Undaunted Love (PART ONE): Banished Saga, Book 3 (27 page)

“There ain’t, you daft woman,” Mr. A.J. muttered but low enough she couldn’t hear him.

“What was that, A.J.?” She turned toward him with an arched eyebrow. “I’m glad to see you were agreeing with me.”

“And as for you, Mrs. McLeod.” She paused for a long moment, taking in my faded indigo shirtwaist and old shoes. “I had hoped by now you would be able to present a more genteel face to our customers. I’d think that husband of yours would want you out in public with a bit more style.”

“I’m perfectly comfortable as I am, Mrs. Bouchard. And Mr. McLeod has no concerns about my appearance.”

“Hmm. Considering he had to marry you in such haste, I imagine there is little he can do about it now.” She eyed me shrewdly. “I give thanks, daily if not hourly, for your mistake and thus allowing my dear daughter her chance with Mr. Wright.”

I paled at the thought of having married Cameron but tried to hide my reaction to one of Missoula’s biggest gossips. “I believe things turned out as they were meant to.”

“At least you acted with more discretion than that disgraceful woman who traveled with Mr. McLeod from Butte. I’ve never heard the like.” She paced around the bookshelves, picking up books from one table, tracing the binding of the book before dropping it on a different table with no concern for my attempt at sorting the books. She was in no apparent rush to depart.

“You got something pacific against the widow?” A.J. demanded.

I smiled as I realized he meant
specific
.

“Upstanding women of the community, trying to raise their children in good Christian homes, do not have single men leaving their homes late at night. It is not proper.”

“Improper my boot,” Mr. A.J. hissed, snapping his jaw as though clamping on a phantom pipe. “That lovely woman ain’t never showed you no sign of impropriety. And it don’t say much about the woman who goes around malingering another woman just trying to make her way in this world.” He banged his cane down a few times with his anger.

Mrs. Bouchard watched Mr. A.J. in confusion.

“I think you mean
maligning
, Mr. A.J.,” I said. “And I couldn’t agree more. Mrs. Egan is a good woman, and anyone who believes differently should hold their counsel.”

Mrs. Bouchard sniffed once in disgust. “Well, I had thought you both were better at discerning one’s character. Clearly I was mistaken.” She turned to look around the room. “As for your work, Mrs. McLeod, I hope you will have more success at organizing now that we have bookshelves. For we would hate to have to search for a new assistant.”

I gave her a stony nod while A.J. sighed.

“I bid you both good day.” She moved toward the stairs, and, a few moments later, I heard the slamming of the outer door.

“Mr. A.J.,” I whispered after her departure. “Is that what you were going to tell me?”

“I wanted to know if the young widow was soon to be a bride, was all. Seems that Mr. Carlin was seen leavin’ her place a few evenings ago.”

“I don’t see why that would cause such gossip.”

“There ain’t much that’s goin’ on in this town right now, especially as fall’s about to begin. When winter settles in and no one goes outside, there’ll be no chance for much gossip for months. And those two biddies always want to stir the pot.” He raised his eyebrows at me. “Asides, I hear tell he left with his hair all ruffled.”

“Mr. A.J.! He was playing marbles with Nicholas.”

“Well, it makes a man wonder if somethin’ more ’n that happened. The widow is lovely.” His eyes were teasing, although I sensed a warning in them too.

“I’ll talk with Amelia. I need to speak with her about helping me with a project.”

“What sort of project?”

“Although I hate to admit it, Mrs. Bouchard is correct. I need a few new dresses. I hope Amelia will help me.”

“Don’t you know how to pick out clothes yourself?”

I shrugged my shoulders as I moved toward one of the tables Mrs. Bouchard had rearranged. I picked out the books she had moved around and organized them again. “I always had someone to help me in Boston. I was never any good at discerning colors or patterns.”

“Not very domestic, are you, Missy?”

“Not at all, Mr. Pickens.” I began to place books in order on the shelves.

“Yer lucky that man of yours is so crazy ’bout you.”

“I know,” I said with a broad smile.

***

“AMELIA, I’M NOT AT ALL certain that is the type of fabric I should be considering,” I whispered as we glanced at various types of cloth in the Missoula Mercantile. I had already waved off an overly eager attendant, instead choosing to rely on Amelia’s expertise and keen eye for color. I moved toward the rear of the room where the cheaper fabrics were stored. “I think this is better,” I said, fingering a navy wool. We stood behind a large display, our presence hidden from anyone who entered the room. I looked around at bolt after bolt of cloth, overwhelmed and feeling defeated before even starting.

Amelia had taken a few hours to help me pick out cloth. Nicholas and Anne were with Gabriel and Ronan at the workshop while we searched for fashionable clothes for me.

“Gabriel told me that he wanted you to start wearing clothes that highlight your beauty. Similar to the beautiful gowns you wore in Boston.” Amelia grabbed the bolt of bombazine from my hand and placed it down with a thunk. “That color makes you look like an old woman.”

“Amelia, what’s going on with you and Sebastian?”

Amelia flushed before shaking her head. “Nothing, Rissa. He’s fond of the children, and I’m thankful for that.”

“Are you saying you only like him because he’s good to them?”

“Of course not. He’s a kind, generous, thoughtful man.” She glared at me as she stopped speaking.

“I’ve always wondered why the two of you aren’t married already,” I whispered, lest there were others listening in.

“Hush that talk,” Amelia whispered back. “I know the townsfolk think I’m fast for having him to dinner.” She shared a sardonic smile with me. “A second time without everyone else. I had intended to invite you and Gabe, but the day got away from me, and then he was at the door.”

“Amelia, I’m only teasing you. You know I’ll stand by you.”

“To have everyone whisper behind your back—people you’d once considered friends—it’s terrible. I don’t want to go through that again.”

“Then, although I am in no way agreeing with the sisters, I wouldn’t be seen with him alone again, Amelia. Not unless you want to acknowledge what you feel.”

Amelia nodded and glanced around, focusing on the fabric again. “Why are we in the back with the uglier fabric?”

She was about to push me toward the front of the room and the more expensive, lush fabrics when I heard voices and my name being spoken. I hushed Amelia, and we turned to listen.

“I tell you, Hettie, that girl should not be allowed to work further at the library.”

I stilled as I heard Mrs. Bouchard’s loud voice, although not as booming as usual. It appeared to be her attempt at a whisper. “She spends her time with shameless widows. And we now know her reputation was in tatters when she arrived from Boston. But did she have the decency to tell us?”

“Of course not.” I heard Mrs. Vaughan’s voice join that of her sister’s. “Women like her will never be forthcoming about their past indiscretions. It’s no wonder her husband thinks so little of her that he cares not she is dressed in virtual rags. He must have been sorely disappointed on their wedding night.”

I heard vicious giggling as I tried to take a deep breath and prevent fainting. I gripped the edge of a display, holding on so that I wouldn’t collapse to the floor.

“You know that she must have acted in a shameless manner for a man to lose control of himself. No honorable man would have acted in such a way without provocation. And we know that Mr. Wright is to be held with the utmost esteem.”

“Shameless hussy. Coming to our town with airs and graces form the East Coast when she should have taken up residence on Front Street,” Mrs. Vaughan said.

I heard Amelia gasp at the implication that I was no better than a prostitute. Her arm came around my waist as though to shore up my strength.

“We shall have to speak with A.J. about having her removed from the library staff. I would hate to think what our customers would do should they learn the truth.” Mrs. Bouchard continued to prattle, but her voice faded away as they moved toward another department, and I finally gave in and collapsed to the floor.

“Clarissa. Clarissa,” Amelia repeated urgently. “You must ignore what they said. They are mean-spirited, jealous women who wished they had such a good man as Gabriel. A man as attentive.”

“If that is what they’re saying, soon most of this town will believe it,” I whispered as I attempted to remain calm and to ward off any shaking.

“You have more people supporting you than you realize,” Amelia urged. She put her hand under my elbow and propelled me to my feet. “I think our shopping expedition can wait.”

“No. Gabriel wanted me to purchase cloth for a few new dresses, and it’s more important than ever that I buy them.” I glanced around realizing Amelia had been correct. The more inexpensive material was not what I needed. It had become imperative that I show a confident face to those who wished me ill, and, to do that, I needed to look the part.

“Help me find beautiful material?” I implored. I hastily swiped at an errant tear, stood tall, and moved toward the front of the room, in full view of all patrons and searched for material for five new dresses. I smiled wickedly, thinking that whether they liked it or not, the library and Mrs. Bouchard’s brethren were helping to pay for my new clothes due to their hiring Gabriel for the bookshelves.

***

“HOW WAS THE SHOPPING EXPEDITION?” Gabriel asked. He sat in a rocking chair in the workshop, little Anne curled asleep on his chest. He stroked a hand down her back every few moments as she sighed in her slumber. Ronan was with Nicholas, who was hammering away at a pair of shoes.

“Enlightening,” Amelia said. She raised an eyebrow to see Anne asleep in Gabriel’s arms even though Nicholas was making so much noise.

Gabriel watched me. “Clarissa?”

“I’ve ordered material for five new dresses. They should be done soon.”

“Good,” Gabriel said, then he winked at me as he handed little Anne to Amelia. “We’ll see you tomorrow night for dinner, Amelia. I’m looking forward to one of your home-cooked meals.”

I elbowed him in his side but nodded my agreement. Ronan chuckled as Nicholas gave him a quick hug. “See you tomorrow, Uncle Ronan!” He bounced down from his seat and raced toward Amelia and the door.

When Amelia and the children had departed, I spun to face Gabriel. “Will you come upstairs with me? I need to talk with you about something.”

All amusement fled his expression, and he nodded. “Of course. Ro, can you watch the shop?”

Ronan nodded his agreement. He studied us as we ascended the stairs before he bent over his bench and began to work again on a pair of shoes.

We entered our living space, and Gabriel shut the door to give us privacy. “What is it, darling? The bloom’s gone out of you again.”

I flung myself into his arms and held him to me. “I ran into the sisters today.”

Gabriel stiffened as he leaned me away. His hands came up to cradle my face in his palms. “What did they say, Rissa?”

“That you were ashamed of me because I’m so poorly dressed. That I should have waited a few more days, and I’d have had the good fortune of marrying Cameron.” I hated how my voice broke on Cameron’s name.

“Vicious harpies,” Gabriel hissed. He pulled me into his arms again, and I pressed my face into his chest.

“I wanted you to know … to know what others might say,” I whispered. “They said …”

“No one who considers me friend would ever believe their lies over our visible happiness.” He leaned forward and kissed me, the gentle kiss soon giving way to a passionate embrace.

“Gabriel, they said …” I lost my thought as he kissed me again.

“Their words are meaningless.” He backed me toward our sleeping area, and I gripped his arm as I tripped on my skirts.

“Gabriel! It’s the middle of the day. What would Ronan think?” I whispered.

“That we’re showing some sense finally,” he murmured as he nuzzled behind my ear. His hands were already busy at work unbuttoning and unfastening my gown. Soon it pooled at my waist. He pushed it down, and I stumbled on it as I continued walking backward.

He continued to kiss me as his nimble hands worked on the ties to my corset. “Dammit,” he muttered. “I think I got it tangled.” By this point I was standing next to the bed. He turned me so my back was to him, and he worked on the knot in my laces, all the while placing small butterfly kisses to my nape and back. After a few moments, my corset landed by the side of the bed.

I turned to face him and sat on the bed. I reached for him, tracing his face, the subtle black stubble on his cheeks, his dark eyebrows. “How I love you, darling,” I whispered as I leaned up to kiss him. He moved to stand between my spread legs, kissing me all the while.

I giggled as he tried to kiss me, unpin my hair with one hand and unfasten his trousers with the other. I brushed aside his hand, unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his pants. He moved from me to shuck his pants, and then he was lifting me, pulling my undergarments from me.