This novella was originally published in an anthology entitled Cherished Love.
Verity Standiford's youthful indescretion has ruined her. In fact, she's so ruined that even a man who's no man at all abandons her at the altar despite the sizeable fortune her father offered as a dowry. With nothing except constant shame and spinsterhood in her future, Verity agrees to journey with her mother to America and the Kansas Frontier where her younger brother and rakehell Johnnie is supposed to be running a ranch. But when they arrive they find instead that the only thing Johnnie's managed to achieve is a local girl's pregnancy--and he's being forced into marriage at the end of a shotgun by the girl's uncle.
Seth Adamson would be a bitter man if he had the time to indulge in it. The War between the States has not only stripped his family of their wealth, he never achieved the Harvard law degree he expected. Then, his brother died and left him, a single man and former saddle tramp, with two girls, one a wayward teen. It isn't until he meets Verity that hope for a future returns. And when a prairie fire nearly kills them he realizes that he wants no future without this unusual woman.
v 0 w USD , 6 @@@@ ) An Impetuous SeasonThis novella was previously published in an anthology entitled: "Cherished Love". All rights reverted to me in 2002. I'm giving it away free as a thank you to all of the readers out there turning Winter's Heat into an Amazon phenomenon. THANK YOU!
This is a work of fiction; everyone in the book is created out of whole cloth (although I did my best to portray them and their times as accurately as possible).
An Impetuous Season
copyright(©) Denise Domning 1997, 2011
All right reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any way.
Oxfordshire, England
August 1873
Seated on the chancel step Verity Standiford, the black ewe of the Rycote Standifords, stared at the ruined nosegay in her hands. A single rose petal remained. She plucked it, then let the soft bit of flower fall from her fingers. As it settled atop its brothers in her satin-clad lap, all hope of ever having a family of her own shattered.
Verity sighed in bitter disappointment. What a fool shed been to dream she could escape her fate. Not even Ralph, who was no man at all, wanted used goods. When word of this, her second abandonment at the altar, spread, as it surely would, the quiet scorn and hissing whispers she already endured would become open laughter. She was doomed to the same barren, purposeless existence that great-Aunt Faith, that dried-up old battleaxe, suffered.
Coward, she scolded herself. She wouldnt let anyone see how this hurt her. To do so would only prove theyd beaten her and--no matter how true it was--shed never let them see that. In defiance,Verity sent the bundle of stems that had been her bridal bouquet flying across the chapel. It bounced off a high-backed wooden pew, then skittered across dank, stone flooring.
From the chapels arched doorway came the sound of footsteps. Verity looked up. Augusts bright sunlight outlined her fathers stocky form and made Wilson Standifords formal attire gleam, all dark blue silk and starched whiteness. A cool breeze teased what little was left of her fathers light brown hair.
Child, its time to leave. Papas voice was as mild and indolent as he.
It was pointless to remind him she was hardly a child, having reached her nine and twentieth year. Instead, Verity came to her feet in a shower of petals and yanked off the circlet of orange blossoms topping her upswept hair. Dropping the girlish headdress with its fine, white veiling, she strode for the portal.
So Papa, whats next? she asked, her voice as bold as ever. She threaded her arm through her sires. Were I you, I think I might sue Ralph to retrieve the sums you expended in buying him for me.
Her fathers broad and fleshy features tensed as he eyed his taller daughter, his mouth a narrow line beneath a mustache that would have done credit to a walrus. His eyes, the same clear gray as her own, narrowed, his expression growing just a tad anxious. Buy him for you, indeed. I did no such thing. Behind his stuffy words lurked a touch of shame.
And, here I was thinking youd paid Ralphs debts to tease him into marrying me. Verity raised a chiding brow. They both knew very well Papa had arranged this abortive wedding as an apology of sorts, now that hed had time to regret the vengeance hed wreaked on her all those years ago.
Papa glanced away from her, color creeping up his neck. Verity relented with a sigh. Ah well, I, too, thought the arrangement a fair one. In exchange for marital respectability, I would have spared Ralph the complaints some naive virgin might have made against the men he took to his bed.
Wilson yelped, his eyes widening in shock, then shot a frantic glance over his shoulder to see if anyone was within hearing distance. Have a care with your tongue, Verity, he hissed in panic. Gadzooks, you shouldnt even know such things, much less say them aloud.
Again bitterness touched Veritys heart and echoed in her short laugh. Youre wrong, Papa. Only I, that brazen Standiford woman can say these things. If her second desertion had freed her from societys bonds, it was a cold sort of freedom shed gained, offering her nothing but endless years of emptiness.
Anger flared beneath Wilsons usually bland expression. So, youll use bold rudeness to punish me for what Ralph has done, will you?
And what sort of gratitude would that be after all youve done? Verity pressed a kiss on her fathers balding pate, ignoring the fact that it was Papa whod destroyed her all those years ago. No, it wont be me bringing scandal down upon the Standiford name. Ill gladly leave that chore to Johnnie, whos ever so much better at it than I.
Her father grimaced. His youngest sons most recent excesses resulted in Verity's brother being exiled in April past to the United States. The youngest Standiford departed England with Sir George Grant, a wealthy Scottish industrialist, for some place called the Kansas Frontier. Sir George vowed the roughness of American cattle ranching would make a man out of an otherwise well-established rakehell at the same time it increased the familys fortune.
We are quite a family, eh, Papa? Verity offered.
That we are, Wilson agreed with a hopeless sigh as he led his daughter out into the hot, heaviness of Lammas day. She and her father strode apace down the flagstone path as they made their way toward the gate in the lime hedge. Their carriage waited beyond that exit, yet bedecked in the garlands and ribbons of a wedding conveyance.
Cowardice returned so suddenly, Veritys feet froze to the ground. Wilson stumbled to a halt beside her. Verity, he cried in stark surprise.
Verity stared at the great loops of roses and greenery on the carriages sides. Their ride home would be nothing more than a ludicrous advertisement of her desperate grab for home and husband. Why couldnt she have realized the utter hopelessness of her state before today?
Have Benton tear off the flowers, Papa, she said quietly.
Wilson rolled his eyes in exasperation; he wanted his study and his port. Can it not wait until were home, child?
Dear God, shed never survive it if anyone witnessed her return to the Standiford estate in that thing, but there was no way to achieve it unless she begged. Verity swallowed that craven desire as she tried to convince herself there was no one to see her. Everyone who was anyone was still in London finishing out the season. Fear fell into an uneasy grave, buried beneath a merry laugh.
How right you are, Father. I must hurry home, rushing to my mothers side where I will attempt to soothe her nervous distress. After all, it is her continuing failure to rid herself of me that lays at its root. Although Verity shot her father a wicked, laughing glance within her woke a niggling sense of unfairness. Since her fall from grace all those years ago, Heloise Standiford had barely endured her daughters presence. Meanwhile, Johnnies debts, gambling and drunkenness were tolerated as the appropriate sowing of masculine wild oats.
You are a cruel, cruel child, Papa whispered in approval, making no attempt to defend his wife for whom hed long ago ceased to care.
He led his daughter from the churchyard to the carriage door and handed her up into the conveyance. Verity shook out her skirts before seating herself on the upholstered bench. When Papa took his place across from her, he again leaned close.
Truth be told, I wouldnt trade either you or Johnnie for another of our Fred. Stodgy old man at five and twenty, he is. You two make life interesting.
I love you, too, Papa, Verity said, offering her father a brilliant smile to hide her pain.
Leather snapped and wooden wheels squeaked as the carriage jerked into motion. Verity watched the deserted stone church with its ivied walls and hydrangeas pass from sight. Her tattered girlhood dreams would forever remain locked within its moldy embrace. Again, her cold and childless future loomed.
The ride progressed in silence, the tree-lined lane blessedly empty. Rather than torture herself by watching for other travelers, Verity forced her gaze to the passing scenery. Thatched roofed cottages were clustered in fives and sixes, neat stone barns sat amid lush fields, while sheep filled the open meadows. In one sunny glade there stood an old byre, half sunk into the earth and so covered in moss, grasses and clinging flowers its walls looked more like grass than stone.
It was as she studied that ancient structure that she realized the futility of trying to hide what had happened this day. Whether her retreat was witnessed or not, it wouldnt take long for news of this latest debacle to spread. Even as loyal as the few guests were to Papa, they couldnt help but talk.
Panic rose. She wasnt ready to face this, at least not yet. She had to escape until the bulk of the gossip died down.
Verity lay a hand on her fathers sturdy knee. Papa, I have a sudden yen to travel, see new sights.
Her fathers eyes narrowed until they almost disappeared into folds of fat, a calculating gleam in his gaze. Do you? How far? Perhaps, say, the United States? Your mother does so pine for her sweet Johnnie and Aunt Faith absolutely refuses to travel among American heathens and ignorants.
With a swift breath, Verity recognized what her father was offering. She could run, but only on his terms and he wanted freedom from his wife. Was she truly so desperate, shed consider traveling with her mother?
The carriage came around a curve, then slowed. Two horses walked toward them. It was Mr. Wakefield and his new wife, the former Miss Blackworth. Wakefield tipped his hat to Wilson, ignoring Verity, while the tittering idiot riding at his left averted her eyes. A modest woman didnt look upon the fallen Miss Standiford. Mrs. Wakefield didnt wait until they were out of earshot to cry out, Whatever is she doing in such a getup?
America. The word almost leaped from Veritys mouth. The Frontier. Savages. What a heady thought. Yes, I think Ill go.
Mr. Standiford grinned and reached into his coat. Withdrawing a thin flask, he helped himself to a goodly swallow of brandy. Thats my Verity girl. Always the helpful sort.
Oh, do hold your tongue, Papa, she snapped.
When her father offered her the flask, Verity snatched it from his hand and let fiery liquor wash the taste of cowardice from her mouth.
Victoria, Kansas
Late September 1873
Piebald coat gleaming with sweat in the late afternoon sun, the massive plow horse slowed to a walk, then lowered his head toward the dense carpet of buffalo grass. Seated on the horses broad, bare back Seth Adamson glanced ahead at the justices far more spirited pony. Mr. Jenkins was more than a hundred yards ahead of him. Seth jabbed his booted heels into his neighbors workhorse. Come on, you pigheaded fool, keep pace. With a snort of disappointment, the big horse lifted furred hooves into a canter.
The child seated before Seth took a wild bounce. Gemima Adamsons dark braids flew and her pink sunbonnet slid back to nestle at her nape. With a frightened cry, she clutched her ragdoll even closer to her chest. Seths four-year-old niece had never ridden a horse; Gemma liked neither the height nor movement of this tall creature.
Seth drew his only remaining blood relative back into the cradle of his body. Were almost there, Gemma, he told her in a paltry attempt at both reassurance and apology.
The sweeter of his two charges shot him a wet look over her shoulder, the bright blue of her eyes naming her an Adamson. In Gemmas gaze lingered traces of the shy resentment shed aimed at him since her parents death last February. Seth smiled to hide his disappointment. Stepping into the role of father hadnt been easy for him, an unmarried man. Hell, he hadnt even known his brother had children until a year ago.
With a sigh, Seth turned his attention back onto the road, if thats what one could call the dual ruts cutting across the gentle roll of Western Kansas landscape. A lingering meadowlark trilled as a gentle breeze rustled through drying grasses and thistles. Without a house or tree to tease his eye, Seths thoughts drifted to his elder brother, Matt.
The War between the States and Matts mishandling of their fathers estate after the Wars end had separated them, permanently, or Seth had believed. Instead, for some reason beyond any understanding, Seths thirty-fourth birthday brought with it the need to restore familial bonds. It had taken some searching, but hed finally found Matt in Fort Hays, Kansas. His brother had married himself a wealthy merchants widow and seemed to be living a prosperous life. After welcoming his prodigal brother with open arms, Matt proposed Seth take up residence with them to continue his interrupted education in the law. A lawyer, Matt insisted, was just what Fort Hayes needed.
Seths mouth twisted at that thought. Hed been an idiot to trust Matt for a second time and even more of a fool to reawaken the desire for the life hed once assumed was a right. Four months later, Matt and his wife were dead, killed in a wagon accident.
In Matts inimitable style, his generosity had been well mortgaged. By the time the debts were paid, all that remained were a few pieces of furniture, a filthy, landless soddie and the girls. This time Seths sigh was bitter.
The girls, sweet Gemima and lovely, nasty, conniving Sarah Jane. Living with a fifteen-year-old who hated him and continually pointed out he was only her step-uncle was akin to going to Hell. Ah but if that was true, than today was a glimpse of heaven.
Guilt stabbed through him. It was wrong to find relief in Sarahs downfall. Still, if Standiford admitted hed fathered Sarah Janes child, itd be Standiford who kept the little vixen--at least until the Brits parents freed him of the marriage. Seth found himself hoping the divorce took a year or more. That way, by the time Sarah Jane returned, babe in arms and far more humble, hed own his law license and income enough to support them all, beyond even Sarahs somewhat plebeian standards.
Once again, Gunters stubborn plowhorse slowed to a walk. Seth glanced toward Mr. Jenkins. The sun gleamed off the justices brown broadcloth suit as he drew his pony to one side. Ahead of them, bumping and jolting along this track, was a mule-drawn wagon. Folks on this trail could only mean another brace of damn fool Englishmen come to play at pioneering. A new ranch sprang up almost every day around Victoria.
Seths thick brows lowered and his eyes narrowed in scorn at the sight of parasols. These fools happened to be of the female persuasion; two women were seated on trunks in the wagons bed. These women looked as out of place in Kansas as he would were he to return to Harvard wearing his present worn, red shirt, sturdy trousers and thick brogans.
The older of the two was dressed in a maroon traveling outfit thick with swags and jet beads. A ridiculous, brimless hat perched atop her grizzled frizz, studded with enough long feathers to make a pheasant jealous. Overdressed for the prairies afternoon heat, she sought relief with her parasol and a vigorously plied fan. The dark 'V' of sweat on her gowns back evidenced her failure.
The second passenger was substantially younger than her companion. Outfitted in green and cream plaid, her fan lay neglected in her lap, while her parasol was cocked uselessly over one slender shoulder. Instead, it was a sensibly brimmed straw hat that shaded her from the sun.
Ladies, Justice Jenkins offered, his voice as stringy as he, and doffed his bowler. With his bushy mustache and his oiled hair slicked against his narrow skull, Jenkins looked like an oversized otter. Once his hat was again fixed firmly upon his head, Hayss marrying man rode past the wagon.
As Seth and Gemma drew alongside the slow moving conveyance, Seth glanced at the younger woman and his disapproval softened. Her skin was pale and clear, her eyes a lovely gray. Honey-brown hair nestled softly against her nape in braided loops. If her features were a tad long, her nose was straight and her chin gently rounded. Fool she might be, but she was a damned fine looking one.
In the next moment, the corners of her mouth lifted and her gaze filled with a sort of amused reproach. Aw, hell. Hed been staring, the height of rudeness. Years of saddle tramping and associating only with women hed paid for had turned him into the yokel he looked.
Well, there was no sense trying to amend his faux pas. Instead, Seth swept the battered reminder of his stint as a cowhand off his head in a mocking tribute to the fine lifestyle of his upbringing. Maam.
At his parody of elegance, she freed a sultry laugh and her face came to life. Prettier and prettier. Seth compounded his earlier sin by winking at her, then ran a quick hand through the heavy, curling strands of his black hair before clapping his chapeau into place.
Of all the impertinence! The older woman's words dripped icicles. She had turned on her trunk to fix him with a chill, blue stare over the arched bridge of her nose. Her mouth was pursed and her pointed chin jutted outward in disgust. Verity, look away this moment. Youre only encouraging the witless oaf.
Seth quirked a brow at the biddys arrogance. This particular witless oaf had a bloodline as pure as hers, studded with notables, not the least of which had been his father, the senator.
I dont think shes very nice, Uncle, Gemma said, peering over his arm at the harridan.
Oh, dont mind her, child, this Verity replied. Mother finds herself dismayed by the lack of organization she sees around her. She thinks you Americans a very careless sort of people.
Seth drew a swift breath. Not only was her voice as sultry as her laugh, there was an odd intimacy to her manner that sent a shiver through him. Desire followed, strong and not the least bit subtle.
Mother had already turned her back to him, her spine stiff against her daughters veiled insults. That is quite enough, Verity.
If you say so, Mama, Verity replied, then offered Seth and Gemma a cheery wave and another lovely smile.
Seth again kicked his ungainly steed into a trot. It was a few minutes before he caught up with Justice Jenkins on his sprightlier mount. Only a few more moments passed before the justice waved them toward a faint new trail marking the dense grass. In the distance to their left there was a cluster of buildings.
If I was counting rightly, this heres the Standiford place, Adamson, the justice called to him as he turned his horse toward the buildings.
When theyd passed the stone foundation of what would someday be a spacious home, Seth let Gunters horse slow into its favorite plod. Behind the stonework stood a much smaller, but complete, frame house, with a ceilinged porch clinging to its south and west sides. This dwelling was so new it didnt yet wear paint and so narrow it couldnt consist of more than a single bedroom on the second story with a sitting room and dining room below. One blistering Kansas summer had already warped a number of its wooden shingles, revealing the tar paper underlining.
Where Seths early years had taught him to sneer at so tiny a home as only fit for servants, experience had long since changed him. Now, he looked longingly at it, craving wooden walls and floors. This place was a mansion compared to his present address.
Two expensive horses stood in a corral behind the dwellings. The bright bay was a hunter, or so the binding of its mane and bobbed tail proclaimed. The other was a gray whose compact lines revealed a goodly dollop of Arab blood. The steeds whickered a friendly greeting to more of their kind. There were no pigs, no milk cows, no chickens.
Like many of Victorias ranches, this spread was occupied by a wealthy and unmarried man of substance. As a whole, these young swells came to make a fortune off cattle and sheep ranching, not the wheat and sorghum farming of their less monied neighbors. This was not to say the Brits intended to work with their hands, no, not at all. They hired others to do their chores and build their homes, while they hunted or drank in Tommy Drums saloon at Hays. The good Lord knew Seth had made more than a few dollars working for them, as had Sarah Jane in her position as cook and housekeeper for one of the families, the MacDonalds.
Once again, guilt rose in Seth. He shouldnt have allowed Sarahs earnings to blind him into placing her among so many young men. Moreover, when Sarah vowed to catch herself a wealthy husband, he should have understood how it was she meant to achieve her goal. True, Standiford shouldnt have made free with Sarah, but Seth had no doubt the greedy little spitfire had done as much seducing as had been seduced.
Jenkins drew his pony to a halt before the porch and dismounted. Once hed helped Seth lower Gemma to the ground, the justice retrieved two shotguns from his saddle holsters. Afoot, Seth took his own weapon from Jenkins, setting it into the crook of one arm. With Gemmas hand in his, he led the way up the porch stairs to the door. It took a moment to manufacture the right amount of outrage. He lifted a fist and knocked loudly.
Above them, hidden by the overhanging porch roof, a window squeaked open. Who is it? The voice was young and masculine, the accent proper British English.
Seth Adamson, Mr. Standiford. Im Sarah Janes uncle. It seems we need to talk, Seth replied.
Oh my God. Even the mans voice blanched, then he freed a nervous, girlish giggle. The sound tangled with a quiet, female shriek.
Gemma gave a happy jump, her face alive with excitement. Her precious doll, dangling from one tiny, grubby fist, leapt with her. Sarah Jane, she called, come down! I want to see you! What with Sarah employed since June, Gemmas contact with her half-sister had been limited to Sundays.
This command only woke another female yelp from above. There was no mistaking Sarah Jane. Seth had heard a harsher version of the same sound far too many times over the term of his guardianship. He lowered his voice to the deeper tones of a threat. Standiford, youll do right by my niece.
Best do as he says, young fella, Jenkins added in his nasal tones. Well make things as painless as possible. Relatively speakin, that is.
The window slammed shut. Seth glanced at the justice, whose head barely reached his shoulder. Best you go around back. It was a quiet remark.
Magine youre right, Jenkins replied.
As the justice disappeared around the corner of the house, Gemma looked up at her uncle, all excitement gone. She worried her lip with tiny, white teeth, her blue eyes solemn. Why wont Sarah come down?
Seth looked at his niece. I think shes afraid of me, darlin.
Oh. Gemma frowned as she thought this through. Can Sarah come home to stay with us now?
Seth sighed, then squatted until they were face-to-face. He tugged Gemmas green sprigged dress straight around her body, then pulled her bonnet back over her black braids and delicate ears. Why hadnt he left her in Hays with Matts friends, the Evans? When would he ever learn to think like a parent? He shouldnt have exposed her to her sisters downfall. Lifting a hand, he ran a work-hardened palm over the soft curve of her cheek. No, Gemma, Sarah will have to stay here.
Tears filled Gemmas eyes and her lower lip trembled. I want Sarah Jane. She pulled her ragdoll close into her embrace, seeking comfort from the lifeless toy.
Seth drew the child against him. Darlin, she cant come. Shes gone and grown up on you. Sarah and the man who lives in this house must get married. Thats why Mr. MacDonald came to speak with us this morning, to tell me what Sarah had done. Now, he said, setting her away from him so he could look at her, youll have to keep a secret for me.
A secret? Excitement battled distress in Gemmas gaze. Secrets were a favorite game of hers, one she and little Mina Evans played when they were together. I like secrets.
I know you do, he said with a smile. Listen closely. In the next few minutes I may sound very angry. The secret is Im only pretending. Promise you wont tell? Seth could only pray the few, fragile bonds hed woven between them this past summer would hold beyond the coming event.
I promise, she said. It was less vow than the response she knew as part of her game. Then, Gemimas gaze flickered to the gun. Are you going to shoot Sarah Jane?
Seth loosed a quick laugh as he came to his feet. That I will not. No matter how often hed wished he could.
As Gemima wrapped an arm around one of his legs and leaned her head against his hip, Seth tried the door handle. It was latched tight. He glanced down at her.
Remember your promise, he said. Then, raising his voice to a threatening level, he shouted, Standiford, open up or, by God, Ill blow a hole in your door and let myself in.
Lookee what I caught me. Jenkins sailed back around the corner, Sarah Janes arm tight in his hand.
Sarahs blond hair hung loose around her shoulders. She wore a new dress, a pretty yellow shirtwaist. That it was misbuttoned down the front spoke to her haste in dressing. Her face was still flushed with the telltale signs of lovemaking, but her green eyes were wide with fear.
Sarah! Gemma cried joyously, leaping for her half sister.
Gemma! Come to me, sweetheart.
As Sarah leaned down to embrace her sister, Jenkins moved his grasp to the back of her dress, allowing her to lift the child. Sarah shifted Gemma in her arms, seeking to use her as a shield against her step-uncle. Seth wasnt so easily deterred. He came to stand in front of her, then crooked a finger beneath her chin. She had no choice but to meet his gaze.
Mrs. MacDonald suspects you are in the family way. Is this true?
The blunt question brought a rosy blush to her cheeks. Sarah nodded, the movement of her head almost shy.
You little fool, he told her in soft scorn. Well, Ill see you married today to give your child a name, but dont set your sights on keeping him. His sort has grander plans than a ragged orphan like you.
If Im poor, its because you sold everything and took the money for yourself, Sarah retorted, her eyes widening in anger. Im every bit Johnnies equal.
Seth shook his head. No doubt, when judged against the stark poverty of the locals here, she had seen herself as well-to-do, but she was hardly a fit wife for the young Brit. Releasing a harsh breath, he turned his back on the girl and looked at Jenkins. Can he flee through the back door?
Jammed it shut, I did. All you gotta do is pry this one open.
Well then, lets see how much goading hell endure. Seth again lifted his fist and banged on the door. Open the door, you piece of cheap English trash. It was an angry shout, reverberating off the porch and into the sky above them.
I beg your pardon!
The sultry tones of the woman Seth found so alluring only a quarter of an hour ago brought him around in a hurry, Jenkins and Sarah turning with him. The young woman was balancing precariously on her feet in the wagons rocking bed.
We Standifords arent cheap trash, she called in that smooth as silk voice of hers. Quite the contrary. We are extremely expensive trash. Ask my father. He keeps paying and paying.
Verity! Veritys mother cried, appalled.
Beside Seth, the justice freed a snorting chuckle at the jest, while Seth fought his grin. A woman with a sense of humor. Now, that was a pearl of price.
Sit down before you kill yourself, maam, Seth called to her.
As she more toppled than sat onto her trunk, the elder Standiford woman turned on the wagons driver. Faster, you, she cried. Cant you see my son is in danger? Using her folded fan as a quirt, she rapped the man repeatedly on the head to encourage haste.
There was nothing but stoic blandness on the drivers broad German face as he endured his beating without once urging his mules to a faster pace. However, when he drew the wagon to a halt near the porch stairs, he made no move toward aiding the women from its bed.
John Standifords mother glared at Seth as she came to her feet. What sort of country is this? Imagine! Armed riffraff assaulting a decent mans home. The audacity of it! The words escaped her in great gusts of outrage.
Now, Mama, Verity Standiford said, these men wouldnt be the first to have a perfectly legitimate complaint to air with Johnnie.
The sister of the man about to become Seths in-law rose. Finding her footing more secure this time, she extended a hand toward Seth. Do help me down, wont you?
Seth glanced at Sarah Jane. His step-niece glanced from the newcomers fine attire to her own garment, only now noting the gaping front. With a quiet cry, she set Gemma down and began straightening and buttoning her dress. Although she seemed fully occupied, Seth looked to Jenkins. Dont let her go now, he warned, then leaned his shotgun against a porch support and went to the wagons end.
Verity Standifords waist was pleasantly narrow beneath his hands. As he lifted her from the bed, the scent of roses came with her. He set her feet on the earth. She was tall for a woman, her brow level with his cheekbone. Desire again spurred Seth; he liked a woman of good size.
She tilted her head to peer up at him from beneath her hats brim. Her gray eyes sparkled in wholly unwarranted merriment while her face softened into something damned near beauty. When she leaned toward him, most of Seth melted. If his skin hadnt already been burnt brown by the sun, hed have feared a revealing blush.
Be a dear, wont you, and help Mrs. Standiford down, she whispered, then turned to climb the stairs.
Seth did her bidding without a second thought. Mrs. Standiford, he said, extending his hands toward the heavyset woman.
The biddy eyed his calloused palms and work-stained shirt with disgust, her mouth growing even more pinched and sour. Drawing two handkerchiefs from her reticule, she offered them to him. Ill not have you ruin my clothing. Worth, himself, designed this for me.
There was no sense arguing. Seth cloaked his hands in fine linen, then heaved the woman from the wagon. The moment her feet touched the earth, Mrs. Standiford tore free, letting the lace-edged squares drop to the ground as if befouled by his touch. The woman swept up the porch stairs without offering a word of thanks, then turned on Jenkins and the girls. Be gone with you. Shoo!
I dont think as we can be doin that, maam, Hays justice replied, unperturbed by her rudeness.
Not just yet, anyway. Seth stepped onto the porch without using the stairs and, again, caught up his weapon. He edged through the crowd porch until he stood beside Standifords sister.
Right, then, Miss Verity Standiford said to him, her slender, gloved hand poised at the door. Let me show you the trick to this door opening thing. Are you watching?
That I am, he replied with a quiet smile, wondering if it was possible to want a woman more than he was presently wanting this one.
She tapped lightly. Johnnie darling, are you in there? she called out. There was no response.
Maam, he started, but she tilted her head to look up at him. Seth caught back the rest of his complaint, content to stand and wait as long as she watched him that way.
Verity couldnt help herself. Her gaze caught on his face and wouldnt move. If this man wasnt particularly handsome, at least not in the classical sense, he was tall and very broad shouldered, as much man as she could ever have wanted. His black, curling hair tumbled out from beneath the band of the most hideous hat shed ever seen to cling in loose spirals to the strong column of his neck and spill over the collar of his shirt. She studied his features, finding it truly refreshing to see a man who didnt clutter his face with beard or mustache. His nose had been broken at least once, for the bridge was flattened and the line of it now a little crooked. But, his eyes were his most striking feature. Set beneath thick, black brows, they were a startling shade of blue.
The corners of his mouth lifted at her stare. Verity started, realizing he had recognized her interest. To hide her embarrassment, she turned her attention back to the door. One more time, she said, as much to that wooden panel as to him.
She rapped again. Johnnie darling, this is getting very tedious. Do open up. Come now, Mamas here, just in time to save you.
This time, the door flew open and Johnnie stepped out, finger-combing his fine brown hair. His attire was in terrible disarray, what with his shirt only partially buttoned and its tail hanging out over his trousers. His upper lip now sported a wispy mustache, but it was too thin to aid Johnnie in looking all of his two and twenty years. As her brother came face to face with a man half a head taller and at least three stones heavier than he, Johnnie squeaked and eased nearer to Verity.
Verity, dear sister! he cried out, his voice cracking. By Jove, I expected to see Aunt Faith, not you.
Veritys heart hiccoughed at this unwitting reminder of her impending doom. Once again, she fought off fear with a laugh. One spinster for another, my sweet. Now, do tell me why you werent opening the door for Mr., she paused, then glanced up at the big man next to her, hoping to encourage an introduction.
Adamson, Miss, he replied, the timbre of his voice sending a pleasant chill down her spine. Seth Adamson. Youll need to move aside now.
But of course, Verity replied, starting to one side. Business before pleasure, eh, Johnnie?
Verity, Mama called, her voice sharp with command as she tried to elbow past Mr. Adamson without touching him. When the big man refused to move, Heloise shouted over his shoulder, Youll stay just where you are. Ill not have these rude yokels assaulting our family.
Oh dear. I suspect this means I must stay put, Verity said, using helplessness as a pretense to ogle Mr. Adamson a little longer.
He was a riddle, this one. Although dressed in what were rags by any standard, his speech patterns revealed more than a little education. So too, was his accent different from any of those shed heard thus far in her journey. His pronunciation was soft, the words almost running into each other. It made listening to him quite enjoyable.
Im afraid I cant allow that, he replied, politely ignoring her bold stare. Youll need to stand aside, Miss Standiford.
Verity shrugged in compliance and moved to one side. Theres no help for it, Mama, she said.
Mr. Adamson stepped forward and lowered his shotgun until it touched Johnnies chest. Is Mr. Standiford the father of your child, Sarah Jane? he asked of the dissheveled blond at his side.
It was a moment before Verity took in the full meaning of his words. Behind her, Heloise gasped. Verity turned a startled gaze on her younger brother. Oh laddie, what have you done? she breathed.
Johnnie flushed, the color bright on his pale skin. Egad, he said in a tiny voice, then lifted his gaze to his paramour. Why didnt you tell me?
The mother of Johnnies child was a beautiful little thing, all golden skin and hair, just the sort Verity expected Johnnie to favor. This Sarah Jane paled and, in her sudden nervousness, she set down the child she carried. I meant to tell you, but-- her voice trailed off into silence.
The scrawny man in the tasteless brown suit smiled, or at least creases appeared on his cheeks. There was no seeing his mouth beneath that mustache. Well now, it dont really matter whether she said or not. Whats done is done and it takes only a few words to set it right. Adamson, put yer niece next to Standiford. Hold steady there, boy, he said as Johnnie paled. Right nice of your kin to show up for the event.
Wicked delight woke in Verity as she recognized what went forward here. She glanced at her mother, but Heloise was still frozen in shock, her hand pressed to the overflow of bosom above her corset. Up until this day her precious son had been a profligate and a drunk, but hed sired no bastards. Where Heloise saw a redeeming virtue, Verity put the omission up to incompetence on Johnnies part.
The scrawny man fumbled in his jacket pocket and pulled forth a battered book. This heres my favorite part. Dearly beloved, we are gathered here--
Stop! Heloises shout was a clarion call, trumpeted to the heavens above. You cannot seriously think I would allow my son to marry this little Jezebel! What proof have you that it is Mr. Standiford who fathered her child? Shes already got one brat. Dear God, but whos to say how many mens beds shes warmed.
Gemmas my sister, Sarah Jane blurted out, then her face crumpled and shamed rolled over her expression. Only now did she recognize her fall from a virtuous woman into whore.
The girls reaction was no more than a reflection of Veritys own sin. Hadnt she also seen only loves purity when she ran to the Continent with Richard, the man shed so foolishly deemed her Shelley? Drawn by a shared humiliation, Verity retreated to stand behind the girl, her hands on the sweet things shoulders.
That was cruel Mama, even for you. Come now, Johnnie, Verity prodded. Fess up. You were the first.
Her brother peered up from his studious observation of his stocking-clad toes. With a nervous giggle, he nodded, then returned his attention to the fascination of his nether digits. What now, Johnnie? Verity insisted. Havent you anything to say in her defense?
Johnnies spine stiffened, at least momentarily. Mama, truly its not so bad a marriage if Im to stay in the United States. Sarahs been a dear and she makes a demmed fine meal. I tell you, youll be glad of her before a week is out.
Hold your tongues, both of you, Mrs. Standiford snapped, then turned on the Americans. Ill not allow this travesty to continue.
Mr. Adamson graced Verity with a swift, considering look, then turned on Heloise. Maam, since the boy admits his wrong in this, theres not much you can do to stop us.
Humph, Heloise bit out, not yet defeated. If Mr. Standiford did father her child--mind you, Im not saying he did--you can be assured well settle a sum upon the girl and see her bastard supported. Sarah Jane moaned at the word bastard and Heloise shot her a narrow eyed look. The Standifords have always been generous to a fault when shouldering their responsibilities.
Caint buy back what yer son took from her, the scrawny man said, his voice gone harsh and cold. Hell do right by the girl and wed her.
Of all the impertinence, Heloise retorted. I demand to speak to the authorities.
The little mans gaze hardened. Justice Jenkins, at yer service, maam. Im the best ya can get today, the sheriff being outta town and Judge McGaffigan ailing.
Mr. Adamson laid his free hand on the justices shoulder. Mr. Jenkins, here, is justice of the peace in these parts. He does our marrying and such as theres presently a dearth of clergymen in this locale.
Heloise brought the force of her personality to bear on Mr. Jenkins. If this is true, how can you persist in such a miscarriage?
The bantam of a man fixed his adversary with a steely stare. The way I see it twas your son who did the miscarrying when he went and laid with Seths niece, her being an innocent girl an all.
Youll not misuse me this way! Heloise turned on the Americans, her arms outstretched as if she meant to shove them off the porch. Go now, all of you. Well have no more to do with your sort. Be gone with you!
The shotguns blast made everyone jump and the little dark haired girl began to wail. Mr. Adamson once again lowered the smoking barrel of his weapon until it touched Johnnies chest, then held his hand out to the crying child. Gemma, come and stand by me.
I want Sarah Jane, the wee girl sobbed, pushing past Verity to reach her sister. The bride scooped up her sister, pressing Gemmas dark head onto her own trembling shoulder.
How dare you try to frighten me. Heloises voice retained but a pallid reflection of its previous bluster. You will immediately cease to point that vile thing at my son.
Mr. Adamson pushed his hat back on his head and set a chill blue gaze on his future in-law. Maam, Ive been patient up until now, knowing you to be ignorant of our ways. If you plan to stay in the United States for any length of time best you take heed of this advice. In this country its always more sensible to ask the man holding the gun what it is he wants, then be accommodatin to his needs. Take this warning to heart, understanding my next shot will make your grandchild an orphan before its birth. Although his voice never raised out of its casual cadence, there was no doubting he meant to do as he threatened.
This time when Heloise gasped, her hands came to clutch at her chest. Johnnie shot Verity a hopeless, helpless look as he recognized their mothers last ditch defense. Verity only shook her head.
A great moan tore from Heloise. My heart! Oh dear Lord, someone help me! She staggered toward Johnnie. My dearest boy, she managed in a quivering voice, help me inside. I must sit down.
Mr. Adamson inserted the rifle barrel between mother and son. Enough histrionics. Youll stop or Ill put a hole in one of his legs.
Mama, stop, Johnnie squeaked.
Mama managed a miraculous recovery and turned on the tall man. Dont think youll get away with this. My husband is a wealthy and well-connected man. Hell see this mockery undone and your niece will be left without a shilling, do you hear!
Dime, Mother, Verity corrected. They dont have shillings in the United States.
Do I care? her mother raged. This is a foul and uncivilized place and none of us will stay here past the morrow. She turned on her heel and stormed into the house. The door slammed so hard the upper window rattled. Johnnie giggled, while his bride released a sudden, sad sob.
Gemma looked up at Verity from Sarahs shoulder, her thumb in her mouth. Beneath smooth, dark brows the childs eyes were the same blue color of her uncles. Verity stroked the girls velvety cheek, the desire for her own children aching in her.
Her caress came to a rest atop a tangle of yarn. She looked closer. Caught between the child and Sarah Janes shoulder was a rag doll. Dark brown loops of yarn served as hair, while tiny, round blue buttons were its eyes. For clothing, it wore a shift of a green sprigged fabric, the same material that made up Gemmas simple, long sleeved dress.
Set yer sister down, dearie, Mr. Jenkins told Sarah.
Sarah did as he bid but when Gemma once again stood on the porch, the child circled around Sarah to look up at Verity. Verity extended a hopeful hand. Gemma frowned slightly and stared at her fingers, then took the offered hand. Her tiny palm was damp. At the feeling of fragile fingers in her own, an ocean of regrets washed over Verity. At least Sarah Jane would take a child with her from her mistake.
Dearly beloved, Mr. Jenkins intoned.
Forget it, Jenkins, Mr. Adamson said, his words touched with pain. Have them say their vows.
It took only a moment for Johnnie to stutter through his promise to his wife while Sarahs words were wet with tears. When Mr. Jenkins urged the groom to kiss the bride Johnnie managed a swift peck on his new wifes cheek. Then, much to Veritys surprise, her brother drew himself to his tallest. She smiled as she recognized an amateur actors portrayal of the jovial host.
What ho, but you all must come in for a nip to celebrate the moment. I got myself a turkey whilst hunting yesterday and Sarahs made the most marvelous dinner. As it happens, theres one last bottle of wine. Well toast to the babes health.
I think not, Mr. Adamson replied as the new Mrs. Standiford covered her face in her hands.
Well, if you must go, Johnnie said, his relief gusting from him. Sarah, say your farewells swiftly. You need to come in and lay the table. Im starved, I am. With that, he fled into the house.
Sarahs whole body shook with the force of her tears. Verity glanced up at Mr. Adamson and found his gaze filled with masculine helplessness; he had no idea how to address his distraught niece. At last, he simply reached for the younger girls free hand. Come, Gemma. Its time for us to be going home.
Gemma unstoppered her mouth long enough to cry out, I want to stay here.
Verity thought her heart would break as the little lasss fingers tightened around her hand. For just this instant, she let herself dream Gemma wanted to stay for her, not Sarah Jane. Although she chided herself for a fool, she made no attempt to release Gemmas hand.
I think she doesnt wish to leave her sister, Verity told the childs uncle, as she indulged herself in the even sillier dream he might allow Gemma to stay here with Sarah for a time. This was a ridiculous hope. Only an idiot would entrust a child as precious and beautiful as this one to a household ruled by someone like Mama. Mr. Adamson was no idiot.
Sarah Jane must live with her husband now, Gemma, Mr. Adamson said as he set down his gun and reached for the child. Still clutching Veritys hand, Gemma kicked weakly as he lifted her. The rag doll dropped to the porch floor.
As the tall man settled the struggling child on his hip, Verity was drawn closer still. Suddenly, Gemma was cradled between the two of them. Verity almost sighed. This had the feel of heaven to it.
We must get home for our meal, Mr. Adamson continued, then rush you to bed as weve a long walk tomorrow. Dont you remember? Youre to go into Hays and stay the week with Mina.
Gemmas expression filled with excitement, then dimmed against her sisters continuing tears. Her final resolution was achieved by shoving her thumb back into her mouth and draping herself over Mr. Adamsons broad shoulder in limp confusion. Verity retrieved her hand as Mr. Adamson offered her a farewell nod and turned toward the stairs.
Sarah Jane leapt for her uncle, grabbing him by the free arm. Dont leave me here, Uncle Seth, she cried. At this moment, she sounded no older than Gemma. I want to come home with you.
Shoulda thought about that afore you laid with him, Jenkins chided in harsh rebuke.
Enough, Jenkins, Mr. Adamson snapped, enclosing Sarah in a protective arm. Shes hurting enough right now. Nothings served by making it worse for her.
Veritys heart melted in that moment. Here was a man who looked beyond the shame his niece brought his family to offer comfort. It was a luxury, indeed, something not even her previously doting father had given her when he found her in Paris with Richard.
Pardon, Jenkins said with a swift nod. No harm intended. Suns setting and I got me a ten-mile ride if Im to make Hays afore dark. Well settle up later.
He turned toward Verity, pressing one set of fingertips to his bowlers brim as he took his own weapon from its position against the porch wall. Miss. Caint say its been boring making yer acquaintance. He skittered down the stairs and to his waiting horse.
Sarah buried her head into her uncles shoulder. Dont leave me, she sobbed into his shirt.
Mr. Adamson moved a big hand over her slender back in a soothing caress. Honey, if there were a way to change this for you, Id do it. He looked at Verity from over the top of the girls head. You could help me out here.
Verity smiled as her admiration for him grew. He even looked to recruit comforters from the enemy. My dear man, you have mistaken me. Im much too selfish to help anyone. She threw out the words as a gentle test of his sincerity.
Is that so? His blue eyes flared to life as the corners of his mouth lifted. Then, perhaps youd like to explain why you were protecting Sarah from your mothers attack?
One act of kindness and the whole world wants favors, Verity grumbled, pleased that he approved of her actions. She set her hands on Sarahs shoulders once more and turned her new sister-in-law into her embrace. Come now, sweetling, settle yourself. I wont let you face that old dragon alone.
Sarah Jane lifted her head, her face still beautiful despite her tears. Promise you wont leave me?
Verity laughed, her amusement tinged with bitterness. In her life it wasnt she who did the leaving. I vow, she replied, placing a hand against her heart in a mock oath. Brace yourself, dearest sister. This was one of Mamas better days.
Sarah almost smiled, while Mr. Adamson chuckled, the sound deep and warm. Sarah, he said, kiss Gemma farewell so she neednt go worried for you.
The new Mrs. Standiford took two trembling steps to press a kiss against Gemmas cheek. Ill be well, sweetheart. Her voice was faint and when she retreated, she fairly fell into Veritys embrace. Gemma sighed around her thumb.
Goodbye, Gemma, Verity offered, still wishing for ever so much more than she would ever own.
Say goodbye to Miss Standiford, darlin.
At her uncles command, the little girl moved the smaller fingers of the hand against her mouth in a meager wave then she frowned. Kiss, Gemma muttered around her thumb.
Veritys breath caught in her chest as the hoping moved into a painful dimension. From me? she asked.
The girl gave a brief nod and pleasure rushed through Verity. Without a second thought, she leaned over to press her lips to the girls forehead. It was possible Gemmas skin tasted of sweat and dirt, but in her happiness she wouldnt have noticed. The child sighed, her hand opening to brush Veritys cheek in a sweet caress. I like you, she murmured.
Well then, Mr. Adamson said, stepping to the side to grab up his shotgun.
As he started down the steps Verity stared after him in desolation. He was leaving and taking Gemma with him. What if she never saw them again?
Wait, she cried out. He turned back toward her, his brows raised in question.
Words jumbled in her throat. She wanted to know who he was, how it was he lived with his nieces and why an educated man would be in this awful place. Mostly, she didnt want him to go.
What--where do you live? Will we have to fetch Sarah Janes belongings? It was a silly attempt to hide her interest in him.
There are a few things, yes, but itll have to wait until next Sunday as Im away until then. Will you be calling with Sarah?
Veritys heart pounded and her blood sang at his invitation. Perhaps I shall. It would be interesting to see how an American lives, she said, trying for a neutral tone. Instead, the words were nothing more than a soft sigh.
The smile on his face was glorious. Until Sunday, then.
He wanted her to call. Embarrassment followed swiftly on the heels of Veritys infatuation with this man. Before he could see her blushing, she pushed Sarah Jane into Johnnies house. When she turned to close the door, Mr. Adamson was still standing below the porch stairs, watching her. Verity caught her breath in strong and hopeless pleasure, then firmly shut the door.
Back aching, Seth leaned over the open trunk to find his newest shirt, better pair of trousers and clean drawers. Stripping sorghum for a week left him almost grateful to be home. Although the job earned him a generous seventy-five cents a day, the chore was tedious. Moreover, the farm was six miles distant, meaning hed slept on the ground for the past week rather than coming home to his own bed.
Clothing in one arm and the cloth for washing and the sacking he used as a towel in the other, Seth kicked down the trunks lid. As he walked toward the table, he glanced into the iron kettle on the stoves top. Tiny bubbles were just beginning to form in the water. The big wooden tub, already half filled with icy well water, sat just inside the soddies door. It occupied this spot mostly because the doorway was the only open area in this long, narrow room.
Once again, Seth gave thanks to the Evans family. Their offer to keep Gemma another day gave him the opportunity for a leisurely soak. Living with girls in a one room house made privacy difficult.
As he dropped his clothing onto the table, his shirt spilled over onto his books. Seth set it back atop the heap, then knocked imaginary dust from the top books cover with a swipe of his hand. The harvest season was in full swing, which left him little time for reading.
It was odd how quickly a man could change. Last week, achieving his law license meant no more to him than a viable way to support his nieces. Today, the desire to add the title of lawyer to his name burned in him.
The corners of Seths mouth lifted slightly. And, how much of his sudden urgency to reclaim respectability and regain some of the status hed once believed his right centered on Miss Verity Standiford? His smile dimmed. Too much.
Even though she called herself a spinster, only a fool would fix his heart on a woman like Miss Standiford. The possibility she might allow him to court her was nil. Her sort never lowered themselves to look kindly on someone in his straits. The only chance he had of marrying her was if he did as Sarah had with her brother, and seduced her into wedlock.
With that thought came a thrill of sensation. His last seven nights had been filled with exceedingly inappropriate dreams about Miss Standiford. Seth forced lust deep into him and locked it there. If a sensible man wanted a woman at his side, he looked to those readily at hand.
He grimaced. It was better to blind himself. Immediately after Matts death two farmers widows had openly approached him with proposals for marriage. In trade for his strong back and warm presence in their beds, they offered to add his nieces to their already substantial broods. Had he accepted, hed have locked himself into a hand to mouth existence for the rest of his life. This was the exact lifestyle he meant to escape when hed sought out Matt in Hays.
Once more, his memory offered him the image of Miss Standiford, her gray eyes gleaming softly in amusement. Her lips had the sweetest, taunting turn to them. As pretty as she was, he couldnt reason out why she wasnt already married.
He stopped himself. Damn, but he had to put her out of his thoughts. Nothing good could come of wishing she truly meant to visit with Sarah Jane. Which, of course, explained why, hed spent the morning cleaning the soddie instead of studying.
Cleaning the soddie, now there was an oxymoron if he ever heard one. How did one clean a dwelling whose walls and ceiling were nothing more than thick slabs of Kansas sod, grassy side pointed out? Seth glanced around him, wondering what Miss Standiford would think of this unique solution to building houses in a land without trees.
True, the interior walls didnt look as if they were made of dirt bricks, covered as they were with a layer of whitewash. Overhead, there was only muslin to be seen. The fabric not only obscured the straw and sorghum leaves, which lay between the sod roof and the crossbeams to absorb some of the seeping rain, but kept snake intrusion to a minimum.
Reaching up, he tucked a loose edge into a crosspiece, then sighed. Miss Standiford would think no differently than he might have before the War. This was a hovel, even if the furnishings were unusually fine.
The pieces Seth saved from Matts creditors were all that was left of his own inheritance, having originally come from their family estate in Southern Missouri. His grandmothers Irish linen tablecloth covered a roughhewn table and a glass fronted cabinet displayed the only remaining pieces of his mothers china and crystal, both cabinet and dishes having somehow escaped the Wars ravages. At the other end of the single room, modest calico curtains created two bedrooms, each with its own walnut-framed, feather bed.
Seths lips turned in disgust. To think any of this might find favor in Miss Standifords eyes was to make himself thrice a fool. What could she possibly see but a rude yokel taking on airs? It would be better for him if she never came to call. All in all, it would be far better if he kept as far from the British colony as he could.
The water was at a full boil. He took the heavy container to the tub. Steam rose as he added hot to cold. Setting the pot onto the packed earth floor, he stripped off his clothing and stepped into his bath.
The water was hot enough to sting his skin. Grabbing up a small bowl of freshly made soft soap and his cloth from the tubs base, he washed hair and body as quickly as he could. Then, rinsing the cloth, he laid the warm, wet square over his face, meaning to soak until the water was cold. Hiding behind the cloths moist dimness, he tried to escape the disappointment that filled him at the thought of never again seeing Miss Verity Standiford.
* * *
The late morning sun shone in the intense and vaultless blue of the sky, the air filled with the crystal clarity and crispness only autumn could bring. Verity stared out over the green and gold sweep of grassland. The emptiness of this place set a quirk of fear in her heart, then pricked her into nervous conversation with her brothers temperamental riding horse.
Emeer, how does anyone tolerate this loneliness? she asked the high-strung beast. Where are the trees, the roads, the villages? A body could get lost out here and never be found again. What am I saying? I am lost out here. Damn you, anyway, Johnnie.
She and her brother, to whom Heloise had delegated the task of retrieving Sarahs things since Sarah was too ill to travel, were over halfway to the Adamson house when they met with a group of Victorias colonists in high-spirited pursuit of a coyote. Already mounted on his hunter, Johnnie tossed Verity the sack containing Gemmas forgotten doll as well as the breads Sarah sent her family. Then, shouting assurances of a swift return, he rode off into the distance. Verity knew her brother better than to believe hed remember her; going anywhere with Johnnie was an exercise in the impromptu. It was her own fault for trusting him, but, after a week of terrible crowding in that tiny house, escape was a necessity.
Bitterness rose in Verity. Mama had won the fight for the houses sole bedroom. This left Johnnie and Sarah to sleep in the sitting room, while Verity laid her mattress beneath the dining room table. For the past seven nights, she been forced to listen to her brother and his temporary wife giggle happily over each other.
Poor Johnnie. Best he wallow in his happiness now. Mama intended to see it ended as soon as possible, although it had already taken longer than she thought. The British embassy and Papa had managed to ignore her ranting telegrams for the past week. Unwilling to wait another moment, Heloise had taken the bull by the horns this morning: shed set off to Sir George Grants home in order to arrange the sale of Johnnies property and their return passage home.
Verity sighed and looked around her once more. All of that was fodder for the future. Right now, Johnnies abandonment left her in a touchy dilemma. If propriety said she shouldnt call on an unmarried man without a chaperone, Verity wasnt entirely certain she could remember Sarahs landmarks backwards to Victoria.
It was the doll that settled the matter. The thought of Gemma being without her plaything for another day was intolerable. Surely, the childs presence would serve the facade of decency required of the situation. Shed stay a moment, then get a fresh set of directions for her return trip. That was, if she ever found his home.
Johnnie, you shouldnt have left me, she muttered as Emeer trotted along. But, then again, why should Johnnie be different from all the other men whod left her?
The image of Mr. Adamson trying to comfort his distraught niece awoke with that thought. He hadnt abandoned or rejected Sarah, despite what she had done. Perhaps men in the United States were a different sort from those in England. Or, maybe, it was only Mr. Adamson.
Veritys lips gentled into a smile in the memory of Mr. Seth Adamson sweeping his battered hat from his head, his bright blue eyes alive with self-mockery. His irreverent play had struck a chord within her own heart. Then, she freed a hopeless sigh. She was a fool to let her heart fix on him. Once he learned of her past, he could have no compassion or forgiveness for her.
Look Emeer, weve found another landmark, she said, hope rising as they came across the chalky limestone outcrop Sarah had described.
Emeers reply was to sidle and snort, lifting his hooves in a nervous dance of fear. Earlier, theyd come across a nasty looking serpent; Verity had no desire to encounter another one. Although she knew full well snakes couldnt climb, she was grateful Johnnie had no sidesaddle. Riding astride meant the train of her black habit didnt reach the ground.
She peered around her. There were no serpents to be seen. A sudden gust of wind tore at the blue veiling wrapped around the band of her tall hat and she caught the acrid scent of smoke. Once again, Emeer reacted nervously.
Verity turned him, looking out over the drying autumn landscape. There was no sign of fire. Not even a wisp of a cloud marred the skys endless expanse.
The wind died, taking the smell with it. There now, Emeer, settle yourself. If you are a good boy for a change, Ill see to it Mr. Adamson gives you a bit of something.
She kicked the high-strung horse back into a walk. According to Sarah Janes directions, she was now to leave Big Creek and find the track with the deep ruts, the one to the right. Verity would know the Adamson home because she would see a thick growth of wild plums near the buildings.
Or, was that building? No, a farm always had many buildings, what with barns, byres, sties and cotes. Verity shook her head, still confused. Although Sarah had spoken slowly and given very detailed descriptions, the girl used words whose meanings eluded Verity. For example, she would know shed gone too far if she reached some place called A Dugout. This was apparently quite an establishment as it included not only a post station, but an apothecary, all run by a man named Gunter.
A curious little structure came into view. Surely, no more than five yards in length and two in width, grass grew on its walls, even on its roof. Two minuscule windows were cut from its green face and a wooden door bisected its length. There was a great tangle of bushes nearby, the leaves gone ruddy and dry with autumn.
Did plums grow on bushes? Pulling Emeer to a halt, Verity studied the foliage, then the building. If this was the Adamson farm, where was the house?
The little construct reminded her of the mossy and ancient byre shed seen upon her retreat from the church in August. Verity smiled in relief. Shed simply misheard Sarah Jane. This was one of the Adamson farm outbuildings, meaning the house lay somewhere nearby.
Dismounting, she led Emeer toward the structure, wanting a look at the strange little thing. Again, the wind rose, sending Emeer into another, fretful complaint. Verity caught him by the bridle to hold him still. Throwing open the panel, she peered inside, blinking at the sudden shift from sunny day to dark interior.
Seth tore the cloth off his face at the sound of a horses frightened cry. It never occurred to him that Sarah Jane would ride the five miles between Victoria and this house; Sarah wasnt much of a rider. Nor had he expected visitors this early. As a rule, the Brits didnt move before noon. Damn, but if Sarah was on horseback, it could only be with the assistance of a Standiford, but which one?
He leapt to his feet in a rush of water, grabbing blindly for and missing his sacking towel. The door flew open. Turning to warn off Sarah, Seth froze in shock.
Miss Verity Standiford, herself, strode into his house. Dressed in a black riding habit, complete with top hat, she had the Arab at her back. The words left him in a surprised rush. What the hell are you doing, bringing a horse into my house!
Miss Standiford came to a halt with a jerk, her gaze darting from the table to the stove, then, like iron to a lodestone, her attention caught on him. Her startled gaze flew down his chest and farther. Only then, did Seth think to clap the cloth in his hand to his most private part. Jesus H. Christ, Im bathing!
She gasped, her eyes widening. The Arabs reins slid from her frozen fingers as the horse backed out into the yard. Seth dared a brief exposure of his backside to grab up his makeshift towel. He clutched it to him and waited for her retreat, but she stood as if rooted to the spot.
The urge to laugh rose. It was obvious Miss Standiford was encountering a naked man where she least expected to find one. This was nothing more than fitting punishment for his lusting after her. Welcome to my home, Miss Standiford, he said.
II, she stuttered. Her blush began at the top of her blue cravat and crept slowly upward until even her brow was bright red.
Seths twisted amusement grew. If he let her stand there much longer, shed be nothing but a mortified puddle in the doorway. Miss Standiford, you must step outside so I can dress.
His soft command broke her spell. Oh, she breathed and turned so swiftly, she trod on her habits train. Trapped in her own skirts, she stumbled to the side. Her hat hit the doorjamb and fell off her head, tearing her snood as it dropped. Braided hair tumbled to her waist. Seths earlier disappointment deepened. Once Miss Standiford managed to mount, shed ride hellbent for Victoria. Her embarrassment over this meeting guaranteed hed never see her again. It was for the best. Seth frowned. If that were true, then why did letting her go feel so damn wrong?
Aw, hell, he muttered and leaped out of the tub.
His drawers tumbled to the floor as he snatched up his trousers. Dragging them on, he managed the waist button, then shoved his arms into the sleeves of his shirt. Barefooted, his hair still dripping, he threw himself out the door after her, his mind working for some way to soften what had just happened.
Veritys embarrassment was so deep it made her knees weak. With trembling fingers, she snatched at Emeers reins. Emeer, who never graciously accepted his riders, slyly lifted his head and danced away from her. She followed him, desperate to escape the enormity of the wrong shed just committed.
Hold still, you nasty, spiteful creature, she cried, leaping to catch him.
Emeer again sidled out of arms reach, his reins dragging in the dirt. He tossed his head over his shoulder to see if she meant to persist in this game. Verity stopped. If she followed him any farther, hed run for certain, leaving her to walk home.
Ill see Johnnie sells you. Her threat was an aching cry and neither of them believed it.
Another wave of mortification washed over her. How could she have been such a fool? No, she was worse than that. Even fools knew to knock at strange doors before entering.
Verity squeezed her eyes shut in a futile attempt to regain some semblance of control. It was a mistake. Seth Adamsons naked image, all broad chest, lean hips and long legs, was permanently burned on the inside of her eyelids.
How could I have been so stupid, she scolded herself as the urge to weep grew.
Sarah Jane shouldnt have let you walk in that way. Mr. Adamsons voice was soft and it came from just behind her.
Verity whirled on him in surprise. His shirt clung to his wet arms and hung open over his chest. Water droplets gleamed along his collar bone. Another startled gasp escaped her as her minds eye persisted in showing her his unclad form.
Although shock and embarrassment were the greater of her emotions, a new and disturbing sensation joined them. Fourteen years hadnt dimmed the memory of what transpired between a man and a woman within the confines of a bed. Deep in Verity grew the immoral desire to share that sweet transaction with Mr. Adamson. At these lewd thoughts, new heat stained her cheeks. Verity turned her back on him. It was easier to fight her wickedness when she didnt have to look at him.
I am so sorry. Can you ever forgive me? she whispered.
Theres no harm done, miss, he said, an odd tone to his voice, save to my pride.
You can laugh? Verity glanced over her shoulder, surprised that he still retained his good nature. Her gaze darted downward to his exposed chest beneath the open shirt, then away, to the brightly colored foliage cloaking his homes end.
Pardon, he said. There was a moments quiet, then he said, You can turn around now. Verity turned. His attire, if damp, was properly buttoned and arranged, but his blue eyes still gleamed with amusement.
Youve come too early, he said with a smile. I meant to meet you in my best, such as it is, not my all together. A sudden frown touched his brow as he glanced around the yard. Where is Sarah Jane?
She was far too indisposed this morning to consider a ride, Verity replied, wishing she was anywhere else but here. Even enduring Mamas complaints was preferable to attempting a casual conversation while her dignity was still in Mr. Adamsons house, crawling around the foot of his bathtub.
You came alone? His question was more surprised than disapproving at her lack of a chaperone.
Not by choice. Between his willingness to pretend the last few moments hadnt happened and her irritation over Johnnies desertion, Veritys seesawing emotions steadied. Mr. Standiford abandoned me midway here to chase after a coyote. At this particular moment, Im of the mind to murder him upon my return. She offered Sarahs uncle a faint, but wry grin.
Mr. Adamsons black brows rose over laughing eyes as he smiled. Justifiable homicide.
Verity nodded in complete agreement. I should have done it years ago and spared Sarah Jane her fate. By the by, she sends you her love and hopes you are well.
I doubt that. His refusal of Sarahs greeting was so absolute, the lines of his face fell into harshness and the bright color of his eyes dulled.
But, she did, Verity insisted, startled and puzzled by his reaction.
She turned to find Emeer. Now that she wasnt chasing him, the stupid beast stood calmly at the edge of the house nibbling its grass exterior. Verity retrieved the sack of baked goods and handed them to Mr. Adamson.
Sarah made these for you. I assumed she did so for the sake of family. Is it possible she meant them as a peace offering?
He took the canvas bag and looked inside of it. Putting a hand in, he retrieved Gemmas plaything and stared a moment longer at the contents. When he raised his head, disbelief still clung to the harsh lines of his face. It appears I owe her an apology, he said. You, as well, for suggesting you lied on her behalf. In explanation, I can only say that this affection of hers is a recent development. Given what Ive done to her, I think it cannot endure.
And, what is it youve done? Verity asked, all the more intrigued by Seth Adamson. As her embarrassment waned, the need to ask him rude and intrusive question after question took its place. More than anything, she wanted to understand this contradictory man.
Sarahs uncle sighed and tucked the doll under one arm, then crossed his arms over his chest. Shell be none too happy with me after your brother makes her a divorcee.
Verity stared at him in surprise. Although he was right to think Johnnie wouldnt keep Sarah, it astonished her that Mr. Adamson expected this legal maneuver. In general, divorce was an avenue of escape offered only to the wealthiest and most well connected of men. You went to the trouble of forcing marriage all the while believing shed be cast aside? How is it you are certain Johnnie wont keep her?
A ghost of a smile touched Mr. Adamsons full lips, self-mockery again waking in his blue eyes. Fess up, he said, borrowing her words from last week. Even if your brother truly loved her, Sarahs no wife for him. She has neither inheritance nor pedigree to recommend her, and even less sophistication. I can imagine the drawing rooms reaction were she to mention she met Johnnie while cleaning and cooking for others.
There are no colder hearts than those self-righteous few who deem themselves the elite, Verity agreed, having endured years of that coldness. Her fascination with him grew. Now you must tell me how a man who lives in a grass house knows my world so well, Mr. Adamson.
He shook his head in refusal, his roughhewn face touched with a studied blankness. A boring story, better left untold. How long does she have?
Verity released a breath of a laugh. Within her grew the certainty that hed once inhabited the American version of her rigid and proper world. Longer than you think. Had you found yourself a clergyman, they might have been tied together forever.
Is that a fact? Mr. Adamsons face took life again in pleased surprise.
As much as Id like to do so, Im not gloating yet, she warned him. Mama has only begun this battle. The present delay in Johnnies freedom is caused by your governments ongoing financial chaos. Be warned, as our embassy can do nothing Mama intends to spirit Johnnie home and pretend the wedding never occurred. Most likely our clergy will agree with her, the ceremony being civil, not religious. Either way, know that Sarah will not be left destitute. Trust me, Wilson Standiford always pays.
Try as she might, Verity couldnt keep the bitterness out of her voice. When she saw the question forming in Mr. Adamsons eyes, she held up a forestalling hand. A boring story, better left untold.
Touche, he laughed.
Verity glanced around the yard. Where is Gemma?
Shes staying another day in Hays with her friend, he replied.
She nodded in acknowledgment, then could think of nothing either polite or acceptable to say. A strained quiet woke between them. When it lengthened beyond comfort, Verity turned and caught Emeers reins. This time, he came willingly to her side.
Well then, if youll give me Sarahs belongings and describe my route home, Ill be on my way.
There was a brief flicker of disappointment in Mr. Adamsons gaze, then all emotion disappeared from his face. Youll be wanting your hat before you leave. I believe you left it inside, miss.
Verity nervously pulled her braid over her shoulder as color again crept over her cheekbones. Shed left far more than her hat in his house. So I did, she said, attempting to mask her discomfort with an air of insouciance.
Not the least bit fooled, Mr. Adamson smiled at her, but his amusement had no sting to it. Come inside while I fetch Sarahs things. You can put yourself right while you wait on me. Ill tie him for you. He held out his hand for Emeers reins.
Verity hesitated. If going inside with Mr. Adamson wasnt the proper thing to do, it was sensible. She could hardly ride home bareheaded. Without hat and snood to contain it, the thong at the end of her braid would soon slip, leaving her hair flying in the wind. She released the gray to him and once more entered the earthen house.
Without an unclothed man to trap her gaze Verity looked around her in interest. Although the atmosphere was dim and musty, the walls gleamed a fresh white. A tiny square stove sat toward the center of the room. At the wall behind it stood several trunks, an assortment of basic tools tucked behind them. To the right there was a table, cloaked in ivory linen, and three chairs. Two books lay at the center of the table. In the corner was a dry sink next to a cherrywood display cabinet filled with precious nicknacks.
On her left curtains made from the same green sprigged material that made up Gemma and her dolls attire, separated the rooms end into what appeared to be sleeping areas. Verity shook her head in amazement. And, shed thought her brothers house crowded? To live, eat, cook, sleep, even bathe, all in one room set in the middle of nothingness was quite beyond her comprehension.
Her host moved past her to push aside one of the curtains, revealing the hidden bed. The piece was fine far beyond the structure that housed it. Veritys glance flowed from bed to cabinet to linen tablecloth. There was enough quality here to confirm her belief that Seth Adamson hadnt always been a poor man.
Mr. Adamson returned to the table with a paltry pile of clothing. He set down the doll, then emptied the baked goods from the sack. Turning the canvas bag inside out, he began to fill it with Sarahs meager possessions.
Verity reached for one of the two books on the tabletop. Opening it, she found in it a study of land laws. What are these?
Mr. Adamson looked up, then his jaw tightened as he saw she meant the books. Im studying to become a lawyer.
Verity shook her head, uncomprehending. Lawyer?
Barrister, he translated.
You can do that without going to university? The words came out in a thoughtless rush. But of course you can, or you wouldnt be doing it, she amended, trying to soften the abruptness of her comment.
The United States is a wondrous land of opportunity, he said with a short, sharp laugh. Here, even a Republican who lacks any formal education can become president. Your hat, Miss Standiford? It was a rather blatant hint that he wasnt willing to expound on the subject.
Verity found her hat near the open door. Her snood was trapped inside, shredded beyond use by its combs. And, she without a single hairpin. Perhaps if she replaited her hair as tightly as she could and stuffed it into her hat, it would stay confined for the duration of the ride. An impossibility, but what choice had she?
Pulling the thong from her braids end and tucking it into her glove, she shook her hair loose. It was as she sectioned thick stuff in preparation for replaiting that the possibility of hairpins in Sarahs belongings occurred to her. She turned on her host.
I dont suppose, she started. The remainder of her words died unspoken. Mr. Adamson was watching her, his face soft in masculine appreciation of her unbound hair.
Veritys heart lifted to a new beat. It wasnt right that he should look at her that way, especially when they were alone in his house. It wasnt right, but, after more than a decade of invisibility, his interest made her feel alive in a way shed forgotten existed.
Suppose what? he asked, his voice suddenly husky.
The intimacy of his tone filled her, rendering her speechless. She forgot what it was shed meant to ask. Outside, the wind rose until it soughed and gusted around the house. Emeer cried out in sharp complaint.
Mr. Adamson lifted the filled sack and crossed the room, stopping far closer to her than need be. At his nearness a disturbing warmth flowed through Verity until every muscle softened and all her defenses were laid low. The desire to lean into the shelter of his body grew urgent. She wanted his arms around her more than she wanted to breathe.
Her gaze lifted to his face. His hair was still damp and it lay in dark tendrils around his face. One curling strand clung to the corner of his jaw. The upward lilt of his mouth haunted her, begging for her touch. Verity sighed. His eyes were so very blue.
As her gaze met his, his eyes half closed and he freed a slow, quiet breath. His attention drifted to her mouth. Verity shivered in reaction. Before she realized what she did, her lips parted in the hope that he would kiss her.
You should go, he whispered.
I should? she asked, uncomprehending.
So enmeshed was she in the sensations waking between them, it was another moment before his words registered. He was warning her against him. She must turn and run. Immediately. To stay would be madness, for if she stayed, he would do more than kiss her. Not a muscle responded. With dignity already dead, all that remained in her was the incredible need to feel his mouth against her own.
He raised a hand. Dear Lord, but where was her pride? She must tell him he could not touch her.
Verity sighed as his fingertips came to rest against her cheekbone. She shivered as he traced the curve of her cheek. He extended his fingers into her hair. She leaned her head into the cup of his palm. Mr. Adamson's--Seths--skin was rough and calloused, but, in all her life, shed never felt anything more wonderful.
Her eyes closed, her imagination again supplying the hard curve of his bare shoulder and the way his naked chest had gleamed in the sun. His thumb moved softly along the turn of her lips, a gentle caress. Then, he withdrew his hand.
Even though her skin was still alive with his touch, Veritys relief was sudden and complete. His seduction had been very effective. Had he continued his caresses, she was certain she wouldnt have resisted him, no matter what he asked of her.
Still trapped in the bemusement hed wakened in her, Verity opened her eyes. Seths expression was tight, a small crease marking his brow. A muscle quirked angrily on his jaw line.
Horror seared a line through her soul. What had she done? Men knew only two sorts of women: those they slept with and those they married. Her behavior of the last moments branded her as the former.
Until this moment Verity hadnt realized how much she wanted to be valued and accepted by this man. Her heart ached as he took a step back from her. Why was it the disgust of a man she barely knew would hurt her more deeply than all the scorn she faced at home?
It would be best if you left now. His voice was quiet, emotionless.
It was done; shed destroyed herself all over again. Utter despair closed over Verity. The only shred of peace she owned was the knowledge that her lapse of modesty meant never having to bare the tale of her past to him.
Hat in hand, Verity took the sack from him and tucked it beneath an arm. Farewell then, Mr. Adamson, she said, damning herself when her voice was thick with tears. She turned toward the door.
Wait. Seths hand closed around her elbow to hold her in place.
Verity stopped, but didnt turn to look at him. Her heart pounded, her mouth trembled as he drew her back until she nigh on leaned against his chest. Oh dear God, he was going to ask her into his bed. It wouldnt be the first time such a thing occurred, nor, probably, the last, but it would certainly be the most devastating of the proposals. Outside, Emeer cried again, sounding as desperate to escape as she.
He cleared his throat. I know I havent much to recommend myself, Miss Standiford, he said softly, hesitantly, but that will not always be the case. By winters end I will have my law license and a respectable career. Knowing that, would you be willing to let me call on you for the duration of your visit?
Tears sprang to Veritys eyes as love for him washed over her. Despite all the wrong that had passed between them, he was still willing to pretend she was a chaste woman. Deep in her woke a desperate need to simply tell him yes. He knew nothing of her. If Mama had her way, theyd be gone before another week passed. It would be heaven to immerse herself into the happiness other women knew at being admired and pursued, even for so short a time.
The pain in her heart overflowed, sending a tear burning its way down her cheek. How could she even consider it? Fallen she might be, but she was no liar and deceit was no way to reward his kindness toward her. Besides, there were enough folk in Victoria who knew her tale. It wouldnt take long before someone made it their business to inform Seth. Oh, but telling him would hurt worse than anything shed ever done.
Verity cursed herself as a coward and drew a fortifying breath. It would be cruel of me to allow you to continue thinking me a woman worthy of your affections. When she opened her mouth to continue, the words refused to come.
His hand slid up her arm to rest on her shoulder. I think I am the better judge of who is or is not worthy of my affections. There was a hint of confusion in his voice.
Not in this case, she breathed, her hand closing so tightly over her hats brim, it crumpled. Fourteen years past, when I was Sarahs age, Im afraid I erred much as she has done. Where you have been kind and understanding toward Sarah, my sin drove my father into a rare rage. To this day, Papas vengeance stunned her.
Instead of forcing a wedding as you did, Papa offered my lover a goodly sum to disappear. The man whod sworn his undying affection left, caring nothing for what became of me. She paused to draw a shaking breath. Having heard my tale, you will understand why I must refuse you. You have been kind and deserve better than another mans leavings.
With that, Verity tore free of his grasp and fled into the yard. She could only pray hed do her the courtesy of letting her leave without further comment. It would destroy her if he pursued her, changing his honest proposal into the one shed expected.
Stunned, Seth watched Verity rush from his house. Well, here was his explanation for why she was a spinster. No matter how pretty or how rich, her digression from the strict moral code of her society had destroyed her.
Pity flickered through him as he remembered the world of his youth. Women who erred as she had were shunned and isolated. It was brutal punishment. At the thought of her suffering, Seth wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and shield her from those who hurt her.
Then, his heart lurched in new joy. In refusing his attentions, she revealed her care for him. Where she could have given him a simple no, leaving without any explanation, shed shared the tale of her downfall, making certain he understood her refusal had nothing to do with him.
Hope roared to life. If there was nothing for her in her own world, what reason had she to refuse him in his? One more time, Seth followed her out of his house, set on preventing her escape.
A fiery gust of wind caught Veritys loose hair as she rushed from the house, sending it swirling around her face. Emeer was crying and fighting at the end of the house, his reins caught in the plums scrubby branches; his eyes were wide with fear. She dropped what she held and raced to him. When he tried to lift again, she caught and clung to his bridle. Emeer, no!
The wind took the words from her lips at the same time it sent her hat careening across the yard. This time, the acrid smell of burning grass was strong enough to make her cough. Verity whirled and squinted into the reeking, dusty wind.
A coppery-brown cloud rolled toward her, spreading ever wider as it moved. In those places where it found wood, it lingered, spiraling upward to towering orange heights, distant plumes of smoke were faded black against the dusty sky. Where there was only grass, it raced along close to the ground.
Fear spiked in her. No matter how much she hated the emptiness of her life, she had no desire to die, at least not by burning. Her need to escape was as deep and desperate as the fear driving Emeers panic.
Seth, come swiftly! she shouted toward the house, crisis driving all pretense of formality from her. The fire seemed miles off yet; they could still outrun it, but only if Seth came now. Emeers terror shortened the length of time he would tolerate their combined weights.
Verity reached into the dense bush to release the reins. His efforts to free himself had resulted in a tangle of leather and thick, horny branches. Twigs cut into her gloves and tore at her sleeves, while the wind kept pushing her hair before her eyes. The horse tossed his head and pulled.
Behave and Ill free you, she said, trying to keep her voice soothing.
She opened the knotted end and pulled one side free as another blast of burning air hit them. Emeer screamed, the whites of his eyes visible. Veritys grip on him slipped. Once more, he tossed his head and, this time, found new freedom of movement.
He reared back, pulling desperately, and branches broke. Verity stumbled aside as Emeers hooves flashed over her head. The reins fell from the bush, bits of leaves and branches still tangled in them.
Let him go. Seths shout was barely audible over the wind.
His words sent fear exploding inside her. No!
As she leapt for Emeers bridle to keep him from escaping, Seth caught his arm around her waist and drag her back from the horse. He drew her close against his chest as Emeer turned. Then, in a beautiful display of expensive horseflesh, his mane and tale streaming in the wind, Emeer fled from the yard.
No, Verity screamed again, bursting free from Seths hold.
With terror nipping at her heels, she grabbed up her heavy, trailing skirt and chased after the horse. The unwieldy cut and weight of her garments made her impossibly sluggish; by the time shed gone ten yards, Emeer had disappeared. Panting against exertion and the heavy air, Verity stopped, all hope of living to tomorrow extinguished. Tears of self-pity woke, but anger followed swiftly on its heels.
She turned to vent her rage on Seth. The yard was empty. He was gone!
Even as logic insisted Seth couldnt have escaped without her, Verity stared at the filthy, roiling smoke in the distance. The wind battered her, tearing at her hair. Sharp grains of dirt stung her face and smoke ate at her lungs just like panic ate at her soul. Not only would she die a fiery death, but she would die abandoned.
The banging of the grass houses door against its inner wall was barely audible over the raging wind. Relief and chagrin filled her. She wasnt abandoned; hed only gone into the house. Chiding herself for a fool, Verity hurried after him.
The force of the wind held the door pinned to the earthen wall. Turned askew on the table and held in place by the books, the tablecloth fluttered; the bed curtains streamed. The tiny windows were now shuttered with thick wooden panels, making the interior all the more dim. Seth leaned over one open trunk.
Verity wrestled the door away from the wall. It took all her strength to force it shut. The wind wailed in complaint as she turned the latch to keep it out. Relief soared in her, then crashed. What sort of protection was a wooden door against a fire?
Youve killed us, she cried, her fright stronger than her anger at what hed done. In the sudden quiet, her voice was much louder than shed expected. She gentled it before continuing. Why did you let Emeer go?
Seth straightened and turned, calmly pulling on a pair of heavy gloves. There was nothing in his face to indicate concern, much less worry over the coming fire.
Verity, theres no use in trying to outrun one of these fires. They move on winds made in their own heat, skipping over some places and decimating others. Here, we have what we need to fight the fire. If wed ridden off, we might have found ourselves surrounded by flames with no hope of survival.
You cannot believe we will survive a fire in a grass house? It was a startled cry.
His mouth twisted into what was almost a grin. Im sure as all get out hoping we do. He took a shovel from the wall behind the trunks, shoved his feet into his boots and started toward the door.
Where are you going? Shifting to stand between him and the door, Verity reached out as if to grab him by the arms, then caught herself. Her hands fell back to her sides. Dont leave me here.
Seth watched her, his expression quizzical before it softened in what might have been understanding. Verity, Im not leaving you. I need to dig a firebreak, or rather refresh the one I plowed last spring. If theres time after that, Ill soak down the house.
Yes, soak down the house, she said, taking courage from the thought that wet grass couldnt burn. Do that first.
Its more important to put a ring of barren dirt between us and the flames, he said in refusal.
The house first, she begged.
At her plea, Seth lifted his hand and brushed his knuckles against the curve of her cheek. Even this brief touch took away her breath. Trust me, Verity, the firebreak is more important. Now, Im wagering we have an hour before the fire reaches us. If were to survive, I have work to do.
Torn between her desire to believe they could live past the flames and her fear they would not, Verity didnt stop him when he moved past her. The moment he turned the latch, the wind tore the door from his hands, once more slamming it against the wall. She turned, strands of hair flying around her, and watched as he walked a bit from the house. Soak the house, please? she whispered.
He placed his shovel to the dirt and begin to dig. There was a precise and efficient rhythm to his movements, a competency that eased some of her terror. That was, until she again breathed in the acrid scent of the fire. Panic moved up another notch.
An hour, indeed. He might be competent, but it just wasnt possible for him to finish this before the flames reached them. If she wanted the house soaked, shed have to help him.
That thought stopped her cold. What use could she possibly be to him? Her skills were limited to riding a horse, painting a decent landscape, and playing the piano. She could even sing if she had to. But, fight a fire?
Her lips twisted in disdain. How hard could it be to dig? Ignorant farmers seemed to manage the activity well enough. Her heart steadied with the thought. No matter what, it was better to try digging than to sit in here and wait to die.
Well then. Gathering her hair into one hand, she found the thong in her glove. Once it was braided and tied, she turned to the wall. The only tool whose purpose she recognized, beyond the shovel Seth used, was a hoe. She took it and stepped outside into the gritty wind, closing the door behind her.
Shoulders squared, her weapon in her gloved hand, Verity crossed the yard. The roar of the air was deafening, dirt and smoke stung her eyes. Her skirt twisted and tangled around her legs as if it wished her to topple. She picked a spot a few feet behind Seth, meaning to work in the opposite direction around the house. Then, for the first time in her life, Verity lifted a garden tool, hefting it high over her shoulder. It hung in the air for a brief instant, until she brought it singing downward at the grassy earth.
The blade bounced off the hard ground. Not even the tiniest clod of dirt flew into the thick and turbulent air. Dismay shot through her. This digging was harder than it appeared.
Rearranging her grip, she once again raised the tool. This time, she brought it downward with all her might. The blade bit into the ground with such suddenness, Verity flew over the handle. Her impact with the ground brought tears to her eyes. She rolled over, but was too stunned to do more than stare upward into the dusty air.
Seth appeared above her and extended his hand in invitation. The very blankness of his expression said he was laughing at her. Verity glared at him as she struggled back to her feet. This is not amusing, she yelled at him.
Did I laugh? he shouted in return, his brows lifted in innocence even as his eyes sparked in amusement. I would never do that. Besides, I surely appreciate you wanting to help me. Would you like me to show you how to use it?
With a nod as her reply, Verity reclaimed the betraying tool. Seth came to stand behind her, bringing his arms around her and laying his hands atop her. When hed rearranged her grip on the handle to suit him, he rested his lips against her ear so he could speak to her.
Verity drew a sharp breath in reaction. Even in the depths of this crisis, his nearness woke a sudden jumble of sensations. But, of all of them, the comfort she found in his arms was the most precious.
Lift it slowly.
When she did as he commanded, he stopped the hoes rise at waist level. With his hands over hers, he guided the tool downward into the earth in a series short, sharp motions. Clod after clod of dirt broke free. Steady and firm. Now you, while I watch.
With Seth yet standing directly behind her, Verity repeated what hed done. Success was a heady feeling. She looked at him from over her shoulder, smiling against her achievement.
He leaned toward her to once again aim his mouth at her ear. Well done, he said, a smile in his voice. Now, your aim is to turn the earth so nothing burnable is left exposed. You dig right, while I go left. Verity, as the fire nears, youll swelter dressed in that thing. If you find yourself overheating, dont hesitate to shed your jacket and skirt. This is no time for an overactive sense of propriety.
Verity started in shock. Remove her clothing? She turned, ready to protest that she wasnt that sort of woman, but Seth was already walking back to his discarded shovel. He couldnt possibly believe shed shed her clothing.
Still shaking her head at the very thought, Verity set to work. This time, ground broke and earth turned. It wasnt long before she found a rhythm in her movements and not much longer after that before she was panting, giddy from the heat.
Her habit was too hot. Made from thick wool, it was meant for cool autumn riding. Worse, the jacket had a mannish cut and fit tightly to her torso and arms. Every time she lifted the hoe, she swore the jackets tight sleeves cut into her flesh. She supposed it wouldnt be too improper to remove her jacket.
Leaning the hoes handle against her hip, she tore off her outer garment and examined her arms. No blood marked her fine, white cotton blouse, even though her arms throbbed in relief. The wind tore the garment from her hands. Sleeves flying, the jacket cartwheeled out of the yard.
In that same instant, her tightly buttoned collar began to choke her. She unknotted the blue silk cravat. It slipped from her fingers and fluttered into the distance. She laid her collar wide, then glanced down at her heavy skirt. No, not her skirt, surely never her skirt.
While she did wear trousers beneath her skirt, as did every woman she knew, that garment wasnt meant to be seen. Then, the thought of dying because of her overactive sense of propriety washed over her. How much faster could she work without it?
Verity shot a swift look over her shoulder to Seth. His back was to her, his attention fully focused on the task at hand. Once more, her gaze slipped to the threatening, coppery cloud. The need to continue on past this day became steel in her heart. This was no time for modesty.
Tearing at the skirts fastenings, she kicked it off and to the side. Dressed now in dark trousers and boots, with her blouse collar open, Verity drew a deep, freeing breath, or rather as deep a breath as her tightly laced corset would allow. No, that was beyond consideration, even if death were imminent.
Once again, she lifted her hoe and began to clear the ground. The heat grew until it was searing and the driving wind worked to permanently embed dirt into her skin. Where there had once been blue sky, there was now a roiling blackness.
By the time she rejoined Seth at the back of the house, he having gone the greater distance, her breath burned in her lungs. Gentleman that he was, Seth didnt let his gaze stray to her trousered legs. His face was spattered with dirt, except where sweat had turned it to mud. Like her, hed opened his shirt collar and rolled up his sleeves over strong forearms.
Are we finished? she yelled to him.
Your sides not wide enough, he called back. It must match mine. If youre game to go another round, Ill begin soaking the house.
Verity stifled her moan of despair, finding a new respect for uneducated farmers. If the fire didnt kill her, this digging surely would. Her back muscles strained and her arm muscles burned. The palms of her gloves had given way, being too thin to tolerate the pressure of a wooden handle, and her hands were tender and sore. But, shed succeeded. As long as she agreed to dig, he would wet down the house.
Of course, she shouted.
This time, she bent more slowly to her task. It took every ounce of will power to continue lifting and dropping the hoe. New blisters formed atop her first set. She tried pausing, but each time she did her fingers stiffened. When she wanted to begin again, they resisted her efforts to close them around the hoes handle.
As she once more joined her ring of earth to Seths, she straightened slowly, her body screaming in protest. Blinking back exhaustion, Verity immediately slid into panic. Great gouts of black smoke billowed around her, the sky as dark as night. Flames danced only a stones throw from their fire break, the fire promising death in its hoarse and crackling voice.
Seth appeared out of the darkness, a bucket in each hand. He wore a colorful scarf across the lower half of his face, but the rest of him was covered in sooty mud. Stopping before her, he set his buckets at her feet, then pulled the scarf off his face.
Here, take these inside and wait there for me. His voice was raspy and hoarse with smoke.
You have to come in now, she coughed to him, catching him by a sleeve. Youll die out here.
He shook his head. I need to finish the roof.
She opened her mouth to protest it was too late, but the smoke seared her lungs. All she could do was cough. By the time shed caught her breath, hed disappeared.
Bent close to the ground, a line of flame reached out toward their barren ring of dirt. Tiny fires broke out in a dozen places near the newly turned earth, the doomed grasses releasing a peculiar squealing sound as they took light. Verity stared at her fate. Only a fool would think they had any chance of survival.
Cowardice turned her toward the house. If she was going to die, it would be far better if she didnt have to watch death coming for her. Gingerly lifting the buckets, her arms trembling against their weight, she picked her way to the door.
Squinting against the bitter air, she set down her burdens and used the heels of her hands to turn the doors wooden handle. Water sloshing over their edges, she lifted her buckets over the threshold, then wrestled with the wind until she shut out the reeking air. Panting and coughing, she leaned on the door. The air in here was far cleaner, the atmosphere gone humid with the dousing. Tears born of smoke tangled with those awakened by her fear of dying. She stumbled blindly to the table and fell into a chair.
Her hands throbbed. Carefully, slowly, she peeled back her ruined gloves, biting her lip to keep from screaming as the thin leather seemed to take her skin with it. Huge blisters covered her palms, some of them already seeping. Verity freed a wavering hiccough of a laugh. Shed torn her hands to shreds for nothing; she was still going to die.
On the table top, its green sprigged dress blown over its head, lay Gemmas rag doll. Verity picked up the plaything, touching one stuffed and finger-less hand, remembering how Gemma had touched her cheek. Worse, she was going to die, never having even seen Gemma again. Tears filled her eyes for having missed even one more of the girls kisses.
Then, the tears spilled over, not for herself, but for the children. What would happen to Gemma and Sarah if their uncle died? Neither Mama nor Papa would offer to take them.
For the first time in her life the normal impatience she felt for her parents blazed into rage and she damned them both for lacking enough depth of character to care for someone besides themselves.
She caught herself in the next moment. Anger such as this was a pointless exercise. Her parents were who they were. Verity set the doll back onto the table, carefully straightening its arms and legs, then finger-pleated its tiny dress. There. Now it was all laid out as if for burial.
As she pulled back her hand, she caught sight of her blouses wristband. It was a horrifying shade of dirt brown. When she opened the button and turned back the cuff, thinking to hide the color, the contrast between her clean arm and filthy blouse was too great to endure. Her skin began to itch beneath its layer of grime.
She stared longingly down at Seths washcloth, which lay where hed dropped it, near a pot of what must surely be soap. This time, her laugh had a touch of hysteria to it. Didnt one always wash the body before burial? Well then, in the few moments she had left to life, shed make herself as clean as she could without actually undressing and bathing.
Eyes streaming, Seth staggered across the yard toward the soddie. Even with the bandana across his mouth, each breath seared his lungs. His back felt like it was on fire and he was certain the faint crackling he could hear over the fires roar was his hair singeing.
He tore off his gloves and felt his way along the houses warm, damp sod until he found the doorway. As he opened the door, reeking, smoky air streamed past him into the interior. He started inside, then couldnt resist. Like Lots wife from the Bible stories hed learned in his youth, he turned to look behind him.
They were engulfed, the fire chewing all around their ring of barren earth. Awakened by the heat, a mist rose from the sodden yard and house to tangle with the smoke. He might as well have been standing on a steamy island in Hell. Seths heart plummeted. Jesus, but what sort of fool was he, believing they had a better chance here rather than riding off on the Arab?
Nearly falling inside, he slammed the door, a paltry defense against certain death. He yanked the scarf from his face, then tore off his shirt, just in case he was right and he was on fire. The tub stood before him, its tepid depths offering to douse flames as well as relieve his overheated skin.
He kicked off his work boots and stepped in, yet trousered. Water spilled over the tubs edge as he dropped into its depths, then sank below the surface. When he rose, sputtering and coughing, he leaned back against its side, savoring the blessed coolness as his vision cleared.
Wavering circles of light appeared in the otherwise gray and smoky atmosphere; Verity had lit the lanterns. They swung slightly, set into motion by the draft as the steady wind penetrated around the door and shutters and down the chimney. One of the soddies supporting beams creaked against the battering.
Seths hopes for the future dimmed even further at sound. If it gave, the roof would drop, crushing them both beneath its weight. Within him grew the certainty that his life wouldnt extend past the next half hour.
As he rubbed the remains of smoke from his eyes, the wish grew that he could do the same with the bitter stinging in his heart. Damn, but if he died now, it would only confirm that his life had been nothing but a series of cheats. Education and his father had been taken by the War, while Matt squandered their inheritance and lost their home. Then, insult to injury, Seth was left with Matts children to raise. Now, nature seemed set on stealing what little he had left.
Would you like the cloth? Veritys voice was barely audible over the noise, but there was no mistaking the sadness in her tone.
Seth turned in the tub to look for her. She was seated on the floor near the back wall, her knees drawn up and her arms wrapped around them. As she raised her head, her clean skin gleamed in the low light, while her open collar revealed the smooth line of her throat. Soft wings of honey colored hair curved against her cheeks, then swooped on back into a long braid. Her eyes were still slightly red and swollen from the smoke. Or, had she been crying?
He sighed. She didnt want to die any more than he did. The urge to comfort her drove away his self-pity. Placing his hands on the tubs sides, he started to rise, then glanced down. The waters surface was scummy with mud and soot. He could hardly offer her comfort as filthy as he was.
I think I would, he replied. Dripping water, he rose to his feet and stepped outside the tub. To appear to bathe before her, even if they both knew he still wore his trousers, seemed uncomfortably intimate.
As she came to her feet, Seth meant to glance away and preserve some semblance of modesty for her. Instead, his gaze locked onto her trim hips and legs clad in her trousers. He forced his eyes to focus on her toes. The full length of her slender calves in her tightly fitted boots remained in his field of vision. She offered him the cloth.
To distract himself from his somewhat lewd preoccupation with her legs, Seth turned his back to her and swiftly wiped away the majority of the dirt and soot. He finished the job by scrubbing his exposed skin and hair with the sacking. Throughout his chore, there was no sound from Verity.
His depression deepened. The thought of her death hurt even worse than that of his own. In this last hour, Verity Standiford had made herself beyond precious to him. Not only was she a marvelous woman who had survived shunning while still able to laugh at herself, but she was strong and capable as well. When the crisis arose shed joined him, working at his side as his equal and done a damn fine job at it, too.
He turned toward his trunk, meaning to retrieve a pair of his workday trousers, only to find Verity sitting on it. Her arms were crossed and her head, bowed. Once again, he damned God. After all life had cost him, it wasnt fair that he should find the one woman he wanted and now loved with all his heart, only to lose her before hed even once held her in his arms.
That realization hit him like a punch. It was beyond comprehension that he would die without ever having kissed her. Before he knew what he meant to do, Seth curled his finger beneath her chin and lifted her head.
Verity blinked back her tears and tried to smile, a pretense of courage. It was her brave attempt that set the need to touch her, hold her in his arms, and love her, to exploding beyond his control. If he was going to die, he was damned well going to go with this woman in his arms.
Verity caught her breath in surprise as Seth leaned toward her. It hadnt occurred to her he would kiss her. When his mouth settled softly atop hers, she breathed against the sweetness of his caress. The scent of smoke still clung to him, but his skin was cool from his dunk in the water.
Her eyes closed. His lips moved against hers as his hands closed over her arms, the slight pressure of his fingers urging her to rise. Her lips yet clinging to his, she did as he bid.
Once she was on her feet he embraced her and drew her close against him. She breathed deeply as she savored the strength of his arms around her. Cautiously, she rested her aching hands against his damp, bare skin. Even as light as her touch was, she felt the beat of his heart, steady and strong.
A shudder shot through her, the pleasure loosening fears iron grip on her heart. Outside, the fire roared, but here, in Seths arms, there was nothing but sweet enjoyment. As long as he held her, there would be only heaven for what remained of her life.
She let her mouth soften beneath his, pleading with him to use his passion to carry her beyond her fear. Seth slid one hand up her back until he cupped his palm around her head. Threading his fingers into her hair, his kiss grew in intensity, demanding her own passion in return. Verity answered him with all the desire he woke in her.
The sounds of fire and wind, the creaking of the house, it all disappeared in the heat they made between them. Gasping, Seth tore his mouth from hers, then traced a line of kisses down the curve of her throat. When he reached her collar bone, Verity leaned back her head, her fingers coming to loosen the highest button. She opened her blouse, offering him more of her to kiss. He obliged. With each button she opened, his mouth descended, until his kiss hovered on the swell of her breasts above her corset.
Shivering at the way his mouth moved on her skin, she combed her fingers through his wet hair. Every inch of her was alive with the feel of him. He reached around her and tugged at her loose blouse. It dropped into a bunch around her elbows. As she shook the garment off her arms, he straightened, his hands traveling up the exposed undergarment, until he traced his fingertips along its upper edge. Then, his hands fell away and he stepped back.
Verity, he said, his voice soft and harsh, stop me.
She raised her gaze from the masculine swell and fall of his chest to look at him. His mouth was taut as he battled his need for her, his eyes burned bright blue with desire. Verity sighed, loving him all the more. He wanted her, but he fought himself to protect her from his seduction.
Behind him, the air had grown thick with smoke. It was oozing into the house through the gaps above the door and shutters; she saw it swirl and twist in clouds around the lanterns. They didnt have much longer.
Verity shook her head, then reached down and tore open the corsets front opening. The garment fell to her feet, forgotten. She watched him as she breathed deeply, her breasts expanding into the sheerness of her camisole.
Seth made a sound deep in his throat. Beneath his sun-browned skin new color awoke. Using his fingers tip, he outlined the fullness now exposed to his view. Verity waited for embarrassment to rise in her. Shed never allowed Richard this sort of freedom; their couplings had been completed in modest darkness. Instead, all that lived in her was the need to feel every inch of this man against her.
Shivering against his play, Verity wrapped her arms around his neck, glorying at the feel of her naked arms against his bare skin. She pulled herself tightly against him and touched her mouth to his ear. Love me, Seth, she breathed.
He leaned his brow against hers. I do, he murmured, pressing a kiss against the tip of her nose before he claimed her mouth as his own once more.
His kiss seared her. She gasped as he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the curtained bed opposite them. Shouldering aside the fabric, he set her gently onto the mattress. As she sank into its feathery depths, he caught her braids end and loosened her hair before he lay beside her. Her boots fell to the floor.
Here, near the wall, Verity could feel the fires heat, even through the thick sod. Fear again rose in her, driving away pleasure. Seth, she cried softly, knowing he couldnt hear her over the noise.
His hands were at the fastenings on her trousers. Verity lifted her hips as he eased the garment down over her hips. When hed bared her knees, he touched his mouth to its inner curve. Her trousers joined her boots. As he pulled off her remaining undergarments, he touched his mouth to the curve of her thigh into her hip. The caress jolted Verity out of her fear. A dark throbbing woke deep inside her, the cry of her body for his, as he kissed his way down her legs to her ankles.
He shifted on the bed until he straddled her, his hands splayed across her midsection. As he inched his hands upward to gather the fullness of her breasts into his palms, Verity ran her knuckles along the waistband of his wet trousers. She smiled as her touch made his skin quiver in reaction. Lifting her head, she touched her mouth to the smooth surface of his belly. Seth freed a sharp sound and leapt from the bed to tear off his only garment.
Once again, all of him was hers to view, but this time she stared at him in open appraisal. Her breath caught in appreciation. Oh, but he was as much man as she could ever want.
Even the smoky light showed her the strong curve of his shoulders and arms. It found the masculine swell of his chest and gleamed on the slim line of his hips. Veritys gaze caught on the part of him most male, the corners of her mouth lifting in new appreciation. Nor was there any doubting his desire for her.
He returned to lay alongside her. Verity studied his face, loving the slight twist of his nose and the full curve of his lips. His wonderful eyes were soft with need, but there was a question lurking in the depths of his gaze. Even now, he was offering her the opportunity to retreat. Her need for him expanded from the momentary distraction of pleasure into forever.
When he touched a finger to her mouth to trace its outline, she turned her head until she could press a kiss into his palm. Seth made a gentle sound and lowered his head to kiss her again. Although it was an almost passionless press of flesh to flesh, he stroked a hand downward past her breast. When he reached her hip, he used his fingers to draw fine lines along the sensitive skin of her abdomen.
As his fingers moved lower and found the core of her femininity, she cried out in surprise and pleasure against his mouth. Sensation flooded her in warm and trembling waves. She arched against it.
Seth shuddered at her reaction, but didnt cease his torment. The power of the sensation grew until she was awash in it, leaving her greedy for more. Groaning softly, he pushed her back onto the mattress, shifting until he lay atop her. Verity cradled his body into hers, her embrace tightening as she opened herself to him.
At her invitation, Seth tore his mouth from hers to kiss her cheek, her jaw, then nuzzle at her ear. With a low moan, Verity arched beneath him and made him one with her. The wall beside her grew warmer still. Time was very short. She moved beneath him, the taunting lift of her body begging him to follow where she led.
When he complied, pleasure tumbled atop pleasure in Verity. She moved with him, delighting in how she could make him gasp. Then, his movements became more insistent and it was her turn to gasp.
He was speaking to her, his voice ragged and hoarse, but Verity was beyond understanding. She cried out as her body found every bit of joy he could give her. As from a distance, she heard him respond in kind, his movements urgent in his own need. When he collapsed atop her, panting, her arms tightened around him, delighting at the way passion ebbed into contentment.
He rolled to the side, taking her with him. Still holding her close, Seth touched his mouth to her cheek, her jaw, her ear, then eased back from her. Verity sighed at the softness in his face. It was love for her he wore in his expression. Sadness touched her heart. How could she die now, when this is what she would lose?
Marry me, Verity, he said, his voice deep and soft. Stay with me.
Joy tore through Verity, no less powerful than the fire that worked to destroy them. She would have it all, a husband and even a child. The memory of Gemmas hand in hers shot through her, as sweet in recall as it had been in reality.
Then, happiness died. If by some miracle they survived the fire, nothing would have changed. She was still the fallen Miss Standiford; she could never be his wife. Pain boiled up in her, rendering her speechless. Biting her lip against her tears, Verity shook her head.
Seths brow creased, some of the happiness dimming in his face. Why not? You care for me, I see it. I know this sort of life is beneath you, but joining me cannot be any worse than what you are condemned to now.
His words drove away her pain. When she spoke, her voice was still ragged with tears and barely audible over the winds persistent moan. How can you think I would refuse you for any reason on your part? Seth, you said you studied to be barrister. She lay a hand on his shoulder, her fingers alive with the feel of him. Suddenly, death was preferable to life without Seth.
You dont wish to marry me because I will be a lawyer? There was more of confusion than accusation in his voice.
Verity again shook her head, wiping at a wayward tear. A barrister needs a wife who is beyond reproach. What sort of position can you secure, what sort of clientele might you serve, that could accept a fallen woman as your wife? A tiny, painful cry escaped her.
She rolled away, putting her back to him before she had to watch him realize she was right. If you marry me, you destroy your future. I cannot allow you to do that.
I see, he said, then pressed a kiss to her shoulder.
Verity loosed another cry as her desire for him reawakened, only to splinter on the wall she had to build between them. Do not touch me. I cannot bear it. If we live through this, I will have to leave you and I think that will be worse than death. Reaching blindly over her head, she found a pillow. She pulled the thick cushion over her head and sobbed into the blankets, her keening almost as loud as the wind. It wasnt long before exhaustion, brought on by the crisis and her exertions, overtook her. Verity dropped into a deep and uneasy sleep.
Seth waited until he was certain she slept before he curled his body around hers and drew her into his embrace. Although a trifle upset with her well-meaning refusal, the power of their lovemaking still awed him. Damn, but he wasnt content with only one joining; he wanted her for the rest of his life. But, how was he going to do that, when her refusal was based on the misguided notion that she protected him?
He let his hand graze along the silken length of a graceful arm, then twined his fingers between hers. She started in her sleep, jerking her hand from his. Catching her wrist, he turned her hand palm up, then frowned at the line of blisters crossing it. His admiration grew. She hadnt uttered a single word of complaint.
Nope. Never, no matter how she protested, he would never let her go. There was a way to wring marriage out of her. He just hadnt found it yet. Seths eyes narrowed in determination as he pondered the issue.
As the moments passed, something changed in the room. Silence crept over him until his ears almost rang with it. He eased from the bed, then rushed to open the door.
Except for the circle of yet steaming grass that was the soddies yard, there was nothing but charred ground and smoking desolation for as far as he could see. Seth fought back a triumphant yell. Then, grinning like an idiot, he leaned buck naked in the doorway to confront his future. If they could live through this, there was a way to force marriage down Miss Verity Standifords throat.
The means to his end came sneaking up from the back of his brain. Seths mouth once again lifted as euphoria swept over him. And, once the shock had passed, shed surely see the humor in it. Turning back into the house, he went to his trunk and found his work clothes. He had himself a wife to catch.
Verity, its time you rose.
Seths voice startled Verity out of her exhausted sleep. She sat straight up, uncertain if hed truly spoken or she had only dreamed it. Something was sizzling. She breathed deeply. The sour smell of burnt things was strong, but, along with it came the warm and comfortable scent of frying--ham?
She eased to the beds side, the sheets warm against her ever so bare skin, and peered around the curtain. Morning light streamed in through the two small windows. The air in here was still thick with dust and where the suns heat hit it the particles whirled and circled in a joyful dance.
Seth stood at the stove, dressed in a worn pair of trousers and nothing else. A single beam of golden light shot through the nearest window to lay bright shadows across the masculine contours of his chest. For just that instant, Verity let herself believe they were man and wife already and that this was the normal beginning of their day. Then, reality settled heavily on her shoulders.
If this was morning and he was frying ham, then they had survived the fire. Falling back onto the mattress, she blinked at the muslin overhead, the thought of never again seeing Seth aching in her. Then, she grimaced. If she wanted to return to Johnnies home, shed have to send word to her brother. Thered be no hiding the fact that shed spent an unchaperoned night with a man.
She rolled her eyes. Good Lord, but Mama would have a tantrum over this for certain. It wasnt beyond Mama to tell all of Victoria about this in a vindictive snit.
Verity waited for shame to wash over her, instead, there was only irritation at the intolerance of others. In that instant she knew she couldnt return to either Victoria or England. Yesterdays happiness had changed her forever. She loved Seth and didnt care a pin for what others said about their supposed sin.
The need to hold onto her precious happiness tore through her. The United States was a very large country. Wasnt there some place they could go where no one knew or cared about her past?
Oh, but what if shed already convinced Seth he shouldnt want her? Verity sat up and leaned out of the curtain, the thin fabric clutched to her chest to hide her nakedness. Seth? It was a soft and tremulous cry, filled with the worry that hed rescinded his offer.
He turned toward her. His face was haggard and there were deep rings beneath his eyes, but his smile was glorious. Verity breathed out a slow sigh. He still wanted her.
Well now, youre awake at last. Theres a nightshirt at the end of the bed for you. It wont cover all of you, but it will have to do. Your clothing is filthy. Everything is buried ankle deep in dust and soot. Thinking you might want to straighten your hair, I put Gemmas hairbrush under the shirt. Hurry, now. We have an urgent appointment. What sounded like a quick laugh escaped him, but it was hard to tell as he turned swiftly back to his frying pan.
Verity frowned at him. An appointment? Whatever was he talking about? Confused, she shut the curtain and reluctantly pulled on the voluminous shirt.
The shirt hit her at the knees, the sleeves dropping over the tips of her fingers. Even trousers were better than this. She rolled back the cuffs until her hands were exposed, swiftly using the brush before she pushed back the curtain.
Seth turned at the sound of the moving curtains. His face almost glowed with happiness. Cocking a hip against the table, he called out in a voice that was far too loud. Now thats much better. Youre dressed, if not fully decent.
Verity stared at him. Why are you shouting?
Thats my sister I hear in there, Adamson!
Veritys eyes widened at the sound of her brothers voice. With a yelp, she leapt from the beds side to the middle of the room, then glanced around her in the ridiculous urge to hide. Such a thing wasnt possible in a one-roomed house.
Her hand flew to her loose hair, then she tried to drag the night shirt down over her knees. Another impossibility. Verity turned on Seth. He was still leaning casually against the table, his arms crossed over his bare chest.
Its my brother, she hissed. I dont care how filthy they are, give me my clothing. Hurry, put on a shirt.
Seth only smiled at her, nothing but masculine appreciation of her semi-dressed form in his expression. I think I like you in my clothes, almost as much as I like you in my bed, he said, a tangle of longing and laughter in his voice.
Johnnie pounded angrily on the door. Open up, you piece of cheap American trash! This pronouncement was followed by a choked sound, then the door flew wide and Veritys brother stepped inside, rifle in hand. Johnnies face was streaked black with soot, his fine hair tangled and his shirt, grimy.
Behind him came the same little man whod wed Johnnie to Sarah. Today, the justices horrid brown suit was grayed with a fine layer of dust. Gemma stood at his side, her hand in his.
What are you doing here? Verity cried, wishing she could sink through the dirt floor and disappear.
While the men smiled at her, Gemma paid her no heed as her gaze swept the sooty house. When she spied her doll on the table top, she released Mr. Jenkins with a happy cry. Dust flew as she raced to the table and grabbed up her precious plaything.
Verity took a step back toward the shelter of the curtained bed, but ran into Seth. The man shed believed shed loved until this very moment put his arms around her to hold her where she stood. She turned in his embrace. Let me go, she begged quietly. I dont want to be seen this way.
I think I cant do that, he replied, his voice equally as low while a smile quirked at his mouth.
There was a tug on the nightshirts hem. Verity looked down. Now cradling her doll close, Gemma stood beside her. A frown touched the childs brow as her bright blue gaze took in Veritys loosened hair, bare legs and oversized shirt. Veritys heart crashed through her feet and deep into the hard, dirt floor. Oh lord, but what could Gemma think of her now?
Seths niece held up her doll. You brought her home to me? she asked tentatively. Verity could only nod. If not for Seths strong arms, she would have followed her heart through the floor.
Gemma sighed in satisfaction and leaned her head against Veritys hip. I told Mina you would, so I didnt worry, she said. Uncle Seth says I should ask you to stay with us. Will you? I would like that.
Verity went dizzy with happiness. Gemma wanted her. Reaching down, she claimed one of the girls hands. Gemmas grip on her fingers had the feel of permanence to it.
Well, well, well, what have we here? Johnnie asked, his voice hard as he eyed his sister in her masculine nightwear. His face resolved into a ludicrous expression of harshness as he thrust out his chest. It was the role of an outraged father he was playing this time.
He lowered his rifle toward Seth. Since youve made yourself free with my sister, youll do right by her or die. He ruined the performance with a giggle. Pardon, but I couldnt resist, he said to Seth.
I had it coming, Seth said, as friendly as could be. Jenkins, you can commence with the marrying.
What? Verity cried, turning in Seths arms to look at the men behind her, then back to Seth. What is this?
Why, darlin, its a wedding or dont you recognize it? Your brother has caught us in a compromising situation and he has no choice but to see the honorable thing done. Seths eyes crinkled at their corners as he finally gave way to his smile. Your refusal didnt sit well with me and Im afraid youll slip away before I can convince you of your error. This is the expedient solution.
Oh do hurry and agree with him, Ver, Johnnie said, his tone now petulant. Im like to drop. Spent the whole of last night fighting the demmed fire, I did.
Verity leaned on Seth in astonishment. You did this, she cried, trying not to laugh. You tricked me into this. You are a horrible, conniving, underhanded--
Seth cut off her protest by pressing his mouth to hers. Verity melted into his embrace. As his kiss deepened, she brought her arms around his neck to hold herself closer. He not only wanted her, he had arranged this wonderful farce to keep her.
Marry me, Verity, Seth murmured as he straightened to look into her face. There was still a spark of worry in the depths of his eyes.
What choice have you left me? she replied, trying to sound harsh and failing at it.
Seths brows rose as he awaited her true response, not this halfhearted concession. What a fool shed been to refuse him last night and Verity thanked God he hadnt listened to her.
Yes, she told him, the word leaving her in a wondrous rush. She laughed to free some of the joy caught in her heart. Poor man, you dont know the sort of trouble youre buying here. I should warn you, Im outspoken and bold, sometimes even rude. And, I walk into houses without knocking.
New sparks came to life in Seths eyes, these having a great deal more to do with lust than worry. A terrible habit, one that as my wife, you must immediately rectify. He turned her in his arms until they faced Justice Jenkins. Jenkins, we are at your convenience. Hope you wont be insulted if we do it again before a preacher. Im not leaving her any possibility of escape.
None taken. The justice grinned beneath his thick mustache as he fumbled in his pocket for his book. This heres my favorite part. Dearly beloved--
First, I set this story's price at free as a thank you to all you out there buying Winter's Heat and honoring my work. Thank you, thank you. I never in my life expected to be an Amazon bestseller.
Now that you've read it I hope you've enjoyed my only Western story. This originally appeared in an anthology called Cherished Love where I had the honor of being included along with Vivian Vaughan and Rosanne Bitner, The editor who worked on it said my story was the best non-Western Western she'd ever read. So, there you go. By the way, Victoria, Kansas is a real place and it really was settled by upper crust British folks who chased coyotes instead of fox. And the prairie fire I used as a backdrop also occurred at about this time. If you'd like to learn more about Victoria and its past, I highly recommend the book Pioneer Women; Voices from the Kansas Frontier by Joanna Stratton. That book gave me the germ for this story.
In case this is the work of mine you've read here is the full list. If there are links missing on the books, it's because I haven't quite got them live on Kindle yet. Just check my website for the proper links as I bring them up. And thank you!
The Graistan Chronicles (sometimes known as the Seasons Series)
The Lady Series, although two doesn't quite a series make. There were supposed to be more. Hmm, I wonder... .
Lady in White
The Warrior Series
The Warrior's Wife (previously The Warrior's Damsel)
The Warrior's Maiden (previously My Lady's Temptation)
The Warrior's Game
My only Regency era book. I'm sorry. It was too modern for me. I'm better off back when guys just bashed each other with hunks of steel.
Almost Perfect
Monica Sarli's Memoir Men-ipulation
And then there's Monica Sarli's memoir that I co-wrote. Men-ipulation is an memoir of addiction and recovery. After fifteen years abusing Cocaine, Crack and (her personal favorite) Heroin, Monica chose on August 4, 1986 to clean up and hasn't looked back even though cleaning up cost her everything she valued in life. For anyone struggling with addiction or who loves someone suffering with addiction, this is a book you won't want to miss. (And, yes she really talks like that...all the time.)
By the way, I'll note here that I am title defective. For the first five books, my fabulous stepdaughter Amberly Neese came up with the original and very clever idea of using the seasons, and the publisher ran with it. Beyond that, well, I count on the kindness of editors and others.
If you want to keep up with me or send me a note, please feel free to email me at denise@denisedomning.com or visit my website at DeniseDomning.com where you can read my blog. I'll warn you, the blog has nothing to do with writing. Instead, it's the chronicle of how my husband takes me on a journey into Green Living and Permaculture. I have a feeling this will turn out to be a mangling of "Under the Tuscan Sun" and "Green Acres".
Wish me luck (I'll need it) and happy reading!
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