Contract to Wed (11 page)

Alice curtsied. “Oh yes, ma’am. I would love to. Thank you,
ma’am.”

Chapter Twelve

“Please check with the hotel staff
and make sure that Zebidiah had a ticket reserved for Alice for the theatre,”
Jolene said as they checked in to the Hotel Windsor on the day of the
Cattlemen’s Ball.

Max spoke to the manager and turned back to Jolene. “Here is
the ticket for Alice you ordered.”

“Thank you,” she said, opened her reticule and deposited the
ticket.

The manager was speaking to the uniformed young men who
would be carrying their trunks and luggage. “Rooms twenty-four, forty-two, and
forty-four. The maid will tell you what to deposit where.”

Jolene looked up at him in some surprise and then stepped
into the caged elevator. He followed and the operator began closing the hinged doors.

“Are you looking forward to this evening?” he asked.

“Yes. Very much so. I am looking forward to making the
acquaintance of the men who will help you run for the Senate and to renewing my
friendship with the women I met at Emma Jean’s,” Jolene said. “I want to set a
date soon to entertain them at the Hacienda.”

“Whatever suits you,” he said.

“I would like Melinda to meet these women, and you will want
her to begin meeting other families as well.”

“I suppose so. The only friends she has are the children at
the Hacienda.”

“In the not so distant future, she will begin to meet young
men. It would be wise if we knew the families with whom they are associated,”
Jolene said.

Max stared at her. “What young men? Do any of these women
have sons her age?”

“That is not how it works, Maximillian. She will meet the
families, and we will be social with those families. Eventually we will meet older
brothers or nephews or other young people visiting this area with ties to these
families,” she said.

“It sounds like this is some kind of pre-arranged plan,” he
muttered.

Jolene’s brows rose. “Of course, there is a plan,
Maximillian. How do you think young people of the same education, interests,
and social standing meet?”

“I don’t like it.”

“You do not like the idea of Melinda growing up. That is
what you do not like.”

They stepped off the elevator and saw Alice directing where
Jolene’s trunks and his suitcase would be placed. Their rooms were spacious,
well-appointed, and connected to each other. He handed Jolene the key to the
door between the rooms. She waited in his room until she had dismissed Alice to
freshen up and the men had deposited her things.

“You said that night that we would stay in a hotel on the
night of the ball,” Jolene said and looked up at him and licked her lips. “I
assumed you meant one room.”

“I have no intentions of forcing you, Jolene. You know that
I want to bed you. I’ve told you as much. But this won’t be one-sided,” he
said. “You’ll have to want me as much as I want you.”

Jolene stared at the string tie around his neck. “Ladies do
not
want
,” she said. “I do not want you in the same manner as you want
me.”

Max touched her chin with his forefinger till she looked up
at him. He smiled. “Liar,” he whispered. “And, hell, if ladies don’t
want
,
then I don’t want a lady, I guess. But you’re a lady, through and through.”

“I have to get ready for the ball,” she said and turned and
hurried through the adjoining door. He heard the lock click shut.

“Wait,” he said. “I have something for you.”

Jolene unlocked the door and came back in his room. “For
me?”

Max handed her a long box and stuck his hands in his pockets.
“I got this for you the day you arrived. I don’t know why I didn’t give it to
you then other than I was worried you wouldn’t like it.  I asked Alice the
color of your dress for tonight and showed her the necklace. She said it would
be perfect. I hope you like it.”

Jolene opened the box and looked up at him. “It is
beautiful, Maximillian. Alice is right. It will be perfect. Thank you.”

Max took a bath, shaved and dressed. He knocked on the
connecting door. It opened a crack.

“Yes, Mr. Shelby?” Alice asked.

“I’m going to head to the hotel bar unless Mrs. Shelby would
prefer I wait to escort her,” he said.

Alice stepped away from the door and returned. “That is fine
with Mrs. Shelby. She will meet you in the lobby in an hour.”

* * *

Jolene stepped off the elevator and
faced a full-length gilded mirror. She surveyed herself from the mass of soft,
blond ringlets atop her head woven through with twinkling beads, to her gown.
Mrs.
McCabe has outdone herself
, she thought. Her gown of cream silk was embroidered
with pale blue flowers and left her shoulders bare except for a ring sleeve.
The bodice was tight and extremely low-cut, leading Alice to remind her that
she’d best not bend down for any reason, lest her bosom be exposed. From the
edge of the neckline, around the sleeve rings, and across the low back of her
gown hung the hand-twisted four-inch fringe of dark blue silk. She wore a back
bustle, drawing the front of the gown tight against her hips, with draped folds
in the back. She touched the blue sapphire necklace that lay just above her
cleavage and thought about Maximillian. He had been endearingly shy as he
handed her the box. She tugged one final time on the elbow-length cream satin
gloves she wore and walked to the marble steps that led to the lobby.

Jolene stopped, placed a hand on the marble bannister, and
surveyed the Ball attendees milling below. She spotted Maximillian instantly
among a crowd of men. He looked up as she looked at him. He said something to
the men around him and walked to the base of the steps below her. He never once
took his eyes off her. The crowd quieted and others turned to see Jolene as she
slowly made her way down the staircase, her dark blue silk-heeled shoes lightly
tapping on the stone, and the silk fringe swaying at her breasts.

“Maximillian,” she said as she placed her hand in his
outstretched one.

He swallowed.

She reached up to straighten the white bow tie above his
short-waisted, black dinner jacket. “You’re looking very handsome, Maximillian.
I’ve never seen you in dress clothes.”

“Would you, can I . . . a drink. What would you like?” he
said.

“Ah,” she said as a waiter came by. “Champagne would be
lovely.”

Maximillian handed her a fluted glass from the waiter’s
tray. Jolene slipped her free hand around Maximillian’s elbow and followed him
to the crowd of people he’d been speaking to before. Emma Jean McCastor and
Cornelia Gregory were among them.

“Gorgeous,” Emma Jean said and leaned in to kiss her cheek.

Cornelia arched a brow and smiled. “Gorgeous and
clever
.
No wonder Max is smitten.”

Maximillian leaned down, whispered in her ear and raised
gooseflesh on her arms as he did. “Do not, for any reason, lean forward. Henry
Tuttle is desperate to see down your dress.”

Jolene pursed her lips and suppressed a grin. “Really,
Maximillian. Do behave yourself.”

Maximillian introduced her to many of the men near him,
including Cornelia’s husband and Anna Cummingsworth’s husband, Randolph. Anna slipped
a hand around her husband’s arm. “Oh, Max,” she said. “You look positively
delicious this evening!”

Maximillian pulled Jolene close and laid his arm across her
bare shoulders. His fingers drifted down to near the tops of her bosom. A chill
went through her.

“It’s good to see you, Randolph,” he said to the
white-haired man and nodded to his very young bride. “Anna.”

Maximillian turned Jolene and began introductions to others
nearby. If he intended to squelch any concerns she harbored about Anna Cummingsworth,
he had succeeded, she admitted to herself. He leaned close to whisper in her
ear.

“I believe I forgot to tell you earlier that you are the
most beautiful woman in the room. Perhaps in the state. Words failed me,
literally, until I remembered I was married to you.”

“You are quite the tease this evening, Maximillian,” she
said and looked up at him. “Cornelia said you were smitten with me because I’m
clever, too.”

“She’s right. That was much of the reason that I told
Eugenia to speak to you about me. She and Calvin both said you were astute and
that . . .” Maximillian stopped abruptly and turned her towards the ballroom.
“Let’s find our seats.”

Jolene squeezed his arm. “What were you going to say,
Maximillian? You stopped before you were finished.”

“I don’t like to speak ill of the dead. They’re not here to
defend themselves and anyway, he was your husband, and you must have felt
something for him at some point.”

“For a very short time. And at no time after we were
married. What were you going to say?”

Maximillian shrugged. “Calvin said and Eugenia agreed that
Turner was not too clever. That it was obvious that he had been as successful
as he was because of you and your families’ influence. They both said you were
the brains behind it all.”

“I had nothing to do with what Turner did at the bank. I can
hardly take credit for that success.”

“It was your father’s bank from my understanding. Your
father set the deals in motion, and you often closed them when you entertained
and charmed the principles.”

Jolene thought back to all the times that her father spoke
privately to her. He would explain the nuances of a particular negotiation that
he and Turner were involved in, and she, in turn, would find a way to converse
with those customers at some social event or influence the wife to speak on
their behalf. Of course she did those kinds of things. It was their families’
business after all. But Julia and Jennifer were never involved, now that she
looked back.

“I was never actually . . .”

“Jolene,” he said and squeezed her hand where it lay on his
arm. “Women aren’t outwardly involved with business too often, but your father
recognized your skills, and you executed his wishes. What further proof do you
need? Of course, you are clever. You are extremely bright.”

Jolene blinked away sudden tears. “I do not believe I have
ever heard anyone say that.”

“I imagine it is always assumed that beautiful women are not
too clever because they spend too much time looking at themselves and not
enough time paying attention to their teachers. It was never true in your
case.”

* * *

Max stopped in front of Jolene’s
hotel room door. She fiddled in her reticule for the key and slipped it in the
lock. She looked up at him with uncertainty. His wife was outwardly confident,
especially when it came to her looks but then who would not be? She was
physically stunning and graceful, with an eye for style. But she was not sure
of herself otherwise, or perhaps just unsure of her feelings.

“Thank you, Maximillian. It was a wonderful evening. I hope Timothy
will be able to report that your campaign has been amply rewarded,” she said.
“Alice. Perfect timing. Good night, Maximillian.”

He kissed her cheek and then opened the door to his own hotel
room. He changed, pulled on the silk draw-string pants lying across his bed and
poured himself a whiskey. He’d drank very little before and during dinner, and
now he hoped the liquor would burn  a path to his brain and help him
forget what Jolene looked like at the top of the hotel lobby steps because he’d
never seen a sight to compare. She was the epitome of sensuality with her hair
all piled in loose curls, just begging a man to sink his fingers into it, and
her dress barely covering her bosom. He stood near the full length window of
his room staring out at the twinkling gas lights of Dallas when he heard the
key click in the door between their rooms.

Max could smell lilac talc, and he could see her outline
reflected in the window. He knew that she’d changed out of her gown and into
one of her nighties. He didn’t want to turn and look at her full on because he
was worried he might throw her across his bed. His wife could tempt a saint,
and he was certainly not one of those. He was a flesh and blood man with a
desire to ride his wife over and over, until morning at least.

“Maximillian?” she said.

“I’m here, Jolene,” he said and continued to stare out the
window. “Do you need something?”

“I wanted to thank you for the roses. They are so beautiful.
And the tea tray and brandy you had delivered to my room.”

“I thought you might want something before you went to bed,
and I didn’t know what it would be.”

“So you ordered everything,” she whispered.

He nodded and leaned his forehead against the cool glass
window pane. “Good night, Jolene. We’ll have breakfast at the hotel in the
morning if that suits you.”

“Max?”

He turned slowly. Jolene was a vision of sexuality in a filmy
gown that he recognized from the day Mrs. McCabe delivered it. The fabric had
strategically placed roses, nearly see-through otherwise with thin straps. But
somehow he knew that for all her outward appearances his wife was fragile as
well. He didn’t want to frighten her.

“I don’t trust myself,” he said. “You’d best go to bed.”

* * *

Jolene let herself look at
Maximillian from his corded neck down to the small of his back where the string
pants hung low on his hips. When he finally turned to face her, she was struck
with how physically large he was and how working on the ranch every day kept
his stomach flat, his shoulders broad, and his arms bulging with muscle. He was
all that masculinity could be with his powerful body, and confidence in himself
and his decisions. She’d been nervous as she contemplated what she was about to
do. But then she let the silk gown slither over her shoulders and down her body
and directed Alice to wrap her hair loosely with one pin. Her fear left as she
looked at him now, and she felt her lower insides heat and throb.