Wildfire in His Arms (43 page)

“I'm not here for a board meeting, I'm here to set up an account for Mrs. Dawson. Attend to it for me.”

“Certainly, sir.”

“And quickly.”

“I understand.”

Max pulled Degan back as the manager escorted Ella into his office. “You
own
this bank?”

“It's one of several my family founded, yes.”

“You couldn't warn me?”

“Why? Would you have picked another? This one is solid. And despite the apparent lack of leadership recently, the board members have a vested interest in keeping it that way.”

It sounded to Max as if Degan had been needed here, though he didn't appear surprised to find that out. Allison Montgomery must have told him something about his family that he hadn't shared with her. And now Max was more curious and interested in meeting his family than ever. But she ended up spending the rest of the day at the elegant shop of a French seamstress who had a small army of assistants.

Degan left her there with her grandmother, telling her, “Follow their advice. They know exactly what is needed.”

Needed by whom? Certainly not by her. This was a frivolous waste of money as far as Max was concerned. But Ella was having fun, and although Max wouldn't admit it, she was, too, after a while. They were even served lunch! A cart was rolled in from a restaurant across the street, and the waiter actually remained to serve them. She had so many choices to make, though she didn't realize it could have been much worse if she had been taken to the stockroom. Instead, swatches of material were brought out to her, only a few per dress. But an argument ensued when the seamstress suggested that velvet only be used as a trim. Max fell in love with that material and wanted all of her new clothes to be made of it.

The seamstress flatly refused. “It is for winter, madam. Return in the fall and we will show you all of the velvets.”

“What if I'm not here in the fall?” The seamstress didn't have an answer to that, so Max added, “Just make me one velvet dress or I'm leaving.”

She won the argument, but Ella tsked at her as soon as the woman left the room. “She's right, you know. You will swelter in a velvet day dress in this weather.”

“I was wearing doeskin and leather in this weather just a few weeks ago, Gran. Anything is cooler than that. But why did she concede to use it for nightwear? I don't want to sleep in it.”

“An evening gown isn't for bed. Relax, baby girl. City folk are accustomed to wearing clothes for each part of the day, morning gowns, day gowns, walking gowns, evening gowns.”

Max masked her surprise and simply said, “How silly.”

And then the bonnets arrived. . . .

T
HE NEXT FEW DAYS
in Chicago were a whirlwind. Degan kept Max so busy she didn't have time to wonder when he was going home or if he'd already been there. He drove her around the city in an open carriage, pointing out sites of interest. She was sure she could live there for months or more and still not see everything there was to see.

He took her to restaurants that featured foreign food that she refused to comment on, though at a few of them she had to drink a lot of water after the meal. They rode through parks he used to frequent, even went to a horse race at a large track, though they didn't stay for all the races. Too many people recognized him and plied him with questions he wasn't willing to answer. He got good use out of the word
undecided
that day.

Was he really undecided about going home, about staying in Chicago, about taking her to a lawyer? He still hadn't mentioned any of that, and she was hesitant to bring it up when they were sharing the same bed again and not just sleeping in it. Max looked forward to lying down beside him every night, feeling the warmth and strength of his big body, looking up in the darkened room and seeing his face so close to hers. She loved touching him and the way he touched her, and all the kissing they did. Inevitably, it got both of them hot and led to lovemaking that still surprised her with all its different kinds of sensual delights. She couldn't bear to think about giving all that up. But they were going to have to talk about it, and soon. Ella had already confided to Max that she was enjoying her first trip to a big city, but she'd be uncomfortable settling down here. Max felt the same way, but she would stay if Degan was going to stay—if he wanted her to stay.

The new clothes had begun trickling in as well as boxes of shoes. Max hadn't even noticed that her feet had been measured at the seamstress's shop. And one round box for each of the bonnets was delivered. She'd bought them all! The dresses she could hang in the small wardrobe—well, until the rest of them arrived—but the hotel room was still getting crowded with all the boxes.

Degan didn't mind, but he did say, “We may have to move to my home just so you can have a room for all your purchases. Some dressing rooms are as big as a bedroom.”

“No one needs
that
many clothes. I'll manage just fine. But are you ready to go home?”

He nodded. “We will visit my brother today. By now, he must have heard that I'm in the city. I don't want him to think I'm avoiding him.”

“And your father?”

“He will likely be home, but I'd rather not subject you to that meeting. According to Allison, he's developed an addiction to drink. While I've spoken to a few of his old friends, they didn't confirm it, but they did say they rarely see him anymore, and one said he'd gone daft, obsessed with some business venture that couldn't possibly turn a profit. So I'm not sure what to believe.”

Max wanted to hug him so bad, but was afraid he'd see it as pity. She still said hesitantly, “I'm sorry. This should have been a pleasant homecoming for you.”

“It was never going to be that. I only hope it's not too late for my father to recover. But come here. Before you meet Flint, I should explain why the meeting might be hostile.”

He was sitting in one of the two armchairs. He'd just put his boots on. She was already dressed in one of her new walking gowns, which Degan had had to fasten for her because the buttons were in the back. She'd planned to tell the seamstress not to make her any more like it until Degan had finished fastening the gown with a kiss on her shoulder. Maybe she wouldn't mind asking him for assistance after all.

The dress was made of lovely lavender silk and was accessorized with a stylish purple jacket that formed part of the bustle, a lacy, purple parasol that she wasn't sure how to open, and an adorable bonnet with a fluffy lavender feather on it. It was hard to tear herself away from the full-length mirror where she was admiring herself. If Bingham Hills could see her now, they would
not
recognize her!

But she walked over to Degan, who drew her onto his lap. She wasn't expecting that, and as usual when she got this close to him, her body began to respond, her thoughts flying away, and . . .

“It's not pleasant to remember what ended my engagement to Allison.”

That name was like a dousing in cold water. “You don't have to tell me if it's still painful.”

“It's not and it hasn't been for a long time. I thought the anger was gone, too, until Allison turned up like a bad penny and reminded me.”

“Wasn't she merely concerned about your family? That
is
the impression she gave for coming after you.”

“Yes, I just haven't figured out why. But the night that my world fell apart, I arrived late at the small dinner party my father had arranged at our home to celebrate my and Allison's engagement to marry. I found out later he had been detained at the bank by business, and Allison's parents had left early, angry that both my father and I weren't present. I had no excuse for arriving so late.”

“Then why did you?”

“To be honest, I simply forgot about the dinner. And if I hadn't had a few drinks with a friend before I got home, that night might have ended quite differently.”

Max went very still. She was guessing ahead and realizing that Allison must have been angry, too, that he could overlook something as important as their engagement dinner. But to retaliate by cheating on him? Wasn't that spiting herself more than him? Unless . . .

“Good grief, you didn't actually
tell
her you forgot, did you?”

His sigh was drawn out. “No, when I arrived home, it was later than I thought. The dining room was empty. Most of the servants had already gone to bed. And then a scream echoed down the stairs. I panicked, thinking it was Allison, that she'd waited for me, but someone had broken into our house and was hurting her. It wouldn't have been the first time we were robbed at night. So I grabbed one of my father's pistols and raced upstairs and shot the man who was attacking her. I thought I was saving her, but I wasn't. Her screams had been from pleasure.”

Max put her arms around his neck and squeezed tightly. She hated that he was reliving this.

“It occurred to me after I'd left Chicago that I didn't really love her. She was merely a prize I'd competed for and won, and Father wanted a Montgomery in the family. He didn't care which of us married her. But at the time, I was devastated.”

“But your anger cooled eventually, so why didn't you come back sooner?”

“Because I shot my brother that night—in the back. He might have died. He nearly did die. And I felt such rage at him, at both of them.”

Max leaned back, eyes wide. “It was your
brother
Allison was unfaithful with?”

“Yes. But then my father made it even worse when he insisted I still had to marry her. Our engagement had been announced. He didn't want the scandal. I'd felt betrayed by both my father and my brother, the two people closest to me, the two I thought I could depend on. The only thing I
could
do was leave, before I hurt someone even worse.”

“Time hasn't really healed this wound, has it?”

“On the contrary. I've recovered, but they apparently haven't. I do wish I'd known sooner how they reacted to my defection, but once I left, I never looked back.”

“
You
were the one betrayed, on all fronts. You have nothing to blame yourself for.”

“You consider that a wifely duty, don't you? To defend me?”

She ignored the rare smile he was giving her and said honestly, “You really think I would do that if you didn't deserve it?”

“Yes.”

She snorted, but more at herself because maybe she would. But in this case she said, “I stated a fact based on what you just told me—unless that wasn't everything?”

“It was. You know as much as I do. . . . Shall we go? I want to catch Flint early.”

He stood up and set her on her feet, but didn't remove his arm from around her waist as he walked with her to the door. He did that a lot lately, maintaining contact with her in one form or another. It seemed husbandly to her. Though she refused to let it go to her head, it still left her smiling on the inside.

T
HE GRANT HOME WAS
in a pretty neighborhood away from the noise and bustle of the crowded downtown. Max had expected a mansion, but it was just a stately town house, no different from the others lining the street. But when the butler let them in, Max realized the house's exterior was deceptive. It looked like a mansion inside. The butler didn't appear to recognize Degan, but he didn't ask them whom they were there to see, as if he had been told to expect callers. Max stared at the grand curved staircase at the end of the huge, well-appointed foyer, imagining Degan as a young man running up it with a pistol in his hand. That one night had changed his way of life. But he was back now. He could fit right back in if he wanted to, and she still didn't know if he did want to. For all her brazenness, she was afraid to find out what his plans were for ­himself—for her.