She smiled, canting her gaze downward with a flutter of her lashes. It was a practiced seduction, one that startled most men into excited thoughts of conquest.
But why was Dodge beginning to frown?
What was she doing wrong?
He levered back on his crutches. The wanting was still there, a hot coal of desire, but banking it was a containing suspicion: she was moving too fast.
“You missed me.”
“Yes.”
“Enough to grant me a favor?” She glanced up at him, tempering her coy manner with just enough directness to put him at ease.
“I would do anything for you.”
She hated the way he said that because it created
a false warmth inside her, a sense of believing what she knew to be untrue.
“I’d like to work in the bank with you. I know you said you didn’t need my help when I asked before, but—”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Yes. If you want to work there, that’s fine with me.”
“Oh.” She smiled. “Good. It’s settled, then.”
“When would you want to start?”
“Tomorrow?”
“All right.”
Now she was suspicious—of his quick agreement, of the reasons behind it. Why had he changed his mind, after being so adamant about not wanting her interfering in his business, both personal and professional? Was he afraid she’d try to run from him again?
That wasn’t good. If he was wary, he’d be watchful. She had to lull his caution. She could do this, she told herself. She could earn his trust.
She began with a grateful smile. “Thank you, Dodge. I want to be useful … to you, and to the people of Pride.”
She felt the slightest wince of guilt with his approval. Then it was his turn to knock her back on her heels in surprise.
“I met your father yesterday.”
She wasn’t in time to catch the initial jerk of reaction or the shudder that followed. But her tone was carefully modulated when she replied, “Really? And what did he have to say?”
“He wanted to congratulate us on our marriage.”
She stared at him dead on and drawled, “I doubt that very much.” She started to pace around the room in agitation and anger. “Did he tell you that you’d made an unfortunate choice?”
“Something like that.”
“Did he tell you I’m mentally unstable? That I was dangerous to myself and others, and prone to fits of delusion and melancholia?”
A pause, then a soft, “No. He didn’t.”
Starla halted her travels and her ramblings, having committed a serious faux pas by revealing more than necessary. “Well, it’s not true.”
He didn’t respond. Instead, he crossed to the unmade bed and eased himself down, setting aside the crutches and positioning his legs on the mattress so he was sitting upright, braced by the headboard. His expression gave nothing away—not doubt, not curiosity, not dismay.
“He said you belonged at home with him, that I’d be asking for trouble if I got in the way of that.”
Starla hugged herself against the sudden pervasive chill. “My father is a very possessive man. He drove my mother away with his need to own her. He sees me as a substitute.”
“You don’t need to be afraid of him.”
“You don’t know him.”
“I think he and I got a pretty good look at each other’s hands. But I didn’t show him all my cards.”
She faced him then, her features taut and pale. “This isn’t a game, Dodge. Not to him.”
“Not to me, either. I never gamble with what I can’t afford to lose. And I won’t lose you, Starla.”
There was such strength in that claim. It drew her, unbidden, across the room and into his open arms. There was such surety in his embrace, it made it easy for her to cling, to get lost in the tight wrap of his care so that it didn’t matter if he wanted her only for sex, or for the child she carried. It didn’t matter because he was going to keep her safe, and that was worth any sacrifice.
“Don’t be afraid.”
She felt his quiet command clear to her soul. It shook loose all the fears long since relegated to dark corners where they crouched ready to spring and ruin any chance at happiness. They prowled now, those awful truths, those past sins, reminding her in ugly whispers that she wasn’t worth the care this man was showing her. If he knew her—really knew her—he’d cast her away in disgust.
Maybe he wouldn’t.
That fierce thought intruded upon the other cutting miseries, pushing them aside to let a glimmer of hope flicker through. Perhaps Hamilton Dodge could handle her sordid past, if they were presented to him in small doses. If he was given enough time to adjust.
Better than to risk the danger of him learning all in one unforgivable jolt.
“It was after my mother ran away.”
“What was?”
“I was very young and I didn’t understand. I couldn’t believe she’d abandon me.”
Dodge’s arms drew her closer, making a safe haven for her confession.
“My father … was so angry, and Tyler was so stunned. I couldn’t stop crying, and finally the doctor was called in to sedate me. Between them, they decided it might be best for me to be taken from the site of my loss.”
“They institutionalized you.” He said it softly, without condemnation, but a sliver of steely fury lanced through his words.
“For a month. I don’t remember much of it, except for the terrible loneliness. It was Tyler who finally made my father bring me home. I don’t know what he did or how he did it, but he saved my sanity.”
She lifted her head to look at him, her features pale and drawn, her expression earnest.
“I’m not unstable, Dodge. But I will go crazy if I have to go back to Fair Play.”
Without hesitation, he replied, “You’ll never have to.”
A sudden flurry of emotions crowded through her, pressing upon her heart, confusing her mind. And then came the movement of his hand upon her head, a feather-light caress, like his quiet whisper as he pulled her back into the lea of his shoulder.
“I love you, Starla.”
She wasn’t prepared for his show of tenderness. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she pretended it didn’t affect her. It was a lie: he couldn’t love her; he didn’t know her. If he did, he’d never say those words and mean them.
She didn’t want him to love her. She wanted him
to want her, to need her, to desire her beyond reason or restraint. She understood those things and their rewards. Love was something else, altogether foreign, something that scared her. Something that made her hate herself for doing what she had to do to provide for the child she carried and the child she refused to lose.
Using Dodge’s passions against him was one thing. Abusing his heart was another.
I love you
.
Just words. They didn’t mean anything.
She blinked away her tears.
Having Starla in the bank did nothing to relieve Dodge’s workload, because he simply couldn’t concentrate upon anything but her. She graced his front counter in a gown of lavender broadcloth, its tiers of satin-banded flounces and lacy bodice inset too dressy for common daytime wear. But there could be nothing common about his wife, even if she’d been clad in homespun.
She hadn’t misled him about her gift for numbers. In the hour since they’d arrived, she’d worked her way down half the length of his weekly ledger, correcting mistakes and making proper tallies in a neat feminine script. With her head bent over his books, her teeth worrying the corner of her ripe lower lip while she concentrated, Dodge felt sure he was either the luckiest man alive, or the most cursed.
She took his breath away; unfortunately, with it went his power of reason. Yesterday they’d thrown out nearly all the rules of their nuptial arrangement,
but today they were like strangers again. He never should have said the words. She’d been nervous as a hummingbird around him ever since. She’d said nothing about it, and he’d have doubted she’d heard him except for the pointed way she’d avoided eye contact. Hell, she’d had no problem making contact a lot more intimate than that. Shockingly so.
Where had she learned tricks that would make the boldest harlot blush?
She glanced up then and caught him scowling. Immediately he altered his expression to one of amicable welcome and her eyes darted away in alarm, and, he thought, in irritation.
What had he done? What had so changed their relationship? Her trip was the reason for her change in behavior since her return, for her almost desperate need to please him. It was pretense. He’d seen her genuine emotion shine through enough to know the difference—when she was watching his sister’s children, when she gazed up at him after their first kiss, when she spoke about her brother. That was the real woman he’d wed, the one he loved. How was he to reach her when she was determined to play the role of another?
Usually he enjoyed a challenge, but this one was getting too damned frustrating. The only mysteries he wanted in his marriage were those he uncovered in the dark.
“Good morning, Mr. Dodge.”
He stood awkwardly to greet Myrna Bishop, noting the way her gaze cut between him and Starla with a knowing pleasure.
“I cannot apologize enough for delaying your homecoming celebration with your wife. I trust it went well.”
“Yes, thank you. Very well.”
“And you, dear,” she cooed to Starla. “So lucky you are to have such an attentive husband. Did he surprise you with his greeting?”
“Oh, yes. I was quite surprised.” She neatly evaded his look. “Mr. Dodge tells me you’re expanding your shop. How exciting. I’ll make sure all my friends are aware of it. Heaven knows, none of us can get enough of the latest fashions after that beastly war.”
Practically salivating at the thought of the elegant Starla Fairfax Dodge’s patronage, Myrna collapsed in the chair before Dodge’s desk and urged him to begin drawing up the papers. While he was finishing and Myrna gushed over Starla’s gown and offered free alterations, Starla had no opportunity to wonder how the news of her condition had spread so quickly. Charles Fielding stood hat in hand, his head hanging.
“My Irma Sue tol’ me some a what happened yesterday, and I come to tell you both how sorry I am for the way she behaved. I hope she didn’t cause neither of you fine folks any embarrassment. It weren’t my idea for her to baiter her—well, you know—”
“No need to worry, Mr. Fielding. I am glad you came in, though. I’ve been considering your note and thinking up ways we might make payment easier for you. Have a seat.”
Overwhelmed with gratitude, the scruffy farmer
took the proffered seat, his attitude toward Pride’s banker totally reversed.
Starla glanced up from her accounts to watch Dodge work with the people of Pride. He was firm and fair, and after they got over their initial distrust of his accent and his occupation, his customers were quick to warm to him and his creative approach to their finances and their futures. When they left, it was with feelings of relief and hope, and their glances in her direction made one clear statement:
You ‘ve found yourself a good man
.
Part of her silly self still wanted to believe it.
Part of her was afraid it was true, and that she was using him disgracefully.
“Well, I declare, I’d never have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. A Fairfax working for a common wage.”
Her annoyance was tempered as she recognized the voice behind the drawling criticism.
“What would you know about the word ‘work,’ Tyler Fairfax? You’ve never done a lick of it in your life.”
Tyler leaned across the counter, his grin sassy, his eyes full of hell. Starla was so glad to see him like his old self that she reached out to drag him up against the teller bars to press a wet kiss on his cheek.
“Hey, kin I have one, too?”
She scowled at Virg Dermont, the mildest of the brothers. “I save them for family.”
“I’m practically family, ain’t I, Ty?”
“Leave her alone. Besides, she’s stingy with them kisses, now that she’s got herself a husband.
Hey there, Yank … nobody put another hole in you yet?”
“Not yet,” Dodge replied with a smile of tolerance, because he enjoyed seeing Starla so genuinely happy.
“He been treating you all right, Star? Give me the word an’ I’ll put one in him right now.”
Starla grabbed both her brother’s hands, just in case he wasn’t fooling. “He’s treating me fine.”
Tyler snorted. “Makin’ you work like a shop girl? You call that fine?”
“It was my idea. I was going plumb crazy sitting around the house.”
He grinned wider. “Nothing domestic about you, darlin’. You’re pure extravagance. An’ worth every penny.”
Bubbling over his flattery and the fact that he appeared for the most part sober, she laughed and prodded, “What do you want, coming in here with all that silky talk?”
His smile faded and his green eyes grew opaque. “I heard you was expectin’ and come to hear if it was true.”
“It is,” she replied carefully.
“Are you happy about it?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
He glanced in Dodge’s direction, his look far from friendly. “Jus’ makin’ sure.” Then he was all smiles again as he slipped her grasp. “I gotta go, little sister. You take care an’ try not to get no blisters on them lily-white hands.”
“What do you know about blisters, you ne’er-do-well?”
Tyler and Virg sauntered by Dodge’s desk, both of them adopting vaguely menacing smiles. Tyler leaned closer to say, “Can’t hide behind her skirts forever, Yank.”
Dodge was still bristling long after he and his companion had strutted out.
So they thought he had Starla working in the bank as insurance against their threats. Insulting, irritating, and totally untrue. But let them think that, let her think that rather than the truth.
The truth was, he feared leaving her alone or out of his sight for long, lest Cole Fairfax make good on his claim to snatch her back home again.
Better she stick where he could see her. And that was a pleasure he’d never get tired of.
But tired was the word for the rest of him when at last it was time to shut down for the day. He’d had a steady run of customers, all of whom had asked about his pregnant wife. It was no difficult stretch, connecting one to the other. The people of Pride were doing business with him so he could provide for his growing family.