Ashes in the Wind (50 page)

The man took his leave, and Cole closed the door behind him. A quick grimace of pain flashed across his face as he stepped down from the vestibule, then realizing Braegar waited at the study door and contemplated him with close attention, he steeled himself against any further display as he made his way to the study.

In the parlor Alaina barely followed the uneasy chatter of Eleanore Darvey, for in her mind the memory of those blue eyes resting upon her was far too vivid. Lately it seemed a recurring affliction that her thoughts should be solely occupied with Cole.

Mrs. Darvey hardly dared pause in her long-winded discourse, afraid she might waver in her resolution to accept Cole’s proxy marriage without further inquiries. Carolyn was too busy trying to sort out the details of his tour in New Orleans and make them match with what she had heard at the table to give her mother much heed. The house was amazingly quiet beyond the drone of Eleanore’s voice. Then abruptly the serenity was broken by a shattering of glass and the roar of Cole’s voice.

“Dammit, man, I’ve heard enough!”

“Cole, listen!”

“Get out! Get out of my house before I throw you out!”

The women were jolted by the command. Helplessly, Alaina rose with the guests and followed them into the hall where she quietly bade Miles to fetch their wraps. Braegar burst from the study and strode angrily down the hall, his face red, his eyes blazing as he muttered to himself, “Damned ornery cuss!”

He cut his words off sharply as he met Alaina’s worried gaze. Murmuring an apology, he took her
hand, but Cole, bracing a hand high against the doorjamb of the study, glared at them until Braegar, seeing the burning rage in the blue eyes, stepped away. He nodded crisply and, pivoting on a boot heel, stalked out of the house. Bewildered, Eleanore stared at Cole for a long moment before she followed her son. Just as confused, Carolyn took her cloak from Miles before she turned to Alaina. She opened her mouth to speak, reconsidered, and took her leave as gracefully as she could. Miles closed the door behind them, but refrained from meeting Alaina’s gaze. Dutifully he went into the parlor to bank the fire before making his way toward the back of the house. Alaina faced Cole, seeking some explanation for his outburst, but meeting the question in her eyes, he only snorted in derision, stepped back into the study, and slammed the door.

Alaina’s chin came up. She felt as insulted as if he had slapped her. Stiffly she mounted the stairs and sought out the privacy of her bedroom. If the master of the house could sulk in solitude, then so could the mistress.

The house gradually settled into the quiet routines of late evening. For a while Annie and the servants could be heard cleaning up the dining room, then Peter closed the back door as he departed for his father’s house. Soon all was silent, and no sound intruded upon the stillness of the bride’s chamber except the low creaks and groans, the ever-present mutterings of the stone-and-brick manse. Even the chimes of the clock seemed somehow subdued as they struck the midnight hour.

The tension and excitement of the evening waned more slowly and left the young bride wakeful
and depressed. Sitting solemnly before the fireplace, she stared into the brightly flickering flames, pondering the state of her life. In her desire to show herself reasonably dressed, she had spent what money she had earned on her trousseau and Saul’s passage. There had been precious little, and to leave even a few coins in her purse, she had sacrificed on the least important items. The nightgown she wore was threadbare and had been repaired too often to bear any resemblance to a bride’s negligee. She fingered it distractedly and lifted her gaze to the mirror. The silvered glass gave back to her the portrait of a woman, no longer thin or bony, but slender and softly rounded. The long hours of toil had not been to her disadvantage, for the sleek, healthy tone of her body brought as many admiring stares as Roberta’s ever had. Still, Cole was not satisfied. He would have her wear the clothes he had purchased
for her—the rich, elegant gowns she craved to wear, but could not afford. And his purpose? To have her continue with another charade and thus convince the world that they were a most loving couple, while all the time the animosity between them still raged.

Alaina stared into the troubled gray eyes reflected in the mirror. She knew what plagued her, what bore on her mind more than anything. Those moments in the hotel—she could not strike them from her mind. Each touch, each kiss had been branded on her memory with a clarity that set her body aflame and left her aching with her own needs.

Uneven footfalls sounded out in the hall, and Alaina tensed, listening over the wild hammering of her heart. Would he come to her this time in anger
or in lust? Did he expect to stand above her bed and watch her sleep again? Or was there some other purpose to his coming?

The steps halted at her door, and abruptly the portal was flung wide, bringing her to her feet. Cole limped across the threshold, his jaw set, his eyes red, his brow furrowed. He still wore the narrow black trousers and silk shirt, but the latter had been opened to the waist and revealed his firm, well-muscled chest. The suspicion that he was drunk penetrated her consciousness, but it was only her instincts that warned her, for he displayed none of the obvious signs. Indeed, he seemed well in control of his faculties.

The long moment stretched longer as his eyes bore into her, and Alaina could find no strength in her limbs. The oil lamp on the table behind her silhouetted the womanly shape of her through the thin, loosely flowing nightgown, and his eyes ravished the bounty of her meagerly clad charms. Her breath trembled from her lips as she waited, frozen by the chair, then he limped nearer, spurring her to seek the doubtful protection of her robe.

“Do you wish to discuss something with me, Major?” She moved past him to close the door, not wanting to portray herself as some weak-kneed schoolgirl. His eyes followed her, and she returned to the hearth where she sat cautiously on the edge of a chair to ease the trembling in her limbs.

In a halfhearted attempt to set aside the thing that was gnawing at him, Cole tried a gentle approach. “You were beautiful this evening, Alaina.”

Her unanswering silence chafed. He limped to her wardrobe and, with the tip of his cane, stirred the hem of the petticoat that she had left hanging over the armoire door. He was clearly displeased by its tattered state and prodded the door open with his cane. Though the wardrobe was stuffed once more with rich garments, the black dress was easily accessible to hand.

“When you came across the gangplank yesterday, I almost expected Al to be lurking somewhere within these skirts.”

Alaina looked at him askance. “You always had a problem with that.”

“But it’s obvious that Al has departed forever.” Despite his care, his words sounded coarse and curt, and he berated himself as he saw her chin raise slightly in defiance.

“The lad was never really appreciated by anyone, Major.”

“There are some who would argue,” he murmured distantly.

She raised her eyebrows and stared at him in mild amusement. “Really, Major?”

The title irritated his sorely strained good humor. “Dammit, Alaina!” The curse was sudden and explosive, startling her. He threw open the other door of the armoire and flung his hand toward the contents angrily. “You have a full closet of finery at your disposal, and I come in here to find you in rags!”

Alaina rubbed her slim nose with the back of a knuckle. “Quite right, sir. Beggarish though they be, they’re mine to wear.” She sat proud and stiff-necked in the chair. “Did I disappoint you this
evening? Did I embarrass you in front of your guests?”

“No, of course not!” His tone was harsh as he waved away her inquiry. “You were a credit to my house.”

“Thank you, sir!” The reply was prompt, but the title smarted a bit. He did not meet her gaze, but glanced restlessly about the room. Everything was neatly in its place. Not at all like Al, he mused, but very much like this switch of a lass he was just beginning to find out about.

“I thought perhaps I might have displeased you,” she said softly, folding the flap of her robe over her knees. “You frowned so much—”

“It was only that damned pompous ass! That licentious Lothario who wheedled his way to your side. Undoubtedly he has been much attracted to you from the beginning.” His eyes raked over her, making Alaina acutely aware of the scantiness of her garb. His voice deepened. “But I do not intend to share you with him.”

As soon as the words left his lips, Cole had the distinct impression that he had just foolishly stirred a volcano and was about to see it erupt in his face. On a later day he would decide this had only been a warning whiff of smoke. The sting of his insult brought Alaina immediately to her feet, and she faced him with eyes blazing.

“I don’t think you need worry overmuch,
Doctor
Latimer! I am not a pawn to be used at anyone’s convenience!” She strode irately about the room, questioning almost sneeringly, “What kind of man are you? What kind of man is it who invites people to dine, then orders them out of his house?
Your skill as a host leaves much to be desired! Indeed, you behaved just like an army mule—”

Cole cut her off with a snarl. “I only ordered Braeger out.”

“Why do you hate him so?” Alaina demanded, whirling to meet his gaze. “Is it because he’s still capable of being a doctor?”

“Doctor, pah! That ham-handed—”

“Enough!” Her voice was sharp as she realized he intended to give only insult to the man.

“He, too, bade me chop off my leg!” Cole raged on, unmindful of her command. “Cut it off and be done with it, the man said!”

“Stop it!” The rising fire of the volcano showed in her eyes. “I care naught for your hard-minded ravings. You’ve grown hateful and mean!”

“Od’s blood!” He laughed caustically. “I vow you and Roberta were closer kin than you claim. Hateful and mean! Her exact words on many occasion. You set upon me with the same fangs your cousin laid to my neck!” His voice was hoarse and cracked. His eyes blazed fiercely with the battle that raged within him. He could not shake the lustful cravings in his loins or the urge to clasp her to him and smother her struggles in a passionate embrace. “But you have done your cousin one better. She promised what she could not give. You deny me what you can give!”

The volcano rumbled. Alaina’s own eyes flashed a dangerous steely blue as she took a step toward him. “I warned you about comparing us before, bluebelly!”

“Ah, yes, the innocent now!” He trod the trembling ground with a fool’s boldness. “You left—she
came! Trick the Yankee! Trap the bluebelly! Drag him down! Tear him apart! How much did your bitch of a cousin pay you to waste your virgin’s blood on me?”

Whaap
!

The sound of Alaina’s hand striking Cole’s cheek echoed in the room. He caught her wrist, and in the next instant she was crushed unmercifully against his naked chest. His open mouth plummeted down, covering her protests in a brutal kiss, his lips forcing hers apart and his tongue thrusting through with overwhelming savagery. The restrained desire broke through him in a rush, and he yielded to the rutting heat of his lust, lifting her feet clear of the floor until her soft thighs were snugly settled against the manly fullness in his loins. Alaina’s whole being burned with the brazen boldness of his onslaught. She could not draw a breath. Her mind would not form a sane thought. Her breasts ached against his hard chest. Her loins throbbed with the scalding heat of his arousal. She could find no strength to hold him off, nor the desire. Then abruptly Cole released her, and she staggered back, breathless, drained of all anger.

“Be warned, madam,” he rasped hoarsely, shattering her trance. “I have known the follies of marriage much too well, but no more. You are mine, and I will take from you whatever I desire, and whenever—”

“You agreed—” A weak, unconvincing whisper of denial was all she could muster.

“Whenever! Wherever!” Cole reasserted. He retrieved his cane from the floor and limped from the room, closing the door behind him.

Like a sleepwalker, numb, stunned, Alaina moved about the room, lowering the lamps until deep shadows filled the chamber. Robe and all, she crawled beneath the covers and curled herself in a tight ball, hugging her knees. Yet the haunting pressure of his excitement still burned in the depth of her being. It was a wee small hour in the morning before sleep finally came to her dazed mind.

T
HE
early morning mists still wreathed the valley when Alaina rose and carefully dressed herself, intending to confront Cole about this matter of their vows. They’d either have a marriage or they would not, but she would not straddle the fine wire of his mercurial disposition.

When she descended the stairs, Miles came rushing from the back of the house, hurriedly shrugging into his vest. As she moved toward the closed study door, he positioned himself obtrusively before it.

“Good-morning, madam.” He was still knotting his tie.

Alaina gave him an elegant morning smile. “I was just going in to see if my husband is up and about.”

Miles moved to block her way more completely. “Begging your pardon, madam, but the doctor gave me strictest orders that he was not to be disturbed by anyone. And”—he swallowed nervously—“begging your pardon again, madam”—he cleared his throat—“most especially, not by you.” He lowered his gaze quickly and fumbled with his watch fob.

In the brief silence that followed Alaina could hear the off-rhythm thump of Cole’s cane beyond the study door, as if he paced the room. As graciously
as possible, she released the poor butler from his embarrassment. “I understand, Miles.”

She ate breakfast alone, while the chair at the far end of the table remained conspicuously empty. Cole’s service had not even been set, and though tasty, the food on her plate was barely touched. Alaina left the dining room to retire upstairs, and as she entered the hallway, Mrs. Garth was just raising her hand to knock on the study door. The housekeeper paused as Alaina passed and slowly lowered her arm. In her other hand she carried a silver tray that bore an unopened bottle of brandy. It was obvious to Alaina that the woman was deliberately waiting for her to leave. In quiet dignity Alaina crossed to the stairs and mounted them. Just before reaching her room, she heard the light rap of Mrs. Garth’s knuckles against the heavy oak of the study door.

Alaina frowned. It seemed as if everybody else in the house knew what was going on and was determined to keep her apart from it. If Cole was attempting to drink his problems into submission, then the servants had their orders; he was not to be disturbed.

Well! A finely shaped jaw thrust out defiantly. That, too, would pass. He has to come out sometime.

In the afternoon, Olie dragged a chair into the hallway and leaned it back beside the study door. There, he reposed in guardianship while Miles attended other duties. Through the thick oak door, Cole’s voice drifted, chanting a singsong ditty, the words of which were slurred beyond recognition.

In the evening, Peter took up the station, and the next morning Miles was up earlier, puttering
about in the foyer when she came down. Appraising the situation, Alaina made no attempt to approach the door, but answered Miles’ greeting with a nod of her head and went in to breakfast. Sometime around the noon hour Peter returned to guard the study door. At the evening meal no sound came from the study, though Olie was taking his tour of duty.

The third morning Alaina came down slightly later than usual. She had been especially careful in her toilet, brushing her hair until it fairly gleamed and pinching her cheeks to a brighter color. Surely, she thought, even Cole had taken enough solace from the bottle. But the door was still closed, the study quiet, and Miles was, as usual, present before it. Annie brought Alaina’s breakfast under a silver cover and again the mistress of the house ate alone. Heaving a weighty sigh, Alaina took a cup of coffee with her to the large window that provided a splendid view of the river. All her resolutions of confronting Cole had mellowed to a desire just to see him. But even that seemed too much to hope for.

The first sense of being watched was a crawling of hair on the nape of her neck, yet this time Alaina continued sipping her coffee until the first flush of fear died away. There was no threat here; that much she realized. Without giving an indication of her intent, she whirled. The kitchen door creaked as it swung closed.

There was someone! Alaina dashed forward, setting the cup on the table, and threw open the betraying portal. She took a step through, then stopped, listening carefully. No one was in the room, but she heard a low humming, a wordless song coming closer. The door leading from the fruit cellar
opened, and Annie stepped into the kitchen, cradling several crock jars against her plump bosom. When she saw the new mistress in her kitchen, she stopped in surprise, ceasing her melody.

“Did you see anyone come through here?” Alaina queried in confusion.

“No, mum.” The portly cook heaved a breathless sigh and set down her burden. “As ye can see, I was down in the cellar fetching some vittles. How would I know if anyone came through here or not?”

“I guess you’re right.” Alaina chewed thoughtfully on a lip as she returned to the dining room. She grew vexed with herself because it seemed as if she had resorted to chasing shadows through the house. It almost had her doubting her own sanity.

She realized with some irritation that she had been doing too much sitting and thinking of late. If this was the best she could find to occupy her time, she’d soon be in need of some of Cole’s brandy to fortify her wits. The interior of the house was well kept, but the exterior made many silent demands. The rose garden was there, waiting—

Quicksilverishly her mood changed as she found something to distract her thoughts away from Cole. She hurried upstairs and, giving no serious mind to his disapproval, she donned her meanest dress, the widow’s weeds, leaving off the dainty cuffs and lace-flounced collar. She found a pair of old shoes she had brought with her and a kerchief to gather her hair in, another to tuck in her waistband, and a rather ancient pair of gloves.

Alaina approached the rose garden with caution until she was sure the drapes in Cole’s study
were tightly closed. Having acquired a shovel and a rake from the toolshed at the back of the house, she set to work with diligence, on her knees, snatching out handfuls of dried weeds and leaves, and carefully replacing the small border stones that had been tumbled away. Her need was as much to let off tensions that had mounted within the last days as to improve the appearances of the small garden.

The warmth of the autumn day and her labors began to find her, and she straightened to loosen the neck of her dark dress and unfasten the buttons that trailed to the elbow, rolling back the sleeves. Using the shovel, she turned the earth until it was fresh and brown beneath the thorny bushes. The work was hard, and after a time, she stepped back, as much to catch her breath as to survey the results. The soil clung to the front of her skirt, resisting her best effort to brush it away. She pulled the kerchief from her belt and wiped the perspiration that trickled down between her breasts, then, patting dry her neck, she raised her head and froze. Cole stood casually watching her through the open window of his bedroom. He was neatly groomed, fresh of shirt, and here she was sweaty, dirty, and wearing the dress he hated.

Leisurely Cole took the cheroot from his mouth and blew a long streamer of smoke toward her. Alaina dropped her gaze and stared at the stone facade of the house, seeing nothing, despairing all. She groaned inwardly in frustration. Three mornings up! Three mornings dressed to the hilt! Two days of waiting for the master to appear! And what good had it done her?

The window above her closed with a snide
snick
, and when she glanced up, Cole had retreated from view.

“Oh, why did he have to catch me like this?” she fretted aloud.

“My apology, madam!” a voice responded from the front of the house, wrenching a startled gasp from her as she jerked about to face the intruder. It was Braegar, sitting on the back of one of his long-legged thoroughbreds.

“Would it suffice,” he called as he dismounted, “if I went back and promised not to look this time?” He picked his way through the remains of a picket fence, draping the reins of his horse loosely over the slat of a decrepit arbor.

Alaina wiped apologetically at her soiled skirt, hoping that the blush on her cheeks was not too apparent. “Doctor Darvey! I wasn’t expecting visitors!”

“Be that as it may.” Braegar loomed over her as she bent to retrieve the kerchief she had dropped. “I shall simply have to make do with whatever beauty is at hand.” With the last word, he reached out to assist her to her feet.

For a brief moment Alaina stared at him in open confusion, then laughed as she realized his compliment and accepted his hand. She enjoyed his game and dropped into a curtsy. “You are most gallant, sir, and you have boosted my spirits as much as this fine day.” She swept her hand about to indicate the vibrant blue of the sky and the rich autumn colors of the hillside. “If your winter is at all like this, I think I’ll be able to tolerate it.”

“Winter!” Braegar snorted. “My dear, innocent Alaina, I shall warn you that this is only a brief
warm spell of Indian summer. Better that you brace yourself for the winter that’s on its way.” He gestured to the rosebushes. “You know they’ll be dead come spring if you leave them that way.”

“Oh?” She glanced back in sudden dismay to think all her labor might be for naught.

Braeger assumed his best lecture tone and enjoyed the opportunity to discourse. “Perhaps if you will heap the soil over them and top them off with a thick layer of leaves they’ll survive.”

“Is that all?”

“I think so.” But he suddenly appeared doubtful. “It seems to work on ours.”

Alaina smiled. “And you came all this way to help me tend the roses? You’re truly a gentleman of the first blood!”

He swept his hat from his head. “Madam! I would come a million miles to glimpse your fair face!”

She chuckled disbelievingly. “Sir, I must tell you truly, I’ve never heard blarney quite as rich as yours.”

“Madam!” he pretended injury. “Do you believe me insincere?”

“I am somewhat skeptical, sir, of Irishmen and Yankees,” she rejoined pertly.

Braeger peered at her with laughter sparkling in his eyes. “And you’ve come to tame us all, eh, Alaina?”

She nodded stoutly. “As much as I can, Doctor Darvey.”

“And you’ll do it too, I’ll swear!” Braeger vowed jovially.

Alaina removed her gloves and tucked them within her apron. “I didn’t think I would see you again after the other night.”

Braegar grew serious as he admitted, “Cole and I have had our differences before.” He sighed heavily. “I came—” The usually glib tongue was at a loss for a moment, and she waited patiently. “I felt—a need—for some kind of an apology.”

Alaina slowly shook her head. “I can give you none, sir. It will have to come from Cole.”

“No—no.” He waved his hand in a half-angry gesture. “I meant from me. I guess it was my fault. I just can’t seem to talk to Cole of late. Whatever the topic, I always say the wrong thing. I don’t know what it is.” He stepped aside, and they strolled together toward the front of the house. “It could be him. It could be me. If I am the cause, I don’t know what to do, but Cole has been different since he came back from the war.” With obvious agitation Braegar stared into the distance. “He volunteered, full of patriotism and loyalty, boldness and courage. But I could see no reason to risk my life in this foolishness called war, so I paid another to go in my stead.”

Braegar gathered his horse’s reins, and they walked along in silence, while Alaina thought of her own father and brothers. Finally she halted, and when he too stopped, she caught his gaze and held it with unwavering gray eyes. “In a way you’re right,” she stated bluntly. “It takes a special kind of man with a special kind of cause to go into battle. I can’t agree with you. I won’t approve of your actions.” She shrugged. “But I won’t condemn you either. There were several times when I might have fled had I been given the chance.”

Braegar studied her a long moment. “You’re a special kind of woman, Alaina Latimer, and you’re
kinder than most. Is that what Cole holds against me? That I am whole, while he is less so?”

“I think not,” she murmured. “Somehow that just doesn’t seem to fit.”

Braegar was greatly perplexed. He tossed the reins over the horse’s neck and settled his hat into place. “Maybe someday I’ll find out what’s eating at him, and then we’ll have it out.” He touched the brim of his hat in a quick salute and mounted his steed. “With any luck, I’ll see you again. Convey my apologies to your husband. I have a rich patient with the gout waiting.”

Alaina was standing on the porch watching him ride away when the door opened behind her. Certain that it was Cole, she waited until he came to stand beside her before she spoke.

“You needn’t worry. He’s gone.” No answer came and after a long pause, she sighed. “He came to apologize.” She faced her husband squarely. “For whatever it was that he said.”

Still, Cole made no reply, and Alaina’s eyes lowered uncertainly, skimming the tall, lean narrowness of him which was complimented by the flawless tailoring of white silk shirt and dark pinstripe vest and trousers. He looked tired and drawn, even pale, and Alaina thought to herself that it was a shame he abused himself so.

“I’ve been waiting to discuss some matters with you.” She broached the subject tenderly but without hesitation.

“I’m sorry, madam.” He glanced down at her briefly. “I was indisposed.”

“So I noticed,” she retorted crisply, then bit her lip. She hadn’t meant to sound so caustic.

Cole made no excuse, but stared off across the field to the sunlit hills.

“We had an understanding, Major,” she began, but lost some of her purposefulness when his brows gathered in a harsh frown. She finished in a barely breathed whisper. “You accost me whenever the urge strikes, and I wish to know your intentions.”

Cole gave her a quick, curt bow of apology. “Why, honorable of course, madam. Was that not part of the vows we exchanged? I believe something was said to that effect—for better or for worse, until death us do part.”

Her pride was nipped by the brusque manner in which he dismissed his actions. She could have been Al as much as he seemed to care for her feelings. Perhaps, once again, he had trouble thinking of her as a woman. He had admitted the existence of that problem whenever she wore her widow’s garb.