Banking on Temperance (9 page)

She closed the door to the soddy, took a deep breath, and plunged into the myriad of household tasks needing to be done to bring some order back to the interior of the house. Her rampant thoughts about Basil Fitzpatrick would have to wait.

Justice went through the wagon in search of any food that the wolves hadn’t found. After cleaning the soddy from top to bottom while Martha got the wood stove going so they could have a hot meal for the first time in days, Temperance finally came to a halt. She was falling asleep on her feet. Her mother quickly came to her daughter’s side.

“Go upstairs now, honey. You’ve worked long enough to save this family, and you need some rest. I can handle things from here.”

Temperance didn’t argue, but climbed up the ladder to the sleeping loft. They’d have to repair the roof tomorrow where the wolf had torn into it, but for now, she couldn’t do any more work. She needed to sleep. She had to still her wayward thoughts about Sir Basil riding to her rescue with a shield and a sword, and remember his wayward reputation. She should remove all fanciful thoughts about him from her mind and focus on what the man truly was. Her body cried out for sleep even as her mind kept spinning.

And what kind of man was he, exactly? The man threw off more mixed signals than anyone she’d ever come into contact with. He was an enjoyable man who always sought to make her see the humorous side of her family’s desperate situation, and could find something to coax a smile from her every time they were together. And he loved his own large family, which was a huge plus, as far as Temperance was concerned. Basil was her only outlet to discuss her family’s problems, and to bounce ideas off him. She had cried in front of him, only him, when her father died.

But, by all accounts, he was a reprobate. Certainly their brief encounter in his apartment showed his true colors in that regard. He didn’t let a single opportunity get by him. But since then, he hadn’t touched her. At least not in any kind of intimate manner. She wondered why, since he cut a wide swath through the other ladies in this town.

She was putting herself within his sights every other day. Did she not excite him as much as his saloon girls and dance hall ladies? Despite her resolve not to be sucked in by his charm, she fell into his arms upon the death of her father and let him offer her comfort. And now today, again she found herself in his embrace. Instead of pushing away his tenderness, she rewarded him for his courageousness with a kiss!

She groaned as she tried to make herself comfortable, and not just from the hard floor she laid upon. She repeated his name over and over, allowing her mind to dwell on each syllable, each letter. It would not be wolf eyes she’d be seeing in her sleep tonight, but rather the steely blue ones of Basil Fitzpatrick.

• • •

Basil rode toward town slowly. It was dark by the time he left the soddy, after helping gather firewood for the Jones family and then assisting Joseph and Gaston while they loaded their wagon with all the wolf carcasses. So, he walked the horse down the dirt road leading back to civilization.

The moon was almost full, and kept darting in and out of the clouds, but provided some light as he meandered down the road. But he also went slowly because his mind was a jumble, and he needed to sort things out, and quickly. The horse was aware of the way back to the livery, so he barely needed to nudge him with his knees to keep him going.

What was it about Temperance that set his blood to pounding? Was it because she was the tiniest, yet the most powerful, woman he’d ever met? And why was her independent spirit appealing to him when Ginger’s well-known stance as an advocate for Amelia Bloomer and women’s rights only annoyed him? Perhaps it was because he considered Ginger’s actions only a bid for attention while Temperance was struggling for survival? Despite her desperate family situation, she was sunny, cheerful, and didn’t try to club him over the head with her views on a woman’s place in society. She merely proved every day she was his equal with everything she did.

Who would have thought she’d be the one wielding the rifle against a hungry pack of wolves that attacked young children and considered them a delicacy? Basil smiled as he remembered.

His heart had twisted in his chest when he spied the wolves circling the crude structure. The breath whooshed out of him as he took in the dire circumstances. His yell to her was more a high-pitched croak than a strong, commanding voice, but it had done the trick, and she was too wrapped up in keeping the wolves at bay to notice he had sounded like a girl.

Groaning, he ran his hand over his eyes. He had not been this frightened since his first night in St. Louis, when Joseph came to his rescue from an attack by several men outside the tavern, who were looking for an easy mark to rob. His concern for Temperance was beyond what he had ever experienced for a woman, including the actress Rachel, with whom he had fancied himself in love.

He now realized that while his feelings for Rachel might have run deep, he had never given a thought to how she would have fit into his life, or how his mother would react to her, if he should bring her home. Maybe he hadn’t been in love at all.

But what did that say about his feelings for Temperance? He’d already envisioned his mother meeting her, and loving her immediately, because Basil did.

Whoa!
Instinctively, he pulled back on the horse’s reins and the animal came to a dead stop in the middle of the road as wild, unbidden thoughts rushed through Basil’s mind. Shaking his head to clear them away, he scolded himself. It was not love that he had for Temperance. Where the hell had that notion come from, anyway? He did admit he admired her courage and strength. Basil moved uneasily in the saddle as he attempted to put his wayward thoughts in order. Yes, admiration. That’s what it was. And friendship.

He sensed she had so few people she could turn to when she needed to take off the yoke of responsibility that had been thrust upon her, and he counted himself lucky to be one of the people she confided in. So there it was — admiration and friendship. Nothing more.

He shifted in his saddle again. Was that really all there was to it? Maybe he did care about her more than he was willing to admit. Definitely, the sight of her in immediate danger was more than enough to get his heart pumping and set his thoughts astir. Why did his private parts swell with need when he let himself think of her soft, mossy green eyes under their veil of long, lush lashes? Or get close enough to her to catch a whiff of her scent?

He groaned. He was not in love with Temperance. What a foolish notion! He merely needed to be with a woman, something he had too long denied himself. The rest of the ride home would be very uncomfortable indeed.

A surprise late October snowstorm caught everyone off guard, including Basil and Temperance. She was at the bank, cleaning, when it hit. Snow was coming down so hard it was impossible to see to the other side of the street. From the second story window Basil’s heart sank as the snow began to drift into mounds.

In the past few weeks, he and Temperance seemed to have ironed out a good working relationship between them. He would let her into the bank, and spend a few minutes getting caught up on the events in her life before he’d head up to his quarters so she could clean in peace. She only came upstairs to let him know she was done so he could lock up after her, and never went farther than the doorway to his quarters. But he had a feeling, tonight was going to test their fragile relationship.

He paced to the window and glanced up at the sky. It was dark and gray, and he feared the snow would last through the night. With a mental groan, he accepted the fact Temperance would have to stay in town tonight. He pulled on his boots and a heavy coat before he went to the main floor.

He would take her horse to the livery and put it up for the night before the snow got so bad he couldn’t find his way back. Then they’d figure out the sleeping arrangements for the night. Perhaps the sole hotel on this end of town still had rooms available. Just thinking about her sleeping in the same space as him made his manhood spring to attention.

Yes, it had been far too long since he’d been with a woman. The night of the wolf attack, he’d returned home and decided to slake his desire for female companionship by visiting the newest dance hall. One of the lovely, voluptuous young ladies showered him with attention and he was sorely tempted to take her up on her offer to show him the rest of her body, which was encased in an abbreviated costume.

She sat on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, begging to be kissed. He gazed into her eyes. They were brown, not green, and the lashes were very skimpy by comparison to Temperance’s. He made his excuses and left the dance hall and a very unhappy young lady. When was the last time he’d been with a woman, anyway? Months now. Since about July. Since Temperance arrived in town. Was there a correlation? Good Lord, he hoped not. It was just a coincidence.

He clattered down the wooden staircase and into the bank’s large main room. Temperance was on a stool, reaching up to chase away the cobwebs from the overhead light, so engrossed in her work that she wasn’t aware of him. She stretched on her tiptoes as she dusted, and he noticed how her dress clung to her nicely rounded hips.

A sudden urge came over him to walk up behind her and cup her bottom in his hands. Taking a deep breath, he shrugged off the mental picture he had created, and waited until she finished her task before making his presence known. He did not want to startle her into a fall.

As she lowered herself off her toes, he cleared his throat and walked forward. “It’s snowing hard, Temperance, and looks as if it’s going to keep up all night. You’d better plan on staying in town this evening. I’ll take your horse across the street to the livery and put it up for you.” He reached out a hand to help her down from the stool and she glanced at him. He realized that by her being up on the stool, they stood eye to eye for the very first time. And mouth to mouth. His eyes fell to her provocative, petal pink lips, which turned up at the corners. She stood without making a sound, following the movement of his eyes. Then, she dropped her gaze and jumped off the stool unassisted.

“Ummm, I don’t think staying here is a good idea, Mr. Fitzpatrick. Are you certain I can’t head home? The horse knows the way by now.” She dashed to the window at the front of the bank and gazed out upon the white snow, which was drifting and blowing. The wind was howling as the snow swirled in the street. “Oh, dear.” She turned around to find Basil standing behind her. He had startled her and she took a step back, pressing her body up against the cold windowpane.

Basil gazed down at her as she backed into the window. He got a whiff of her scent and it made his mouth water. Whoever thought a spring meadow could be so provocative? Tonight was going to be a long night. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted a woman before. But she was not the kind of woman who would enjoy a romp in the hay and think no more about it. There was a unique wholesomeness about her that had nothing to do with her unpainted face.

“I could not let you head out of here for home in these conditions. You’d never make it, even with your horse knowing the way. Why put yourself at risk? I’ll ask if there is room at the hotel, if you want. But there’s plenty of room right here. Let me take the horse across the street and I’ll be right back.”

He turned on his heel and walked to the rear of the building, letting himself out. He hoped to hell she’d still be able to call herself a respectable woman in the morning. Tonight was going to be challenging.

• • •

Why put myself at risk, indeed?
Temperance thought as Basil left the room. She took a deep breath. Staying in his quarters tonight was going to be the most risky thing she had done since leaving Pennsylvania. She wrung her hands together, then stopped herself and stared at them. They were rough and callused, cracked and red. All she had to do was show Basil her hands and he would turn his back on her. She was not vain, only sensible. And most definitely she was not the type of woman he was attracted to. For more than one night, anyway, and she was no man’s plaything.

Her stomach was doing somersaults as she contemplated what to do. Perhaps she could grab a blanket and sleep on the floor of the bank while he was upstairs. It would be no harder a surface than what she slept on every night out at the soddy. Yes, that’s what she’d suggest. It would be safer all around. She must stay out of his quarters, and out of his bed, at all costs.

As she put away the step stool and her cleaning supplies, her mind wandered back to when Basil approached her as she was on the stool earlier. She was at eye level with him, since the stool added ten or so inches to her height. She stood there, looking straight into his eyes and caught the stirring embers of lust in them as he lowered his gaze to her lips.

Suddenly, her mouth went very dry, and she moistened her lips with her tongue. He followed her tongue’s movement with his eyes, and she got very damp in her nether region. Chills ran down her body, as she broke eye contact and jumped down from the stool, not taking his offered hand. She was afraid if she touched him, she would melt into him and never resurface as a woman in her own right.

Temperance took a deep, calming breath. Her hands fluttered over her stomach and she smoothed her worn and faded muslin dress. Not only her hands, but her dress as well did not measure up to the standards set by Basil’s other women. She’d seen some of his conquests on the streets of town. They fawned over him, right out in public, no less. Their fancy dresses and hats, with matching parasols and reticules, put her serviceable muslin gown to shame.

She was grateful that Basil had taken her family under his wing, but she was aware, deep in her heart, that he only had done so because he had a sense of responsibility, since her father collapsed in Basil’s bank. Not because he was attracted to her. She shouldn’t even be thinking about him in any loving manner, since she was not the kind of woman he would ever take home to meet his mother. More was expected of him than to marry a poor preacher’s daughter.