Authors: Alice Duncan
That
being the case, and because Eulalie was honest and straightforward except
when she couldn’t be, she removed her Sunday dress, stepped out of
her corset and stays, and breathed in a deep breath of relief. She simply
had
to stop eating so much.
The
wavy mirror Nick had found for her and that she’d hung in her bedroom
revealed she still looked good, in spite of a couple of extra pounds.
Actually, she decided, her face looked better with her cheeks filled
out a trifle. The dreadful tension of her final weeks in Chicago had
killed her appetite. She pulled the pins from her hair and brushed it
out. She’d been lucky when the gods were doling out hair, she guessed.
Hers was red-gold and wavy and as thick as anything. Because she recalled
that Edward had loved it when she wore her hair down, she opted to wear
it down this evening, since men, being predictable creatures, probably
had similar tastes in hair.
And
besides all that, Eulalie was sick and tired of pretending to be someone
she wasn’t. She also suspected that Nick wouldn’t care much how
she was dressed when he came to call. In fact, he’d probably appreciate
fewer clothes and impedimenta in the way of his ultimate fulfillment.
Therefore, she grabbed her favorite wrapper, flung it on over her head,
stabbed her feet into her wooly slippers, left her hair down, and donned
her spectacles. If Nick was going to be a more or less permanent fixture
in her life, he could jolly well take her as she was.
Then
she grabbed
The Moonstone
, plopped herself down in the overstuffed
chair that nominally went with the sofa, lit the kerosene lamp on the
table Nick had fashioned out of an old apple crate, and settled in to
read. She’d been at it for about a half hour when she heard a tentative
tap on the kitchen door.
Eulalie
rose from her chair, took a deep breath, prayed for strength, and walked
through the kitchen to meet her fate.
She
opened the door, and Nick stood there, hat in one hand and a little
bouquet of wild flowers in the other. She looked at the bouquet, feeling
stupid. “You brought flowers.”
He
shuffled his feet. “Figured it was the least I could do.”
Gazing
up at him, Eulalie thought that here was the man who’d built her a
house and furniture and agreed to protect her and Patsy, and now he’d
brought her flowers. Which he’d picked himself. She said, “Thank
you,” and stepped back so he could enter. She took the flowers and
found a glass to put them in. “I’ll put them in the parlor.”
“Yeah.
Fine.” Nick set his hat on the kitchen table and watched her fill
the glass and take it into the parlor, where she set it on one of the
apple-crate tables.
She
stood back and observed the flowers, smiling. “They look pretty.”
“So
do you.”
And
he took her in his arms and kissed her. Eulalie, who hadn’t been held
very much in recent years, melted.
Chapter
Eleven
Nick
left Eulalie’s bed and home before dawn on Monday morning feeling
better than he had in … hell, better than he’d ever felt in his
life.
Eulalie
had surprised him. Not only had she met him at her kitchen door wearing
a big, shapeless blue thing and slippers, but she’d had her glorious
hair unbound, and she’d been wearing eyeglasses. Eyeglasses! Miss
Eulalie Gibb, the most glamorous human female ever to set foot in Rio
Peñasco, New Mexico Territory, wore
eyeglasses
! What’s more,
she looked cute as a bug in them.
He
hadn’t wasted much time, but Eulalie didn’t seem to mind. She hadn’t
demonstrated the least little hesitation in fulfilling her part of their
bargain. Nick, who had been prepared for evasive tricks, was thrilled.
She’s
proved to be just as wonderful as he’d hoped she’d be, too. It occurred
to him that Miss Eulalie Gibb might be the one female on the face of
the earth that he might be able to stand being around for more than
a couple of hours at a time. She didn’t bear the remotest hint of
a resemblance to the females with whom he’d grown up—the sly, malicious,
manipulative cats that had masqueraded as family—his stepmother and
stepsisters.
The
blunt truth was that Nick hadn’t wanted to leave her this morning.
He said as much, shocking himself more than Eulalie, or he missed his
guess.
“Don’t
be silly, Nick Taggart,” she’d said as she shoved his trousers at
him. She wore her big shapeless blue thing again, covering up her spectacular
body that Nick had enjoyed every inch of during the night. “You’re
the one who said people will talk if they see that you and I have spent
the night together. I’m having a hard enough time being accepted by
the good ladies of Rio Peñasco without them all thinking I’m a scarlet
woman.”
“You’re
kind of scarlet this morning,” Nick pointed out. He rubbed his chin.
“Sorry. I shaved before I came over here.”
“I
know it. Thank you.”
“Anyhow,
they all like you. You’re already accepted.”
“Do
you think so?”
“Hell,
who do you think came to your party the other night?” He guessed,
after last night, he could forgive her for letting him go to sleep at
the party.
“Hmm.
Maybe you’re right.”
“I’m
right.”
“Well,
I’m pleased to hear it. Now go.”
She’d
knotted her hair on top of her head, too. In that blue thing and with
her hair up and her spectacles on, she probably should have looked like
a schoolmarm, but Nick’s masculine tool reacted to her with the joy
of experience and blissful memory, and he had a hard time getting his
buttons fastened.
“I’ll
come over again tonight. That all right with you?” He tried to sound
casual, but he didn’t feel casual. He felt as if his entire life had
just become … enchanted or something.
She
frowned, as if she were mulling over his request.
Nick’s
delight faded slightly. “You and I have a bargain, don’t forget,”
he said, his voice almost as hard as his cock.
“I
know we have a bargain,” she snapped. “But my sister will be arriving
today on the stagecoach, and I don’t know if tonight would be the
best time for you to pay another visit.”
Damn.
He’d forgotten all about the reason Eulalie had struck this bargain
with him. For a minute there, he’d begun to think she might actually
care about him a little bit. “Oh,” he said. “Yeah, I guess you’re
right.” Hell.
“Mrs.
Johnson has asked us to supper with her, and we’ll be home after that.
Mr. Chivers let me have the evening off, and this is about the only
time I’ll have to spend with Patsy until next Sunday.”
“Yeah.
I know. All right. Not tonight.”
She
reached for his arm. “I’m not trying to be difficult, Nick. Truly,
I’m not.”
He
eyed her closely for a moment before he decided she actually meant what
she said. “I know it. I just … aw, hell, Eulalie, you were great.
I … I’ll be looking forward to our next … ah … meeting.”
Did
her cheeks just flush? By God, they did!
“Actually,”
she said, “so will I.”
He
swept her up into his arms. “Good. I want us both to be happy with
this deal.”
“Me,
too.”
He
kissed her then, long, deep and hard, and by the time he put her down,
he was as ready for consummation as he’d ever been in his life. And
he wouldn’t be able to fulfill his desire until another damned day
had come and gone. Putting her down and plopping his hat on his head,
he said, “I’ll be at the stage with Junius to meet your sister.”
She
gave him probably the sweetest smile he’d ever received in his life.
It shocked him a little, Eulalie generally being so prickly and all.
“Thank you, Nick. That’s very nice of you.”
He
stared down at her, wondering if this was an act or if she meant it.
“Hell, Eulalie, the stage only comes once a week, and it’s about
the most excitement we get here in Rio Peñasco. You know that.”
“Yes,
I do know that, but I still think it’s nice of you and Junius to greet
Patsy. She’s had a very difficult time lately, and I know she’ll
be eager to meet you. I’ve written to her about you, you know.”
“Oh,
yeah?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what she’d written. Probably
something about him being a small-town hick or something like that.
“Yes.
I told her how very kind you and your uncle have been to me. In spite
of our shaky start.”
“Aw,
hell, it was nothing.”
“No,
it wasn’t nothing. It was definitely something.”
To
Nick’s horror, tears flooded her eyes. “Hey. There’s no need for
that.” He never knew what the hell to do when women cried in front
of him. He stood there, feeling solid and stupid and wishing she’d
stop it.
“I’m
sorry.” She fumbled in her pocket for a handkerchief. “It’s just
that I miss my family
so
much, and Patsy has been through such a terrible ordeal. I’m happy,
that’s all. And … and …”
“Aw,
hell, Eulalie. I know your life has been rough lately.” He’d deduced
that, actually, since she hadn’t really told him much. But he’d
come to appreciate her character, and he knew good and well that she
was too strong and independent and smart to cry over nothing. Because
he couldn’t seem to help himself, he wrapped his arms around her again.
“It’ll be all right, Eulalie.”
“Oh,
Nick, I appreciate you so much.”
His
eyes, which had been closed as he held her close—he loved the feel
of her in his arms—popped wide open. “You do?” Well, hell, how
had that happened?
“Of
course, I do. I don’t think I could have survived here if you and
your uncle hadn’t been so kind to me. And Mrs. Johnson and her children.
And Mrs. Sullivan. And the Loveladys. And … oh, everybody.” She
sniffled onto his shirtfront.
“Territorials
stick together,” he muttered, trying to think of something more brilliant
to say. He failed.
“I
guess they do.” Sniffling again, she withdrew from Nick’s arms,
leaving him feeling cold and alone. “I’m sorry for being so silly.”
“It’s
all right.” He shuffled slightly, tried to come up with something
to say that, if not brilliant, would at least make her feel better,
failed at that, too, and left, damned near running to get away from
those tears. Damn! He hadn’t expected Eulalie Gibb, of all people,
to cry at him. Maybe females really
were
all manipulative cats.
Somehow,
he couldn’t stand the notion of Eulalie being on the same level as
his stepmother and stepsisters, so he decided that he’d make allowances
in her case. Unless, of course, she ultimately proved herself false.
He only hoped that, if it ever happened, it wouldn’t be until he was
tired of her.
He
had the melancholy notion that tiring of Eulalie Gibb might entail the
association of an entire lifetime.
*
* * * *
Eulalie
didn’t have a notion in the world why she’d broken down in front
of Nick Taggart, but her tears continued for a good ten minutes—or,
more precisely, a bad ten minutes—after he’d left her that morning.
She hadn’t wanted him to go. She’d wanted him to stay and never
leave her.
She
was clearly losing her mind.
Or
maybe she was just sick and tired of being strong all the time. It had
felt wonderful during the night to give herself to Nick. He was so big
and strong and protective. Eulalie felt safe with him. She’d also
felt a variety of other sensations that surprised her a good deal. Edward,
probably the tenderest man in the entire universe, couldn’t hold a
candle to Nick Taggart when it came to making Eulalie’s body sing.
“I’m
sorry, Edward,” she moaned, mopping at her tears and curling up into
a little ball on the sofa.
She
realized at once that she wasn’t sorry at all, and that made her cry
harder. She’d loved Edward with all her youthful enthusiasm and innocent
ardor. Well, she
did
have her family still. Until her mother
and father died in that dreadful train wreck. Then she’d had Patsy
and Uncle Harry and Aunt Florence and a couple of cousins.
Eulalie
wished she could crawl back into her bed, pull the covers up over her
head, and hide for the rest of her life. Everything was getting all
muddled up. She’d believed it would all be so simple, because she
and Patsy had planned and schemed and made detailed arrangements about
how they were going to escape from the threat posed by Gilbert Blankenship,
in Rio Peñasco, a village so far away from civilization that surely
no one would ever find them.