Authors: Illusion
Emily French (20 page)
At his hesitation, Sophy felt a measure of reassurance. She was becoming accustomed to his habit of coolly, calmly thinking things through. At least he was debating the issue in his mind. He was deep in his thoughts now. While she looked at him, she found herself fighting a strange emotion. She could feel it beating at her.
Those blue, intense, seen-everything, done-everything eyes were searching her soul, penetrating like light through deep water. She could only guess what was going on in his brain.
Was he thinking of some clever excuse to veto her suggestion before demanding that she surrender the shares? Or plotting devious ways to strike back? No. That was not like Seth.
There was so much that they did not know about each other, but from the start, instinct had told her that Seth was an honorable man. He might be something of an unknown quantity, but no one could ever accuse him of being underhanded.
The blue eyes held steady, no shift in intent, just a fraction too level. She could practically see him turning over her responses in his mind.
Suddenly her body broke out in gooseflesh. He suspected her motives, but chose to play the game she had started! She was certain of it. Abruptly and utterly certain. The thought was strangely alarming, and at the same time exciting.
Seth broke the concentrated stare, and leaned back against the rose-colored marble mantelpiece again, pushing one hand into his hair. He had come back to earth, his feet were firmly planted in reality, his mind cool and detached. It seemed so obvious to him now.
“The Battle of Bull Run.” He straightened and snapped his fingers. “Maintaining supply lines has always been a problem in war. The Confederates’ use of the railroad to bring up troops from Piedmont Station was crucial to their success at Manassas, for the reinforcements arrived fresh as well as fast!”
Sophy felt as if an immense weight had lifted from her chest. She had made the suggestion of applying the analogy of war to business jokingly, although with an element of seriousness.
She looked at Seth, her lovely violet eyes wide and sincere. “There are odds, and odds. Opportunities, and lost opportunities. The moment in an engagement when the least maneuver is decisive and gives victory. The one drop of water which makes the cup run over.”
He nodded once, not looking at her. Memories, habits, disciplines, all carefully nurtured in the field of war, flooded his mind.
Stubbornly, she demanded, “What gave the Confederates the advantage at Bull Run?”
Several different emotions chased themselves quickly across his face. Sophy waited with interest. She loved to watch his face. To her infinite satisfaction and relief, Seth enthusiastically cottoned on to the idea.
“Procrastination. McDowell intended to capture Richmond, but finding the Confederates under Beauregard well entrenched, waited for three days before attacking.”
He lowered his voice and leaned forward, making a disparaging gesture with the palm of his hand. “Those three days enabled Confederate reinforcements to be brought up, and the result was a Union failure to capture the position, followed by demoralization and retreat back to Washington.”
“Procrastination is the thief of time, and an opportunity lost is one never regained. Take advantage from McDowell’s mistakes, and be wise today!” Sophy chose her words with care. “Weston’s could offer contract bids for special designs to Walraven’s.” Her lips curved slowly into a cajoling grin.
Seth drew a breath deep enough to lift his jacket’s brass buttons. “We could develop pattern services. I’ve been tossing around an idea for some time of supplying designs in several forms, including drawings, engraved plates and fabrics, and grouping them into themes by design type or material.”
Almost before the words had escaped him, Seth was making rapid mental calculations. Every possibility had to be explored. It could be the way out of the dilemma that faced the textile industry as a result of the cotton shortage caused by the war. The scheme just
might
come off.
might
come off.
“It’s tempting, but better still, we could substitute local American textiles that mix cotton or linen with silk to achieve the same effect as the costliest imported fabrics. Create our own taste and style.” His teeth gleamed briefly. “What do you think of that idea, Sophy?”
This was exactly what Sophy had in mind, but she thought it better not to say so. She was too pleased to see that shuttered, protected look in his eyes disappear.
In the few weeks of her marriage, she had discovered Seth liked the challenge of winning in a difficult situation. He liked the sense of power it gave him to be in control.
It was amazing what you could discover about human nature by studying war games, like a weakness in her own line of defense! Sophy shivered. To overestimate the capabilities of one’s own forces was just as dangerous as to underestimate the strength of the enemy. She would ignore Seth’s masculine force at her own peril.
Like the little wooden sticks used in a game of jackstraws, all her strengths and weaknesses were tumbled in an abandoned heap. Pride, anger, envy, hate and jealousy tangled with compassion, hope, tolerance, charity and love. The knack was to extract the right one out of the pile without disturbing the heap.
Sophy put her hands together, interlacing the fingers. She needed time to fix on a strategy. She didn’t want to remind Seth of her ambitions. Running roughshod over his masculine convictions, or splashing her wealth around, was not the way to win his heart. Nor was using her feminine wiles as a weapon.
Sophy stifled the momentary qualm, and managed a lit tle smile. A very bright, very feminine smile that completely hid her inner turmoil.
“I think it’s a great idea. I don’t want to harp on it, Seth, but—” She broke off, biting her lip, then leaned forward. She simply couldn’t restrain herself. “I am very good with figures. The first thing my father taught me was how to look for profit leaks. As I told you before, if I could have access to Weston’s accounting records, I might be able to pinpoint any deficiency in the acquisition or disbursement system.”
“I’ve been able to buy time with that very convenient injection of working capital.” Seth gave her a quick smile to let her know he did not hold any grudges because of her duplicity. “I don’t like the idea that Lloyd’s contribution was part of a compromise.”
Sophy stiffened, her brows drawing together in a quelling frown. She wasn’t certain she liked the implication of a compromise. It suggested that Seth perceived a balance of power in the relationship that she’d never intended. That disturbed her.
Her concern rose another notch. She was caught in a trap from which she was unsure how to extricate herself. Instinctively she stepped back a pace as if preparing to meet a physical assault. Indeed she felt very much like a boxer who had met a punch head-on. Her hooped skirt swayed.
“That was a low shot, Seth, and unworthy of you. In your heart you know that is untrue.” Her breasts heaved up and down with her breathing. “I want only what is best for you. Just because I have tried to convince you that it is best to use my talents, does not mean I am trying to make you less than a man.”
The smile was wiped from Seth’s lips in an instant, to be replaced by rueful comprehension. She started to speak again, but he beat her to it.
“Hell, I’m not handling this very well, am I?” He shot her an assessing glance. Awkwardly he offered, “Blame it on the inexperience of a bruised masculine ergo.”
Her smile was tremulous, her eyes wide and glittery. “I’m sorry, Seth. I didn’t mean to flash my money around. It was just that...”
He moved, and for a moment sunlight filtered in from the window and highlighted his handsome face, with its striking cheekbones. He was smiling now, his face lit with a sudden warmth. Mysterious lights played far back in his eyes, like summer lightning in the mountains.
Staring at up into those glinting blue eyes, Sophy forgot to speak, think, breathe....
“Don’t apologize, Sophy. I like your style. You’re a strong woman, and I find that a challenge. But you’re also soft. I think you’ve been looking for someone to make you yield, whether consciously or not.”
And so do I, Sophy admitted to herself. The worst part is that I like the way you take over, every bit as much as I resent it. Her chagrin stumbled. She swallowed hard and clenched her fists, forcing herself to speak calmly.
“I suppose it was a stupid idea. I guess I’ll go back to my alternative plan. Check out the women. Sewing circles, dinner parties, shopping expeditions, a word here, a suggestion there, that sort of thing.”
Seth regarded her with a strange look in his eyes. “You could do both.”
His shift in tactics was disconcerting. Sophy’s pulse fluttered.
“Both?”
“You have a point. We could use tactical planning. Mobilize all our forces. Advance and retreat. Confuse the enemy.”
A sharp pain in her palms made her realize she was digging her nails into them. She deliberately loosened her hands and took a deep, steadying breath.
“You have changed your mind? I can be part of the investigation?”
Seth considered the matter carefully before he answered. He was acutely conscious of her presence beside him, the feminine smell of her and the way she seemed to lean toward him. He tried to collect his wits. Something told him that if he blocked her now, he would live to regret it, but, before he revealed Weston’s secrets, he had to find an answer to the question that was gnawing at the edges of his mind.
“Sophy, about last night...” The faint twinge of uncertainty that made him pause was irritating but not unexpected.
“Forget it, Seth.” Anxious to erase the small chill that had coursed down her spine, Sophy silenced him by placing her fingers firmly against his lips. “The ledger’s balanced. We need to start again.”
“We need to start over,” Seth repeated with a patience that sounded extremely tenuous, “but that doesn’t mean we can forget last night.”
Sophy decided not to pursue that avenue of discussion. How could she win Seth’s love? How could she prize open the compartment in his mind where he had buried his capacity to love?
She wished with all her might that she had the answer, but, of course, that was a useless wish. In fact, any wish, her father had told her more than once, was useless.
If you want something badly enough
, he had said,
then you must do it. Those who sit and wish for things accomplish nothing
.
If you want something badly enough
, he had said,
then you must do it. Those who sit and wish for things accomplish nothing
.
Her father’s words ringing in her ears, Sophy tried to deflect the debate. “What about my assignment? Will you make the arrangements for me to investigate Weston’s?”
Seth hesitated, watching her face intently, as if considering the best method of handling her. There was a fractional beat of time during which she could sense he was trying to decide whether or not to pursue his earlier discussion. He shook his head in quick exasperation, but his voice was dangerously calm.
“None of that has anything to do with what we have been discussing. Do you prefer a frank, if unpleasant, answer or a tactful evasion?”
Sophy frowned, thinking that was a strange way to phrase it. The knowledge confused her. She put out a slim hand and touched his arm lightly. “While I have not seen men killed, I know sufficient of what bloodshed means to prefer an honest reply.”
“I have my doubts, but I value your opinion.”
“Trust me. We haven’t let each other down yet, have we?”
Seth took her hands in his and drew her slightly toward him. He bent his head and kissed the pulse of her throat where the silver chain lay, the touch as light as a butterfly’s wings, before he set her away from him.
“And we’re not going to. You have my word on it.” His voice was thick and husky as if he had something lodged in his throat. What was it that he was
not
saying?
not
saying?
“Are you suggesting a
compromise
, or a complete renegotiation of our wedding bargain?” Her body moved toward him in breathless anticipation. Something fervent glinted in the misty eyes.
compromise
, or a complete renegotiation of our wedding bargain?” Her body moved toward him in breathless anticipation. Something fervent glinted in the misty eyes.
Doubt gnawed away at Seth. Was it possible she was right and, together, they could overcome the obstacles facing Weston’s Textiles? Or was Sophy laying siege to his heart and soul? He knew she would settle for nothing less than the real thing. Once Sophy knew what she wanted in life, she went after it. He thought of her words.
Something inside him squirmed at the prospect of being involved in such a campaign. That kind of battle was risky because it involved the emotional and passionate side of his nature. Something he had crushed for three years.
His instincts were to retreat, he realized wryly. But, deep down, he knew that withdrawal today wasn’t going to do any more good than trying to resist Sophy last night had done.
His head swung down and he saw that she was staring up at him. A kind of shock traveled through his body until he was certain his very flesh vibrated. Her face was very close to his, her eyes wide. They seemed to be searching for something in his face. Then the contact was broken.
Seth shook his head. What was he fighting, anyway? And what made it so important?
Opportunity rides a
dangerous
wind.
He shrugged, dismissing the thought. There was an obligation to be met, a duty. To abandon duty was to destroy the essence of life. It was the only thing that had kept him going these past three years.
Opportunity rides a
dangerous
wind.
He shrugged, dismissing the thought. There was an obligation to be met, a duty. To abandon duty was to destroy the essence of life. It was the only thing that had kept him going these past three years.
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