Nellie (The Brides of San Francisco Book 1) (9 page)

“Don’t ever let me drink wine again.”

He laughed. “I tried to keep you from drinking so much last night. You were unstoppable.”

Somehow realizing through the pain that she should cover up, she pulled the sheet around her and tucked it under her arms.

“Please don’t cover up on my account. I love looking at your feminine charms.”

The light was too bright and made her head ache more. “They are called breasts and they are to feed babies. Can’t you close the drapes? It’s much too light in here.”

“And they please the man who’s hungry for you.” He got out of bed, walked to the window and then closed the drapery.

Even in her pain-filled haze she felt her cheeks heat. She didn’t think anything would embarrass her this morning but he’d managed to do it. Him and his magnificent body. Sometimes she wanted him so much, she almost forgot the fear.

“Must you say those things?”

“I only speak the truth, Nellie.”

His eyes turned dark gray with what she knew was desire. She recognized the look as the same one that Robert had when he’d wanted to have sex.

“I do hunger for you.”

She searched her foggy memory. “You didn’t take advantage of me last night, did you?

“No,” he shook his head and leaned against the door jamb leading to his rooms. “I didn’t. But how did you know?”

“I don’t feel abused.”

“Why would I abuse you? No pain should happen in lovemaking.”

Unable to meet his gaze, she shrugged. “There is always pain, at least there was with Robert. He liked to cause me pain.”

“No.” He nearly shouted it and came over to her. Then quietly he said, “I will never, cause you pain. I will only give you pleasure. I promise you this and I never break my promises.”

“Are you telling me my husband was…was…” Swallowing hard, she couldn’t say it. She couldn’t even think it. That all lovemaking was not like Robert performed boggled her mind.

“Was a sick bastard. It’s one thing to give you pain when you enjoy it but quite unacceptable to give you anything but pleasure otherwise.”

“Pleasure.” She laughed a bitter laugh. “You make it sound so easy. If that’s true why would Robert, who purported to love me, not give me that pleasure?”

“I told you. There was something wrong with him. Did you love him?”

Rubbing a hand across her aching forehead, she hesitated.
Did she? Had she ever or was her relationship one of convenience?

“I think now I was used to Robert. He and I were betrothed when we were children. When my parents were still wealthy. When I was seventeen, a year after we married, my parents lost most of their money in some bad investments. They later died in a boating accident. Some people, my in-laws, said Father arranged an explosion that killed himself and my mother, because he could no longer face what he’d done when he lost their money on a shipping investment. You see, the ships all sank in a hurricane taking all hands, as well as the silks and spices with them”

She dropped the sheet and slipped quickly into her robe hanging from the bedpost at the foot of the bed, then sat at her vanity table.

“Robert’s parents never forgave them, or me, because their son could have married better. Did I love him?” She dropped her hands into her lap. “No. Never.”

“I’m glad.”

“Why? What does it matter? He’s dead now. Will you hand me my brush please.”

She shoved the long mass that was her hair, in front of her shoulder and brushed it. Blake had put her to bed, but hadn’t braided her hair and it was in tangles.

“It matters.” He came behind her and caressed her head with his fingers, “because I would have a much harder time replacing someone that you loved. You would now probably have him into sainthood. That’s very hard to overcome, from my point of view.”

“He definitely wasn’t a saint. Mmm, that feels so good.” Waves of relaxation and pleasure spread from her head to her toes. It was amazing how the touch by one person could be so pleasing.

“There are lots of ways to please each other while still not making love. Would you like to try some? I’d only do what you like. You are always in control. I’ll stop whenever you say.”

“You can stop whenever I say to?” His words cajoled and seduced her, making her pulse pound, even as the pain in her head subsided. “Robert told me that once he started he couldn’t stop” Flashes of embarrassment moved through her memory. “I tried to escape him one night, but that was impossible. The last night he was home, I must have conceived Violet. That was the nicest he’d ever been to me while making love. He didn’t choke me or anything.”

She couldn’t see Blake’s face but she would have bet that he was frowning. His hands, massaging her head, exerted great pressure on her head. So much so, she cried out.

“Blake, you’re hurting me.”

He stopped immediately.

“I’m sorry, Nellie. I’m just so angry at your husband. If I saw him right now, I’m afraid I’d kill the man.”

For some horrifying reason, she realized she was very pleased by his reaction to her abuse by Robert.

He took her hair and started pulling his fingers through it. “I wondered what it would feel like. It’s silk. Thick…and soft.” His voice was soft, almost hypnotic.

“I…um…thank you.” She was loathe to say anything to interfere with the moment. “Blake,” she whispered, her voice heavy, deep with an emotion she didn’t really understand. “We’ve got to dress. The children.”

Her words were as if she’d dumped icy water over him.

He dropped her hair. “Yes, of course. I’ll see you all at breakfast.” He left then.

With a sigh, she wondered what might have been.

*****

The night of the dinner party arrived. Cook, James, and the rest of the staff outdid themselves.

Nellie dressed with extra care in her new black evening gown. The design was the latest style, sleeveless and slightly off the shoulder. The bodice was the most daring she’d ever worn. She kept pulling it up, but her cleavage was still on display.

She checked herself in the full-length cheval mirror in her bedroom.

“Beautiful,” Blake’s deep baritone sounded behind her.

She jumped, her heart pounded. “Blake. You startled me.”

“I knocked but you were concentrating so hard on tugging up your neckline, you didn’t hear me.”

She nodded. “Don’t you think it’s a bit low?”

“Not compared to what I’m used to. It’s a very attractive dress, and you’ll be the envy of all the other wives. Here,” he handed her a long, skinny jewelry box. “I think they’ll look spectacular with that frock.”

She opened the case and saw one large emerald pendant, the size of a robin’s egg on a delicate gold chain and two matching ear bobs.

“Oh, Blake, they’re lovely, but I can’t accept such an extravagant gift.”

“Of course, you can. You’re my wife and if I want to buy you nice jewelry, I will. Besides you can pass them down to Violet when she’s old enough.”

She fingered the magnificent stone.

“Help me put it on, please.” She handed him the necklace, then turned her back. There was no need to lift her hair. She’d styled it in a chignon at the back of her head.

The stone hung about two inches above her décolletage. She fastened on the ear bobs then turned to Blake.

“What do you think?”

“You’re beautiful. Your eyes are the same deep shade as the emeralds.”

Blake put his hands on her upper arms, fire burned where he touched. Then he leaned down and kissed her. The kiss was gentle at first, then deeper and more carnal. By the time he ended the kiss and leaned back, his arms were around her waist and her arms were wrapped around his neck.

“Oh, my.” Heart pounding, she unwrapped her arms and touched her lips, no doubt swollen from such a spectacular mingling. “Oh, my.”

He laughed. “Indeed.” He held his arm out for her, and together, they went down stairs to greet their guests.

Cook had prepared a delightful menu for the evening consisting of turtle soup, salad of fresh greens from their garden, followed by roasted suckling pig and a chocolate torte for dessert. Conversation was lively, and consisted mostly of talk of the transcontinental railroad. Several of the men had invested in the Central Pacific Railroad and now speculated on its ability to beat the Union Pacific across the country. Still others were concerned with the shipping business and how the railroad would affect it.

After dinner, the gentlemen retired to the library for brandy and cigars. Nellie took the ladies to the parlor for tea. They were having a lively conversation about Nellie’s dress and Paris fashion in general. Nellie was about to ask the women to talk to their husbands about the family emporium Blake wanted to build, when James entered.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, madam, but Miss Singer has arrived and insists on seeing you.”

Before Nellie could respond Maddie Singer sashayed past James and into the room.

“You don’t need to announce me, James.” She hiccupped and swayed on her feet. “The missus and I are old friends.”

“We are nothing of the kind. What do you want, Miss Singer?” Nellie stood, and held herself as straight as she could manage with anger and embarrassment warring inside. “What can I help you with this time?”

“Call me Maddie. Everybody does.”

“Very well, Maddie, what do you want?”

“I want you to leave Blake alone. He’s mine. You hear me? I changed my work schedule with Trixie. He doesn’t know yet, but I’m working with him on Monday.”

Maddie swayed again, but caught herself before she fell.

James reached toward her, but stood back the moment she straightened.

“James, get Mr. Malone, please,” said Nellie, approaching the inebriated woman with caution. “You’ve imbibed too much alcohol, Maddie. How did you get here?”

“I came in a cab. Why?” She glared at her and Nellie knew there was trouble brewing.

Nellie took her firmly by the elbow and steered her back out of the room into the hallway.

“Did the cab wait for you, Maddie?”

“Hell, no.” She struggled to her free arm. “I ain’t going back to The Nugget wifout Blake.”

“Nellie,” said Blake from behind her. “Let me deal with her.”

She looked up at her husband and saw his beautiful gray eyes, now storm-filled and angry.

“Be gentle with her, Blake. She’s drunk and doesn’t really know what she’s doing.”

He gave her a curt nod and then said to James, “Get Otis and have him bring the carriage around to the front. Quickly, man, before she causes any more damage.”

Nellie turned to the ladies who had followed her into the hallway and were now whispering behind their hands. She had to control the situation for Blake’s sake.

“Come, ladies, let’s return to the salon. There’s nothing more to see out here.” She shooed the women back into the parlor like they were so many little chicks and she was putting them into the hen house.

“Dat’s right, ladies, nothin’ to see here,” shouted Maddie from the entry way.

Nellie shut the door behind her once all the women were back inside.

“I apologize for that disruptive episode. What were we discussing? Oh yes, Paris fashions.”

“Forget that,” said Mrs. Adams as she leaned forward. She was a blond woman who was as thin as her husband was fat. “Who was that woman?”

Nellie sighed. She wouldn’t get by without explaining. “She works for my husband at his establishment, The Nugget. I’m afraid she’s imbibed too much drink.”

“What does she want with your husband?” asked Mrs. Walpole, a buxom redhead, about ten years older than Nellie. Her husband was much older, but still spry as far as Nellie could tell.

“I haven’t any idea,” Nellie said the bald-faced lie without batting an eyelash.

Of course, she knew what Maddie wanted. She wanted Blake, and Nellie was afraid she might have him if Nellie didn’t decide to trust him, and soon.
What man wants a cold fish for a wife?

Before very long, the men came in to collect their wives. The evening was over. Maddie Singer had seen to that. That was unfortunate, because until that point the dinner and resulting conversations had gone very well.

After the door closed for the final time, Nellie went upstairs and prepared for bed. She removed the beautiful pendant and ear bobs, returning them to the silk lined box they came in. She was sitting in her robe at her dressing table when Blake came through the door from the hall.

“I’m sorry Nellie,” he said as he ran a hand through his hair..

“For what? You can’t control what she does. She’s responsible for this debacle, not you.” She started to braid her waist length hair. “I understand that.”

“I should have fired her before. I’ll do it tomorrow.”

“She should be there for your shift. She told me in no uncertain terms that she had changed her work hours to coincide with yours.”

“What?” His eyes widened and he started pacing. “When did she do that? I work with Trixie. I promised you that, and I don’t break my promises. Not to you, Nellie.
Never
to you.”