Heartstrings (12 page)

But years from now, when she remembered her first real kiss, he vowed she would think of Roman Montana.

The profoundly arousing fragrance of wild flowers, warmth, and woman bathed his senses when he reached for her. His right hand caught her chin, and leisurely, savoring every second, he slid his left hand up her back and to the nape of her neck. Thus, he kept her captive for his kiss.

A barely there smile touched his lips as he brushed his mouth over hers, in a kiss as gentle as the play of light in her eyes. Her sigh drifted over his tongue as he coerced her to part her lips.

He lowered his left hand to the small of her back. She was soft to the touch, and he realized she wore no corset. Her tiny waistline was her own, a fact that aroused Roman further.

He urged her closer. To him. To his heat.

To the desire that the scent, taste, and feel of her had brought to life.

She tried to pull away but was stilled instantly when he growled with displeasure and slanted his mouth over hers, the motions of his tongue hard, demanding, and possessive. With increasing pressure of his hand, he kept her hips cradled within his. She fitted his body perfectly, as if a master sculptor had designed her especially for him.

He moved against her, into her, wanting to brand her with the hot, hard feel of himself. He would never see her again after this day, that he knew.

But when she arched sweetly into him, mindlessly surrendering to him, he knew she would not forget him.

He ended the sensual encounter as he had begun it: gently, gradually, until his lips no longer caressed hers and their bodies touched no more.

Flashing her a lopsided grin, he fingered the soft golden curl that tumbled over her breast, turned, and walked out the door.

Theodosia knew his kiss had been his farewell.

And she realized also that she was going to miss him.

T
heodosia sat at the other
side of the table, watching Dr. Wallaby read the last page of the thesis she’d prepared as part of the examination. Lamplight and moonbeams washed over their supper plates, her parrot’s cage, a jar of fresh bluebonnets, and Dr. Wallaby’s thin, angular face.

It was true, she thought, studying the scientist. He and Upton looked like brothers. The only difference was that Dr. Wallaby was older, and the lenses in his glasses magnified his eyes to such an extent that they resembled two blue saucers stuck side by side on his face.

She remembered other blue eyes. And long black hair, a lopsided grin, and unbelievable masses of muscle.

She recalled the rhythmic rock of a certain set of hips too. Back. And forth, easy, easy.

Squirming in her chair, she forced herself to concentrate on Dr. Wallaby and wondered when she would have the opportunity to broach the subject of his siring the child. Since his return to the house a few hours ago, the scientist had discussed nothing but his research.

And she had thought of nothing but Roman’s parting kiss. It remained in her mind, so real, so vivid, that she could still feel the sensation of being held by a man who desired her.

Smothering the low moan that filled her throat, she pushed a bit of fresh pear into her parrot’s cage.

He nibbled at it. “Dr. Wallaby,” he squawked, pear mush edging his beak, “would you be willing to impreg—”

Quickly, Theodosia pinched his beak shut and gave the puzzled scientist a weak smile.

Dr. Wallaby finished reading the last page of her two-hundred-page proposition. “This is brilliant. You’ve an amazing understanding of Coleoptera, Miss Worth.”

“Coleoptera,” Theodosia murmured, remembering that Roman had misunderstood the name and told her what he knew about Cleopatra and the snake.

“Miss Worth?”

“Yes? Oh.” What on earth was the matter with her? Here she was, with the man she’d been admiring for years, and all she could think about was Roman Montana, a man she’d known for all of three days!

“It is apparent to me that you have spent a remarkable amount of time studying my findings,” Dr. Wallaby declared. “I’ve no doubt you will prove to be an excellent assistant to me in Brazil. The position is yours.”

She gasped with excitement. “Thank you so much, Dr. Wallaby! You’ve no idea what this means to me.”

“You are most welcome. As you know, I plan to sail back to South America as soon as I receive further funding. I hope the money will arrive soon, but such things take time. In the meantime, if you would like to return to Boston and spend a bit of time with Upton and your sister Lillian, that would be perfectly fine.”

Theodosia nodded. She would return to Boston all right, but not before she had the child in her arms. “Dr. Wallaby, there is a certain matter I would like to discuss with you. A sexual matter, actually, and I—”

“Ah, so you’ve heard, have you?” Dr. Wallaby smiled. “Well, I suppose the news was bound to spread sooner or later.”

“News?”

He laid her thesis on the table and slid a bluebonnet from the jar.
“Lupinus subcamosus,”
he murmured pensively, twirling the stem of the blossom between his fingers. “The bluebonnet arrived in this country in the mid-1840s, either with Russian immigrants who brought it with the intention of planting it, or by accident in a shipment of flax from Germany. Their manner of arrival, however, is irrelevant. What concerns me are the flowers themselves.”

Theodosia glanced at the bluebonnet, unable to comprehend the scientist’s sudden decision to discuss the flower.

“While the saliva of the rare Pindamonhangaba beetle might very well provide the cure for baldness,” Dr. Wallaby continued, “the common bluebonnet shows great potential for supplying the remedy for impotence in the human male.”

Theodosia frowned. “Impotence, Dr. Wallaby?”

He rose, and his bony hands clasped behind his back, the bluebonnet dangling from his fingers, he paced around the room for many long moments. Finally, he stopped beside Theodosia’s chair and looked down at her. “I cannot express the excitement I feel toward my initial findings. Impotence is a malady that distresses a great many men. Because I understand personally the depth of said distress, I am determined to continue with my experiments. My dilemma, however, is that I am committed to my research in Brazil and have time for little else.”

Theodosia peered up at him, recalling that Upton had said Dr. Wallaby had. chosen to remain unwed for personal reasons. A vague sense of foreboding darkened the bright plans she’d laid. “How is it that you are able to personally comprehend such dismay?”

He smiled a sad smile. “Although I have devoted my life to research, there was a time many years ago when I desired a wife and children. I abandoned the desire, however, because I am unable to sire children. You see. Miss Worth, I suffer the unfortunate affliction of impotence.”

T
he early morning sunshine poured
over the weather-beaten wooden sign that said wild winds. Nailed to one of the red mulberry trees that lined the road, it pointed straight ahead.

Theodosia let go of the reins for a moment, retied the ribbons on her pink bonnet, and gave a quick pat to the smooth chignon at the nape of her neck.

“Wild Winds surely has its share of men, John the Baptist. One of them might very well be qualified to replace Dr. Wallaby. Oh, poor, poor Dr. Wallaby.”

A tinge of guilt caused her to lower her head and stare at her lap. The dear man had believed every lie she’d told him this morning and thought it a wonderful idea for her to study the speech habits of the South while he waited for his research funding to arrive. He’d been especially pleased when she told him she’d hired Roman to escort her to the various towns in which she would conduct her studies. Why, Dr. Wallaby had even agreed to wait for her in Brazil rather than Templeton if she didn’t return in time to sail with him.

Having dealt with Dr. Wallaby, she’d then set about writing to Upton and Lillian, telling them the same lies she’d told the scientist. Dr. Wallaby had graciously included a letter of his own to her sister and brother-in-law, informing them that Roman Montana was highly capable of taking care of her while she traveled and that they need not worry.

Theodosia sighed. “Ordinarily I am not given to such prevarication,” she murmured to her parrot. “But my situation demands a few falsities, John the Baptist. And when all is said and done and I have the child for Upton and Lillian, the untruths I have told will have little significance.”

The bird spat a stream of water. It sprayed over a mass of bluebonnets that grew at the edge of the road. “Impotence is a malady that distresses a great many men. Awk!”

“Yes, it is distressing,” Theodosia agreed, picking up the reins again. “As is the fact that I must now begin an intense search for a new candidate to sire the child.”

Soon she turned the buckboard onto the main street of Wild Winds, a town she’d chosen because it was the only one she’d heard of in this area. Roman had mentioned it, and she’d gotten directions from a store owner in Templeton.

Roman.
She wondered where he was, what he was doing.

“Theodosia,” she scolded herself, “you will concentrate on your own activities and cease dwelling on a man you will never see again.” But even as she made the vow, she knew she could not keep it.

Roman Montana had given her her first sweet taste of desire. And although she would always remain ignorant of the fulfillment to be gotten from such passion, she’d keep the memory of his kiss and embrace alive forever. In times of solitude, she would ponder it and remember.

She scanned the dusty street and spotted a small library on the left. Its presence assured her that learned people dwelled in the town. Perhaps one of the educated men would fit the physical requirements she’d set for the father of the child. The possibility revived her sagging spirits.

She registered at the Wild Winds hotel and paid two male employees to see to her horse and wagon and carry her belongings to her room, which did not meet with her approval. A small room, it was filled with lots of dust and little furniture. Still, it was a place in which she could carry out her plans.

When the men were gone, she quickly changed into a blue-and-white-striped silk dress, donned her bonnet and gloves, and set forth for the town’s newspaper office.

A cluster of bells jingled when she opened the door to the Wild Winds newspaper office.

“Can I hep ya, ma’am?” the man behind the scarred old counter offered. “Name’s Hamm. Simon Hamm. New in town, ain’tcha?” With ink-stained fingers, he picked up a fried chicken leg from his plate of lunch and took a huge bite. Grease glossed his thin lips, and bits of golden crust dropped into his short white beard.

Theodosia wondered if the man had ever heard of a napkin. She placed her reticule on the counter and gave a stiff nod. “Yes, you
may
help me, Mr. Hamm.”

He raised his pale eyebrows. “You from England?”

“Boston. Would you be good enough to print a hundred circulars for me?”

“Would I be good enough?” Mr. Hamm pointed his chicken leg at her. “Ma’am, I’m jest about as good as they come. Why, jest last week I stayed up till near ’bout three in the mornin’ with Fudd Wilkins. Fudd’s dog died, y’see, and Fudd? Well, Fudd couldn’t stop cryin’ fer nothin’. Ain’t a purty sight, ma’am, seein’ a grown man cry, but Fudd loved that ole mongrel more’n he loves his wife.”

He paused a moment to take another bite of chicken.
“Was
a good dog, to tell ya the truth. Name was Fudd Junior. Weren’t a dog in this county who could tree a ’coon like ole Fudd Junior. Fudd had ’coon stew ever’ Thursday, and I mean to tell you, Fudd can cook up some
kind
o’ ’coon stew. His wife don’t never cook a’tall. Lazy s’what she is. Y’ain’t travelin’ alone, are ya, ma’am? Best be careful if you are, on account o’ the Blanco y Negro Gang’s on the loose again. Busted out o’ jail the way I heared it tole, and some say only the power o’ God can strike ’em dead.”

Theodosia studied him, thinking that perhaps the lies she’d told to Dr. Wallaby and written to Lillian and Upton wouldn’t be falsehoods at all. The man’s long story reinforced her desire to understand the reasons behind such rambling.

But first things first. Quickly, she took a sheet of paper and a pencil from a box on the counter and jotted down the message for the fliers. “Here is the wording I would like on the circulars,” she said, and slid the piece of paper toward him.

With each word Mr. Hamm read, his eyes grew bigger and his mouth opened wider. “You—I—this —ma’am, are you sure—”

“Quite. I will wait while you print them.”

He read the wording once more. “Ma’am, this ain’t none o’ my business, but—”

“I am in a great hurry to post the circulars, sir.” She slid two gold coins across the counter. “Please make haste.”

He shook his head in resignation. “All right, ma’am, but I sure hope ya know what you’re gittin’ yoursef into.”

I
n the dim hallway of
the hotel, a dozen men stood outside the door of Theodosia’s room. Clutched in their hands were the circulars they’d come to answer: