of drinking is ridiculous. I simply must discuss this with him!”
“Oh no, mum! It ain’t the drinkin—I mean—that’s part of it I guess, but really it’s more his—!”
“Peter!” The name cracked in the silence of the hall as Miles came from the back of the house. “You know what Doctor Latimer said, Peter.”
Although Miles’s voice was harsh in reproof, Peter seemed relieved to have his supporting presence. Miles took up station beside the lad, drawing himself into a stiff caricature of the proper butler.
“Do you really think to keep me from my husband?” Alaina questioned almost incredulously as she considered the pair.
“Yes, madam,” Miles answered sternly. “On his orders, madam, we are to insure his privacy.” Miles’s eyes stared down from either
side of his thin, hooked nose as if he were sighting a weapon at her.
Calmly Alaina took Peter’s chair and slid it a good distance down the hall, positioning it in a corner facing outward. She returned to stand before the two men, while they obviously fretted beneath her deliberate stare. She lifted a hand and pointed to the chair.
“Peter, sit there.” Though still gentle, there was something in her voice that did not encourage argument. Peter obeyed with alacrity, and Miles faced her alone, fixing his gaze on the far wall as tiny beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.
“Miles?” He flinched at the sound of her smooth, silky voice.
“Yes, madam?” A nervous tic began at the back of his right arm.
“Do you consider yourself a gentleman?” Alaina began to pace back and forth in front of him.
“Yes, madam, of course.” Miles sniffed. “One of the best schools in England and one of the best families. In fact, I have instructed at several schools on the continent.”
“Indeed, a professor!” Alaina nodded. “Of the manly arts, I presume?”
“Yes, madam. You might say that.”
“And you are a gentleman of the old school.”
“Yes, madam.”
Alaina halted her pacing and stood directly in front of the butler, her arms akimbo. He stared at the wall over her head, and the sweat began to trickle down his face.
“Have you ever struck a lady?” Her voice took on a crisp note of inquisition.
“No, madam! Of course not!” He was aghast.
“Have you ever used force against a lady?”
“No, madam!”
“Do you consider me to be a lady?”
“Oh, yes, madam. Decidedly so, yes.” His voice dwindled as he began to feel the bite of the trap. A long pause followed with only the sound of Alaina’s toe tapping on the hall floor.
“Then please step aside, Miles.” Her tone was one of brisk command. “Or I shall destroy your reputation on the spot.”
Ashes in the Wind Page 62