Harlequin Historical February 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: The Major's Wife\To Tempt a Viking\Mistress Masquerade (11 page)

Seth almost ripped the note out of the other man's hold. Unfolding it, he read the simple sentence. “NEITHER SISTER IS IN ATTENDANCE. STOP.”

An invisible pull had him turning, glancing over his shoulder to his house. Handing the note back to the man, he said, “Burn this and find out where they both are.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Paisley, no one knows about this except you and me. Make sure of that.”

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

Millie barely made it upstairs before sobs racked her so hard she could no longer move. Not only had her muscles melted, her bones had dissolved, and pain encrusted her entire being. Pulling up Rosemary had been her only defense, but the hurt in Seth's eyes, the disbelief and loathing, had dissolved all thoughts of her sister and now had tears pumping out of her eyes like water from an artesian well.

Sometime later a noise below had Millie scurrying into her bedroom. There, drained, she crawled onto the bed and curled into a ball against the pain.

Tears still blurred her vision, but her gaze went to where her trunks sat. The divorce decree was in one, the papers Rosemary had drawn up—ones that said Seth had to give her a small fortune. Papa's money was all gone, and her sister insisted they'd need the money to care for the baby. Ultimately, that was the reason Millie was here.

Rosemary wouldn't care that her demands were hurting Seth, but she did, and she couldn't do it. Couldn't hurt him. It left her feeling disgraced beyond all she'd ever experienced.

The noise below had long since ended—the maidens gathering the dishes, no doubt. Millie rolled onto her back. Seth had explained how some Indian names translated into English, whereas others didn't—not into anything comparable, anyway. To-She-Wi meant Silver Brooch. He'd said she'd given herself that name a few years ago when Briggs had given her a brooch. Su-Ma meant Number One, and Ku-Ma-Quai was Woman Who Eats Buffalo Meat. If Millie were a Comanche her name would mean One That Lies and Lies and Lies.

She hadn't lied about the divorce papers, but there was little solace to be found for one truth in a stack of deceit.

Pushing herself off the bed, Millie walked across the room, and looked out the window without really seeing anything, as she was too busy gazing inward. The thick, dreadful gloom inside her was massive, and grew when her eyes snagged on the other houses and buildings. Her deceit embraced so much.

Spinning around, she found the trunks lining the walls seemed to jeer at her, and the room threatened to close in, suffocating her. She had to get away from everything, everyone, at least for a few minutes.

Once she was downstairs, Seth's demand of how she appear in public had her repairing her hair and washing her face, while ghosts of their argument screamed at her from the kitchen, increasing her need to escape. Grabbing her sketchbook and pencil, she left the house and didn't stop walking until she'd exited the wide gates of the fort.

A short distance from the stone-and-wooden walls a cluster of tepees had a large number of people mingling around them. The sight of Indians no longer startled her; instead she found interest in their clothing and way of life. That was due to Seth. He held such respect when he spoke of them and their ways.

Moving closer, she found a rock to rest against, and sat down. The sound of a child crying reached her ears and she lifted her gaze, watched a woman pick up a toddler and cuddle it close.

The ache in her heart increased. Millie drew a breath, trying to control it, yet at the same time she couldn't pull her focus off the scene before her—how children need love and protection.

The child was soon consoled and waddled off again, but Millie continued watching the Indians, mainly the women and children.

Her mind played havoc on her emotions, recalling specific events that left her eyes burning with more unshed tears. She'd never met anyone who'd known her mother. Not even Lola had. Father had moved them to Richmond shortly afterward. He never spoke of what had happened.

Yet Ilene had said she'd known her. Millie shook her shoulders, repressing a quiver.

Your mother wasn't the only wife to succumb to the loneliness.

Loneliness? Millie understood loneliness, had for years. Truth was, the only time she hadn't felt it had been since arriving at the fort. Not once in the past few days, even while Seth had been out with troops or over at headquarters, had she been lonely. She'd missed him, but knew he'd be home soon, and people stopped in to see her continuously. Moments of the past few days, times of laughter and joy, flashed through her mind, and then came the poignant moment of the argument with Seth.

The air in her lungs grew stale, and she let it out slowly. If he told her to leave...

Millie pressed a hand to her aching forehead. Her mind was exhausted, couldn't comprehend that event right now.

Flipping open her tablet, she picked up the pencil to let whatever wanted to be drawn appear on the paper.

The first few pictures included Seth, but eventually her fingers copied what lay before her, the Indian village. Page after page, she drew images. Some of single people—a woman building a fire—and some of groups: three children chasing each other; young boys caring for a herd of horses grazing on the stiff brown grass; women dumping ingredients into large wooden bowls and then mixing everything together with their hands.

The sun was low in the sky when Millie felt her heartbeat speed up. Only one person did that to her. She closed her eyes when an elongated shadow fell over her paper.

He sat down next to her, and though Millie opened her eyes, she didn't glance his way, merely absorbed his nearness. Keeping her gaze on the paper, she continued drawing a scene of three women she assumed were tanning a deer hide.

As badly as she knew what had to be done, the energy it would take was currently beyond her. Perhaps if she ignored him he'd go away. A smile almost touched her lips at the absurdity of that. Seth was not a man who could be ignored, nor one who would leave a woman sitting in the middle of the prairie by herself, no matter who she was and how much he despised her.

She flinched and the pencil shot across the page.

“I didn't mean to disturb you,” he said.

“You didn't.” She set the pencil on top of the paper resting on her lap, and shifted slightly to make sure her skirt covered her ankles, just for something to do. “This one wasn't turning out like I wanted.”

“I think it's very good.”

Unable to accept praise of any kind right now, she frowned. Mrs. Ketchum had said a good wife didn't ask questions, but Millie was as far from being a good wife as could be.

Gesturing toward the tepees, she asked, “Why'd they set up their homes here? They weren't here yesterday.” She stopped shy of adding, “when you took me riding.” Reminding herself of that joy right now would spoil the memory, and someday she'd want it to be pure, so she could smile when it came to mind.

“Per-Cum-Ske wants to go to Washington with me,” Seth answered, plucking a blade of grass to twirl between his fingers.

She still hadn't looked his way, couldn't, but hearing his voice, and seeing his hands out the corner of her eye, had her heart thudding again. “Why?”

“To make sure the needs of his people are heard.”

“I thought that was why you're going.”

He tossed aside the grass. “It is, but others have gone before me, and things haven't improved. He has no reason to believe they will this time, either.”

The distress in Seth's voice had compassion swirling inside her. No matter what her issues were, they didn't change him. He was a good person who cared deeply about the Indians and his duties to oversee their welfare.

“Will you let him go?” she asked.

“I haven't decided yet.”

“Are you still planning on going soon?”

“Yes. Before the end of the month.”

Knowing she couldn't ask him to wait until December again, since she'd seen for herself how important the trip was, Millie searched for another topic. “Where do they get the poles for their tepees?”

“They bring them with them,” he said. “When they leave there won't be a single sign left behind that they've been here, except some trampled grass.”

“What are they made of, the walls of the tepees?”

“Hides they tan and sew together. Then they decorate them with die made from berries and such.”

“They're very resourceful people,” she said.

“Yes, they are. There was a time when the land gave them everything they needed.”

Millie nodded. Seth had explained the way things used to be for the Indians one night while eating supper. During the silence that settled between them now, she picked up the pencil and filled in the deer hide on the drawing.

The clothes of the women—one wearing a leather tunic-type shift, and two others wearing cotton dresses they'd cut off near their knees—had been filled in, as well, when he let out a sigh.

Unable not to, Millie glanced his way, and the sincerity in his eyes had her dropping her gaze instantly.

“I didn't come out here to talk about them,” he said.

Sorrow tightened the skin on her cheeks and a heaviness invaded her stomach, yet she nodded.

“I came to apologize to you. I'm sor—”

“Don't,” she insisted, swallowing the sob burning her throat. He held no fault in any of this, and she couldn't bear to hear him apologize. “Please don't say you're sorry.”

“I am. I shouldn't have—”

“Please, Seth.” The tears were back, pressing hard and making her blink. Taking a breath, she said, “I'm sorry, too, but that's not... I can't...” An explanation wouldn't come out. How could it when she didn't know what she was trying to say? What she could say.

“What do you want me to say?” he asked.

Millie thought for a moment, wondered what Rosemary would say, and if she had the wherewithal to pull her sister up right now. The uncertainty in Seth's voice—a man who was so full of confidence—was like a knife slicing her heart in two. Knowing her sister would never say what Millie was about to didn't stop her. Right now she had to be herself, and be honest with him.

“I don't know what I want,” she whispered.

He was quiet for a few minutes, and she tried to put her emotions back into the little imaginary box she'd enclosed them in earlier. Saving them for a day when she could cherish every moment.

“Can I put my arm around you?” he asked.

Her little box wasn't very strong, for it exploded as if hit by the force of a locomotive. Not trusting her voice, she nodded.

The arm that stretched over her back to cup her shoulder was not only familiar, its touch sent calming relief spreading through her system. It was so comforting that even her spirit felt soothed. Drawn to him, she leaned his way and tilted her head to rest it against his shoulder.

His jaw gently bumped her forehead, and a sweet blanket of solace covered her from top to bottom and inside out. She loved her body when it touched his. The sensations were unique and precious, and so utterly amazing. This was for her imaginary box, something she'd remember forever, and she closed her eyes, embedding the moment deep inside.

Not so long ago she'd wondered how a person knew when he or she had fallen in love. Well, now she knew. And the thread of pain flowing through these wonderful, life-changing feelings was enough to make her wish she didn't. Loving Seth altered everything. Inside her, that was. But it didn't alter the fact there was nothing she could do.

When she opened her eyes, the brilliance before her had her blinking. The sun had met the earth at the far-off horizon, and the way it splayed a rainbow of colors—reds, yellows, oranges, pinks, blues and purples—over the great flat land made it impossible to tell where the ground ended and the sky began. The irony of the scene made a heartrending smile tug on her lips. The sunset was exactly like the feelings overwhelming her. There was no way to tell where the love began or ended, nor the pain.

“Beautiful, isn't it?” Seth asked, knowing she was staring at the sunset. He'd never been in this state before, this gray area of being neither right nor wrong. It was not only frustrating, it left him lacking, searching for answers that wouldn't come.

“Yes, it is,” she whispered.

Even though he was holding her, he wanted more, and it wasn't just physical. This went deeper than that. He'd known that right after walking out of the house this afternoon. When it came to her, he didn't want to be an army major. He just wanted to be man. A plain and simple man.

Russ had came to headquarters an hour or so after lunch, said she'd walked out the gate. The corporal offered to go after her, but Seth said he'd go himself. He had, and for the past several hours he'd sat a short distance away, watching her.

A dozen scenarios had played in his mind during that time, but the one that stood out was that he had to face the truth. He could put himself in dangerous situations, lead a charge of men into a heated battle, and defy death head-on, because there was no one he had to worry about leaving behind. No widow or children to mourn him.

Somehow, in some unimaginable way, he'd fallen in love. The one thing he'd sworn never to do. With a woman who didn't exist. She was flesh and blood, but beyond that it all became a little hazy. The very fact that he felt the way he did proved she was Millie and not Rosemary, and that, too, only complicated things.

The fort was no place for her. She was too gentle for such harshness. But he couldn't come clean, either, tell her he knew who she was, because then he'd have to send her away. Army regulations stated she couldn't live here, not without being married. He'd pointed that out himself, which meant the sham had to continue.

Sitting there watching her, he'd thought of many things, including his mother. How she'd cried after his father had died, but only when she thought no one was near.