Patricia Rice (45 page)

"Skunks can't change their stripes, Josie. If you won't listen to me, then don't ask me. See for thyself."

"I shall. I think I should find it very interesting being called Lady Josephine." Josie started to leave the room until Dora called after her.

"You would be Lady Doran. Unless you have your own title, you must take your husband's."

It was a warning of sorts, but Josie chose not to hear it. Dora shook her head as Josie swept out. A man like Gareth would consider a woman nothing but a playtoy to treat as he wished. The nursery had been littered with Gareth's broken toys.

* * *

Dora twirled in front of the pier glass in Harriet's room as her mother-in-law looked on with satisfaction. Josie's refitted skirts swirled in soft blue waves around her legs, billowing with the flounced crinoline beneath it. The fitted bodice had scallops of blue silk at the daring low neckline, and Dora couldn't make herself look closely there. The tops of her breasts felt horribly exposed, but both Josie and Harriet had assured her that the décolletage was extremely modest. The sheered puff sleeves made her feel half naked, but those too were acceptable for evening. Still, Dora felt as if she understood why Quakers favored Plain Dress. She had never before thought of herself as an object of adornment.

But she did this for good cause. She must make Pace see her as his wife. If she must dress like Josie to accomplish that, then so be it. He wanted a woman he could set on a pedestal and cherish, so she would be that woman. If he needed a wanton in his bed, she could be that, too, and a lot more willingly than sitting on a pedestal. She blushed as she admitted that to herself. The woman in the mirror blushed with her.

" 'Tis a pity you haven't any hair," Harriet complained. "I used to have such marvelous long hair. All the men admired it. At least you've got curls," she added generously.

Dora looked at the tousled mop of her hair with despair. She knew nothing about fixing hair. Hers wasn't long enough to pull into a neat chignon. She'd let it grow out lately, but it still just made a riotous cascade that barely touched her shoulders, and the sides were too short even for that. She'd wrapped a blue ribbon around her head to at least hold some of the waves out of her face since she didn't wear her cap, but she didn't think that she had accomplished much. The woman in the mirror didn't look very polished or sophisticated. She just looked young and very exposed.

"You look quite lovely, Dora," Harriet assured her, then ruined it by adding, "you ought to have a little more color."

Dora pinched her cheeks and bit her lips as Josie had shown her how to do. That made her a little pinker. She just thought it would look a trifle odd if she spent the evening biting and pinching herself. She turned to admire the huge satin sash at her back. That was a touch she could appreciate.

"I'm afraid this is the best I can do. Dost... Do you think Pace will like it?"

"He'd not be a man if he didn't." Harriet listened to the sound of feet on the stairs. "He's coming up to change. Hurry, and you can slip downstairs after he goes in your room."

Dora leaned over and gave her sleeping daughter a kiss, gave Harriet a hurried hug, and left Amy playing happily with a doll. As the sound of boots disappeared into the bedroom, she dashed into the hall and down the stairs. If nothing else, she would shock or surprise Pace into noticing her.

She checked the dining room to make certain all the best china and silver were set out, then hurriedly gave Annie and Ernestine last minute instructions. She'd promised them each a dress from Josie's discards for cooking and serving this special meal. The outrageous bribe so tickled the two women that they'd outdone themselves. It would be worth every bolt of cloth.

Dora rushed back to the dining room to light the candles, then arrayed herself on the sofa in the parlor, not a moment too soon. She heard Pace pounding down the stairs as she settled in. He would have a good appetite after a day in the fields. She'd sent out a cold dinner since they worked too far from the house to come home. He'd be ready for a big meal tonight. She tried not to laugh when she heard him hurrying for the dining room where she usually set out the meal for him. Tonight, she played the part of lady.

His gait as he returned down the hall was considerably slower than when he'd hurried to the dining room. Since he hadn't found her in either of the places he expected, he was no doubt puzzled. Good. She meant to keep him guessing.

Dora looked up from her embroidery as he stopped in the doorway. She had pressed Pace's coat and waistcoat and left them hanging out so he'd wear them. He hadn't bothered buttoning them, but she didn't mind. He looked splendid just the way he was, with his white linen starched and brilliant against the darkness of his face, and the soft gray coat clinging to the breadth of his shoulders. He gazed at her from beneath a hank of hair falling across his brow. Her gaze dropped to where his green silk waistcoat fell open, revealing the flat tautness of his stomach. She saw nothing of Charlie or Gareth's softness in Pace. He was all hard muscle and sinew. She quivered in anticipation.

He didn't say a word but stared at her with astonishment. She managed a tremulous smile. "Did you have a good day?"

Pace's hand went surreptitiously to the buttons of his waistcoat. He had one or two fastened by the time he recovered himself enough to enter the room. Dora could feel the heat rise in her skin as his gaze lingered on her shoulders and a little lower. She remembered how he'd touched her there last night, through her cotton gown. It had been dark then. It wasn't now. The lamplight surrounded her.

"I can't remember," he answered dryly. "Do you mind telling me what you think you're doing? Are we expecting company?"

He knew they weren't. She had set only two places at the table. Dora gazed at him through lowered lashes as she'd seen the other ladies do. "Just us. Josie is at her father's tonight. Would you like something to drink? Annie will call us when supper is ready."

He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and rocked back on his heels. "By all means, let's have a drink. What will you fix for me, my lady?"

Since he was perfectly aware she knew nothing about alcohol, he had a right to his sarcasm, Dora supposed. But she knew a decanter sat on the table with glasses beside it. She merely rose and poured half a glass for him. He could tell her what the liquor was easier than the other way around.

He continued eying her skeptically as she settled on the sofa again. "Annie is fixing supper?"

"Annie and Ernestine," she replied serenely, although her insides shivered as he continued staring at her. "I've asked them to fry ham and fix sweet potatoes since you had a cold dinner today."

"I see." He continued rocking back and forth on his heels as he sipped his drink and watched her with a cautious eye. "You're going to make me ask, aren't you?"

She glanced up at him with surprise, then read his expression and smiled. "I am wearing a pretty gown and smiling. Isn't that what thee wished?"

"What I wish?" His gaze raked over the cerulean blue of her skirts and back to the tempting expanse of flesh above. "What I wish has absolutely nothing to do with pretty gowns. As a matter of fact, that gown is a hindrance to my deepest desires. But I won't ask you to take if off just yet. I think I'll need that ham first."

Oh, Lord, she remembered that look too well. Dora could almost smell the heated earth and fresh cut hay. She didn't think she could eat a bite of anything or even notice what was set before her. She didn't have time to worry about that. Annie called them for dinner.

Pace offered his arm and Dora took it as she had seen the other ladies do. His arm was strong and hard beneath the deceptive pliancy of his coat. When he led her to her seat, his fingers brushed her bare shoulders He'd shaved with that exotic-scented soap he'd told her smelled like sandalwood from Australia, and she didn't want him to move away. The knowledge that it would be hours before she could feed Frances again and retire to their bedroom gnawed at her. How could she do to him what he was already doing to her?

She realized he did it deliberately after she put her buttery biscuit down, and Pace took her hand before she could use the napkin. He took each finger into his mouth separately, sucking on them, then tracing the path of her palm with his lips before using his own napkin to clean what remained of the butter from her fingers. She didn't think she would ever use that hand again.

Dora stared mutely at Pace, at the way the candlelight gleamed in the auburn streaks of his hair, the sensual tilt of his lips as he smiled at her, the glitter of his eyes that told her he knew what she was doing but he was better at it. She didn't need to seduce him. He wanted what she did, at least in the physical sense. Whether his stubbornness would allow either of them to have it was another matter entirely.

"Who's taking care of Amy and Frances?" he asked as she sipped at her water.

"Your mother is. She's promised to put Amy to bed, but Frances will be hungry again before she'll sleep through the night."

"You've planned this very well, my lady. Will you tell me your motive before or after we go to bed?"

Dora blushed and stared down at her dinner plate. "Must I have a motive? Thou didst state what thou wished in a wife."

"Does that mean I'll come home to fried ham and candlelight and bare shoulders every evening?"

She hadn't planned that far ahead, but she wouldn't let him see that. "If that is what thou wishest." She frowned slightly. "Though I think thou might grow a little tired of ham."

He chuckled. "Give me the candlelight and bare shoulders and I won't know what the hell I'm eating. You wasted whatever it cost to have them fix this meal."

She breathed a little easier. He wasn't angry. She gave him a sideways glance. He seemed to enjoy the food, but he was spending a lot of time looking at her and not at his plate. She squirmed a little in her chair. She liked knowing he paid attention to her.

"I will try that some night when we have beans," she answered.

They bantered through dessert. When Ernestine removed the last of the plates, Pace rose and held out his hand for Dora. "Shall we retire to the parlor for our coffee and brandy?"

She wasn't used to this idleness, but it was all for a good cause. She could make him see that she would be a good wife for him. She didn't know how she could prove that she wasn't a burden, but that would wait until another day. First, she would get herself settled firmly into his bed until no question remained of his leaving her or sending her away.

Pace sat beside her on the loveseat as Annie carried in the coffee tray. Dora had just started pouring the coffee when the knock came at the door. Worriedly, she set the pot down and watched as Annie answered it. Visitors at this time of night could not carry good news.

"The sheriff to see you, sir," Annie said politely from the doorway.

Dora's heart froze, and she stood up when Pace did. He had stayed home last night. He had stayed home every night since Frances was born. The sheriff couldn't want him for anything. Perhaps the sheriff needed Pace's help with something.

Annie showed him in and departed quietly. She no doubt listened from the dining room, but Dora didn't shut the parlor door. They had nothing to hide.

The sheriff didn't stand much taller than Pace, but he was built more on the design of a barrel compared to Pace's muscular grace. He took off his soiled derby and revealed his receding blond hair. His eyes widened at sight of Dora in her new elegance, but he merely nodded in her direction, then turned to Pace. "You might want to talk private, boy."

Dora felt the tension knotting Pace's muscles as he kept his fist clenched at his side. "I don't keep secrets from my wife, Sheriff," he informed the other man coldly.

"Reckon there ain't any way to keep this a secret anyhow. I just came out to give you fair warning. Joe Mitchell went over to the courthouse today. He said he's got evidence that your deed to this place is fraudulent. He's filing a claim and wants me to serve you with an eviction notice as soon as it's authorized. Knowing Joe, that won't be long."

Dora drew in a shocked gasp. It was the only sound made in the dead silence following the sheriff's words.

Chapter 35

Doubt of the reality of love ends by making us doubt everything.

~ Henri Frederic Amiel,
Journal.
December 26, 1868

Pace checked on Amy while Dora fed Frances. Dora could hear him in his mother's room, talking as if the whole world hadn't just exploded in their faces. He couldn't get any further information out of the sheriff, but Dora knew what was happening. She had lied, and now Pace must pay for it.

She would suffer more for knowing how much her family and friends would lose for her lies, but it was unfair of God to punish them for her sin. It had just been a small lie. The words of marriage had not yet been said in church or Meeting, but she'd known them in her heart. She'd known them that day she had given herself to Pace. Had she been wiser, she would have known them sooner than that. She had always belonged to Pace. But now she would lose him through her sins.