Schulze, Dallas (26 page)

Go to sleep?
Ha! There wasn’t much chance of that.
She was too annoyed for sleep. She’d probably never sleep again. At least not
as long as
he
was in the same bed with her.

***

Bishop was gone when Lila woke, only the imprint of his head on
the pillow to prove that she hadn’t slept alone. She felt a spark of
self-directed annoyance at the fact that she’d not only gone to sleep but had
slept well. If she’d tossed and turned all night, maybe he would have felt
guilty. She smiled suddenly, realizing how absurd the thought was. Talk about
cutting off her nose to spite his face.

She shook her head as she swung her feet off the bed. It was a new
day, her first full day in her new home, and she wasn’t going to spoil it with
spiteful thoughts—though she couldn’t suppress the faint hope that Bishop
hadn’t slept a wink. It would have served him right after the shameful way he’d
behaved last night.

Lila reached for her wrapper, which had been draped over the
footboard, and shrugged into it as she padded, barefoot, across the room to the
dresser. After lifting the china pitcher that sat there, she poured water into
the matching bowl. The water was icy cold, of course, but it would serve to wake
her up. Dampening a cloth to wash her face, she considered Bishop’s sins.

First he’d refused her perfectly reasonable request that they have
separate rooms. True, he’d come up with a compromise, even if it was only
marginally acceptable. But then there’d been the shock of finding that he slept
in the nude and had every intention of continuing to do so.
That
was
something she certainly intended to see changed. And last, but far from least,
was the way he’d kissed her. He’d said he wouldn’t touch her and then had
immediately broken his word. Still, he could have pursued his advantage and he
hadn’t. Heaven knew, she wouldn’t have stopped him.
That
was something
she had no intention of thinking about right now. It could wait for another
time, when she was feeling a little more able to deal with all the emotions her
husband so effortlessly stirred in her.

Her face washed and dried, she reached for the heavy braid that
confined her hair. She studied her reflection as she loosened it. She
remembered overhearing her mother talking to some of her friends, commenting on
someone of their acquaintance who was expecting a child. They’d all seemed to
agree that pregnancy was flattering to a woman, giving her a special beauty
that shone from within. At the time, Lila had thought it an absurd idea. How
could a woman possibly look beautiful when she was growing fat with child? But
she had to admit that, now that the morning sickness seemed to be a thing of
the past, her hair did seem to shine a little more and her skin seemed to glow
in a way it never had before.

Had Bishop noticed? She threaded her fingers through her braid,
loosening her hair as she picked up the silver-backed brush that had been a
sixteenth-birthday present from her parents. Tracing the pattern on the back of
the brush, she thought about the love that had existed between her parents, so
real it could almost be touched. She and Bishop might never achieve that kind
of closeness, but she wanted to believe that they could develop a respect to go
along with the undeniable physical attraction between them.

She was uneasily aware that no stretch of the imagination could
put Bishop in her father’s shoes, but she shoved the thought aside. According
to articles in
The Lady’s Journal of Home & Hearth,
it was up
to a woman to set the tone of a marriage. It was her responsibility to guide
her husband by gentle example.

A lady is at all times pleasant and soft spoken. There are few
things less attractive than an aggressive female. Never forget that your
husband is your lord and master in the eyes of God and man. But it’s equally
important to remember that it’s a woman’s gentle, civilizing touch that
protects men from their baser instincts.

There. No less an authority than
The Lady’s Journal of Home
& Hearth
endorsed her actions. Bishop might not appreciate it now,
but she was confident that this arrangement was best for both of them. It
needed a little refinement, perhaps, she admitted, thinking of that kiss. But
she was sure they could straighten out any small problems that might come up.

***

Bishop was seated behind his desk when the door of the jail
opened. Since he hadn’t heard any shots and noon was a bit early for even the
most belligerent of the miners to be starting a fight, he didn’t look up right
away. But then his deputy, who had been sprawled in a chair reading a stack of wanted
posters, scrambled to his feet so quickly that he sent the chair skidding.

“Ma’am.”

Even before he saw her, he knew who it was. It wasn’t just Bart
Lewis’s awestruck tone that told him Lila had entered. It was the subtle smell
of lavender that drifted in with her. The sweet seduction of that scent had
haunted him for months. Lying beside her last night, it had filled his head,
teasing him with memories of her silky hair spilling through his fingers, her
soft skin under his hands. He’d had plenty of time to consider the wisdom of
the arrangement upon which he’d insisted. Sharing a bed with his very
attractive wife and not touching her was likely to make sleep an elusive goal.

“A-afternoon, Miz McKenzie,” Bart stammered, sounding as awestruck
as if he were speaking to Queen Victoria. Not that Bishop could completely
blame him, he thought as he looked at her. Lila was wearing a dress in warm
shade of rose that brought out the fire in her hair and highlighted the creamy
softness of her skin. A matching hat was perched on top of her upswept hair,
tilted at a demurely rakish angle over her green eyes. She was, Bishop
admitted, considerably more impressive than the pictures he’d seen of England’s
short, plump little queen.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Lewis.” She bestowed a smile on the lanky
deputy that made his Adam’s apple bob up and down. “It’s a beautiful day,
today, don’t you think?”

“Yes, ma’am. I can’t recollect last time I seen a day this
pretty.”

Bishop’s mouth twitched with amusement. He was willing to bet that
Bart would have said the same thing if a blizzard had been sweeping down out of
the mountains.

“I’ve come to see my husband,” Lila said.

“He’s here,” Bart assured her earnestly, as if she might have
overlooked Bishop.

“Why don’t you take a break?” Bishop suggested to his deputy as he
came around his desk.

“A break?” Bart gave him a blank look as if he couldn’t quite
remember who Bishop was.

“Go have lunch,” Bishop clarified.

“I ain’t hungry.” Bart’s gaze had returned to Lila.

So much for subtle hints, Bishop thought, not sure whether to be
amused or annoyed. The kid was clearly on the verge of complete infatuation. He
might have been more amused if it hadn’t suddenly occurred to him that the “kid”
was twenty-four, only a year younger than Lila.

“I want to talk to my wife,” he said, abandoning subtlety for
bluntness.

“Oh!” Bart’s thin face flushed a painful shade of red. “Sorry,
Bishop. I wasn’t... I mean, I... I think I’ll go see what they’re serving at
the boardin’ house.” He snatched his hat off the rack beside the door, nodded
in Lila’s direction, and shot out the door as if a pack of wolves were nipping
at his heels.

“He seems like a nice young man,” Lila said into the silence that
followed his departure.

“He’ll do.”

The laconic response didn’t encourage further discussion of his
deputy but, since she hadn’t come here to discuss Bart Lewis, that was fine
with Lila. She’d come to discuss something much more important, and it seemed
to her a stroke of genius to have the conversation here. The small jailhouse
was about as far from intimate as it was possible to get. Built of solid stone,
the walls were enlivened by wanted posters. The furnishings consisted of a
battered wooden desk, a potbelly stove, and a glass-front cabinet that held an
impressive array of guns. The windows were small but fronted onto the street,
and since anyone could walk in at any time, it was the next best thing to a
public location. It should be possible to have a calm, rationale discussion, no
matter how annoying he was.

“Angel is with Bridget. And William Smythe and Joseph Sunday
offered to show Gavin his favorite fishing hole.”

“The banker’s son?” Bishop arched one dark brow. “I’m surprised
Sara Smythe is willing to risk her son coming in contact with Gavin. She’s not
exactly an admirer of mine.”

“There aren’t many boys around for William to play with,” Lila
pointed out with careful honesty.

“That’s true. I bet she’ll have some sleepless nights, worrying
about what a terrible influence Gavin might be.” He didn’t sound particularly
concerned by the thought of Sara’s insomnia, nor by her low opinion of him.

“That’s possible,” Lila agreed. She didn’t care about Sara Smythe
any more than she had about Bart Lewis. She cleared her throat. “I was hoping I
could talk to you for a moment.”

“I’m listening.” Unfortunately, he was also watching her with
those cool blue eyes that made it so difficult to think.

Lila looked away, fidgeting with the strings on her reticule. It
had seemed so simple when she thought about it earlier. But nothing was ever
simple when Bishop was standing so close.

She met his eyes, trying to look and sound coolly confident. “What
happened last night, when you kissed me, I mean. It—it can’t happen again.”
Bishop raised his brows. “Are you telling me I can’t kiss you?”

Something in his soft tone made her uneasy but she lifted her
chin. “It wasn’t part of our agreement.”

“The only thing I agreed to do was give you some time. I didn’t
say anything about not kissing you.”

“I thought you were a man of your word,” she snapped, forgetting
her determination to remain calm at all costs.

“I am. I gave you my word that I wouldn’t make love to you until
after the baby’s born, unless you ask me to. And I won’t. That doesn’t mean I
won’t kiss you now and again.”

“Against my will?” The implication that she might
ask
him
to make love to her was infuriating. It would be a cold day in hell before
she
asked
him
for anything, let alone that.

“I don’t recall you begging for mercy when I kissed you,” Bishop
drawled. His own temper was visible in the tightness of his mouth, a warning
she chose to ignore.

“You didn’t give me much chance to protest, did you? You just...
pounced on me like a ... an uncivilized brute.”

“Pounced? Uncivilized brute?”

To Lila’s chagrin, amusement replaced the anger that had been
simmering in his eyes. While it hadn’t been part of her plan to make him angry,
she preferred that to knowing that she’d amused him.

“You know what I mean,” she muttered.

“Like I said, I don’t recall you begging for mercy last night. Nor
a few days ago when I made love to you, for that matter.” He grinned wickedly.
“Now that I think about it, I do seem to recall you begging then, but it wasn’t
mercy you were asking for.”

Goaded beyond endurance, Lila swung at him. He moved with that
speed that always surprised her, catching her hand in his and using the hold to
jerk her up against his chest. He’d held her like this once before, she
remembered. In the church right after breaking up her wedding to Logan. She’d
felt the same frustrated anger then that she did now.

“You tried that once before,” he said, making it clear that he
hadn’t forgotten either. “You should learn to control your temper.”

“I didn’t have a temper until I met you,” she snapped.

“Bring out the best in you, do I?”

Lila bit back the urge to scream at him. Remembering her mother’s
strictures about acting like a lady, she struggled to regain control.

“I don’t want you to kiss me again the way you did last night,”
she said tightly.

He didn’t respond right away, at least not verbally. He brought
his free hand up to her face. His fingertips slid gently over her cheeks and
traced the rigid line of her jaw, leaving tingling awareness everywhere they
touched. He trailed his hand down her throat and set the pad of his thumb over
the pulse at the base of her throat.

“Are you afraid of me?” he asked softly.

“Certainly not!” Though it had been pride that dictated her quick
answer, it was also the truth. She was frightened by the ease with which he
could make her lose control, but she wasn’t afraid of him. Somewhere inside,
she knew he wouldn’t hurt her. And despite her protestations to the contrary,
she knew he wouldn’t force her to do anything she didn’t want to do. That was
the problem. He could make her
want
to do things she shouldn’t.

“Then why is your pulse beating so fast?” He was so close that she
could feel his breath against her forehead. Lila stared into his eyes,
mesmerized by their clarity. “Maybe the problem isn’t that you don’t want me to
kiss you. Maybe it’s that you do,” he whispered outrageously.

It took a second for his words to sink in. When they did, Lila
forgot all about ladylike decorum. Her eyes flashing with rage, she jerked her
arm away from him and took two quick steps back. It was infuriating to know
that he was letting her go. She glared at him, her hands clenched into impotent
fists at her sides. She would have given a great deal to take another swing at
him, but it would have been a futile effort.