Midnight Rose (31 page)

Arlene managed a smile but inside felt no optimism, for she could not help wondering how much longer anything would matter.

When Erin arrived home to find Ryan had not returned, she was disappointed.

When the evening wore on, and he still did not come back, she became angry.

When, at last, it was time to go to bed, she went to her own.

It was nearly three in the morning when Ryan returned from the Monroe farm. He was in very high spirits. The mare had indeed delivered twins—a colt and a filly. Quincy had obligingly given him his choice, and he’d picked the filly. Erin could choose the name, because he was going to give it proudly to her. She could raise it and help train it, and then she’d have a good-blooded mare to ride alongside him around the plantation.

He had ridden almost at full gallop to get home. Not only was he anxious to tell her about his gift, but he also couldn’t wait to find her in his bed. Maybe, he was starting to think with a warmth in his heart, they really were going to be happy together, and maybe, he smiled to the night world around him as he rode, she might one day return his ever-growing love.

The grooms had all gone to bed, and the stables were dark. He unsaddled his horse himself, gave him a quick rubdown, because the animal was well lathered from the hard ride. Then he hurried to the house.

He approached from the rear. Eliza slept in a small room just off the service hallway, assigned there by his mother years ago to keep an ear out for his comings and goings at night. He avoided going in that way whenever possible and, through force of habit, turned to go in the front of the house.

He glanced up to the east wing as he started up the stairs and wondered why Erin had not left a lantern burning for him. Maybe she had decided he would be out all night. No matter, he grinned to himself, quickening his step, he was going to wake her up and let her know differently, by God!

He entered his room through the door that opened out into the main hallway and walked in the darkness straight to the bed. “I’ve got a surprise for you, Erin,” he called softly, not wanting to startle her from slumber. He reached out, expecting to touch her soft skin, to feel the sensual curves of her warm body.

His hand flattened on the spread and mattress.

Blinking in bewilderment, he groped about to realize she wasn’t there. Whirling around, he made his way out and into the parlor. There was a quarter moon, scant light, but enough to keep him from bumping into anything. Then, opening her door, he was slammed with disappointment and anger as he made her out, contentedly sleeping in her own bed.

Was this her way, he wondered bitterly, of reminding him that she had married him for one reason only—and that it
had nothing to do with wanting him, much less loving him?

He shook his head in discouragement, stepped out of the room, and quietly closed the door.

Chapter Nineteen

Erin was not about to ask Ryan why he never came to her that night, nor did she inquire as to exactly when he returned home. She pretended not even to notice. In turn, he never mentioned the note he had left or asked why she had ignored his request.

In the days following, Ryan told himself it was time he became more involved with the actual workings of the plantation. By so doing, it took his mind off Erin and his brooding over the invisible wall between them. He called together his overseers for reports; then, satisfied that all was operating smoothly, he began to devote himself entirely to his favorite pastime, his prize horses.

Erin, meanwhile, looked forward to her mother’s visit. She was also ever on the alert for the right time to approach Ryan about the tense situation at Zachary’s. But it was starting to look as if the opportunity just wasn’t going to come. He stayed away from the house during the day, and if he did come around, he was cool and withdrawn. It was no different at night. His lovemaking was as tender and satisfying as ever, but afterward, they were like strangers. There was never the proper milieu for intimate conversation. As the days passed, she found it difficult to believe that one special evening had actually happened.

She ached inside, but on the outside, she pretended not to care. But there seemed to be so many empty hours with nothing to do. Then she hit on the idea of restoring the garden area around Henrietta Youngblood’s grave. It would give her an opportunity to check the spot herself, without anyone wondering why. With fall approaching, there were fallen leaves to remove anyway. If Ryan even noticed, he said nothing. It was as though he never gave her a thought until bedtime. He began to take his meals in his study, locking himself away for the evening. Erin did not say a word, merely had Annie bring her a tray to the upstairs parlor.

It was on Saturday evening when Erin’s patience finally grew thin. All week, she had been cooped up inside the house, save for the time when she puttered around the grave. In the morning, she would be sending for her mother. It was for her sake that Erin wanted to try and make sure there’d be no tension between her and Ryan, for a little while, anyway.

Deciding she was just going to have to talk to Ryan, Erin went to the serving kitchen and told Eliza to let her know when he came into the house.

Eliza did not speak or acknowledge her request.

Suddenly, standing there, the subject of the woman’s blatant disrespect, Erin could contain herself no longer. “Eliza, I am talking to you.”

Eliza was polishing silverware and did not look around as she dully responded, “I know that. And I heard you.”

Erin resisted the urge to stamp her foot childishly for emphasis. “Then act like you hear me.” She bit out the words tightly, evenly, fighting to control her rage as the woman insolently continued to keep her back turned.

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want…” Erin took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I want you to say politely,
‘
Yes,
ma’am, Miss Erin, I’ll be glad to let you know as soon as Master Ryan comes into the house.’ Then I will be sure that you heard me, and that you will carry out my request.”

In a maddening monotone, Eliza sarcastically obliged. “Yes-ma’am-Miss-Erin-I-will-be-glad-to-let-you-know-as-soon-as-Master-Ryan-comes-into-the-house.” She still did not turn around.

Erin swiftly walked over to her. Her fury was not motivated by the insolence of a slave to a mistress. Far from it. Her ire was provoked by the fact the woman was deliberately being impudent and arrogant. “Eliza,” she began in a heated rush, “servants at my stepfather’s house will tell you I am a very easy person to get along with. I make no unreasonable demands. I do not scream. I do not yell. And, most certainly, I have never lifted a hand against any of them. But I want you to know that I won’t stand for you treating me this way. I’m going to have to speak to my husband about this.”

Eliza did look up then, and the eyes she locked on Erin gleamed with contempt and challenge. “You do that. You just go right on and do that. And the sooner the better, so he can tell you just how it is around here, how I don’t have to answer to anybody in this household except Miss Victoria. Not even him. That’s the way it’s always been. That’s the way it will always be. If you want someone to slave for you, then you call Annie. Not me.”

Erin was aghast and could not believe what she was hearing. “We’ll see about that,” was all she could trust herself to say at that moment.

Ryan came in a short while later, and it was Annie who came to tell her so. She went immediately to the study and knocked on the closed door.

“What it is?” he called.

Erin turned the knob, then stepped inside.

Seeing her, he shook his head in apology for his abruptness. “I thought it was one of the servants. They know not to bother me when that door is closed.” He was sipping brandy and held up the glass to ask with quiet, almost mocking eyes, “Would my bride like to join me?”

“It seems I’m too far behind to catch up.” She could not resist the sarcasm, but seeing the way his face darkened, she wished she had taken a glass. The last thing she wanted to be was a nagging wife, but it seemed they grew farther apart with each passing day. “As a matter of fact,” she said hurriedly, “I wanted to talk to you about one of the servants.”

At that, he gave a short, brittle laugh. Leaning back in his leather chair, he propped his booted feet on the edge of the desk and pretended to be in deep contemplation before retorting, “Let me try and guess. It wouldn’t happen to be Eliza, would it?”

“That’s right.”

“And you want to complain about how she told you that she answers only to my mother.”

Erin sank into the chair opposite. It looked as if she would be there awhile. “I see she cornered you the second you walked in—”

“No, no,” he was quick to correct, “You don’t understand, Erin. Eliza didn’t have to tell me anything. I figured sooner or later you would come to me with this, because that’s the way it is. And she probably told you it wouldn’t do any good to speak to me about it, and she’s right. It won’t. I can’t drag her outside and have her beaten. I can’t haul her off to the auction and have her sold. She belongs to my mother, and if there’s any disciplining to be done, my mother will do it.”

“Did your father have the same lack of authority?” she wanted to know.

“You better know it.” He grinned. “Maybe,” he softened his tone a bit, “when you meet my mother, you’ll understand why. She can be a very difficult woman.”

“Well, thank you for warning me.”

“Would you have refused to marry me if I’d told you what an ogress she can be? I think not. But don’t worry. As you can see, it’s a big house. Her quarters are now way in the other wing. If you keep on having trays sent to your room, you’ll hardly ever see her.”

Erin again yielded to sarcasm to match his. “I might say the same for you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Ah. You noticed.”

Their gazes locked in silent challenge as they came to the brink of yet another battle of wit and will. Erin gave herself a mental shake and was reminded of the other purpose for the meeting. “I’d like to talk about something else,” she began, folding her hands in her lap. “My mother.”

He lowered his feet then and sat up straight. “Is there a problem?”

Erin admitted she could not be sure. “She’s never been one to complain, but she certainly looks weaker to me than when we left. I’m sending a carriage for her tomorrow, because I want her to come and spend the day here.”

“That’s fine,” he agreed; then, figuring she didn’t want her mother to see how things were between the two of them, he assured her, “I’ll tell Eliza we’ll have dinner in the dining room.”

“Are you sure that will be all right with her? Maybe I’ll need to have Annie fix something.”

“Eliza will always obediently do what my mother has told her to do, and she knows serving meals is part of her duties. It’s when she’s asked to do something out of the ordinary by someone other than my mother that she balks.”

Erin brushed over that unpleasant subject to get to the heart of the matter. “Ryan, I’m worried about Mother, and frankly, I’d like for her to come and live here with us.” She searched his face for some hint of reaction but could not detect anything. “You said yourself it’s a big house. You wouldn’t even know she’s about.”

Ryan was struck by his inability to deny her anything. Yet he felt it was to his advantage not to let her know that, and hedged, “Does your stepfather know about this?”

“He ought to,” she replied quickly and angrily. “As I said, Mother has never been one to complain, but I know she’s miserable. I think he’s taking out his anger on her over our getting married while he was gone. She told me he was furious when he found out, because he said it made him look like a fool, and that we went behind his back.”

It was Ryan’s turn to yield to derision. “But according to your mother, he was the one I was going to have to answer to if I didn’t marry you right away.” Then, seeing the way her face tightened and her cinnamon eyes grew stormy, he held up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay. I’m sorry. No more. And, yes, if you and she both want it, I really don’t see why it can’t be worked out.”

Erin fought the impulse to jump up and run around the desk to throw her arms about him in a hug of gratitude. Instead, she thanked him and added, “I promise you. She won’t be a bother.”

He stared at her. Lord, he wanted to get up and walk around to draw her into his arms and hold her and kiss her and then make love to her right then and there on the sofa, the floor, the top of the desk—wherever. It was not just lust that was firing his loins. Oh, no; more and more of late he was being forced to come to terms with the cries of his heart. What he had denied and fought against so long was coming to pass—he was truly falling in love with her.

Refusing to yield to the impulse, he again asked if she’d like a glass of cognac, and this time she accepted.

It was a mellow time, and Erin started feeling as she had on that other occasion when closeness dared surface.

They talked of mundane things—how the weather was really starting to turn cool, and autumn would soon be upon them. She said she’d seen some pumpkins in the fields on her way to visit her mother earlier in the week. He remarked he’d noticed the gardening she had been doing around his grandmother’s grave. She told him she was only looking for something to do, because it was boring to be in the house all day by herself.