Ashes in the Wind (48 page)

“Are you all right?” Alaina questioned with anxious concern. “Did he hurt your leg?”

“It’s a bit bruised perhaps.” He glanced aside at her. “But it will be all right.”

Alaina looked back over her shoulder to where several of the men had hauled the Dane back onto the dock and were busily dousing him with buckets of water. She shivered at the thought of the icy bath. “They seem to enjoy fighting almost as much as drinking,” she observed laconically.

“A rowdy bunch,” Cole agreed. “With a stringent pecking order, but good workers all, once they are out of the town.”

“You need more men at the farm?” Alaina asked in wonderment.

“Not at the farm,” he replied. “I have some good timberland up north, and it’s about time it was worked over.”

She noticed that they were traveling along the river but not in the direction of home. “Where are we going now?” Her voice held a note of excited curiosity. “Are you taking me to meet your mistress?”

Cole’s stare was at first one of amazement, then he saw the threatening smile on her face. “Not hardly, madam,” he chuckled at last. “There was a message for me in the hall that an old friend is visiting in town. The man would be an excellent foreman for the crew up north.”

Some moments later the buggy neared a large, white house decorated with intricate gingerbread workings. A tall, lean man, of almost Cole’s size and build but younger, came out onto the front porch as the buggy rolled to a halt before the hitching post.

Cole whistled shrilly and pointed. “Kill Soldier!”

The mastiff bounded from the buggy with enough force to rock the seat precariously. Alaina caught her breath, aghast at the command, but the dog barked joyfully and charged up the steps, leaping to place his paws on the man’s shoulders and growling in mock ferocity.

“Down, you misbegotten son of a moose!” the assailed one laughed as he tried to avoid the licking tongue. “Cole! Call him off!”

“That should teach you to foist off your castaway mongrels!” Cole laughingly called as the blond man subdued Soldier’s capricious play.

“Mongrel! Huh!” Alaina heard the man’s reply. “He probably has a better-documented lineage than you do.”

Cole threw his legs over the side and slid to the ground. Alaina saw the back of his neck stiffen as his feet touched, and it was a long moment of testing before he rested any weight at all on the right leg. He fumbled under the seat and lifted his slim black cane, using it to take most of the strain off his leg as he limped around the buggy to lift her down. He caught her hand and tucked it within the crook of his arm as he made a cautious way up to the house. “My wife, Alaina,” he presented as they climbed the steps. “Franze Prochavski, a simple Polish fellow.”

“Not Polish!” Franze laughed in a charming, almost boyish manner. “Prussian! And like any good solid German, Cole can’t understand the difference.”

“Austrian!” Cole corrected with a grin.

“Of course!” Franze’s dark eyes gleamed with merriment as he satisfied his revenge. “My apologies, Herr Latimer.”

An attractive young woman, obviously pregnant, swung open the front door and came out to join them. Happy twinkling blue eyes shone with as much warmth and friendliness as her quick smile.

“My wife, Gretchen,” Franze announced to Alaina.

“We did not get a chance to meet Cole’s first wife.” Gretchen’s light, German accent was just enough to be completely captivating. “So we make a special time to meet you. I am so happy to see that he has done well.” She took Alaina’s slender hands
in both of hers. “I hope this time Cole will get a chance to make a baby also, yah?”

Under Cole’s gaze, Alaina felt her face grow warm and in her sudden confusion, mumbled a few words she hoped would be accepted as a suitable reply.

“This second time for us to make a baby,” Gretchen confided, but continued a little sadly. “But that was before Cole came home from the war. The midwife say the baby come wrong, and the cord choked the breath from it. This time, Cole take care of it all, yah?”

“You put too much trust in me, Gretchen,” he gently admonished.

“That’s because I know you best doctor around here. You not say no, yah? You come up north, all right?”

“I’ve given up my practice,” he said quietly.

“No!” she gasped, eyes wide with disbelief. “But you loved it so! How come you to do that?”

It was Alaina’s turn to watch him, and she was even more curious than Gretchen. With a troubled frown, he stared down at the planking beneath his feet, shrugging off an answer. “Circumstances were such that I decided it was best to give it up.”

The woman turned to Alaina, honestly concerned that a doctor of his abilities should be forced to make such a decision. “Can you persuade him to change his mind?”

“I don’t know,” Alaina murmured softly. “He hasn’t told me why he gave it up.” As Cole raised his gaze, she looked straight into his eyes, adding, “It seems a shame, though, since he was so good at what he did.”

Gretchen felt reassured as she observed the couple. If anyone could influence Cole, she sensed
that it was this young woman, whether he was ready to admit it or not.

Gretchen would have it no other way but that they share a pot of tea, and this was soon extended to include some of the most delectable sweet breads Alaina had ever sampled. As they sat about the table before the warming hearth, Alaina learned that the house belonged to Gretchen’s parents who were gone for the afternoon and that the young couple was visiting from a farm they were struggling to establish near Cole’s holdings.

It was well into the afternoon before business matters were settled and Cole escorted Alaina to the buggy. Gretchen stood at the door until the buckboard had disappeared from sight, then she turned with a gentle smile to her husband, assuring him, “Cole will come north when the time nears for the baby to be born.”

Franze stared at her, totally perplexed. “How do you know?”

Her smile widened. “I just know.”

J
UST
before dusk, a warm, southwesterly breeze sprang up to set astir the slumbering countryside. Alaina paused in her toilette to open a window and enjoy the gentle caress of the warming air. The river curled away on either side of the cliff and lazily glistened in the lowering sun. Now and again a breath of wind skimmed across the surface, rippling and stirring the water as it traveled the winding course. Much in the same fashion, thoughts touched her mind, disturbing the smooth peace of lassitude. Memories caused waves or made strange patterns against the rocks hidden just beneath the surface. It was a mammoth boulder that Cole had married her simply because he felt it was the right thing to do, and its roiling disturbance muddled the flow of her logic. Her own casual acceptance of events was the unsettling breeze that whispered through her musings until it became a tumbling troubled tide of confusion. She argued that her sensibilities had been abused, yet she could find no righteous anger to deal sharply with
him as he deserved.

Releasing a pensive sigh, she returned to her dressing, donning her own best evening gown of yellow taffeta woven with fine, black stripes. A wide band of black lace was draped diagonally
across the front of the gored skirt which flared out with great fullness at the bottom. A pleated berthe adorned the bodice, and puffed sleeves were trimmed with black lace. The tiny buttons that fastened the back caused her several moments of regret that Cole was not handy to assist her. But the lawyer from Pennsylvania had arrived shortly after they returned, and the two men had withdrawn into the study to indulge their business, leaving her to fill out the afternoon with idle meanderings.

Ruefully Alaina removed the chair she had carefully wedged against the door that led to her husband’s bedroom. It had been a wasted gesture, for no slightest sound had come from that direction. A clock daintily chimed the half hour, and Alaina glanced in surprise toward the fireplace mantel, realizing that some time during the day an ornate timepiece had been added to her bedroom decor. In another thirty minutes or so, the Darveys would arrive. She was dressed and ready, while Cole still had not come upstairs to change for dinner.

As the moments flew by, she opened the hall door so she might hear the clapper that would herald the guest’s arrival. In a last effort to search out whatever flaws there might be in her appearance that would thwart Cole’s approval and blatantly remind him of her refusal to wear the clothes he had purchased, she returned to stand before the mirror. She had taken unusual care to brush her hair until the dark tresses gleamed richly. Parted down the middle, it was drawn away from her face, and an openly woven black silk net held the full, sleek mass of it. It was a rare experience to feel pretty and feminine,
but she could not savor the moment with the uncertainty of Cole’s reaction yet to be resolved. The teardrop diamonds dangling coyly from her earlobes might pacify him to some extent, but she could hardly base her hopes on the unpredictability of her husband.

Some minute whisper of a sound penetrated Alaina’s consciousness as she stood before her reflection, and the hair on the back of her neck began to crawl. Suddenly, a vague movement in the mirror caught her eye, and she whirled, only to find the doorway empty. Taking up a lamp, she hurried to investigate, but the hallway shadows were void and barren, although she walked the length of the corridor and back. She left the lamp on a high bracket in the hall to dispel the darkness. The stealthy visitor would have to brave the light it cast, an unlikely probability since he seemed to prefer the shadows.

Voices trailed upward from the front hallway, and Alaina realized that Miles was already greeting the guests. She drew a deep, steadying breath, and prepared herself to meet Cole’s friends, to enter her role as mistress of the house. Still, as she made her way down the hall, her mind was plagued by the fleeting shadow she had glimpsed in the mirror. Who was this Mindy Cole had spoken to the night before. What had she to do with this house—and with Cole?

The rustle of her taffeta gown caught Braegar’s attention as she came down the stairs. Glancing up, the man immediately forgot that he was helping his sister off with her wrap, for the apparition descending toward them wiped his mind clear of anything but sheer appreciation. He hastened across the hall
to greet their hostess, leaving Miles to assist his kin out of their wraps.

Clicking his heels, Braegar affected a fine, courtly bow, then taking Alaina’s hand, bent over it in the best of old world tradition. “Madam, you surely warm these northern climes with the sunshine of your beauty.”

“You are most gallant, sir,” she replied, smiling graciously.

Allowing Braegar to escort her across the hall, she paused briefly as the butler turned with their wraps over his arm, murmuring to him discreetly, “Miles, will you inform Doctor Latimer of our guests’ arrival?”

“Yes, madam.” The thin servant gave a disjointed bow and, with a deliberate tread, crossed to the study door where he rapped lightly.

Casually the sister assessed the new Latimer woman. “I had speculated on just why Braegar was so anxious to get here this evening,” she commented wryly. “Now I can plainly see his reason.”

Alaina was not quite sure how to accept the compliment, but whether future ally or foe, the woman was a guest in her husband’s house, and was to be treated to a bit of warm Southern hospitality. There was nothing like a bright smile to confuse an adversary or charm a friend. Alaina’s soft, pink lips curved graciously as she extended her hand. “You must be Carolyn.”

In belated gallantry Braegar swept an arm toward his relatives. “I would have you meet my most sainted mother, Mrs. Eleanore McGivers Darvey, and, as you have guessed, this is Carolyn, my aging, spinsterish sister.”

The fair-haired woman drew a stiff smile. “We’ve been anxious to meet you, Mrs. Latimer.” The title felt clumsy in her mouth. “And since you’re already acquainted with Braegar, you may understand why I am as yet unwed.” She looked straight at her brother. “Few men wish to marry into a family where congenital idiocy is rampant.”

Alaina smothered her laughter, but could not hide the shine of it in her eyes. Hopefully it was only the woman’s dry wit that made her seem at first unfriendly.

Braegar drew himself up in exaggerated shock, but his planned rejoinder was quickly squashed by his mother. “Children! Children!” Eleanore protested. “What can this young lady think of your buffoonery except that I have raised a pair of jackdaws?”

“No, indeed,” Alaina reassured the woman pleasantly. “It recalls fond memories of my own family.”

A polite enough answer, Eleanore mused distantly, but she was not willing to accept Cole’s young bride so readily. In her own mind she had placed the fault of his earlier marriage directly on him and berated his lusting foolishness. Once she had held visions of him marrying Carolyn, but however much she had hoped for that, his eyes had cast elsewhere, overlooking the carefully brought up girl close at hand. Perhaps he and Carolyn had been too close, and he had not been able to think of her as anything more than a sister. Yet after Roberta’s death, Eleanore’s aspirations had been revived. She had expected him to come to his senses and look closer to home for a bride. Instead, he had taken a
complete stranger to wife. God forbid, another Southern wench! And poor Carolyn was still a spinster at the age of twenty-seven.

The door of the study opened, and Cole’s voice came from within. “I’ll rely upon you to handle it, Horace.”

Putting on a brighter smile, Alaina turned as the two men entered the hall. Cole still wore the dark garb of the earlier hour and leaned heavily on his cane as if in need of its support. There was a whiteness about his tensed lips that bespoke somehow of pain, and when he paused in what might have been a casual stance to allow him a glance about the hall, Alaina wondered if it wasn’t a ploy to give his leg a rest. His eyes lingered on her a moment, taking full note of her attire, before they moved on. He gave Braegar a curt nod and, as he limped toward them, smiled briefly at the two women. He introduced the gray-haired lawyer to the Darveys, then slipping an arm possessively about Alaina’s waist, concluded the formalities. “And you met my wife this afternoon.”

Horace Burr took Alaina’s hand into his. “I apologize for taking so much of your husband’s time, Mrs. Latimer. Will you forgive me?”

“Only if you grace us with your company at dinner tonight, Mister Burr.” As Alaina played the congenial hostess with guileless warmth and radiance, the honest scents of sweaty leather, cigar smoke, and brandy that clung pleasantly to Cole stirred her awareness and roused feelings she could not even explain to herself.

Horace laughed with pleasure. “I shall be delighted to join such gracious and lovely company.”
He moved to take Mrs. Darvey’s hand. “At last I have the honor of meeting you after hearing the Latimers rave about you all these years.”

A widow for more than a decade, Mrs. Darvey was not immune to the gallantry of the older gentleman. She was still an attractive woman and enjoyed the attention Horace Burr chose to lavish upon her.

Finding a discreet moment, Alaina turned within Cole’s embrace and, placing a hand familiarly against his chest, looked up into those blue eyes which rested upon her as boldly as ever, drawing a warm blush into her cheeks. “Do you wish to change before dinner?”

Although hardly more than a murmur, her voice reached Carolyn, prompting that one to recall the first wife’s diatribes when Cole had not been properly attired or on time. “Come now, Cole. We’ve known each other too long for you to worry about such formality.” Her voice dwindled as she lost the courage of her first thrust. Where once she would have jested in light repartee, the stiff coolness in Cole’s manner as he glanced toward her destroyed all thought of such banter. Perhaps her tone had carried some implication of her readiness to find fault with his new wife, for he seemed most protective of the girl. “I mean—” She could only finish lamely. “This is just a friendly dinner for neighbors, and certainly no high affair.”

Braegar held title to no such reservations. “As long as Cole doesn’t smell of the barn, I can tolerate him as he is.” He straightened his coat. “And there’s no sense standing here discussing it when there’s some excellent brandy in the parlor.”

As the guests were drawn into the parlor by the brash Irishman, Cole paused a moment with Alaina. His hand lightly traced the buttons running down her slim back, while his eyes searched hers, delving into those smiling gray depths for some clue to her game. Her lips curved softly beneath his stare, and she reached to straighten his collar, smoothing the shirt familiarly.

“Am I not providing a suitable haven from worrisome mothers?”

The muscle in Cole’s jaw twitched. He should have known better!

Alaina slipped her arm beneath his, ready to accept his guidance, but when he moved, she was at once both amazed and frightened by the unsureness of his step and the weight he placed on the cane. Anxiously she questioned, “Are you all right?”

He grunted, brushing off her concern. “The hours of sitting have made the leg stiff. It will loosen up in a bit.”

In the parlor, Cole stood beside her chair and, after Miles had served the libations to the guests, caught the servant’s eye and inclined his head toward the crystal decanter. The butler obediently poured a dram or two into a snifter and held the glass up for his employer’s inspection. Cole frowned a bit until Miles, with the slightest of shrugs, complied, bringing both snifter and decanter to set them on the table beside Alaina’s chair. Cole tossed down the first drink, then reached to pour himself another, briefly meeting his wife’s troubled gaze.

“Is that all for you, Cole?” Braegar queried with humor. “Or will you let Miles pass it around again?”

Cole nodded curtly toward the butler, and from a second decanter, the butler quickly replenished Braegar’s supply.

“I prefer Cole’s custom of enjoying the brandy before dinner,” the Irishman commented jovially. “It is most civilized.”

Eleanore sat in her chair like a displeased matron and briefly graced both Cole and Braegar with a cool glance. “It comes to me that an overaffection for spirits could well be a man’s undoing.”

When Miles came to announce dinner, Alaina rose and, slipping an arm through Cole’s, took the initiative as hostess. “Mister Burr, would you be so kind as to escort Mrs. Darvey into the dining room?”

Seeing that Alaina’s escort was already chosen, Braegar reluctantly lent his arm to Carolyn and followed after his mother. Thus, as Alaina had intended, Cole’s pace was unhurried by the presence of anyone behind him. With a gentle pat on his arm, she left him beside his chair and proceeded to her own at the far end of the table, there accepting Braegar’s ready assistance. The chair slid forward beneath her, and the Irishman claimed the place at her immediate left, leaving the two of them separated from the others by the length of the table. Alaina’s casual glance caught Cole’s sharp glare fixed upon her, and she raised questioning brows, wondering what she had done to deserve his anger.

Horace was helping Eleanore into her seat, and of a sudden, Cole realized Carolyn had been left to her own end. He hastened to limp around his own chair to hers, but before he could reach his objective, the lawyer moved to accomplish the necessary service.

“Rest yourself, Doctor Latimer,” the older man bade him. “I know your leg is bothering you.”

Cole flushed in prideful embarrassment. It seemed he could not perform the simplest chivalry with grace anymore and was ever reminded of the fact that he was lame. He slid into his own chair and hitched it forward, mumbling caustically, “I’m not a doctor anymore. I’ve given up my practice.”

Astounded by his colleague’s reply, Braegar leaned back in his chair to consider its import. He was totally unable to comprehend what had caused Cole to lose interest so completely in the work to which he had once been so devoted. Of the two of them, Cole had been the serious doctor, serious in his studies, serious in his concern for his patients, while Braegar realized that his own practice was carried on quite casually and that he relied as much on his good-natured affability as upon his skill to keep his patients content. Frederick Latimer had led them both as youths into the profession and encouraged them with his own zeal and love for it, but he had instilled something special in Cole, a gift for surgery Braegar had never managed to acquire.