Almost as if he'd read her thoughts, Judah announced, "I want to go to bed."
"Judah, I'll be happy to make up a bed for you upstairs," Mary told him. "Or if you'd rather, I can try to locate your house, so you can sleep in your own bed in your own home."
The elderly attorney looked up at Mary from his place at the table and yawned widely. "I'm sleepy."
Mary sighed. She'd managed to avoid the upstairs all morning, but it didn't look as if she was going to be able to delay any longer even if she wanted to. Judah was a guest in her home, and Mary couldn't ask him to sleep on one of the downstairs sofas.
Maddy laughed suddenly, then covered her face with her hands. She peeked through her fingers, teasing Mary.
Mary stood up and took Maddy by the hand.
Judah got to his feet as well, then grabbed his hat and cane off a chair and limped out of the kitchen and into the entrance hall.
"Judah, where are you going?" Mary asked, following him.
"I'm going home," he answered. "I've got work to do. Papers to review. And court on Monday. I need to get some sleep."
"But, Judah, I didn't mean for you to leave. You can't go home," Mary tried to explain. "Not until you tell me where you live." She let go of Maddy's hand and rushed over to take Judah by the arm.
Maddy giggled again.
Mary looked down at her. "Do you know where Judah lives?"
"Uh huh." Maddy nodded.
"Can you take me there?" Mary asked.
"Uh huh." Maddy nodded again. She picked up her doll, then walked over and tugged on Mary's hand, leading her toward the stairs, away from the front door.
Mary understood. "Sweetheart, we'll go upstairs later. But right now, we need go to Judah's house."
Maddy giggled again and Mary realized she hadn't understood at all. Until now. "Maddy," she asked, "where does Judah live?"
"Up'tairs," Maddy answered.
Upstairs. The word took the wind out of Mary's sails. She plopped down on the bottom stair. Judah lived upstairs. She was responsible for him, right along with Maddy and Lee. Mary bit her bottom lip. Somehow she hadn't expected that added responsibility. Somehow she had thought that when they reached Denver someone else would be responsible for Judah. But they hadn't gone to Denver. They'd stopped in Utopia.
Utopia had come as a surprise to Mary. But Lee had known where they were heading all along. She wondered if Lee knew Judah was a permanent resident of Ettinger House and not a temporary guest. Mary wondered if that was another one of Lee's secrets—something else he hadn't told her.
Madeline cuddled closer to Mary on the stairs and touched her sleeve. "Zhudah wants go to sleep," she reminded.
Mary sighed as she got to her feet. She couldn't avoid the upstairs any longer. She had to explore the rooms on the upper floor. She had to venture into intimate territory, a place full of bedrooms and beds where people slept—and her husband lay sleeping. "Okay," Mary said. "Let's go upstairs."
"One, two, three, four." Mary let go of Maddy's hand at the top of the landing, then followed behind as the little girl led the way to Judah's room. Mary paused in front of each door she passed, quietly opened them, and peeked inside. All of the rooms were bedrooms and, Mary noticed, so far all of the bedrooms were unoccupied and none of them seemed appropriate for a little girl or suitable for an elderly gentleman until they reached the fifth door on the left side of the hall.
"Zhudah's room," Maddy announced as she reached up and patted the wooden door with the palm of her hand.
Mary turned to Judah and pasted a bright smile on her face. "Here we are, Judah." She turned the cut-glass doorknob and pushed open the door into a warm, welcoming room, full of dark wood furniture and packed with shelves of leather-bound volumes. Law books. "Home at last."
Judah didn't budge. He simply stared at the room as if he'd never seen it.
Mary didn't quite know how to handle the situation, but Maddy apparently did.
"Come on, Zhudah." Madeline took the elderly man by the hand and walked him to the large half-tester bed across the room. She tossed her doll, Mama, on the bed and issued another instruction to the older man. "Turn 'round, Zhudah."
Judah turned.
"Sit down." Maddy nudged him on the leg just above the knee and Judah obediently sat down on the edge of the bed.
Maddy turned to look at Mary who hovered in the doorway. "Me help Zhudah," she said, before she reached down to tug at Judah's shoelaces. She pulled the lace through the loop and the laces knotted.
Mary realized suddenly that Maddy knew a great deal more about Judah's illness than she did. Maddy recognized Judah's lapses in memory and understood that his loss of memory resulted in the loss of his basic skills. When that happened, he wasn't like other adults. He couldn't remember how to tie or untie his shoes, or how to button or unbutton a shirt. At two-and-a-half, Madeline had mastered some of the skills Judah lacked and had taken it upon herself to help him. Mary watched as Maddy patiently worked at undoing the knot she had made in his shoelace.
"Here," Mary said, as she crossed the room and knelt beside Judah's bed. "Let me undo that while you untie the other one."
Maddy let go of the knot and turned her attention to Judah's other shoe.
"Now what?" Mary asked, when Judah's shoes were neatly lined up beside the bed.
"Zhudah's coat." Maddy took hold of Judah's arm and lifted it.
Judah sat with his arms extended as Maddy tugged at his coat sleeve, undressing him as if he were a doll. After his coat, came his waistcoat and tie. And while Mary removed Judah's collar and unbuttoned his dress shirt, Maddy walked over to the armoire and took a blue-striped cotton nightshirt out of the bottom drawer.
The sight of Judah's bare chest, sprinkled here and there with gray hair, took Mary by surprise. It wasn't as if she'd never seen a man's naked chest before. She had seen her brothers, Reese, and her father strip off their shirts in summer. She had caught glimpses of shirtless cowhands as they washed up for meals, and even helped nurse her brother, David, through a bout of measles after he returned from the war, but helping Judah was different. His illness wasn't like the measles. Judah's illness was worse than the fever and pain of measles, much worse, because his illness took away his ability to take care of himself. It robbed him of his memories and threatened his dignity. He was a grown man, not a child, and no matter how hard Mary tried to think of him as a child like Madeline, she remembered the articulate, intelligent, sensitive gentleman she had seen earlier. Judah would be embarrassed to know Mary and Maddy had undressed him and put him to bed—tucked him in—the way Maddy tucked in her doll. He would be ashamed to know Mary had witnessed his weakness. And even though she doubted Judah would remember, Mary didn't want to take the chance. Judah deserved to keep his dignity. "Maddy, it's still daylight. I don't think Judah should wear his nightshirt before dark."
Relishing her role as the boss, Maddy refused to give in. She shook her head. "Zhudah go sleep. Zhudah nightshirt," she insisted.
"I don't think so."
"Nightshirt!" Maddy shoved the garment at Judah.
Mary snatched it away. "No, Maddy. Judah can nap as he is." Mary moved Madeline's doll off the bed and placed it on the nightstand. She turned to Judah, motioned for him to scoot down to the foot of the bed, waiting as he did so, then flipped back the covers. "In you go," she said as Judah lay back against the pillows and raised his legs so Mary could tuck the covers around him. "Sleep well." Mary reached out and patted Judah's gnarled hand. "Maddy, say goodnight to Judah," Mary instructed.
But Maddy had other ideas. "No!" She grabbed hold of Judah's nightshirt and tried to pull it out of Mary's grasp. "Zhudah, nightshirt!"
"No, Madeline," Mary said firmly. "It's too early in the day for Judah to be wearing his nightshirt." She tried to reason with an unreasonable two-and-a-half-year-old.
"No!" Madeline argued, still tugging on the garment.
It appeared Maddy was one of those children who demanded explanations
for every decision contrary to her own. "Lee… Papa… is sleeping now, too, and I'll bet he isn't wearing a nightshirt."
Maddy looked up at Mary and Mary could almost visualize the little wheels turning in Maddy's brain.
"Go see," Maddy said, as she suddenly let go of her end of Judah's nightshirt, grabbed her doll, and ran out of the room.
Realizing what Maddy intended, Mary tried to stop her. "Maddy, wait!"
But Maddy was already opening and closing doors down the hall.
Mary hurried after her. "Maddy!" Mary didn't know if Lee slept in a nightshirt or not, but she was willing to bet money that, as tired as he had been, Lee was sprawled, fully clothed, on top of the covers, across the nearest bed.
She came to an abrupt halt in the doorway of what had to be the master bedroom suite. It was a good thing she hadn't bet money because she would have lost it. Lee had been exhausted when he stumbled upstairs to sleep, but he had taken the time to see to his comfort. He wasn't sprawled atop the covers, but laying face-down between the sheets of an enormous polished brass bed. The bedspread and quilts had been pushed to the foot of the bed and bunched against the footboard. Lee had his right arm curled around a feather pillow and a white sheet draped over his hips.
* * *
Chapter Twelve
She was right about the nightshirt.
He wasn't wearing one, or anything else. His broad back, baked a golden color by the sun, was bare. And Mary wanted to reach out and touch him—to place her palm against his shoulder to see if his skin was as smooth and as warm as it looked.
She glanced around the room. Lee's shirt and pants hung over the brass footboard and his gunbelt was looped over the brass bedpost, while his hat crowned the top of it. His tall black leather boots lay in a heap on the floor beside the footboard as if he had sat on the side of the bed to tug them off, then tossed his boots aside.
Lee lay in the center of the bed. The thin cotton sheet draped across his lean hips and over his firm buttocks was the only thing covering him and the white fabric drew her gaze the way a magnet drew iron filings. Lying there, he seemed younger than his thirty-three years. His hair was tousled in sleep, his jaw shimmering with a two-day growth of beard, and his thick eyelashes fanned against his face. But there was nothing boyish about him. The tiny wrinkles marking the corners of his eyes, the powerful muscles of his shoulders and back, and the puckers and ridges of long-healed scars proclaimed him fully grown. Lee Kincaid was a gloriously healthy man in the prime of his life, and although it seemed to Mary that sleep should have given him a harmless appearance, the opposite was true. He looked dangerous instead. More dangerous and irresistible than she'd ever imagined.
Mary bit her bottom lip and clenched her fists to keep from giving in to her almost overwhelming desires. Heat rushed to her face. Her lips ached to be kissed and her body begged to be touched. Mary wanted to throw off her clothes and climb into bed beside Lee—to watch him open his eyes, to see those gray eyes darken with desire to an even deeper shade. She wanted to feel him run his hands over her. All at once, she understood how Faith and Tessa felt when they looked at their husbands. Now she recognized the urgency—the desire—the need to be with a man. And not just any man, but her husband, the man she desired. The man she loved.
Loved? Mary shook her head, trying to push the unbidden, unwanted thought aside. Not love. She couldn't be in love with Lee Kincaid. She was an intelligent, practical, levelheaded schoolteacher. And he was a carefree rogue. She couldn't be foolish enough to fall in love with him. It was desire, she told herself. Desire, pure and simple. Lust, healthy animal lust. That's what she felt for Lee Kincaid. But if that were true, she asked herself, why hadn't she desired other men, handsomer men, nicer, more suitable men? Why hadn't she wanted Pelham Cosgrove? Mary actually began to quake. When had she taken the tumble? When had she fallen in love with her husband?
"Come on,'" she whispered urgently to Maddy, intercepting the little girl as Maddy approached the bed. "Let's go before we wake Papa."
"No!"
"Maddy, you can see Papa's not wearing a nightshirt. Now, come along." Mary looked down at the watch pinned to her blouse. "It's time for your nap."
"Nap with Poppy." Maddy decided. She tossed her doll onto the bed beside Lee and pulled against Mary's restraining hand.
"No," Mary whispered. "Papa's not dressed for company," she explained. "He needs to be alone. And little girls like you…"
"Big girl," Maddy corrected. "Mine big girl."
Mary smiled. "All right," she said, careful to keep her voice low. "You're a big girl. And big girls like you sleep in their own beds. They don't sleep in the bed with their mamas and their papas. Right?" Mary waited for Maddy to agree or disagree with her explanation.
Maddy was quiet.
"Okay," Mary said, finally, when it appeared Maddy wasn't going to answer one way or another. "Show me your room."
"Mama," Maddy said reaching toward the bed, puckering up to cry.
"Ssh, angel, I'll get your doll," Mary promised. Although a part of her wanted Lee to wake up, open his eyes, and invite her to join him in the big cozy brass bed, Mary didn't want Lee to wake up to the sound of Madeline's crying. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Mary tiptoed to the bed and bent to retrieve Maddy's doll.
At that moment, Lee sighed in his sleep and rolled from his stomach to his side. The mattress dipped and shifted with his movement, and Mama rolled with him. The sheet, which had been modestly draped over his hip, slipped a bit lower as the doll rolled into the curve of his body. Mary stopped abruptly and stared at the thick blond hair that covered Lee's chest then tapered into a golden line that snaked down to where it disappeared from view beneath the sheet. She didn't move for a moment for fear of waking him—and barely dared to breathe, fearing he would hear the heavy pounding of her heart against her rib cage. Mama was within her reach, if only she dared to reach for her. Quickly, she made a grab for the doll. Reaching blindly, Mary closed her fingers around the doll's satin wedding dress, intending to jerk Mama toward her, but froze when the back of her hand grazed the sheet above Lee's loins. Mary sucked in a breath. She wanted to snatch her hand away, but found she couldn't.
Lee had reached out and gripped her wrist.
"You're exploring dangerous territory, Mary Two-shot," he said, slowly opening his gray eyes.
"I was trying to g-get M-Maddy's d-doll," Mary stammered nervously. "Sh-she threw it on the bed beside you."
Lee smiled, and his mustache tilted at an angle guaranteed to send Mary's heart racing. "You nearly got more than the doll, didn't you? You almost got more than you bargained for, huh?" He lowered his gaze.
She felt the hot blush creep from her neck to her face. "I-I d-didn't mean…"
His smile broadened. "My mistake." Lee slowly let go of Mary's wrist.
But Mary didn't move her hand. She didn't move at all. She simply stood there staring at him.
"When I woke up and found you groping…"
"I wasn't groping," she replied indignantly.
"Exploring then…"
"1 wasn't exploring either," she said. "I was trying to reach Maddy's doll."
"Whatever," Lee yawned widely and waved away Mary's explanation. "As I was saying, when I awoke and found you reaching for certain parts of my anatomy, I thought you might be interested in…"
Mary's blush deepened. "I'm not."
"You didn't let me finish, Two-shot." He sounded hurt.
"I'm not sure I'm ready to hear the rest of what you have to say."
"Hmmm." Lee yawned again and settled himself more comfortably against the soft mattress to give Mary's answer more thought. He had been about to ask Mary if she was ready to forget about her aborted marriage to Pelham Cosgrove III and the honeymoon that should have followed and concentrate on making a real marriage with him.
Lee thought about his relationship with Mary. It was a different sort of relationship than the one he had had with his first wife, Jeannie, and
worlds apart from the brief affair he'd had with Tabby Gray, but there was something—a foundation—to build on. He was sure of it. There was a spark of desire between them that might flame into a fire big enough to burn their entire lifetime. Lee smiled at the idea. He wasn't stupid, nor was he blind. He knew how it felt to kiss her, and how it felt when she responded. He understood the significance of Mary's stuttering. Lee had heard her sting her brother with her sharp tongue. And he had been on the receiving end himself a few times. But now, he also realized he made her nervous—knew that he, alone, had the power to make her forget how to form coherent sentences. He recognized the look in her eyes, the challenge coupled with something more… She was ready for a honeymoon all right. But who would she be sleeping with—him or the memory of Pelham Cosgrove?
Lee braced himself on his elbow so he could look at Mary. "Maybe you're right. Maybe you're not ready. But I'll be here when you are, Mary Two-shot. I'll be right here waiting."
"For how long?" His confidence shook her a bit. He'd be waiting for her, he said. But for how long? Until the next case came along? Until Pinkerton wired him telling him to report to Chicago or Washington or London or wherever the Agency needed him? Lee had told her he had decided to quit the Agency, but would he go through with his decision? And if he did, when would he resign? A week from now? Six months? A year? Would he fulfill his obligations before he resigned? Would he find Lily Catherine for David and Tessa as he promised? And what about him? What about his fidelity? His commitment to their marriage. Was he planning to stay with her for a lifetime, or just until the next pretty woman came along?
Lee had proposed to her on impulse and married her on the spur of the moment. And Mary had heard him propose to Tessa once as well. Did he make a habit of it? Was she his only wife? Or did he have a string of them in other little railroad towns like Utopia? Did he love her at all, or even like her? Mary sighed. She wanted to share his bed. She couldn't deny it. But should she trust him with her body when she wasn't sure she could trust him with her heart?
Something Borrowed Page 12