Ashes in the Wind (62 page)

“You’ve been playing games with me, milord, and adding my men to your side of the board.”

He smiled with disarming gentleness. “What better way to lure you into my bedroom?”

“We do have a marriage then?”

He arched a brow wonderingly. “Of course, my love. Have you ever doubted it?”

“On occasion, sir. But what once seemed a dismal bargain seems to have turned into something almost too good to be true.”

“And will you henceforth share the bed and the room with me, Mrs. Latimer?” he queried.

“Wait for me?” she questioned in a shy, soft whisper.

“Don’t be long.”

Pausing briefly to select a nightgown from her armoire, she retired to the bathing chamber to garb herself as befitting a bride. She was just slipping into the grayish blue gown when she heard Cole’s
footsteps come to the door and pause on the other side, as if he were impatient with her toilette. After a long moment, the footsteps went away, leaving her to hastily brush out her hair to a soft, silky sheen.

No great amount of time had passed before she heard Cole return to the door and stand once again on the other side of the unopen portal. Smoothing her hair, Alaina slowly pulled the door open. He was there, tall and slender in a long velvet robe. The heat of his gaze ranged the full length of her in a long, slow, appreciative stare, pausing on the soft, pale nipples showing provocatively through the lace and admiring the womanliness of her that was readily visible to his hungering eye. It was unmistakably a gown he had purchased for her.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed almost in awe.

Smiling timidly, Alaina reached out a hand, and with a single tug, the belt of his robe fell limp. She spread the garment wide and stepped close to him until the heat of his naked body blended with the warmth of hers. Then her arms were around his neck, and her lips met his with a fevered eagerness that never failed to amaze him. His arms swept her up. The bed beckoned, and they sought its downy comfort together as one, man and wife. For Alaina, it was like being home after an eternity away. He was home to her, and she was safe in his arms.

I
T
was a swiftly fleeting hand of time that swept the days of the month past, speeding on the hours that were too sweet to lose so quickly. Yet now there was always the promise of more rapturous moments just ahead.

As Alaina contemplated leaving the cozy comfort of their bed this morning, she grew warm with the memory of the past month when in the hours of night she had lain in Cole’s arms before the crackling fire and answered his kisses and caresses, or talked quietly with him of intimate things and shared remembrances. She smiled as she thoughtfully fingered the medallion that was once again about her neck. The addition of precious gems had enhanced its beauty, but the script still boldly read, property of c.r. latimer. Now that they had a real marriage between them, Alaina found herself even more deeply in love with Cole. Though she would have denied it, and her pride and prejudices had struggled against it, love had rooted itself firmly within her heart long ago, moving out hate and intolerance.

Retrieving her gown from the floor, Alaina slipped it hastily over her head and donned her robe. She remembered that Cole had been restless during the night and had seemed in a great deal of pain after
he had slipped on a loosened strip of carpet on the stairs. He might have plunged headlong to the bottom had he not fallen against the balustrade and managed to grasp the railing. She had noted the long bruise on his scarred thigh as he undressed for bed, but forgot about it when he came to her and began to remove the gown she had only just donned. The memory of what had followed brought a light blush of pleasure to her cheeks. Not too long ago, there had been a time when she would have torn the heart from anyone who would have dared to suggest that a bluebelly Yankee officer would be the doting joy of her life. Now he seemed the center of her very being.

Alaina’s slippered feet skipped lightly down the stairs. But halfway in her descent of them, she halted in surprise. Miles was stationed in front of the closed study door and appeared once more on guard against any possible intrusion. The servant hesitantly met her troubled gaze and conveyed his apology in his eyes. It was as before; she would be forbidden entry into her husband’s private domain.

“Doctor Latimer offers his apologies, madam,” he murmured in pained embarrassment. “And he begs you to forgive him. He will be unable to join you for breakfast.”

Alaina struggled through the day as best she could, unable to understand Cole locking himself in the study and setting guards at the door to keep her out. Later in the day, Olie relieved the butler, and Alaina’s vexation showed in her frowning visage as she faced her husband’s driver with arms akimbo. The man squirmed uncomfortably on his chair and, whistling an airless tune, fixed his attention on his feet.

The servants tirelessly guarded the study door for four straight days and were well into the fifth when Alaina lost patience with the lot of them. She could hear the faint, singsong voice of her husband behind the barrier they provided and the closed, forbidding door. As far as she was concerned, Cole had already steeped himself in too much privacy and brandy, and she grew incensed at the loneliness of her bedroom.

It was Peter’s misfortune to have drawn the afternoon watch at the door when Alaina’s pique reached its limit and she entered the hallway, determined to put an end to Cole’s monkish whimsy. The young man had been most wary of the first mistress, but this one he had come to idolize and consider her much in the same light as a small, delicate, fragile, china doll. Younger than she by only a hand’s count of months, he had led a sheltered life in this secluded place and had never known the shattering effect of a full broadside of feminine wiles.

His heart pounded as she came toward him with a smile designed to melt honey from any comb. He came to his feet in an awkward scramble, ignoring the book that spilled to the floor.

“Keep your seat, Peter,” she bade the youth sweetly. “I was just going to have a word with the doctor.”

Peter began to obey, then his bedazzled mind recalled the reason he had been posted at the door. “Uh, mum?” He hastily took a position in front of the portal to deny her entry. “Doctor Latimer’s orders were to—uh—keep you out.”

“Oh, really, Peter!” Alaina placed a hand gently on the lapel of the boy’s coat and observed that he seemed to be having some trouble with his
breathing. “You know it’s touted that a man can’t have any secrets from his wife. Now, I realize the doctor likes a fine brandy now and then, and of that I have no complaint. But this sort of drinking is ridiculous. I simply must discuss this with him!”

“Oh no, mum! It ain’t the drinkin—I mean—that’s part of it I guess, but really it’s more his—!”

“Peter!” The name cracked in the silence of the hall as Miles came from the back of the house. “You know what Doctor Latimer said, Peter.”

Although Miles’s voice was harsh in reproof, Peter seemed relieved to have his supporting presence. Miles took up station beside the lad, drawing himself into a stiff caricature of the proper butler.

“Do you really think to keep me from my husband?” Alaina questioned almost incredulously as she considered the pair.

“Yes, madam,” Miles answered sternly. “On his orders, madam, we are to insure his privacy.” Miles’s eyes stared down from either side of his thin, hooked nose as if he were sighting a weapon at her.

Calmly Alaina took Peter’s chair and slid it a good distance down the hall, positioning it in a corner facing outward. She returned to stand before the two men, while they obviously fretted beneath her deliberate stare. She lifted a hand and pointed to the chair.

“Peter, sit there.” Though still gentle, there was something in her voice that did not encourage argument. Peter obeyed with alacrity, and Miles faced her alone, fixing his gaze on the far wall as tiny beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

“Miles?” He flinched at the sound of her smooth, silky voice.

“Yes, madam?” A nervous tic began at the back of his right arm.

“Do you consider yourself a gentleman?” Alaina began to pace back and forth in front of him.

“Yes, madam, of course.” Miles sniffed. “One of the best schools in England and one of the best families. In fact, I have instructed at several schools on the continent.”

“Indeed, a professor!” Alaina nodded. “Of the manly arts, I presume?”

“Yes, madam. You might say that.”

“And you are a gentleman of the old school.”

“Yes, madam.”

Alaina halted her pacing and stood directly in front of the butler, her arms akimbo. He stared at the wall over her head, and the sweat began to trickle down his face.

“Have you ever struck a lady?” Her voice took on a crisp note of inquisition.

“No, madam! Of course not!” He was aghast.

“Have you ever used force against a lady?”

“No, madam!”

“Do you consider me to be a lady?”

“Oh, yes, madam. Decidedly so, yes.” His voice dwindled as he began to feel the bite of the trap. A long pause followed with only the sound of Alaina’s toe tapping on the hall floor.

“Then please step aside, Miles.” Her tone was one of brisk command. “Or I shall destroy your reputation on the spot.”

His eyes flickered downward briefly to hers, and he saw no mercy in the steel gray. Nervously he sidled away from the door.

“Pa!” Peter’s plaintive wail trembled in the hall, and as Alaina laid her hand on the doorknob, Olie thundered in from the kitchen, a napkin still tucked in the neck of his shirt and his cheeks bulging with a healthy portion of his meal.

Her hand still on the latch, Alaina turned to face him, a quizzical brow raised to silently ask his intent. Olie could no more lay a hand to her than could the others, and the three men stood helplessly by while Alaina pushed open the study door and entered.

The drapes were tightly drawn, and the sickening reek of whiskey and stale cigar smoke was enough to make Alaina choke and cough. Cole had been pacing in a small circle along the edge of a round rug before the fireplace, but at the intrusion of her cough, he jerked about, finding her through the gloom of the room.

“Dammit, Alaina,” he barked. “Get out of here!”

Closing the door firmly behind her, she leaned against it and let her gaze roam over him derisively. What she saw was hardly the neat, well groomed man she had always known him to be. His face bore the stubble of a half week’s growth, and a long dressing robe hung in loose folds to his ankles. His eyes were red rimmed, puffed and bloodshot, his mouth distorted in a grimace as he braced himself on the black cane.

“Isn’t it time you come to your senses, Doctor Latimer?” she inquired.

“Leave me be, woman!” he commanded hoarsely. He swept his cane across the surface of the table which stood between them, sending the articles
it held crashing to the floor. “Get out, or I’ll have the servants throw you out!”

“That will do you no good, sir,” she answered serenely. “They are now more afraid of me than they are of you.”

“As I see! The lot of them cannot keep one wee wench from this room!” Rashly he boasted, “So if I cannot trust my servants, then I will tend to you myself!” But as he advanced toward her, Alaina became amazed by the awkwardness of his gait. He all but dragged his right leg behind him, and he made his way slowly, his teeth gritted against the pain.

“Cole?” She began to fear for him and stepped forward to meet him. “Let me help you.”

“No!” he cried, moving away from her reaching hand. Embarrassed by his unsightly appearance, he ducked away, but his cane slipped on the bare wood floor, and he stumbled against her. Her weight too meager to stop him, Alaina fell with him. As he hit the floor, Cole rolled away from her, writhing in agony, grinding his teeth to keep from groaning aloud. Alaina rose to her knees beside him, then sat back on her heels, staring in astonishment at his right thigh which the parted robe revealed. He was naked beneath the garment, for a pair of trousers would not have slipped over his swollen thigh which was half again as large as his left. The bruised, discolored look of the limb roused a new anxiety in her, and her fingers trembled as she reached out to touch the purple, distended flesh.

“Good lord, Alaina,” Cole choked hoarsely as he struggled to cover himself. “You unman me.”

“Is this why you stayed in here?” she demanded incredulously. “Because of your leg?”

“I can do nothing but walk to keep the blood flowing in the leg and pray that I don’t lose it.”

Her emotions were mixed between relief and anger that he had so foolishly secluded himself from her. “And you believed that I would think less of you because of this?” She flung out a hand to indicate his leg, her tone one of disbelief.

“You would not have been the first.”

“Like I told you before, Yankee, I ain’t Roberta!” With that, she came to her feet and, stepping to the door, snatched it open. “Olie! Miles! Peter! Come in here. Now!”

“Alaina!” Cole barked, struggling to rise. “Close that door!”

Alaina saw Mrs. Garth coming across the hall with a fresh supply of brandy and jerked her head toward the stairs. “Take it upstairs to the bedroom.”

“Blast you, woman!” Cole bellowed. “I need that to kill the pain!”

His wife ignored him and stepped aside as the three men entered the study. “Take the doctor upstairs and put him in his bed immediately.”

“Like hell you will!” Cole thundered. “I’ll dismiss the lot of you if you come near me!”

Olie’s gaze shifted uneasily toward Alaina who retorted boldly, “Then I’ll hire you all back again.” She waved a hand to her husband. “Now stop this shilly-shallying and take him upstairs. And for the sake of heaven, be brave about it! You’re three against one!”

Cole brandished his cane like a weapon, and his raving curses burned Peter’s ears, prompting Miles and Olie to glance uncertainly from the master of the
house to the mistress, each hoping that the wrath about to descend upon them would not be of a permanent nature. Either way, they were bound to catch hell.

Olie stepped forward, nervously rubbing the tip of his nose with a forefinger, and peered down at his employer. “She say we take yu up. I t’ink we take yu up!”

A long string of oaths christened them as Olie and Peter lifted him and Miles carefully supported his leg. As soon as Cole was deposited safely in his bed, he found himself faced with a new threat, that of being at his wife’s mercy. She began giving orders as if she were born to command.

“Mrs. Garth, you may air out the study and see that it’s given a proper cleaning. Peter, fetch hot water for a bath and put a kettle of the same here on the hearth. I’ll need some linens, too. Miles, you and Olie may bring the doctor’s chair from the study up here. He’ll be needing it close by for a while. And I want a bucketful of snow and ice, preferably before any of it melts.”

Cole had no time to question her instructions before the servants hurried off to see them carried out. Warily he asked, “Now that you have me up here, what are your intentions?”

Alaina folded back the bedcovers and stacked several pillows beneath his knee. “I would not presume to tell you what to do, my love, but it seems to me that a doctor should take better care of himself than you appear to be doing.”

“You have not answered my question,” Cole pressed.

“Would you like to take your robe off before I start the compresses? I’ll fetch you a fresh nightshirt if you wish.”

“Compresses?” Cole raised himself apprehensively.

“Hot and cold compresses to make the swelling go down. That much I know about home remedies.” She gestured casually. “The robe, please. I plan to see to the entire man. After we’ve tended your leg, I’ll shave and bathe you.”

“I’m not an invalid, madam,” he assured her. “I can bathe myself.”

“You’ll have difficulty getting into the tub. It will be simpler if you’re bathed here.”

His brows crinkled thoughtfully. “All over?”

Alaina’s eyes raised slowly to his. “I think you can manage a few places.”

“You’ve crushed my hopes.”

“Serves you right,” she chided with a smile twinkling at the corner of her mouth. “Anyone who would walk on a leg like that deserves nothing more than a good ear washing.”