Authors: Cynthia Bailey Pratt
“Blanche, where have you been?”
She started up, then relaxed back onto her pillow when she saw who it was. “I was running away with David Mochrie.”
“What? Why on earth?”
Blanche put her hand to her forehead and sniffled. “Because he swore he’d tell the world about you if I didn’t.”
“Tell what? Oh, my marriage ...”
“He swore he’d tell all his cronies how he found a husband for you. How Father bribed Nick into marriage without you knowing anything about it.”
“I see. David Mochrie was there, but I didn’t know he found me Nick.”
Blanche nodded. “Something about him knowing how little money Nick had and how Father would be grateful... I don’t know the full of it. He said he did it all just to have me.”
“And you’d go off with him just for me?”
“Oh, don’t make me out to be self-sacrificing. I probably would have gone with him anyway. At least he wants me.” This last was a cry of the heart.
Rietta sat down with her sister. “What do you mean?”
Blanche sniffled again, her beauty only slightly dimmed by tears and a reddened nose. “Father doesn’t want me to live with him now that he’s married that woman. And I know you only want me here until they come back. You’ve got your new family; there’s no place for me.”
“There will always be a place for you under whatever roof shelters me,” Rietta vowed.
“That’s kind of you, but you know perfectly well Amelia and Emma can’t abide me. And Lady Kirwan is all politeness, but she doesn’t like me, either.”
‘That’s not true....”
“Yes, it is. Other women never like me very much.” She continued over Rietta’s instinctive denial. “No, they don’t. They think I’m vain and rude and proud.”
“You’re not always as conciliating as you might be, Blanche.”
“I know it, but how can I be? They dislike me before I even open my mouth. Naturally, I think ‘well, if that’s how you want me to be ...” so I become just as mean and petty as they think I’m going to be.”
‘That’s not a wise way to live.”
“Isn’t that what I’m saying? But it doesn’t matter how I try, when I see them sneering at me just because I’m pretty.” She drew a long, shuddering breath and flicked her tears away. “I don’t know what I’m going to do now. I did like David.”
“You still have Niall Joyce.”
“And Mr. Greeves, don’t forget. He proposed again and it would please Father if I... why do you shake your head?”
“Mr. Greeves was the other witness to my wedding.”
“Mr. Greeves? But he’s so upright, so proper. Imagine that. I could understand David; he’s so wild. And even Nick"
“Oh? What about Nick? He’s upright and proper enough.”
Blanche lifted her eyebrows and smiled knowingly. “He’s the wild sort, all right. Oh, he’s got to be in the right mood for it, but he could show a wild streak sure enough. Something about the way a man looks at you, like he knows all your secrets, gives it away.”
Rietta thought about the look in Nick’s eye when he’d asked her to come to him. It ignited a kind of deep smolder way down inside her, which frightened her even while it intrigued her. Not even finding out that he’d apparently plotted to meet her with leering David Mochrie’s knowledge and connivance could put it out completely, though it damped it quite a bit.
“Never mind Nick,” she said. “I’m concerned about you.”
Blanche gave her a quick, hard hug. “Don’t be. I know what I’m going to do.” When pressed, she just smiled and stood up. “Never mind. You watch me.”
Glancing in the mirror, she snatched off her cloak and began brushing at her gown. “It’s not too bad, is it? Bring me my other pair of slippers, please, Rietta. I can’t go down again in these.”
Half an hour later, every trace of tears and soil gone, Blanche sailed forth to seize her prey. Rietta watched as she walked up to Niall Joyce. He met her with a hard, straight glance that stripped Blanche’s self-possession away. She looked down at the floor, digging a toe into the wood, and an entirely natural blush rose into her cheeks. He spoke to her, his expression unsoftened. A moment later, she took his arm and he walked with her outside.
Nick appeared behind Rietta and said, “What’s that about?”
“I don’t know. I hope it’s love.”
“So do I.” She knew he wasn’t speaking of her sister. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, but she asked him to dance with her.
When Rietta saw Blanche again, the younger sister kissed the elder and whispered, “There’s to be another wedding come Christmas....”
Chapter Twenty
Rietta awoke in
the night to the sound of Nick’s voice. She deliberated for a moment, then arose. Opening the desk, she pulled out the little key and a small vial of oil. Using a feather, she oiled the hinges and the lock. Just as she brought up the key, however, she hesitated. Biting her lip, she replaced the key in the desk and went around to his door by way of the hall.
The curtains of his room stood open, allowing what little light there was outside to come in. “Nick?”
His voice died to a mutter. He lay flat on his back, his arms spread wide. She saw that his chest was gleaming with sweat and that his breath came pantingly, as if he were running hard. His head tossed as his face twitched, lost in the reality inside his mind.
“Come back,” he said, pleading throbbing in his voice.
“Nick, wake up,” Rietta said, frightened. “Wake up.”
She touched him on the shoulder, a gentle push intended to wake him. Too quick for her eye to follow, his arm came up and straightened.
Rietta found herself sitting on the floor, one hip aching from the impact with the wood. “Well, really ...”
She stood up, rubbing the injured part. Nick lay more quietly, on his side with his knees draw up. The sheets were twisted around him, exposing the mattress.
Cautiously, Rietta sat down beside him. “Nick? Wake up. Please, Nick?”
Without warning, he sat bolt upright, pushing her once again to the floor. “Cashman!” he shouted. “God ...”
Rietta sighed and clambered to her feet. “If you’re going to beat me, kindly do it when you’re awake.”
“Rietta?” He rubbed his face vigorously, but she noticed that his hands trembled. “I’m not brave enough to beat you.”
“Not when you are awake, perhaps, but you have no difficulty tossing me about while you sleep. I tried to wake you just now and you hurled me to the floor.”
“Did I? Sorry.” His chuckle sounded thin. “My batman used to prod me with a stick from a safe distance. I struck him a knockdown blow the first time he tried to shake me awake.”
“I shall obtain a suitable walking stick first thing in the morning.”
“A parasol, perhaps. Nothing with a spike on the end, if you’d be so kind. I want to wake up, and, in the wrong hands, a steel-tipped parasol could send me off to a permanent slumber.”
She eyed him worriedly. Though he strove to keep his lone light, the bed shook to the rhythm of his hard breathing. He kept looking toward the windows, as if to reassure himself that the curtains were still flung wide.
Without being asked, Rietta poured him a glass of brandy from a tantalus on the dressing table. The snifter lapped against his teeth as he tried to drink. Rietta steadied his hand and guided it. “Sorry to be so stupid,” he said.
After a moment, he threw off the tangled bedclothes and stretched out his arms and legs to the accompaniment of an enormous yawn. “That’s better.”
Naked, he strode to the dressing table to pour water from a plain porcelain ewer into a basin. He scooped up water and liberally anointed his head, rubbing it through his hair to cool his brain. Some beads of water trailed down his back into the deeps of his shadowed body. Rietta tried to school her eyes not to look at him, but she couldn’t help her curiosity- She’d touched his body but had never really taken the opportunity to see all of him. He was marvelous ... strong and lean.
“I hate dreams,” he said, toweling his hair.
“What do you dream?” Rietta only dared asked because he had his face buried in a towel. “They sound horrible from the outside; I can’t imagine what it might sound like on the inside.”
“Worse.” His face emerged and he turned on her his most earnest expression. “It’s not worth troubling over, Rietta. The dreams don’t come often anymore.”
“They used to?”
“Every night without fail. Since I married you, I haven’t had any to speak of.”
“What was that just now, then? It hardly sounded like a serenade far a young wife.”
“I’ll try again later. All I need do is learn the violin and I’ll be ready. Give me three or four years, won’t you?”
He went on jesting until Rietta gave up her attempts to worm the truth out of him. “I’ll go back to my own chamber now.”
“Why must you? Stay with me.”
“I have too much respect for my neck, husband.”
“Did I say I was sorry? If I didn’t, I apologize again. I suppose I should have warned you that I am difficult to awaken.”
“In some ways; not in others.”
He laughed, though without his usual delight. “I’ve heard it doesn’t take long for a virgin bride to become a hussy for her husband.” He came to her side and tilted up her face. “Have you changed so much already?”
“Once the innocence is gone, it cannot be revived,” she said with the lightest of intentions, but remembering the times when she’d been more than verbally shameless.
His brows came together and he seemed to look past her, though he still cupped her chin. “Yes, that’s true. You can’t go back to the way you were, no matter how you try.”
Rietta put both hands around his wrist. “Is that what you are trying to do?”
“Once I was so free....”
“And now I’m another burden to you. I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t have a choice, Rietta. If you are another responsibility, it is one I’ve taken on gladly. You’ve brought me...”
She held her breath.
Then he smiled into her eyes. “I needed distraction. You’ve provided that and more. It wasn’t always what I believed I needed, especially these last weeks when I’ve suffered your displeasure, but I at least have relief from my troubles.”
“The way a splinter takes one’s mind off a sore tooth.” She tossed her head free. “I will happily supply more splinters, Nick.”
“Now, Rietta, I didn’t mean it that way.”
“What, pray, do you mean? You have made love to me on more than one occasion as if I’m the only woman you’ve ever wanted, but you will not share what is troubling you.”
“Most women would take the lovemaking and let the troubles go,” he said, turning to follow her.
“I don’t believe that, and even if I did, what makes you so certain I’m like other women?”
“I’ve never accused you of that. If you’re anything, Rietta, it’s different. That’s why I wanted you from the first. It’s why I want you now.” He stepped in front of her just as she reached the door. “Don’t leave.”
Her pride bade her refuse him again, but her need demanded a different answer. Softly, she said, “I need to sleep and I couldn’t with you thrashing about like a wild beast with a sore paw.”
“I’ll lie as still as a bird in its nest.” He smoothed her hair back from her face, his fingers tangling in the long strands. “I’ll stay strictly on my side of the bed; I won’t even touch your pillow.”
Rietta looked at him with narrowed, distrustful eyes. “I don’t believe a word, not a word.”
“I certainly won’t kiss you,” he said, bending down to nip lightly at her lips. “And as for touching you ... wouldn’t dream of it.”
Rietta felt the by-now familiar quickening in her heart. She’d learned already how very difficult it was to say no when he touched her with those seemingly tireless hands. Even now, she couldn’t reconcile her idea of herself as a decent, respectable woman with the memory of the two of them on the dining salon table. It had to be a kind of magic spell that Nick could weave, making her not only amenable to his will, but a fully involved partner in his hot-blooded schemes.
Nick drew her close with his hands on her hips; close enough to feel that he, at least, was suffering from no conflict between pride and desire. If it was hard to say no before, it was all but impossible when he kissed her.
“Come to bed,” he said. “It’ll be a new experience. We’ve never made love like married people. Come to me.”
The need in his voice was a faint echo of what he’d called out in his dreams. Rietta blinked and withdrew her lips when he bent his head again. “No,” she said. “No.”
“You want to.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Come on, then.”
“No.
“All right. No bed. We’ve done it on the floor before.”
“No, not at all.” Stepping away from him almost hurt her. “I can’t do that again.”
“Not the floor, then.” He glanced around the room. “I think the bureau will support our weight.”
“It’s not that,” Rietta said, realizing her departed innocence had nonetheless left her able to blush. “I can’t make love to you again without knowing the truth. Nick, if you can’t trust me then it’s not making love at all, is it?”
“Did you ever hear of Psyche and Cupid?” Nick asked, his voice rough.
“All I know is you shot poor Cupid.” Rietta’s joke went unnoticed.
“Cupid had one rule that his wife had to follow—that she should never try to see his face. Her curiosity drove her to break that rule and it meant misery and unhappiness for everyone. Don’t be Psyche, Rietta. Let well enough alone.”
“But it isn’t well enough. Something’s tormenting you. What kind of wife would I be if I ignored that?”
“The kind I want. Someone sweet, obedient—
“And stupid?” Rietta supplied. “Well, you should have married someone else.”
“Perhaps. But you’re what I have and there’s nothing that will change it now.”
“All right, then. Keep your precious secrets and your precious nightmares. But don’t expect me to share your bed if you won’t share yourself.”
“Rietta, wait.”
She paused, one hand on the doorknob.
“Rietta.” He sighed. “I lived.”
“You lived?”
“That’s right. That’s it in two words. I lived. I survived. I saw my dearest friends smashed into a heaving, bleeding mass that was so ...” He shook his head violently.