The Barefoot Bride (30 page)

When had the bargain ceased being a bargain, and what was going on between them now?

His own confusion and the boiling emerald seas in Chickadee's eyes catapulted him from mere anger to rage. "I am not involved with Cynthia, but even if I were it would be none of your concern. Our marriage is a bargain and nothing more! I owe you no fidelity whatsoever. Remember that!"

He spun on his heel and left before Chickadee had a chance to retort. She had no idea what
fidelity
was. All she knew was that their marriage was nothing but a cold agreement to Saxon. One she suspected he would now try to dissolve as soon as possible.

She'd be going home soon.

Falling to her knees beside Khan, she allowed herself to do the one thing she hadn't let herself do in years.

She wept.

*

As heartbroken as she was, Chickadee agreed to talk to the police and several hired detectives who came to interrogate her and everyone else on the estate. But she had little to tell, and try as they did, neither the authorities nor the detectives could find any leads. Eventually they concluded that she'd been kidnapped for ransom money, and because no evidence could be found the case was soon closed and dropped.

But Saxon's anger was not so easily dismissed. The jealousy Chickadee had displayed continued to irritate him. What was her problem anyway? Their relationship was only a temporary one. She had no right to expect loyalty from him. He cared nothing for Cynthia, but he didn't love Chickadee either. He owned her nothing.

But another part of him, the part deep inside that made his stomach sink when he thought of how she was hurting... Ah, to hell with
that
part of him—that soft, sentimental part that he'd never known until meeting her! He hadn't needed it before, and he didn't need it now!

Convinced he was doing the right thing and weary of battling the strange emotions her sad eyes evoked, he packed his bags and left for New York without saying a word.

*

Just as she had every day since he'd gone, Chickadee was at the window looking for Saxon's barouche to come rumbling up the drive. Desdemona stood beside her, and Chickadee held her hand, knowing her sister-in-law was as lonesome for Saxon as she was.

"I know the two of you miss him, but he'll be back," Bunny said, reaching for a fourth biscuit from Chickadee's breakfast tray. "Besides that, he's only been gone for five days, and you're both acting as if he's been gone for years."

Chickadee noticed Bunny had put an inch of butter on the biscuit. "A-havin' a little biscuit with your butter?" She went to Khan and bade him lap up her herb potion. Desdemona followed and rubbed the wolf's ears.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Bunny queried, eyeing a sausage. "My goodness! You might have disappeared from the face of the earth had you not fallen from that wagon!"

Vanish was exactly what she had yearned to do when she'd seen Saxon and Cynthia together.

But there was Khan to look after.

And there was Saxon.

She wanted desperately to hate him. But her heart was so full of love and the desire to somehow make him love her back, that love moved over and let forgiveness in. Maybe it even created it, for all she knew.

Either way, sometime while he'd been gone, she'd forgiven him for the hurtful things he'd said to her. It wasn't as if theirs was a love match, and according to that stupid deal they'd made, she was supposed to be leaving as soon as Barton was destroyed. So as Saxon said, he really had no obligation to be true to her.

It hurt terribly. But she knew from experience that nothing came easy in this world. You had to struggle for every little thing you received, and it seemed the greater the thing you wanted, the harder you had to work for it.

And Saxon's love was the greatest thing she'd ever wished to have. In mere weeks that one wish had erased years worth of anxiety over Barton Winslow, and she found herself praying Saxon would never find the man whose destruction would mean her own.

"My invitation to the grand ball arrived three days ago," Bunny said, and swallowed the last of the sausage. "I ordered a yellow satin gown yesterday. I'm so excited!"

"What's so dang excitin' about that party?"

Bunny's cheeks pinkened. "Well, I don't believe you've met him yet, but Saxon's best friend here is Max Jennings. Max has been traveling for the past few months, but he's back now and he'll be attending the ball. He's the most adorable man ever to walk the earth! Sandy blond hair, big brown eyes, a crooked smile, muscles... oh my, he's got so many! I fell in love with him the minute I met him. You
have
to go to the ball, Chickadee. I'm dying for you to see him. You and Saxon did receive an invitation, didn't you?"

Chickadee escorted Desdemona to the dressing table and began to brush the girl's long, ebony hair before she answered. "We got one. I had Candy read it fer me."

"You had Candy—Chickadee, you can't read?"

"No, but I'm gwine larn one o' these here days," Chickadee replied, not at all embarrassed. She twined a lavender ribbon around the long braid she'd made of Desdemona's hair.

"You must ask Saxon to hire a tutor who—Oh Chickadee!" Bunny exclaimed. "Why can't I teach you? You can always hire a real teacher later. We could begin today! When Saxon gets home, he'll be so proud of you."

"He'll be so proud o' me," Chickadee murmured to herself, her thoughts dancing.

She memorized the entire alphabet that day. Bunny returned every morning, continuing with lessons on phonics and handwriting. Each evening Chickadee sat with Desdemona and taught the silent girl everything she herself had learned that day. They sat by the fire in Desdemona's room, Chickadee writing and saying the alphabet and Desdemona working on the quilt Chickadee had started at the sewing circle. Afternoons found them outside near the barn. There, Chickadee worked on the sled they were building, all the while going over the alphabet sounds with the silent Desdemona.

"You're doing splendidly," Bunny proclaimed one day when Chickadee began reading simple words. "It wouldn't surprise me in the slightest if you were reading quite well by Christmas. The way you practice, your overwhelming desire to learn—why, there's no telling what you can do when you really set your mind to it, is there?"

Chickadee pushed her chair away from Saxon's desk. "Thur's no tellin' what
anybody
can do when they set thur mind to it, Bunny Hamilton—and that includes you."

At that moment, Candice wheeled in a cart laden with refreshments. Bunny's eyes widened with pleasure. "Take it away, Candy," Chickadee instructed.

Bunny heaved herself out of her chair. "But it's customary to have tea—"

"It ain't gwine be yore custom no more, Bunny. And afore you commence a-yarnin', thur's a few thangs I want to know. Has that Max feller been a-carryin' you around?"

"Carrying me around?"

"A-jularkin'. A-courtin' you!"

"No, but I'm sure it's only a matter of us getting to know each other better." Her chin dropped to her chest.

"Bunny, don't you never hang your head!"

"Are you mad at me?" Bunny asked, her eyes watering.

"I couldn't never be mad at a good friend like you. Yore like the sister I didn't never git. You and Desi both. Now, does that Max feller got him a sweetheart?"

Bunny flinched. "He... he used to act interested in Cynthia. But she only had eyes for Sax—for..."

"It's all right, Bunny. I know about her and Saxon."

"Saxon never loved her though. Oh, he escorted her to various socials, but I could tell he didn't care a thing for her. I imagine she knew the truth, too. But she continued to throw herself at him, and when word of your marriage to Saxon reached society, Dr. Larson had to give her a sedative!"

The elation Chickadee felt at that information nearly tore her asunder with joy, but with tremendous willpower, she contained her thrill in the face of Bunny's problem. "Uh, y'say Max never tuk you no whar?"

"No, but as I said, we don't know each other well."

"Yore gingham-purty, Bunny. Smart an' nice to be with. Thur ain't no reason why Max shouldn't orter want to keep comp'ny with you. But like you done said, maybe he don't know you good enough. This speech ain't gwine be sugar-mouthed on account o' I know you'd ain't holt together with flour paste. I want you to take this with yore daubers up, hear?"

Bunny's bottom lip began to twitch.

"Bunny, you hide behind yore size. You—"

"I'm leaving. I don't have to stand here and listen—"

"No, you ain't got to stand," Chickadee pushed Bunny into a chair. "You can set. You can stand or set. Don't differ nary a jag to me, but you ain't gwine light outen here jist on account o' you don't like what all I'm a-sayin'."

"Why are you saying such mean things to me?"

"You want Max, but you don't let him
know
you. Yer embarrassed by yore size. That's gotta stop. Now, you want Max or don'tcha?"

"More than anything, but—"

"No buts. Iffen you want him, you can git him, and the first thang we're gwine do is git rid o' them warts you got on yore hand. I see you allus a-tryin' to hide 'em, but I know a way to git shed of 'em. Wait here." She left the room but returned shortly, a silk scarf in her hand.

"What's this for?" Bunny asked when Chickadee handed her the scarf.

"Betty Jane tole me about this omen? Well, she swears iffen you rub a piece o' clothes that belongs to somebody else over yore warts, they'll git offen you and go to the other person. That thar scarf's Araminty's, so iffen this works she'll git yore warts!"

Absently, Bunny smoothed the scarf over her hand and then crushed the cloth into a tight wad. "Oh, what's the use? Warts or no warts, Max will never notice me. And why should he? What man would want to be with... a girl who looks like me?" She began to sob.

"Bunny, iffen thur warn't nothin' we could do about this, I'd cry right along with you. But the war ain't even commenced yet, and you've done give up. You got to fight. Iffen you really believe yore size is what's a-keepin' Max from you, then shed some o' that extra body you got, and—"

"I can't! I've tried before."

"Yeah? Well, yore gwine try agin. And this time yore gwine do it on account o' Chickadee McBride don't never give up and she don't let her friends give up neither!"

*

Settling back in his plush seat aboard the New Haven, Saxon muttered a strong oath. Normally, he would have thoroughly enjoyed the train trip, but he was too deep in thought to notice any of the luxuries in his Pullman car. He drained his glass of Madeira, signaled for more, and cursed again.

He'd taken the trip to forget her, arriving in New York with a definite plan. It should have been so easy to do.

He'd begun Barton Winslow's ruination two weeks ago, and the man had fallen for his scheme more quickly than Saxon believed possible.

He'd struck up a swift friendship with Barton, using all the charm he possessed to gain Barton's trust. It wasn't all that hard; Barton didn't have too many friends and was eager to be acquainted with Saxon Blackwell, a man well-known on Wall Street.

And then he had lit the fuse to the bomb that would eventually blow Barton's fortune right out of his hands. He recalled the scene clearly.

"Barton, I don't normally share my inside information with anyone. But it's rare to find a real friend on Wall Street, you know. Keep this to yourself."

Barton had agreed, flattered he'd called him a friend and eager to learn the privileged information. Saxon had gone on to say a certain company was in bad trouble. Barton, who owned a hundred thousand shares of the company's stock, nearly had heart failure upon hearing the news.

"Not to worry, Barton," Saxon had continued smoothly. "There's still time to save yourself. Remember, not many people know about it yet."

And now it was only a matter of time, Saxon thought to himself as he sipped his wine. Barton was going to sell the stock. And in his rush to be rid of it, he would also short it—selling stock he didn't own, but had control of, and would have to buy back in the future. And he'd have no trouble at all selling it, although it wouldn't be until the very end that he would discover who was buying from him.

His unnamed buyer would be Saxon.

Because Saxon knew when stock was bought heavily, the price usually went up. And with each point it rose, Barton would lose money. Lots of it. Soon Barton would try and buy it back. And Saxon would accommodate him.

But of course he'd sell it for much more than Barton paid for it in the first place. Barton would never even be able to break even. He'd eventually run out of money with which to buy, with which to save himself. With which to live.

Chickadee would have her revenge.

And then she'd go home.

At least that had been the plan when he first arrived in New York. His only goal was to fulfill his part of their bargain as quickly as possible. He'd planned on convincing her that her father was ruined, giving her a small fortune, and then sending her on her way, forgetting ever having known her. Because, dammit, she had no right to believe he belonged to her! No right to be so damn possessive!

No right to lay claim to emotions, to touch the vulnerable core he was only just beginning to realize he possessed.

He'd had no desire whatsoever to continue with his mockery of a marriage. But now, as the screeching and hissing train began to slow near the Boston depot, the only thing Saxon could think of was seeing her again. Kissing her, holding her, apologizing to her, telling her...

Telling her what? How much she meant to him?

What
did
she mean to him?

And dear God, what did
he
mean to
her?

*

It was late afternoon when Saxon arrived home from the depot. As he entered the house he called for Chickadee.

"She's out, sir," Thatcher informed him. "She's been in the North End all day."

"And you let her go?" Saxon thundered.

"Sir, am I to understand you are instructing me to keep her here against her will?"