Contract to Wed (6 page)

Max was appealing, too, sexually appealing, Jolene thought
with some disdain. The kind of masculine appeal that drew both women and men and
sexuality that made women swoon. She would have to be especially attentive to
Maximillian when they entertained the McCastors as she needed the first
impression of her and him as man and wife to be of doting newlyweds. It could
prove to be awkward if she wasn’t careful.

By nine the following morning, Jolene was browsing patterns
and the selections of ready-to-wear items at a dressmaker’s shop in Dallas.
Once she was comfortable with her mount, she was able to enjoy the ride and the
landscape. The air was fresh and still cool although she thought the afternoon
ride might be stifling in her velvet jacket and skirts. She let herself relax
and feel the rhythm of the horse’s gait that morning and felt oddly content.

Maximillian was a happy person, and she could see it was
infectious among others. When they’d arrived, he escorted her to the street of
shops she was interested in, and he was quickly surrounded by men asking
questions about water rights. Before she’d opened the door to the dressmaker’s
shop, she heard laughter and friendly chatter coming from his direction.

Mrs. McCabe took her measurements and helped her choose
lighter-weight fabrics that would be more comfortable in the summer months.
While not as sophisticated as Madame LaRoche’s Dressmaker and Milliner in
Boston, McCabe’s Apparel had up-to-date patterns and a well-informed staff.
Jolene chose fifteen garments from the ready-to-wear selection, including a few
blouses and skirts meant to be worn without her corsets. She ordered another
twenty-five to be made and found herself drawn to some of the newer fashion
sheets with lower neck lines and little or no sleeves. Of course, she chose new
shoes, many of which would have to be made in her size with fabric to match the
dresses. She also arranged to have someone come to the Hacienda to measure and
design light-weight clothing for Alice and perhaps for other staff as well.

Mrs. McCabe directed her to a seamstress who worked
exclusively in table coverings and drapery. It was heartening to see the
quality of the work and the variety of fabrics she was accustomed to as it
meant there were enough prosperous homes in Dallas and the area to require the
woman’s services.

Jolene lingered in a store that sold china and cutlery until
it was time to meet Maximillian. She was standing in front of the Windsor Hotel
and saw many women coming and going alone into the lobby and to other
storefronts nearby.

“How did the shopping go, Mrs. Shelby?” Maximillian said
from behind her.

Jolene turned. “Fine, thank you, Mr. Shelby.”

“Let’s have lunch before we make the ride home.”

The two were seated in the cool of the high-ceilinged dining
rooms and ordered.

“Well, did you find everything you needed?”

“Yes. I did, actually.”

“And up to your Boston standards?” he asked with a smile.

“It is not the same as Boston, but . . . well, it is not
wrong either.”

“Dallas folks will be mighty glad to hear that from the
belle of Boston.”

Jolene looked up at him. “Are you teasing me?”

He laughed. “Yes. Yes, I am, Mrs. Shelby.”

“Oh,” she said. She was uncertain how to proceed. Maximillian
was so, she wasn’t sure how to describe it, light-hearted, she imagined would
be a good description. “Are you ever serious?”

Maximillian shrugged. “When the topic is worthy of being
serious, yes, I am. But it is a beautiful day, and I am sharing a meal with a
particularly beautiful woman. What is there to be serious about?”

Jolene’s face reddened. She was sure of it, and she was sure
he noticed because he quickly picked up his roll and smeared butter on it.
She’d been told all her life that she was beautiful. Those blowsy compliments
meant to flatter and disarm a young woman, so insincere as to be comic. Jolene
knew she was attractive, even maybe beautiful, as she’d compared herself to
other women over the years. But this was different. Why?

“I’ve ordered quite a few items, some I would like to be
delivered today, and some that won’t be ready for a week or more, Maximillian,”
she said hoping to restore her equilibrium with a different subject. “How do I
go about getting them to the Hacienda?”

“You’ll have to make quite a few trips,” he said, “unless
you think you can carry it all in your lap on the ride home.”

Jolene blinked. “I . . . there is no way . . . I.”

He laughed again and leaned forward across the table and
picked up her hand in his. “I’m teasing you again, Jolene. We’ll stop and see
Jonas Shaw before we head home.”

“Oh.”

How disconcerting this was!
How uncomfortable he made
her with his laughter and teasing. It was if he expected her to be happy.

They stopped at Shaw’s before leaving town and arranged for
all of her deliveries. They walked or cantered their horses home, and Maximillian
pointed out native trees and milestones on the trail. Not fifteen minutes into
their ride, he announced they had crossed onto his property, hers as well, he
had said, and earned a sideways glance from her. The Hacienda property must be
massive, she thought. He pointed out oil wells she could see in the distance
and cattle grazing on massive ranges. The riders attending them, tipped their
hats to him, and most likely to her as well. She nodded and thought about the
difference between her father’s and Turner’s wealth that was all in banks and
investments. She could touch Maximillian’s fortune.

* * *

Jolene spent the rest of the week
meeting staff and making herself acquainted with all the workings of the
Hacienda. She’d never dealt with a kitchen that had to feed upwards of sixty
people three meals a day. One thing she knew for certain was that Maria needed
staff and a more organized way of managing them.

“May I come in?” Jolene asked Maximillian that Friday
evening.

He jumped up from behind his desk. “Of course,” he said. “What
can I do for you?”

Jolene seated herself and opened the ledger she held in her
hand. “I don’t know what budget you have set aside for staffing of the house,
but I believe more is needed.”

“Maria said she needed more help?”

“No,” Jolene said with a shake of her head. “
I
said
she needs more help.”

“I didn’t realize there was a problem. But if she needs
staff, then fine. I don’t understand why she didn’t say something to me,
though.”

“Because she does not want to fail in your eyes,
Maximillian. She will continue on working fourteen or even sixteen hours a day,
seven days a week, rather than admit to you that she needs help.”

“She’s working fourteen or sixteen hours a day? That’s
ridiculous!”

“Yes, it is, and she is unable to double check on other’s
work, such as the laundry and the maids because she starts in the kitchens at
four in the morning and does not go home until eight in the evening.”

“I had no idea,” he said. “That’s far too much work for
her.”

“She also needs help managing her staff. Setting the
expectations and then leaving them to succeed or fail. Instead, she does all
the work herself.”

“How did you figure this out?”

Jolene arched a brow. “I examined the ledgers she keeps, and
I watched the cleaning routines of the upstairs maids. It wasn’t that
difficult. I spoke to her earlier this week about bed linens that needed
repaired or mended. I went to the kitchens a few nights ago near midnight for
some milk when I couldn’t sleep and found her sewing away by the light of a
lamp.”

Maximillian wiped his face with his hand.

“If you don’t know what to look for, you wouldn’t know,
Maximillian,” she said. “I do know what to look for although it will take me
some time to get accustomed to the size of the food budget here. It is
extensive, even with a sizable kitchen garden and chickens. You still must buy
sugar, salt, pork, fruit, coffee, and large amounts of it all, as well as many
other items. Maria does a very good job with her inventories, but I am going to
help her in that area and would like to also hire an older, more responsible
person to manage the household staff outside of the kitchens.”

“Do whatever is necessary, Jolene, and if there is something
for me to do, just let me know. The house expenses have stayed relatively even
for years, but the ranch has expanded, meaning more mouths to feed and more
laundry and more work for the inside staff. I didn’t think about until now when
you pointed it out.”

“We will get things straightened out quickly, Maximillian.”

“The budget is yours to manage,” he said.

Chapter Eight

Jolene came down the staircase
shortly before seven when the McCastors were due to arrive. Her dress was a
blue color that made her hair look blonder than usual and matched her eyes. She
swept past Max into the dining rooms and had a quiet conversation with the
staff standing there. She came out to the foyer where he stood and fussed over
the massive crystal vase filled with cut flowers that now sat on the large
round table. Some of the flowers were four feet tall and he wondered how much
that had set him back. He had to admit, though, that the arrangement was a
finishing touch that he would have never thought of.

“Hey, Boss,” Zeb said as he joined them. “Mrs. Shelby.”

“Good evening, Mr. Moran,” she replied as she looked around
the rooms.

“No need to be nervous, Jolene,” Max said. “The McCastors
have been here many times. They’re friends.”

She looked at him strangely. “Nervous? I am not nervous in
the least.”

“I think what she’s saying is why should she be nervous over
a Dallas business owner,” Zeb said.

“No, Mr. Moran,” she said as she turned with some fire in her
eyes. “I could entertain Queen Victoria and would not be nervous. It matters
little who the guest is if one is prepared.”

“Here they come,” he said as he heard a carriage roll under
the portico. He walked to the doorway and stopped as Jolene slipped her arm
through his. He looked down where her bare arm with some silver bracelets
clinking together wrapped around his. She was slender without looking sickly,
her skin a pale pink. She motioned them forward.

He raised his hand in greeting. “Timothy. Emma Jean. How was
the ride out?” he asked as they were helped down from the closed carriage.

“Fine,” Timothy said and walked forward to shake his hand.
“Good to see you, Max.”

Emma Jean joined them, and she leaned up and kissed him on
both cheeks. “It’s been forever and a day, Max. Still handsome as always,” she
said and reached up to rub her lip rouge from his face.

Max turned to Jolene and was speechless momentarily. She was
looking up at him with a lovely smile as if he were the only man in the world.
“This . . .  this is my bride, Jolene.”

She turned her attention and charm to Timothy and Emma Jean
then. “Maximillian has told me so much about you! I’m glad to finally meet
you.” She held Timothy’s hand and then stepped between the men to hold both of
Emma Jean’s hands in hers. “I just know we’re going to be fast friends,” she
said as she slipped her arm through Emma Jean’s and turned them to the foyer.
“Please come in.”

Zeb was staring at him. Max clapped Timothy on the back.
“Let’s follow the women folk. They know where the food and the liquor is,” he
said with a laugh.

Jolene led them to a sitting area on one of the shaded side
porches where honeysuckle climbed thick on trellises, blooming and fragrant.
Candles were lit, and a cart was filled with decanters and glasses. The
furniture had been moved together so a settee and three chairs were gathered
around a low table. Jolene led Emma Jean to the settee and sat down with her.

“Maximillian? I would love a lemonade. I believe there is a
pitcher there on the cart. Would you like one, Emma Jean?”

Max poured the drinks and took them to the women. Jolene was
laughing softly at something Timothy had said. It was a throaty, sexy sound.
She looked up at him and pursed her lips in perfect little pout. So Jolene’s
intention was to show Timothy and Emma Jean that they were a love match. He
understood her reasoning. He’d wondered what people would think, knowing that
he and his wife had never met and that the only reason she agreed to marry him
was that her husband had left her next to nothing after his death.

Max handed Emma Jean her glass and put Jolene’s in her hands
and held them there. He bent down and kissed her softly on the lips and heard
her sharp intake of breath. He straightened and brushed his knuckles across her
cheek.

“Oh, the newlyweds,” Emma Jean said and reached for her
husband’s hand. “They are so sweet. You must tell us how you met.”

“Well,” Jolene said and touched a finger to her lips. “I’m a
widow and have known Maximillian’s sister, Eugenia, for years. She suggested we
correspond, and we did. And then Maximillian asked me to marry him. And I said
yes.”

“How romantic!” Emma Jean said.

Over dinner, Jolene steered the conversation to him and his
ambitions to run for the Senate. She had orchestrated the rooms, the meals, the
staff, and even their relationship. Timothy and Emma Jean were clearly charmed.

After brandy, Jolene offered to show Timothy and Emma Jean
to their room, and he and Zeb sat alone together at the table sipping the end
of their drinks.

“She is quite the actress,” Zeb said.

“She is at that.”

“Best be careful,” Zeb replied as he stood and left the
room.

A few minutes later, he turned when he heard someone come in.
Jolene walked up to him, and he couldn’t help but look her over from top to
toe. That kiss had lingered in his mind.

She stopped short and whispered. “Do not ever dare again to
make use of my person as you did tonight.”

He could see she was spitting mad. “Well, hell, Jolene,
you’re the one that started it, looking up at me and smiling and hanging on my
arm.”

“Slipping my arm through yours hardly compares to what you
did,” she said as she poured a glass of brandy. She turned to the door carrying
her drink.

“Jolene,” he said. She stopped but did not turn back. “You
were masterful tonight. The room, the flowers, the dinner, everything. You made
everything perfect.”

“That’s why you married me. That’s why I’m worth the money
you parted with.”

* * *

How dare he! How dare he kiss her,
and in front of guests when she could not respond! She could barely answer when
Emma Jean asked her how they met. She’d gone over the explanation in her mind,
but she was flustered as she spoke and wondered if the McCastors noticed.
Jolene took a long drag of the brandy and closed her eyes while it burned its
way down her throat. She thought back to Turner’s death and how she’d wished
she could start again and had begun to think that her new life here in Texas may
suit her, may actually be a soothing change that would allow her to calmly face
the years to come. But now she could see Maximilllian’s face coming closer to
hers and felt her breath quicken just as it had early in the evening. She would
not allow complications in her new life. She would not.

And Maximillian Shelby would be a complication. He had some
innate charm that made those in his circle hang on his every word. He was so
very comfortable with himself and had such an easy confidence in who he was,
with no pretention or regrets, it seemed. It had been natural to laugh with him
and smile back at him while they entertained the McCastors. For just a second
it felt like what she thought happy people must feel like. It had been a
charade for her, but what had he thought, she wondered.

There was a knock at her door, and she rose from the chaise
and pulled on her pink satin robe. She wondered why Alice hadn’t come through
the door in her dressing room to check on her one more time before she retired.

“Come in,” she said and picked up her brush from her vanity.
She wanted to think, and she didn’t want to make small talk or even acknowledge
that someone else was in the room. “You may go to bed, Alice,” she said as she
turned.

Maximillian Shelby stood in her doorway. She gasped. “What
are you doing in here?” she said as she cinched her satin robe. “What do you
want?”

But he just stood there staring at her. It was disconcerting
and strangely provocative. She was covered but felt as if she was naked in
front of him. She could feel the cool shimmery satin against her breasts. One
strap fell away from her shoulder under her robe, and she forced herself to let
it alone. He swallowed, cleared his throat, and walked within inches of her
until she had to look up at him.

“You are the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever set eyes on.”

With those words, Maximillian wrapped his hands around her
upper arms, touching the sides of her breasts as he did. Every bit of her being
was focused on the pressure of his fingers where he held her. 
She was
aware of herself
. Sensually aware that she was taking short breaths and
that her lips had parted and her eyelids had drooped. Her mind was screaming
that she should twist out of his grasp, but she made the ghastly error of
looking at his face, at his tanned skin with a shadow of a beard, dark brown
eyes and a well-defined mouth filled with even white teeth. He was breathing
hard, too, and she could smell the whiskey on his breath. He was magnificent.

Maximillian growled low in his chest, pulled her tight
against him and covered her mouth with his. He released her arms and slipped a
hand around the small of her back, while the other tangled in her unbound hair.
She could feel the outline of his sex against her stomach, and he angled his
head to deepen their kiss and touched his tongue to hers. Her arms hung at her
side until she slowly slid them up the cotton of his shirt, and her palms lay
flat against his upper arms, wide and thick and hard. She was completely and
utterly limp in his embrace and wondered briefly if she had the strength to
stand on her own, let alone resist his attention.

Maximillian broke the kiss and scanned her face up and down
as if seeing her for the first time. She touched trembling fingers to her lips
and stared up at him. What had he done? What had
she
done? She could
not, in good conscience, reprimand him again for touching her person. She had
touched him back and felt her breasts grow heavy and her nipples harden against
his chest. She had reacted to him sexually. Jolene took a step back, and her
legs hit her dressing table stool. She sat abruptly.

Maximillian knelt before her. “That was more than either of
us bargained for. I’m sorry if I’ve offended or frightened you. But I’m not
sorry I kissed you.” He picked her hand up from her lap, and she watched as he
did. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anything to compare to you standing there
in this frilly, girly gown, with your hair down and your cheeks pink.”

“I . . . I never meant for any of this to happen,” she
whispered. “I don’t want any complications to our arrangement.”

Maximillian tilted his head. “Arrangement?”

“Yes,” she said. “We have an arrangement. I do not want any
emotional attachment.”

He stared at her then, and Jolene felt as if he could see
into her soul. “After Melissa died, I had convinced myself that caring for
anyone else, like Maria and Pete or Zeb, or even Melinda, would just bring
pain. Eventually I realized that not caring didn’t stop me from loving. I had
to choose between being angry and cold or learn to take whatever joy and love
would come my way until I met up with Melissa again in the great beyond. I’ve
chosen to be happy. I know that Melissa would want me to. And I’m sure your
husband would want you to be happy again, too.”

The mention of Turner returned Jolene to her rightful self.
“My husband was weak-willed and was a coward in the end. He wouldn’t have cared
what I wanted, nor would I care what he thought.”

“Eugenia said he caught influenza and died very shortly
after. I hope I’m not a coward when I’m facing death,” he said.

“That is the story that I allowed to be told.”

“Allowed?” he asked. “What happened then?”

Jolene lowered her eyes. This story and her cold behavior,
yes, even she recognized it as cold and calculating behavior that night, may be
enough to keep him away from her. May eliminate this complication. “Turner did
not die of the influenza,” she said and looked up at him with resolution. “Turner
hanged himself in my chambers. He used the curtain roping from my drapes as a
noose and looped it over the chandelier. I had just gotten into our carriage to
attend an event when I realized I had the wrong gloves. I was furious with
Alice who had lain them out for me. I went back to my rooms and found her in
the hallway. I shouted my displeasure and berated her in front of other
servants. She opened the door to my room to get me the correct pair of gloves, and
I followed her. We both stood staring at him, hanging, and still twitching. I
believe he was alive at that one moment and may have seen us. He went slack,
and oddly neither of us screamed. Alice closed the door behind me and asked me
what we should do.”

Jolene watched Maximillian’s face as he digested what she’d
said. He was grim, but he squeezed her hand and nodded.

“What did you do?” he asked.

“Alice and I pulled my desk over to him, and we climbed up
on it with a pair of shears that Alice had found. We were able to hold him by
the arms while I cut the roping. But he was heavy, and we couldn’t climb down
and hold onto him. Eventually, we let him drop to the floor so we could get down
from the desktop,” Jolene said with her head turned away toward the night sky
through her windows, seeing the scene in her head as clearly as if it were
happening at that moment. “When he hit the floor, his head rolled under his
shoulder, making the most ghastly, unhuman sight I have ever beheld. Alice
gagged and had to look away. He was still warm, you see. We could see tears on
his cheeks. Alice recovered and helped me move him into his bedroom. We
undressed him and cleaned him up, which was horribly unpleasant. We put him in
a night shirt and dragged him into his bed. Straightening his neck to appear
natural on the pillow was my undoing. I could not touch him anymore. Alice
arranged him as best as she could.”

Jolene gagged, closed her eyes, and concentrated on settling
her stomach. She felt a handkerchief in her palm and looked up. Maximillian was
holding both of her hands loosely in his, and there were tears dripping down on
him. She dabbed her eyes with the hanky. “I have never cried about this. Never
once until now.”