Just North of Bliss (39 page)

“Um . . . oh.” H.L.’s glance went from Belle
to Win, and it was as full of befuddlement as a glance could
get.

“There weren’t thousands of them,” Belle
growled.

“Maybe not, but the rest of what I said is
the truth.”

Since he was right, she remained mute. Oh,
but she was angry with her parents. They’d treated her as badly as
Win!

“Ah, I don’t think your folks meant anything
by it, Miss Monroe.” Still overtly puzzled, H.L. added, “Although I
don’t understand why they’d write such things to you,
because—well—they’re not true..”

Neither could Belle. She shot Win a glare to
let him know he’d better not say one single ‘nother word.

H.L. went on, “When I was there—and I just
got back an hour or so ago—they were proud as punch. Like I said,
they have pictures of you up all over town. Not to mention in your
parents’ house. Somebody’s aunt—can’t remember whose—she’s a
painter?”

Since he looked questioningly at Belle, she
licked her lips and said, “Aunt Mae Scudder, probably. She’s my
father’s aunt.”

H.L. snapped his fingers. “That’s the name!”
He smiled broadly at her. When she didn’t smile back, he resumed
speaking. “Mrs. Scudder is even painting a canvas of that first
picture. Your mother said they’re going to hang it over the
fireplace.”

“In place of Great-Uncle Cyrus?” Belle
shrieked. “The hero of Antietam?”

“Is he that guy with the long beard?” H.L.
asked, interested.

“Yes.” When she was through here, Belle was
heading straight to the telegraph office. She was going to blister
her parents’ ears with her opinion of them. Or blister their eyes.
Bother. She’d probably have to wait until tomorrow since the
telegraph office was probably closed by this hour of the night. But
she’d do it then, for sure. She jumped up from the platform and
started pacing, just as Win often paced when he was in the throes
of rage or a creative idea.

Belle’s ideas at present weren’t the least
bit creative. Rather, they were destructive. Rendered heedless of
her audience by the stunning news H.L. had delivered, she muttered
as she paced. “I can’t believe it of them. The wretched fiends.”
That she’d considered Win a wretched fiend not ten minutes earlier
didn’t enter her head. Win was nothing compared to her family.

Win watched her pace and felt horrible. He’d
assumed he’d feel good once Belle learned the worst about her
family, but he didn’t. He understood that H.L. had delivered a
crushing blow to her, and all he wanted to do was enfold her in his
arms and give her comfort. And if he tried to do that, she’d most
likely punch him in the jaw. He sighed and stood up, sinking his
hands into his pockets since he couldn’t use them to any good
purpose.

“Say, Win, I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I
thought you’d like to know Miss Monroe’s family is benefitting from
your great work.”

Poor H.L. Win made himself smile at his
friend. “It’s all right, H.L. This whole thing is a little
complicated.”

Chapter Twenty

Although he wanted to, Win didn’t dare make
a grab for Belle or her hands. Rather, he spoke to her in a
conciliatory tone. “Say, Belle, don’t be too hard on your folks. I
guess your success caught everyone by surprise.”

She rounded on him so fast, he stepped back,
bumped into his platform, and sat with a thump. “Ha! Don’t you dare
try to make me feel better, Win Asher! My family treated me like
dirt, and you know it.”

“Um, yes, I guess I do know it. In fact, I
said so first.”

If her glances got any more withering, Win
feared he’d wilt like a daisy. “Oh, yes, you did, didn’t you? Mr.
Win, Perfect Person Who Knows Everything, Asher.
You
knew
all along, didn’t you?”

Feeling helpless, not to mention unfairly
abused, Win held out his hands. “Just a minute here, Belle. This
really isn’t my fault, you know.”

She opened her mouth, Win presumed to
screech at him, but she ended up merely heaving a huge sigh and
slumping. “You’re right.” She sagged onto the platform next to him
and buried her head in her hands. “You’ve been right all along,
blast you.”

He sat next to her—not too close, because he
didn’t want her accusing him of being a—what had she called him? A
foul fiend? That still stung, and he didn’t want any more epithets
hurled at him by Belle, whom he loved more than life itself,
although he didn’t dare say so because he didn’t fancy being
laughed at.

“It will be all right, Belle.”

She sat up, lowered her hands, and frowned
at him. “Will it?”

He shrugged. He hated feeling so damned
unable to comfort her. “Sure, it will. At least you’ll be making
lots of money. And your family won’t be able to complain any
longer. Not now that you know how they fibbed to you.”

“Fibbed? My, my, isn’t that a pleasant word
for a huge, hulking lie? I’m surprised at your delicacy, Win. I
didn’t think you had a delicate bone in your body.”

“Say, Belle, that’s not—”

“Fair?” She sighed again. “No, it’s not. I
apologize. You’re not nearly as bad as my family. You might have
deceived me into thinking you cared for me in order to get me to go
into partnership with you, but at least you’ve been more honest
with me than they.”

Win’s mind got stuck on the word
deceived
, and he didn’t hear the rest of her comment. He
said, “What?”

She’d been gazing morosely at her clasped
hands, but she turned her head then. “What? I mean, I beg your
pardon?”

“What did you just say?”

She looked blank. “About what?”

“Did you say what I think you said?”

Becoming peeved, she snapped, “How should I
know what you think you heard?”

“What did you say?”

“When? For heaven’s sake, Win . . .”

Belle’s sentence ended prematurely with a
gasp when Win grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her lightly.
“Did you say I
deceived
you?”

She blinked at him. “Well . . . Yes, I guess
I did.”

“Deceived you into
thinking
I cared
for you?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “That’s what you
did.”

“Deceived you so that you’d go into a
business partnership with me?”

“Deceived me into going to bed with you so
that I’d feel obliged to sign the partnership papers.”

“And you don’t think I cared for you at all?
You think I’m such a low, slimy creature that I’d seduce you merely
to get to keep on photographing you? Because of the money?”

“Well . . .” Belle’s eyes narrowed as she
thought. Then she shrugged. “Yes. That’s what you did, isn’t
it?”

“You believed me to be that—that—devious?
That immoral? That sly? That cunning?”

This time she only nodded.

“Is that what you think of me? Honestly?
Truthfully?”

“Well . . . Yes. I guess so.”

“Good God, Belle! I love you madly.
Passionately! I’ve never loved a woman until you! I can’t believe
you don’t know that!”

Her mouth dropped open.

Win shut it with his.

# # #

Belle went numb. Then she tingled all over.
Then she felt as though she were smothering. Then her heart
practically flew out of her breast. Then it started singing. Then
all of her nerve endings twanged.

Drawing away from him slightly, she
stammered, “You—you love me? Truly?”

“I love you more than anything, Belle
Monroe. Good God, I can’t believe you didn’t know that.”

“How could I know it? All you talked about
was money and business and a partnership.”

“That’s because I thought it was the only
way to keep you.”

“My goodness. Why ever did you think a thing
like that?”

“Because you only talked about how crass and
awful I was, and how you loved Georgia and think the north
stinks.”

“I never said that.”

“You did, too! And you kept saying the Civil
War wasn’t the Civil War!”

“It
wasn’t
a civil
war!” she cried indignantly. “It was a war of Northern
aggression!”

“Forget the damned war for a minute, will
you?”

Belle frowned at him, unsure forgetting the
war was a good idea. But, then, she could always educate him later.
“Very well.”

“Oh, God.” Win passed his hand over his
eyes. “I can’t believe you thought I was so much of a snake that
I’d seduce you only to further my own business aims.”

“Well, I didn’t think of you as a snake.
Exactly. Only, well, a northern businessman who was willing to do
anything to get his way.”

He stared at her, his eyes conveying a depth
of moroseness Belle couldn’t account for. Just as she couldn’t
account for his claim to love her. Come to think of it, now that
they’d been chatting for a few moments, she wasn’t sure he’d really
said he loved her. She licked her lips. Win stared at them
greedily.

“Belle . . .”

“Yes?” She had to clear her throat.

“Belle . . .”

She said “Yes” again.

“Belle . . .”

This was getting silly. She snapped, “What?
Spit it out, Win.” Lord, she’d never spoken like that in her life.
Northern customs were getting to her in spades.

Win startled the gumption out of her when he
flung himself off the platform and onto one knee in front of her.
She stared at him in alarm and confusion. “What—what are you
doing?”

“God damn it! I want you to marry me, damn
it!” He grabbed her hands and hung on, as if for dear life.

Belle’s stare took on an aspect of
befuddlement. “You . . . Um, I beg your pardon?”

“Damnation! Say you’ll marry me, can’t you?
This is driving me crazy!”

“What is?”

“Not knowing! Every time I think I’m doing
something right, it’s wrong! Every time I think I’m doing something
wrong, it’s right! The only way I can think of to keep you around
until I figure out how to deal with you is to marry you! Damn it,
you
have
to marry me now, anyhow!”

“I do?”

“What do you mean,
I do
? Dash it,
Belle, I’ve deflowered you!”

Belle’s mouth pinched slightly. “My, my,
aren’t we poetic all of a sudden. I didn’t think you had a poetic
bone in your body, Win Asher.”