M. Donice Byrd - The Warner Saga (15 page)

“Perhaps I should not go out tonight,” she suggested hopefully when he recommended she rest and not overexert herself.

“We planned a quiet dinner and perhaps whatever entertainments your city has to offer,” Blake explained.

The doctor sized up the couple. Deciding their relationship was none of his concern, he gave his objective medical judgment. “I see no problem with that, Miss Vande Linde.”

“Mrs. Warner,” Blake corrected.

The doctor’s eyebrows shot up with surprise and Blake followed the doctor to the door but didn’t follow him out. Instead
, he closed the door behind him.

“I brought you something,” he said before she could tell him to get out.
“A peace offering.”

“Indeed.”

He held it out to her. “I said I’d replace the dresses you had to leave behind.”

As he continued to hold the parcel out to her, Meredith’s mouth tightened. He
had
come to pick out her dress! When she made no move to take it, he set it on the bed and untied the string. She took a tentative step closer.

Carefully, Meredith unfolded the tissue paper to reveal the rich, forest green gown. Her fingers reverently caressed the cool, smooth silk as she lifted it from the box.

“I’ll come for you in an hour.” When she began to protest it was not enough time, his mouth captured hers in a light, quick kiss. “I’m not a man who likes to be kept waiting,” he warned and strode out of the room.

Speechless, Meredith stared at the closed door, her fingers unwittingly at her parted lips.

Blake paused in his pacing long enough to check his pocket watch and stepped to the window to see if the hostler had brought his horse and the rented buggy around. Perhaps he should go down to the livery and get it himself, he thought only a moment before he spotted
the buggy pulling up in front of the hotel.

He looked again at his watch actually seeing the time. He had waited long enough he decided as he took a few purposeful steps toward the door. What the hell was the matter with him? He acted as if he’d never stepped out with a woman before. The only thing his impatience would get
him, would be an embarrassingly long wait in the corridor.

To hell with it, if she wasn’t ready
, he'd just go downstairs and have a drink.

He found himself knocking on her door before he was conscious of having made his decision.

“Who is it?” she asked in a singsong voice.

His eyes shot heavenward. “Who the hell else are you expecting?”

“It hasn’t been an hour yet, has it?”

“It most certainly has,” he snapped, knowing it had only been about forty-five minutes.

“Just a moment.” Less than minute later she swore. “Blake, are there any ladies about – a maid perhaps?”

“Criminy, what’s the matter?”

“I can’t get my gown fastened. Be nice and fetch a maid for me.”

“For goodness sake!” he said.

Impatiently, he grabbed the doorknob and turned. He didn’t know who was more startled when it opened. “You really should keep your door locked.”

“It’s not a mistake I’ll make again, I assure you.”

Ignoring her wide-eyed stare, he closed the door behind him and took over her task. Meredith could feel the heat creeping into her cheeks. She tried to convince herself that she should not be embarrassed; after all they had been intimate. There was only three or four inches left to hook, all he would see was a small amount of her upper back.

His warm hands occasionally came in contact with her flesh as he deftly fastened her dress.

“What…?” he said as he finished. “Who taught you how to fasten your dress? You have two hooks left over.” He ran his finger down the line of fastened hooks and eyes. Stopping in the middle of her back he added, “You missed one here and…” He continued his downward path and stopped in the small of her back, pressing his finger into the second spot. “And the other here.”

As she reached around to the spots indicated, he began undoing the hooks. “No!”

He held firmly to her dress as she tried to pull away. “You’ll rip it,” he warned and ignored her further protests and struggles to pull away. “I’m not going to ravage you, if that’s what you’re afraid of. It’s not as if I haven’t seen you in your unmentionables before.” But even as he said it, his fingers slowed in their task. Already halfway down her back he had yet to encounter her chemise or corset. She clutched the front of her gown tightly as her upper arms firmly locked against her sides. With effort he forced himself to be oblivious to the bare, creamy skin of her back. To spare her any more embarrassment than he was already, undoubtedly causing her, he refrained from saying anything and preceded as if it were the most normal thing in the world for a woman to wear nothing under her gown – well, not nothing exactly – at least at her waist he encountered her crinolines and drawers.

Blake felt the heat rising up his neck. The dress was low-cut and off her shoulders requiring a special chemise. She had no underthings to wear with it in her
meager wardrobe and he had not thought to provide her with any.

When he finished, he placed his hands on her bare shoulders, running his hands over the curve until he reached the puffed, off-the-shoulder sleeve. Towering over from behind her as he did, he could see the swell of her youthful breasts, the hint of cleavage above the draped forest green silk décolletage of her low-cut dress. She looked incredible. Her waist was so naturally
narrow, no one would ever suspect she was uncorseted.

Suddenly, she pulled away and whirled on her heel to face him, accusingly.

“You had no right!”

“I told you I didn’t like to be kept waiting. You should have been ready.”

“You were early.”

He opened his mouth to defend himself though
he knew she was right. “You look beautiful,” came out instead.

And she did. H
er face wore a healthy glow he suspected was as much anger and embarrassment as it was her own natural coloring for she wore no makeup at all. The dark forest shade of the cool water silk seemed to heighten the redness of her hair yet made her eyes a startlingly pale shade of gray. His eyes swept downward taking in every detail of the stylish gown, lingering momentarily on the pointed bodice and her tiny uncorseted waist.

“Well, you look like the dandy I always suspected you were.”

“I’m glad not to have disappointed you,” he said as he swept off his top hat and gave her a mockingly low bow.

Had Blake looked up when he was bent over, he
would’ve seen her grinning at him from ear-to-ear. Meredith knew she would be the envy of every woman they encountered. He was unbelievably handsome in his black frock coat, gray trousers and gray and white checked, double-breasted shirtwaist worn over a stiff collared shirt made of white linen.

“Who taught you to put on a tie?” she fussed as she straightened his tie, though in truth it was perfect.

His blue eyes shined with an unfamiliar light as his pearly teeth became visible through his curving lips. She wrapped her hand around the crook of his proffered arm as they left the room. Holding her head high, she tried to be the beautiful, confident woman she imagined he usually courted despite being sure she would trip and fall down the stairs and end up sprawled head over heels on the landing.

Meredith felt disappointed the lobby was nearly void of people. Only the desk clerk looked up as they pass
through and seemed to take little interest in them.

Waiting on the street was Blake’s mare harnessed to a highly polished rig. The horse’s mane had been braided adding an air of elegance. She wondered, as he handed her into the carriage, if there was any detail left unattended by Blake besides the lack of a chemise.

13

Des Moines
was a quiet city of large houses with picket fences and porch swings. Couples strolled leisurely along the wooden sidewalks and crickets chirped loudly in lazy chorus. Even the streets with saloons seemed quiet with only the low excited roar of the crowd spilling into the streets when near the doorway.

Blake took her to eat at the nicest restaurant in town and to a performance of
As You Like It
performed by a troupe of traveling actors. Meredith laughed and enjoyed herself so much and was in such a good mood afterwards that Blake didn’t dare comment on the poor performances for fear of getting into another fight with her.

As they left the opera house, Blake sat back and listened as Meredith excitedly recapped her favorite moments of the comedy. He liked seeing her so enthralled by his choice of activities.

“Have you seen Shakespeare before?” he asked.

“I’ve never seen any play before. I tried to read Shakespeare once but I really struggled to understand the old English phrasing. It made a lot more sense hearing it.”

“Ever go to the opera or ballet?”

“No.”

It would be so easy for him to give her these experiences – so easy to make her face radiate with joy as it did now. He wondered how many of these experiences he could squeeze in before the divorce. No, it wasn’t fair to her to show her his world when she might someday marry another man and experience these things for the first time with him. He wondered if it was selfish that he still wanted to be the man seeing the happiness on her face. What if she never had another opportunity to be exposed to the arts? Was it better to never know what she was missing?

Meredith scooted closer to him on the buggy seat,
wrapped her arm around his and rested her head on his shoulder.

Normally, he’d asked a woman who made unwanted contact if she was cold. Blake was not a man to encourage physical contact. He had enough trouble keeping women at arm’s length without allowing them the subtle encouragement of holding hands and such.

So, he didn’t understand why he didn’t mind it now. Perhaps it was because he could feel her soft breast pressed against his arm through the sleeve of his frock coat. It was sophomoric he knew, but he flicked the reins so he could move his arm against it.

Ah, those beautiful breasts of hers. All night long
, he tried to ignore their subtle movement under that thin layer of silk. But knowing she wore no chemise or corset under her gown had been a distraction of epic proportion. When he wasn’t surreptitiously trying to decide if he could discern the difference, he watched the eyes of other men to make sure they weren’t staring at her. If they were, he intentionally moved to block their view.

He flicked the reins again making his inappropriate contact more obvious this time. Her breath hitched and she shifted away from him, releasing his arm, a blush heightening her color.

“You did that on purpose,” she said. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you treat me like a hussy when I acted like one but I’m really not like that.”

“I don’t think you’re a hussy,” he said contritely.

“Would you have treated the women you’ve courted that way?” she asked putting her hands on her hips and making the dark green silk drape loosely over her breasts. As the carriage hit a hole in the road, the fleshy mounds shifted one way, then the other before finding their natural position.

He mentally groaned as his body reacted of its own accord. Criminy! One would think he was fifteen again.

“That doesn’t mean I think you’re a hussy.”

“You said it yourself this afternoon.”

“I never….”

“You said I’d been kissed before and more. What does that make me? Maybe you prefer a different word?
Tart? Slattern? Slut? Whore?”

“Stop!”
He would have put his hand over her mouth if he hadn’t held the reins.  “Christ, where does a girl like you learn those words?” he asked. “Just because you’ve kissed other men doesn’t make you loose.”

“But I haven’t kissed other men.”

“Are you trying to tell me I was the first man you ever kissed?” he asked dubiously.

She crossed her arms over her chest and looked off into the darkness. He heard her slowly inhale through her mouth and he heard her unsteady exhale. “I’ve never kissed anyone else.”

“I was your first kiss? There wasn’t a boy at school…?”

“There wasn’t a school there until recently. My parents educated me,” she said. “There was only a man when I was about fourteen who wanted to teach
me how to kiss but he was as old as my father and I ran home and told my parents.”

The hair on his arms and the back of his neck bristled. After his mother died, he felt the same sensation when approached by certain men who claim they wanted to help him. “Good girl,” Blake said with a nod. “What did your father do?”

“He confronted him. But Unc- the man denied it. His wife very vocally took his side and tried to cast the blame on me. She told everyone I tried to seduce him.”