Harlequin Historical February 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: The Major's Wife\To Tempt a Viking\Mistress Masquerade (10 page)

A smile lifted the corners of his mouth as his hands folded around hers, gently towing her out of the chair as he stepped back.

“Let's go inside,” he whispered.

A thrill shot through her veins and she nodded.

“I'll get the box. You get your new umbrella.”

The haze surrounding her thoughts dissipated enough for her to move and pick up the parasol from where it leaned against the porch railing. “Mr. Jenkins gave it to me.”

“I know,” Seth said, opening the door.

She was about to step inside when a wail like she'd never heard before echoed over the compound. Millie spun about, but couldn't see anything other than Seth, who was pushing her through the doorway.

“Stay here,” he said, and then pulled the door shut.

Millie stood there for a matter of seconds, before her heart leaped into her throat and she wrenched the door open. Once on the porch, she saw Seth running across the compound, and she gave chase.

Chapter Eight

M
illie hadn't gained any headway in catching up with Seth when someone grabbed her arm. She attempted to break loose, but the hold was too strong and brought her to an abrupt stop.

“It's not for you to become involved in, dear,” Ilene Ketchum said. “Come back to the house.”

Millie twisted, finding Seth among a swarm of men near the trading post. “What's happening?”

“I don't know for sure,” the woman said, forcing her to turn about. “But I believe it's a skirmish between two Indian boys.”

Twisting to keep her eyes on the crowd, her heart fluttering, Millie asked, “Was Wind one of them?”

“The men will take care of it.”

“But—”

“Su-Ma and Ku-Ma-Quai are here with your husband's lunch.” Ilene pointed out the two women standing on the porch. “That is what you need to be concerned about. As Major Parker's wife, taking care of him should always be your first thought.”

Millie stumbled, both physically and mentally, but caught herself and walked back to the house. She knew nothing about being a wife. Her gaze once again went to the crowd taking her husband, which included several Indian men.

Ilene pulled her across the threshold and shut the door. “Just put it in the kitchen, ladies. I'll help Mrs. Parker lay it out,” she instructed.

Once again Millie faltered. The maidens had set the table back at the cabin, and she'd never questioned it. Frowning, she followed the others into the house and kitchen.

“We won't need those.” Ilene gestured toward the tin plates Su-Ma set on the table. “That will be all now. Thank you.”

Millie thanked the maidens as they piled the plates back in one of their crates and took their leave. But her attention was on Ilene, who'd started lifting fine china dishes out of the cupboards.

“Here, take these,” she said. “I'll show you how to wrap the food so it stays warm until the major arrives.”

Taking the matching plates and serving dishes, Millie carried them to the table, listening as Ilene started to explain, “Now, in the winter, it's easier to keep food hot with a fire in the stove. During the summer months, I wrap the kettles with these miniature quilts. I made them myself and they work quite well. When the major arrives you just spoon everything into the serving bowls.” While wrapping the kettles the maidens had left, Ilene gestured across the room. “You'll find the napkins in the drawer over there. I embroidered them with blue
P
s when I heard you were coming. Seth wasn't sure what your favorite color was, but I knew his was blue.”

Millie found the napkins, beautiful cream-colored ones with a fancy
P
stitched in one corner. “Blue is my favorite color, too,” she whispered, more to herself than the other woman. The letters were the same deep blue as Seth's eyes. If she'd never had a favorite color before, she did now.

“You know, dear, being a major's wife—an army wife in general—isn't for everyone. It's hard work.” Ilene took the napkins and set them beside the plates.

Millie placed the silverware atop them, noting how nice the table looked compared to the tin plates and cups they'd used back at the cabin.

“I believe a proper wife knows how to make a home presentable wherever that home may be located.”

Pride had filled the woman's words and an invisible weight settled on Millie's shoulders.

“It is part of taking care of our husbands,” Ilene continued. “Another part of being married to a commander is never questioning his actions. If they want to talk about things, we need to be good listeners, but we should never ask about what they've seen or had to do.”

A hard knot formed in Millie's throat. “I don't know very much about being a wife.”

“Of course you don't, dear, living apart as you have the past five years. When Jasper and I were first married, we lived apart, too. It's the way it was back then, for army wives. A tragedy for sure. Your mother wasn't the only wife to succumb to the loneliness.”

A chill ran so deep Millie's entire body shivered. “You know about my mother?”

Ilene stepped closer, laid a tender hand on Millie's arm. “I knew your mother.”

“You did?”

The other woman nodded. “Not well, but I met her a couple of times. Jasper and your father were well acquainted.”

There were so many things swimming in her mind, Millie didn't know how to respond, and didn't have time to figure it out before the front door opened.

“That must be the major,” Ilene whispered. “I'll let myself out the back door.”

Maybe dreaming about kissing her all morning, or worrying about her while dealing with the incident with the children—even though he'd seen Ilene Ketchum take her back to the house—was the reason he was so anxious to see her. Either way, when Seth rounded the corner, saw her standing near the table set for lunch, his heartbeat sped up.

He'd been about to kiss her earlier, and the desire was just as strong now. But the atmosphere had changed. Releasing an inward sigh, knowing the moment was long gone, he wondered what to say, and finally stated, “The men didn't find any more snakes.” He held in the groan that tried to escape. Reminding her of the snake had not been a good choice of words.

“That's a relief,” she said, offering a wobbly smile. “Lunch is ready.”

“It smells good,” he answered, then pointed to the table. “This looks nice.”

“Thank you.” She carried a serving dish from the counter. “Mrs. Ketchum helped me.”

He waited until she had the food set on the table, and then held her chair before taking his own. After filling his plate from the assortment of bowls, he ate slowly, watching her pick at the food she'd served herself. “Aren't you hungry?”

She nodded and lifted her fork, but it was obviously a show. He opened his mouth. Wind was fine, but she should never have purchased so much candy for him. Seth took another bite of food instead of voicing his thoughts. This was all new to her. She didn't understand that trading a single item was fine, but multiple items needed to be distributed evenly. That was the tribe's way, but Wind hadn't wanted to share his jackpot. If anyone but her had caused the skirmish, Seth would have already reprimanded the instigator. Things were precarious right now, and even fighting children could be enough to set off some of the tribes.

When his plate was empty—an act of habit, since his mind was ticking away—he laid his fork down and refilled his coffee cup. “I have to go back to headquarters. Will probably be there until evening.”

She nodded, but was clearly deep in thought.

The silent treatment wasn't like her. Mealtime usually was full of her questions about everything from the meaning of Briggs's maidens' names to how many horses were in the stables. “Wind is fine,” Seth finally said.

Her head snapped up, but she bit her lips together as if afraid to speak.

“Please don't purchase any more candy for him without asking me first.”

She frowned. “I didn't charge it. I used my own money.”

“That's not the issue. Everything given to the Indians has to be distributed evenly. It causes trouble if it's not.”

She gave a slight nod, and after setting her cup on the table, lowered her hands to her lap and looked everywhere but at him. The air in the room seemed to take on a tension it hadn't before, not unlike how it did during deep negotiations with one of the tribal leaders.

“Did something else happen? Something I should know about?” Seth asked.

She barely blinked. Just sat as stiff and straight and stubborn as a mule, and her brown eyes had a dull glaze instead of their usual luster. He bristled. Rosemary was back. Leastwise, Millie was attempting to be her again.

“Nothing happened, and nothing is wrong,” she said, lifting her chin slightly.

The way she sat there, had ire inching up his back like a slow-growing vine, twisting and curling along the way. “I'd prefer you not lie to me.”

Her neck reddened as she drew an audible breath.

He knew how to handle soldiers, but this woman... He hadn't known what to do with her from the start. Then, as her eyes squinted and her lips pursed, life pitched him backward five years, except he wasn't sitting in her father's office.

Millie was good. Right now she caused an image of Rosemary to shoot across his mind like a bird flying past a window. Seth ran a hand through his hair. “Why are you here?” The back of his throat felt laced with shards of glass, suggesting he might not want to know her answer, yet he said, “The truth this time.”

She swallowed hard, then answered, “Because you want a divorce.”

He lifted a brow, waiting for more.

“And—and I'm not sure if I do.”

That split him in two. He took the route he knew best. “Why? So you can go on seeing other men?” He'd heard things over the years, but chose not to pay attention, for they hadn't bothered him. Then. Now they did. If men at the fort heard of Rosemary's activities, they might assume Millie, in her guise as Rosemary, would behave in the same way.

“I'm not...” She took several deep breaths before pushing the chair away from the table. “I believe I shall pack my things. Corporal Kemper's snoring can't be as—as ghastly as your manners.”

He was already on his feet, had been from the moment she'd spit out the word
pack
. Taking her arm, he willed self-control to keep his tone even. “No, you will not pack your bags. This is your house. This is my house. This is where we
both
will live.”

She tugged free of his grasp. “I find it impossible to remain here.”

He snatched both arms this time, with a hold she couldn't break, while frustration ate at his neck muscles. He should tell her he'd have a wagon ready in an hour to take her to Tulsa, but his tongue didn't want to create the words. He didn't want her to go, and that was a reality he couldn't quite accept. Nor was the idea of her living anywhere but at his side.

Her arms trembled and she closed her eyes. The glistening tear slipping out the corner of one eye melted his heart, or the armor around it, anyway. Without even knowing he'd declared it, she'd won their second battle, too. This time she hadn't even needed flowers and weeds.

He'd always been a sore loser. As evenly as possible, Seth demanded, “Why did you come here? Truthfully.”

She covered her mouth with one hand for a moment, before lowering it to say, “To have you sign the divorce papers.”

Tension burned his locked jaw. Releasing the muscles, he declared, “There was no need for that. I'd already signed them. All you had to do was sign on the line and return them to the lawyer in Richmond.”

Shaking her head, she lowered her hand to the base of her throat. “Not those ones. Another set was drawn up.”

“Why?”

She blinked several times. “B-because there are stipulations that needed to be addressed.”

Anger was mounting inside him, but the tears she fought so hard to hide kept it simmering below the surface, which was worse. “Like what?”

Sniffling, she wiped a finger under her nose before answering, “I—I need to ensure my future is set...financially.”

When she said certain things, he found himself questioning how sure he was that this was Millie and not Rosemary, and that had his stomach churning. “I don't want your money,” he snapped. “I told your father that the day we married.”

Panic flashed across her face, so quickly he wondered if he'd imagined it, because the next moment she callously replied, “Perhaps it's not my money I'm talking about.”

His blood turned colder than the Boston winters he clearly remembered. He'd never laid a hand on a woman, and wouldn't start now, but she could fear him. Should fear him. He wasn't going to be taken twice. Not by her sister and not by her. Tension ate at his neck muscles, left them burning, and he used the sensation to fill his gaze with loathing. “My family's wealth is none of your concern.” He'd made that perfectly clear before the wedding, as well. His seething mind told him to get rid of her now, but his damnable heart wouldn't let him.

There had to be a way to put a stop to her acting. For that's what this was again—the rational part of his brain had finally kicked in, and assured him that was so. It was just Millie trying to be Rosemary. His last attempt hadn't worked, not as he'd planned. Perhaps it was time to be himself. An army major.

“I won't stand for temper tantrums like your father did, and you'll do well to remember that.” Pointing around the room, Seth continued slowly, clearly, so there'd be no mistaking his order. “Until we can safely travel to Tulsa, to Washington, this is where you live, so don't think you can throw a fit and move into one of the cabins. I will not—
will not—
” he repeated for emphasis “—have men I lead into battle believing my wife and I can't get along. In private you can do whatever you want, but in public you will behave as a major's wife. Is that understood?”

She gave a slight nod, which gave him absolutely no satisfaction.

“Good,” he growled, spinning around. It wouldn't hurt for her to have one more thing to think about. “You also need to remember that only army personnel and wives of army men are allowed to live inside the barracks.” He stopped shy of saying “not sisters.”

Seth left then, grabbing his hat along the way and not caring how hard the door slammed behind him.

A coherent thought hadn't had time to enter his mind when someone said his name. Planting the hat on his head, and attempting to hide all that was going on inside him, he met the man at the end of the walkway. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

Paisley, with his eyes magnified behind thick glasses, held a piece of paper in his ink-stained fingers. “The lines are up. I sent the wire this morning and this reply just arrived.”