Rebellious Bride (17 page)

“Lil.”

She responded with an obligatory wave to the caller and marched on.

“Lil!”

She raised her hand again, her rosy lips almost quiet now in their ranting.

“Lil! Damn, Lil, hold your horses!”

Lil stopped short and turned. Doc hurried up to her, tossing his half-smoked cigar into the street. Lil’s eyes widened in concern. Doc never discarded a cigar until it was a stub, and even then he questioned the wisdom of his action. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Just got word to hurry out to the Williams place. Seems like Dora is in bad shape.” The sharp crease of his brow warned of his misgivings.

“Want me to go with you?”

“I was hoping you would. I don’t have a good feeling  about this, and I need all the help I can get.”

“I’ll gather what we need,” Lil offered. “Why don’t you get the buggy?”

Doc nodded. “Five minutes and I’ll be back. We haven’t got any time to spare on this one.”

~~~

Rolfe splashed water over his mouth and jaw, wiping away the excess soap left from shaving. He reached for the towel on the brass bar to his right and dried his face. Quickly running his hand over his face and throat, he checked the smoothness of his shave. Satisfied, he finished with a splash of a woodsy cologne.

He examined his image in the brass-trimmed mirror, running his fingers through his still damp hair. Normally he would have tied it back, but not tonight. He shook his head, sending the dark strands into panic until they fell in mild disarray around his face. The unkempt look gave him a seductively dangerous appeal that satisfied him.

Rolfe left his bathing quarters to enter his bedroom. A white linen shirt waited on the bed, and he slipped it on, leaving it partially open.

“Is everything as you requested it, sir?” Jonathan asked, walking into the room.

“As always, Jonathan, you have surpassed my expectations.”

A casual nod was Jonathan’s response to the compliment.

“Has Lillian arrived home yet?”

“No, sir, but she should be here any minute. I made a point of sending a message, requesting her timely appearance for the evening meal.”

Rolfe smiled. “But not offering an explanation why?”

Jonathan grinned proudly. “No.”

“Then it should pique her interest enough to make her arrive home on time.”

“My thoughts exactly, sir.”

“Let me know when she arrives. I have a few more matters to attend to.”

“As you wish, sir,” Jonathan said and left Rolfe to his privacy.

Rolfe was pleased with the way his plan was falling so nicely into place. He enjoyed the idea of seducing his wife, the anticipation of it heightening his own desires. First they would share a relaxing meal mingled with suggestive conversation. Then when he deposited her in front of her bedroom door, he would extend a good-night kiss, setting the stage for an even deeper seduction. His hands would roam more freely over her breasts, which he had yet to view, tempting her and teasing her sensitive nipples until they puckered in pleasure.

Rolfe shook his head, annoyed at how easily such thoughts aroused him. He could feel the stretch of his pants and the relentless, throbbing ache. His boyhood days came quickly to mind. He recalled how when sexual tension reached unbearable proportions, he’d sneak off to a solitary spot and eagerly see to his relief. It wasn’t long before he luckily found a young housemaid with a sexual appetite as voracious as his own, and they had taught each other much.

Lillian would need a gentle hand and lessons in giving and receiving pleasure... frequent lessons. He smiled over his lustful thoughts. His decision to consummate their marriage had been a wise and prudent one. He wanted their relationship to strengthen and deepen, and what better way to form a strong bond than to share the one act that would unite them to the depths of their souls?

He was determined that Lillian’s first time would be memorable, and therefore he had taken pains with his preparations. He glanced at the large brass bed dressed in white finery. Bed coverings of pure white linen were folded back in acknowledgment of the night’s interlude, while the pillows sat plumped and ready, their delicate edging done in fine embroidery. Vases of autumn wildflowers, rich in their freshly cut scent, sat about the room as did candles, their wicks waiting for a flame to kiss them to life. A single log lay across the andirons, prepared to take the late night chill from the air and bathe the lovers in its warmth.

His black silk robe was draped across the chair directly next to the bed, in case Lillian found herself too shy with her nakedness. Rolfe had left nothing to chance. He wanted this night to be perfect for her, a memory she would cherish forever.

He walked over to his wardrobe and, bending down, opened the wide bottom drawer. He unlocked a steel box with a key he took from his pocket. Once opened, he took out a large black velvet box and relocked the steel box it had come from. Carefully he opened it, revealing the contents. A necklace of blood-red rubies and diamonds glistened at him. This necklace was a small part of the Sherborn jewelry given to him upon his first marriage. He intended for Lillian to have every piece, but he wished to present her with this necklace first. It held a special spot in his heart, as it had originally belonged to a woman with the same independent and spirited nature as Lillian—his grandmother, a woman he had loved dearly.

Though he doubted Lillian would have occasion to wear it here in Little, he considered of late returning to England to visit and to present his wife to family and friends. There she would have use for it.

He set the box on the dresser, then took another quick look around the room and decided to wait downstairs and ease his trepidation with a glass of white wine, wanting no heavy liquor to dull his senses this night.

Several hours later Rolfe sat alone in the dining room, the delicate china place settings and fine crystal goblets still untouched.

“Well,” Rolfe said with Jonathan’s entrance into the room.

“It seems an emergency called her away. Dr. Talbert too,” Jonathan added quickly.

“And?” Rolfe’s simple question required no embellishments.

“Lady Sherborn should return within the hour.”

Rolfe took a deep breath and pushed his chair back as he stood. “Clear this table, Jonathan. I shall await my wife’s arrival in my bedroom.”

He attempted to contain his anger, instead regarding Lillian’s absence more as a disappointment. Necessity had caused him to forgo the first part of his plan, but he would proceed. He could not allow this setback to unsettle him.

Once in his room he saw to the lighting of the log and the candles. The soft glow that flickered throughout the room assuaged his concern, if only for a moment.

He eased down into the chair near the fire and stretched his long legs out before him. She would return within the hour. That meant by eleven—late, but not too late for seduction.

He rested his head back and folded his arms over his chest. His eyes drifted closed with thoughts of Lillian naked in his arms.

Rolfe woke with a start. The flame in the hearth had dwindled to a few hot cinders. The candles had lost their flickering strength, some having melted away. His glance stole to the clock on the mantel. Unable to see the numbers in the semidarkness, he moved toward it.

One o’clock!

Rolfe strode to Lillian’s door and drew it open in a flash. Two steps into her room told him it was not occupied. He left as fast as he had entered, slamming the door behind him. After dousing all the candles with his fingertips and kicking the cinders apart to die, he took his seat once again... and waited.

~~~

Lil fought back the stinging tears. Her throat tightened, her stomach turned, and her heart broke. Birth was one of the most rewarding experiences of life. Death was its antithesis. She had dealt with both this sad night.

For hours she had battled to save Dora and her child. The young woman had been so brave, fighting the pain with conviction while begging a promise from Lil to look after her baby if God saw fit to take her.

Lil had promised reluctantly, only to ease Dora’s worry, but in the next breath she had attempted to assure the suffering woman that she would be fine. Twenty minutes later Dora struggled with her last dying word.
“Promise.”

“I promise,” Lil had said. She had taken the tiny, stillborn girl, bathed her, dressed her in the hand-stitched outfit that lay waiting for her birth, and placed her in the wooden cradle beside the bed.

Doc tried to prevent Lil from seeing to Dora’s funeral preparation, insisting that the women of the neighborhood would tend to it in the morning. Lil refused to listen. Dora would look her best when the neighbors came to pay their last respects.

No tears disturbed Lil as she worked. She held them back and performed the necessary care for burial. Dora, with her baby daughter tucked snugly in her arm, looked at peace. Lil said a final prayer before leaving the room.

Harvey Williams wept uncontrollably in the rocker before the stone hearth, his huge shoulders slumped, his hands folded together as in prayer.

Lil sincerely attempted to feel an ounce of compassion for him, but found it difficult. Worried she would do him more harm than good, she hurried from the house to wait for Doc in the buggy.

Doc joined her shortly. He reached behind his seat for a blanket and wrapped it around Lil’s shivering body. The crisp late night air wasn’t the cause of her chilled condition.

The anxiety and sorrow of the night had caught up with Lil. “It’s hard losing both of them,” Doc said, directing the horses away from the house with a gentle slap of the reins.

“At least when one life is saved you feel redeemed. Your effort, your fight, means something.”

“I’d never lost both before.” Her voice trembled.

“Death isn’t foreign to me, but this...”

Doc patted her hand, as it clutched the blanket to her breast. “I know. I know,” he consoled.

“She was so tiny. She never even drew a breath. And Dora... she was so brave.”

“God’s ways are strange,” Doc conceded. “We do what we can, and when we can’t, we pray.”

Pray.
Lil remembered how she had prayed the night her mother had gone into labor—not at first but later when all the adults had turned teary-eyed and solemn. She had known without a word being spoken to her that she would never see her mother again. She had heard her father crying late that night after everyone had gone and he had thought her asleep. She had crawled out of her bed, her own tears falling freely, and joined her father in her mother’s rocking chair. He had hugged her tightly, and they had cried together.

She wondered if Rolfe had had someone to cry with him when he lost his first wife, or if he had borne the painful loss alone. She hoped he hadn’t. The idea that he had suffered in solitude disturbed her, and she was suddenly intent on returning home to her husband.

A weary step followed by a weary moan took Lil from the buggy. Before driving off, Doc ordered her to sleep late tomorrow. She promised him she would and walked up the path to the house.

The house was bathed in silence. Lil made her way up the staircase, her steps measured and slow. She was exhausted, but more in spirit than in body.

Lil reached her bedroom door and with a sigh of relief entered as the clock in Rolfe’s room struck three.

Lil removed most of her clothes, leaving on only her white cotton chemise. She filled the large washbasin with cool water from the pitcher, silently thanking Jonathan for providing it. She lathered her hands with a bar of lavender soap and washed herself until her skin felt fresh and the scent of sweet lavender filled every pore.

After she finished drying herself, she slipped the combs from her hair and shook it free. Then with a heavy hand she brushed the long strawberry blond strands until her scalp tingled.

Often her glance darted to the connecting door. She ached to go to her husband and have him hold her and ease away her pain. But for all her independent and fiery nature she lacked the courage to do so.

“Coward,” she said, addressing her tired image in the mirror. She placed the brush on the vanity tray and stood to take herself off to bed.

The connecting door swung open. Rolfe stood in the doorway, his chest bare and his dark hair tousled, yet his handsome features made Lil catch her breath and caused her heart to palpitate.

She smiled, relieved to see him. She needed him desperately this night. She needed his arms around her, his comfort, his warmth... his love.

“Where the bloody hell have you been?” Rolfe said, his voice raised considerably and clearly expressing his anger.

Shocked and disappointed by his attack, Lil froze in stunned silence.

“Three o’clock in the morning. You send no word as to your whereabouts. You care nothing for my feelings or concerns, and then you waltz right in without a care. Now, where the bloody hell have you been and why?”

Lil’s defenses rose. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

Rolfe marched farther into the room, standing only inches from her. The scope of his chest and the strength of his muscles almost robbed Lil of her breath. “Wrong, Lillian. You are my wife, and I’m your husband. We owe each other at least common courtesy.”

Why tonight? Why must he attack her tonight? And why must he be right? She should have sent word to him—a simple message—and yet she had not thought of it. She owed him an apology and was about to give him one when he roughly grabbed her arm.

“I want you to see what your thoughtlessness has cost us.” He dragged her through the connecting doorway. He positioned her in the middle of the room, his hands firm on her shoulders, and forced her to look around. “See. See with your own eyes what I had planned for us. Candles, flowers, a bed dressed in white for your first night of lovemaking. I wanted it to be memorable for you, Lillian. A memory so strong it would linger in your mind and heart forever.”

Lil heard his words, but her heart felt his pain and disappointment. He had taken pains to plan this night. Had considered her every feeling and sought to make this time with her perfect.