Bicycle Built for Two (32 page)

“Nuts,” she muttered.
It
had
been a
proposal, but it wasn’t the type Kate had ever contemplated
receiving in the rare moments when she allowed herself to daydream.
The proposals that had danced in her head, before she’d learned
better, had included declarations of undying love and passion and
threats of suicide if the offers were refused. Not once had she
entertained the possibility of a proposal prompted by pity. She
hated being pitied.

But she loved Alex English.

Feeling overwhelmed, depressed, and bereft,
Kate buried her face in her hands and wished it were she who was
dying, and not her mother. She was sick of life. Besides, her
mother was worth a dozen of herself. Why couldn’t God take her
instead of Ma? If there was such a thing as God. Kate grimaced when
she thought about what the nuns would say to her if she voiced that
thought aloud.

Before she could drive herself into a
full-fledged session of self-pity and loathing, Kate fell asleep in
her chair. It was a comfortable chair, but it wasn’t intended to
replace a bed. She awoke with a jerk when her body slipped sideways
and she almost ended up on the floor. After a huge yawn, Kate
inspected her mother closely.

Mrs. Finney still slept. Her breath came
hard. Kate heard the gurgle in her lungs, and wished she were a
weaker person and could break down and cry whenever she felt like
it. She felt like it now.

But there would be lots of time for tears
after Ma was gone. Kate decided she might as well go to her own
room and sleep for awhile. She’d had enough experience with Ma’s
illness to judge that her mother probably—there were no guarantees
with consumption—wouldn’t wake up before morning. Kate had propped
pillows behind her back, giving the fluids clogging her lungs less
of a chance to accumulate and suffocate her.

She tiptoed across the room, opened the
door, unsqueakable since the hinges were so well oiled by Louise,
and bumped smack into Alex. His arms went around her instantly,
preventing her from bouncing off his chest and falling down. She
peered up at him. “Where’d you come from?”

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

“How come?”

“I just wanted to be here if your mother
needed help.”

He was so darned nice. In spite of herself,
knowing she shouldn’t, Kate sighed and rested her head against his
chest. She felt so good in his arms. Protected. Cared for. She
loved him so much. If he loved her, too, she’d agree to marry him
in a second, in spite of the trouble she’d surely cause him.
Trouble seemed to follow her around like a stray dog. Kate knew
Alex didn’t deserve to have to deal with her problems. He was too
good for the likes of her.

“I was almost asleep on my feet,” he
confessed. She heard the smile in his voice. “But I was pretty sure
you’d come out eventually.”

“You were right.”

“So, have you thought about my proposal?”

She didn’t want to think about his proposal.
She wanted to pretend that everything could be right for once.
Accepting his proposal wouldn’t be right. It would be cruel to a
man who’d been nicer to her than anyone else in the world,
including all the nuns and priests she’d ever known.

He prodded her. “Kate?”

She sighed again and tried to draw away from
him, but he didn’t let her go. “Yeah,” she said. “I’ve thought
about it.”

“And?”

“And I can’t marry you, Alex. Thanks a lot,
but— I just can’t, is all.”

“Nonsense. Certainly, you can. You won’t, is
what you mean.”

“Nuts.” She was going to cry in another
second or two. And if she did that, she knew she’d fall apart
completely. She might even accept his proposal, thereby ruining his
life. Kate couldn’t stand that.

Therefore, because she loved him so much,
wanted so much to be his wife, and knew that marrying him would be
the worst thing she could do to repay his kindness, she reached up
with her arms, snaked them around his neck, stood on tiptoe, and
kissed him with all the love she had in her.

Chapter Fifteen

Alex responded to her boldness as Kate had
hoped he would: he misunderstood her intentions completely. “God,
Kate, I’m so happy,” he murmured into her tumbling hair. “I knew
you’d see reason eventually.”

She made a soft, encouraging noise as he
deepened the kiss. She was going to reward him for his many
kindnesses to her and her family in the only way she could. She
wouldn’t wreck his life by marrying him, but she could give him her
body. The good Lord knew, it seemed to be in demand, her body.
Other men wanted it. She had reason to believe Alex did, too.

Kate was no starry-eyed innocent who
couldn’t tell when a man was excited. She’d remained a virgin
because she possessed a strong mind, a logical brain, and the
intelligence to know that throwing away her virginity was the sure
path to ruin where she came from. If there was anything she didn’t
need more than she didn’t need poverty, it was a flock of little
bastard children to rear. Until she met Alex, she’d never met a man
who wanted anything from her but sex. The men in her life, with
very few exceptions including her brothers, didn’t stick around to
support the leavings of their lust. Kate’s brothers had honor, but
few of their contemporaries did.

A low rumble in Alex’s chest preceded his
next words. Kate loved his voice. It was deep and melodious, unlike
most of the other male voices in her life. The male voices in her
life were hard, desperate, and resonated with anxiety, too little
money, and too much pain. Or they were loud, malicious, drunken
shouts.

“I’ve wanted you from the moment I first saw
you,” Alex admitted.

It didn’t come as a complete surprise to
Kate, but she was pleased to know it. “I want you, too, Alex.”

He held her so hard, her ribs ached, and she
laughed softly. “You’re squishing me, Alex.”

“Sorry.” He laughed, too, and eased up on
her ribs.

Kate let her arms slide down his and took
his hand. “Come with me, Alex.” She tugged lightly, and he
obeyed.

He drew back when she opened her door. “Kate
. . .”

“I want this, Alex.” She turned and looked
him in the eye. His eyes had gone dark with passion and soft
with—well, Kate guessed it was affection. That was nice. It pleased
her to know that Alex English, a man whom at first she’d believed
to be a hard-hearted stuffed shirt, had turned out to be so open to
life that he actually liked her in spite of herself. She knew good
and well that she hadn’t given him much reason to care about her.
Not at first.

After hesitating at the door for a moment,
it looked to Kate as if Alex decided something. “It will be all
right,” he murmured, following after her. “We’ll be married
soon.”

That’s what he thought. Kate knew better.
She didn’t let on, but led him to her bed. “You’ll have to pick me
up,” she said after eyeing the bed for a moment. “I can’t climb
that high.”

“There’s a footstool,” he said, grinning, and
he stooped and dragged it out from under the bed.

“Shoot, you climb stairs to bed? Now that’s
what I call class.”

He chuckled.

As ever, his chuckle sent warm shivers
through her. She climbed the two steps and bounced on the bed.
Patting the space next to her, she said, “Want to join me?”

“More than anything.”

That was nice. This was the biggest,
scariest step Kate had ever taken in her life. It even surpassed
moving out of her parents’ place and getting a flat of her own. It
might lead to her absolute ruin, although she didn’t think so. If
she should get pregnant as a result of this night’s work, she knew
Alex would support his child. He’d probably want it to grow up on
his farm. And Kate would want that, too, although it would kill her
to let a child of her womb go.

Lordy, what was she going into that
possibility for? Alex knelt in front of her, surprising her into
allowing her thoughts to scatter. That was a good thing.

He took both of her hands in his. “Are you
sure about this, Kate?”

“Yes.” She spoke more firmly than she felt.
Alex deserved this. So did she, actually.

He didn’t respond, but gazed into her eyes
for several seconds. She’d expected him to ask her if she was sure
again, but he didn’t. Rather, he stood up and yanked at his tie.
“I’ll get rid of these.” He gestured at his coat and vest.

“All right. I guess I will, too.” That
didn’t make sense, but Kate knew he understood. She started
unbuttoning her shirtwaist. She’d made it herself, from fabric
she’d bought from Chinese Charley. She’d also recently made her
chemise and drawers, and was ever so glad she’d brought them with
her this weekend. She might have brought her dingy, over-washed
underwear that she’d made last year, but she’d decided even her
underthings should be special this weekend.

Alex threw his tie, vest, and jacket
anywhere. He didn’t even look as he tossed them aside. “Let me help
you, Kate.”

“Gladly.” She shoved her shirtwaist down,
unbuttoned her skirt, and laid both neatly over the footboard of
the bed. Alex might feel free to jumble his clothes in heaps and
piles, but Kate didn’t. He’d knelt before her again, and reached
for her leg. She let him and saw him swallow when she placed her
foot in his hands. “Want to unroll my stockings?”

“Yes.”

The word came out in a croak, and Kate took
heart. Clearly, Alex wasn’t as composed as he wanted her to think.
Perhaps he wasn’t as experienced a man of the world as she’d
believed him to be. Maybe he was nervous about this step, too.
Unlikely, given what Kate knew about men in Alex’s station in
life.

Then again, Alex didn’t act
like any of the men who’d wanted her for a mistress. Maybe he
really
wasn’t
like them. He’d said he wanted to marry her; maybe he did.
His hand on her leg caused he thoughts to scatter again. She gasped
and his hand stilled. She didn’t want it to.

“Are you all right, Kate? Are you afraid? Do
you want me to stop?”

She sucked in air and forced herself to
smile at him. “Yes, yes, and no, in order.”

It took him a second to decipher her answer.
When he did, he smiled, too. “I’ll be very gentle, Kate. I’m not
the most experienced gent in the world, but I know what to do.”

So much for
that
question. “I’m glad
to know it.” She allowed her smile to broaden into a
grin.

“I’m glad you’re glad.”

With torturous slowness, Alex untied her
garter. She’d made that, too, out of a yard of satin fabric Chinese
Charley had on sale because it was stained. Kate had worked around
the stains and embroidered roses over the ones she couldn’t avoid.
They were pretty garters. She didn’t wear them as she danced, but
reserved them for church and other formal occasions. She wasn’t
sure this counted, but she viewed it with reverence, so she was
glad she’d tied her stockings with them this weekend.

“These are pretty, Kate,” Alex said, holding
up the first garter.

“Thank you.” She expected him to ask her if
she’d made them herself and was relieved when he didn’t. She always
felt like something out of the gutter when he asked her if she’d
sewn her own clothes. She knew that was unfair of her and unkind to
Alex. Most women, except those who were wildly wealthy, made their
own clothes. Heck, even Alex’s own sister wore hand-me-downs.

It didn’t help. She was still ashamed of her
circumstances and was grateful that he didn’t ask her if she’d made
her garters. Her mind went blank when Alex kissed the inside of her
thigh. Good Lord! Were men supposed to do that?

“You’re a beautiful woman, Kate,” he said
huskily. “Very beautiful. Inside and out.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was shaking.
Terrific. It would. But . . . Did he honestly think she was
beautiful? Everything inside her glowed as if someone had turned on
a light.

He’d begun rolling her stocking down.
Shivers of delight suffused Kate’s body. She’d thought about what
it might be like to make love before, but she’d never imagined it
would feel so good, mainly because she’d never envisioned herself
with Alex. She whimpered in spite of herself, and Alex’s hand went
still instantly. Panic-stricken, Kate blurted out, “Don’t
stop!”

He grinned, and she started breathing
again.

“Please don’t stop, Alex. It—it feels
good.”

“It feels good to me, too, Kate. Your skin
is as soft as a baby’s.”

“You have a lot of experience with babies, do
you?”

He glanced up at her as if he wondered what
she meant. Kate wished she hadn’t said it, even though she’d meant
it as a joke. “Well, only my younger brother and sisters,” he said
at last. He didn’t stop his tantalizing work with his hands.

“It was a joke, Alex,” she said when she
could catch her breath.

“Ah. I thought you believed me to be a roue
or something.”

“No. I don’t. I never did. Not even when I
hated you.”

Again he glanced up at her. “You don’t hate
me any longer?”

Lord, no.
Kate shook her head. As he started rolling down
her other stocking, she whispered. “No. I don’t hate you any
longer, Alex.”

“Good.”

I love
you
. She didn’t say that. Couldn’t. Felt
too stupid about it.

She didn’t feel stupid about the sensations
he was creating in her body. He’d gently tugged her second stocking
off and was depositing soft, sweet kisses on her calf. She braced
herself on the bed, fearing she might float straight up and bounce
off the ceiling if she didn’t.

When he scrambled up off his knees and sat
beside her, she turned into his embrace as if they’d been doing
this since the beginning of time. His kisses were hot and sweet and
made her head swim. Her hands drove her to the brink of madness.
Her nipples pebbled instantly under his touch. When he took the tip
between his teeth, she thought she might swoon. Imagine that. Kate
Finney, child of the streets, swooning in a gentleman’s arms.