Harlequin Historical February 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: The Major's Wife\To Tempt a Viking\Mistress Masquerade (12 page)

Amanda Parker-Wadsworth was a strong woman. He'd heard that his entire life, still did, and knew it to be true. Though she hadn't wallowed in her grief, it had changed her. He'd seen that, too. His father's death had changed Seth, too. His dreams, his plans. And that had led to something else he couldn't abide. His death—that of a husband, or someday, maybe a father—would affect other people. People he loved. Namely, one very pretty woman currently nestled against his side.

Seth had also wondered, while thinking of his mother, what her dreams had been. He'd bet they hadn't been to run a shipbuilding company, yet she had. When her husband and brothers were called to fight in the war, she'd taken over the helm, overseen the building of ships that were still carrying supplies up and down the eastern seaboard and making the entire family very wealthy.

Some thought marrying Ralph Wadsworth had been a business move for her. The man had worked for a competitor before their marriage, but Seth now wondered if his mother had remarried so that he and his brother could move on. Go to West Point as they'd always dreamed. He hoped not, but while entertaining the fact that he'd fallen in love, he'd started to wonder just how far people might go to make someone they loved happy. Perhaps even as far as pretending to be someone they weren't.

The sun was slowly fading and early stars were popping out in a purple-hued sky when Per-Cum-Ske walked toward them.

“Major.” The Indian leader stepped closer as they rose to their feet. “Your wife?”

Seth hooked a hand on Millie's hip and tugged her a bit closer to his side. “Yes, this is my wife. Mrs. Parker.”

Per-Cum-Ske, standing tall with shoulders squared, gestured toward the three women behind him. “My wives.”

Tightening his hold when she wobbled slightly against him, Seth nodded toward the women. “
Maruawe.
Hello.”

Once they'd responded in kind, Per-Cum-Ske said, “You, your wife, eat with my family.”

Seth looked down at the woman beside him, letting her know it was her choice. Her eyes were thoughtful, glimmering in the fading light, yet a little smile formed as she nodded.

“Yes,” he told Per-Cum-Ske. “We'll join you.” As the others started walking toward their tepees, he held her back. “Are you sure?”

She glanced from the camp to him before nodding. “Yes, I'm sure.” Seconds later, as they started to follow, she whispered, “What does Per-Cum-Ske mean?”

“The Hairy One.”

“Oh.” Glancing up with a mystified expression, she asked, “And all three of those women are his wives?”

Smiling, for some of her expressions were too adorable not to grin at, Seth answered, “Yes, all three of them.”

Eyes wide, she gazed at the women.

His mind, the one small section he still had control over, wondered how she was going to react to the meal. There would be no table, no chairs, no silverware or pot of tea. His nerves started ticking, and he glanced over his shoulder, checking the sentry seated in his lookout post. If the Rosemary he'd met five years ago suddenly appeared and sat down on the ground with Per-Cum-Ske and his wives, there just might be an Indian uprising before the meal ended.

An hour later, Seth was eating his thoughts, while his wife had the entire tribe eating out of her hand. The charm and grace she'd portrayed most of the time since arriving at the fort had captured the band as easily as it had won him over, especially when she allowed them to pass her sketchbook around. Laughter had abounded as members pointed to themselves on the pages.

Per-Cum-Ske now rested the book across his folded legs, carefully examining each page, and frowning so deeply Seth's spine quivered.

“How you draw,” Per-Cum-Ske asked, gesturing across the fire, “Major Parker so—” the leader squared his shoulders and lifted his thick, square jaw “—perfect, and draw you—” he was now gesturing toward Millie as he pulled his face into a fierce grimace “—so ugly?”

Fire shot up Seth's back, but his wife's laughter launched the entire tribe into hoots and guffawing.

Still laughing, she reached over and folded her fingers around his hand. The firelight shone in her eyes and made her cheeks glow as she glanced up at him. “Because,” she said, “I can look at him.” Turning to Per-Cum-Ske, she pointed to her eyes and then patted her chest. “I can't look at myself. I have to draw from memory.” She pointed to her temple. “I have to think what I look like.”

The leader shook his head and, making a show of turning the page, said, “Think better. Harder.”

Her giggle floated on the air and swirled all the way around Seth as she leaned her head against his shoulder.

Gently bumping her, he teased, “I told you it wasn't a good likeness.”

“Yes, you did,” she said, still giggling.

It was amazing all the things she manifested inside him, the way she had him looking at the world in a different way.

“You draw me and my wives?” Per-Cum-Ske asked, handing her the tablet. “So I take to Washington, show Great Chief.”

“Yes, I will draw you and your wives,” she said, setting the paper on the ground beside her. “But not now.” Pointing to the sky, she explained, “I need the sunlight.”

“Tomorrow?” the leader asked.

Chapter Nine

M
illie dipped her head beneath the warm bathwater and rubbed her scalp with both hands, rinsing away the bubbles. Goodness, drawing was exhausting. Sitting up and wringing the excess water out her long hair, she rebuked herself. Not exhausting. Exhilarating. Never had anything consumed her as her art had the past several days. The hours between when Seth left her near the rock in the morning until he came to fetch her each afternoon were spent drawing, and drawing, and drawing.

From braves carrying deer carcasses across the backs of their horses, to babies tied in cradle boards leaning against rocks as their mothers foraged for things Millie would never have imagined were edible, and everything in between. It was amazing to have a job to do, something people wanted from her. But the most thrilling aspect was the pride in Seth's eyes every night when he looked through the tablets. She'd never experienced anything like it, was amazed at how it made her feel so significant, so useful and important.

She did try to convince herself she should be uncomfortable with all his praise. Tried, but failed, because his attention was far from unpleasant. Frustrating maybe, but that was her fault. Since the day—ten excruciating days ago—when she'd seen the snake, he hadn't tried to kiss her.

Sometimes, especially during lunchtime, when he'd carry a basket out and they'd share the meal on her blanket beneath the open sky, she sensed he wanted to. Something in his eyes said so, but she pretended not to notice.

It's what needed to happen, but not kissing him felt worse than kissing him. Desire had compounded inside her until she was so fraught with need she was sure that if she sat on a pin she'd explode.

After they'd left the Indian camp the night Per-Cum-Ske had asked her to draw him, they'd come home and prepared for bed, and Seth had asked if she was fearful of sleeping in her room. She'd had to say she wasn't. He'd still offered his room, said they could trade, but she assured him she'd be fine, and had been every night since.

Fine
was hardly the word. She was miserable.

There hadn't been any more snakes, and she rarely thought of them, but that had little to do with it. A serious change had happened between her and Seth. He was still attentive and charming, and they'd formed a unique companionship—something akin to friendship that went deeper, filled her with such warmth there was no place for fear or worry.

“Where are you?”

Just the sound of his voice filtering into the room had her heart racing and put a smile on her lips.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

Millie stifled a giggle. “I'm taking a bath,” she yelled, and then held her breath as footfalls stopped outside the door. Just knowing he was in the hall had her skin tingling.

“Need any help?” he asked through the wood.

He'd started teasing her lately, in a way no one had ever done before, and the delight lingered long after the moment. In an ironic way, it satisfied some of her longing, while increasing it at the same time. It had all been baffling until she'd come to understand it. Mrs. Ketchum had explained it while sitting with her as she drew one day. The woman said a wife's role was to relieve her husband of the worries he constantly carried, and how teasing brought out the child within and made a person feel carefree. Millie enjoyed knowing she did that for Seth, and welcomed his bouts of playfulness.

“No,” she said, while wondering what he'd do if she said yes. “What do you need?” She slid the bar of soap up and down her arms, hurrying to complete her bath and join him in the parlor, where they'd sit and talk of little things. Afterward he'd walk her up the stairs and wish her good-night, at which point her longing to cross the hall and lie next to him would keep her awake for hours.

The doorknob rattled. “If I tell you what I really want, will you give it to me?”

The bar of soap shot out of her hand, landed on the floor with a thud.

“Is that a yes?” he asked.

Splashing to quickly rinse the last of the suds from her arms before her heart exploded, she searched for an answer to keep him on the other side of the door. He was using the tone that made her stomach simmer like a pot about to boil, and when he sounded like that the glow in his eyes made her toes curls. Leaping out of the tub, she answered, “I'll save my bathwater for you.”

“You always save me your water.”

She lifted a towel off the stool. “There's no sense wasting it.”

“Wasting it? You only save it because you don't want to carry it out back.”

With the towel tucked beneath her armpits, covering her front to her thighs, and her hair still dripping water, she opened the door a crack. “There might be snakes out there.”

His blue eyes were sparkling and her toes curled against the floor.

“There might be. So don't empty the tub. I'll do it when I get back.” He touched the tip of her nose with one finger.

Excitement zipped under her skin at the simple connection, yet disappointment pulled her lips downward. “You have to go back to headquarters? It's been dark for hours.”

His grin widened. “Yes, Jasper and Per-Cum-Ske and I are going through the pictures to send to Washington, but we can't find a specific one.” Reaching through the narrow opening, he brushed a clump of hair off her forehead. “It's one of three women tanning a deer hide. Do you remember it?”

Breathing was difficult, and thinking hard, yet she managed a nod.

“You drew it that first day,” he said, tucking the hair behind her ear. “Do you know where that sketchbook is?”

Her fingers wrapped more firmly around the door handle, clutching it with all her might in order to keep her trembling body from melting onto the floor and joining the water dripping into a pool between her feet. The notion of stretching onto the tips of her toes and kissing him was so strong she had to shake her head in order to clear her mind enough to answer. “It's in my trunk. The one next to the door. There's a pouch inside the lid.”

“Mind if I get it?” he asked, now smoothing the hair behind her ear all the way to her shoulder.

She wondered what he'd do if she pulled the door open and let the towel slip to the floor. Heavens, but that was a wanton thought if ever she had one. But an enticing one, too. Swallowing against the growing urge to do just that, she answered, “No, I don't mind, go ahead.”

“Thanks.” Pinching her cheek, he winked. “I'll be home as soon as I can. Leave the water.”

He was long gone, thudding up the stairs, when she whispered, “I will.” After shutting the door, she plopped onto the bench and let the air out of her lungs slowly. Goodness, he continued to grow more handsome, and more endearing, and more lovable every day, and she grew more desperate.

Martin had been right. Women did grow amorous when alone for long period of times. Like an hour. Pressing a hand to the heat beneath her belly, she sighed heavily. Yes, she now fully understood what Martin had meant. She even had a touch of understanding for Rosemary's behavior. Millie had thought it outrageous then, but now she could grasp what her sister meant.

Another sigh built and she had to let it out. She'd even spoken to Mrs. Ketchum about it. Not that she'd broached the topic; Ilene had brought it up on one of her visits. The woman's companionship had become very special to Millie. They'd even spoken of her mother, and loving Seth as she did—all these reactions boiling around inside her body were confirmation of the love she had for him —she grew to understand how much her parents must have loved each other. How badly it had pained them to be separated.

She wished her mother—and Rosemary—could have had the friends she now did. Other women to help them understand all the complexities of men. One of Per-Cum-Ske's wives had become a dear friend, too, which was another part of the reason everything made sense now.

Leah-Widd-I-Kah—One Who Stirs Up Water—had explained it, as well as many other things. The Indian leader was very amorous. All he had to do was look at one of his wives and they'd followed him into his tepee. No matter what they were doing or what time of day it was.

A few days ago, extremely curious as to what took place, Millie had asked her newfound friend. Without a hint of embarrassment, Leah-Widd-I-Kah had explained everything. Everything. Even in broken English, Millie had completely understood. Perhaps because now, unlike when Martin had told her a few things, she could relate, knew exactly what the other woman described. And it not only had increased a hundred times over the desire she had to lie with Seth, it prevented her from thinking of just about anything else. Leah-Widd-I-Kah didn't understand how a married couple hadn't already shared their love, and assured her that when they did, it would make them both very, very happy.

The one thing Millie couldn't understand was how Leah-Widd-I-Kah could allow her husband to do that with other women. Millie could never share Seth.

A knock on the door had her jumping to her feet.

“I got it. I'll be back soon,” Seth said, before she gathered the towel off the floor. “Don't float away in there.”

Giggling, for even with all the frustration eating at her, he made her smile, she said, “I won't.” Hearing his footfalls, she eased the door open an inch, just enough to watch him walk out the front door.

It was more than an hour later when he finally walked through it again.

Over her nightgown she wore a blue flannel housecoat that had three large pearl buttons she absolutely adored. It was very pretty and Mrs. Ketchum had told her how important it was to always look pretty for her husband, so she was sitting on the divan in the parlor, where she'd brushed her hair until it was completely dry. Millie smiled, watching him remove his hat and jacket. She cherished this time, when all was calm and quiet, and it was just the two of them.

“Hi,” she murmured.

“Hi.” He walked into the room. “I'm glad to see you didn't float away.”

“There was no chance of that,” she said, setting the brush aside. “And I saved you my water.”

He nodded, but the grin on his face wasn't quite as bright as normal.

A shiver rippled her back, settled deep between her shoulder blades. Concerned, she asked, “Didn't you find the picture you needed?”

“Yes.” He held the sketch pad in one hand, and as he lifted the cover she noticed an envelope.

Her stomach rolled. It was Rosemary's divorce papers. If Millie had been thinking straight she'd have remembered they were in the same pouch as the sketchbook.

Tapping a corner of the envelope against the pouch, he said, “It was inside the tablet. I didn't notice it until I was back at my office.”

A chill had her skin quivering. “Did you sign it?”

Frowning, he stared at her for a moment before he shook his head. “No, I didn't even open it.”

Relief had her wanting to close her eyes, but she didn't. Just nodded, accepting his answer.

He set the envelope and her sketchbook on one of the two tapestry chairs in front of the fireplace, and then moved to the window, where he held the curtain aside and stared out into the darkness. His broad back was stiff and the air in the room grew dreary and heavy.

“Will you answer a question for me?” He moved back to the chair, leaned both hands on the back. “Tell me the truth?”

“Yes,” she said, even with anxiety welling in her chest.

“Do you want a divorce?”

A bone-chilling fear raced through her, so fast it felt as if flames leaped to life under her skin. An impossibility, so cold it was hot, yet it was fitting. Telling him the truth was just as impossible. Unable to face him, she studied her hands, ran a thumb over the slickness of her fingernails. But when they started trembling too hard, she laced her fingers together, all the while searching for an answer. There was no sense trying to pull up Rosemary. That wouldn't help. Besides, Millie was done playing that game. She'd given it up the day of their last argument.

“Do you?” he asked quietly.

She had to close her eyes in order to find the fortitude to answer. Blinking at the moisture on her lashes, she said, “If our marriage was...” Shaking her head, she tried again. “If you and I had said the words spoken five years ago, and meant them, then no, I wouldn't want a divorce.” Hurrying, before he could grasp exactly what she'd said, what she'd just told him, she continued, “However, as it is, with the way things are, resulting from that day, then yes, the divorce is still needed.”

He turned, walked back to the window, and she bowed her head, biting her lip so hard she tasted blood. Here, too, things were convoluted. She'd never want to divorce him, but she wasn't married to him. Rosemary was.

It was several minutes before he moved, turned around and then walked all the way across the room without glancing her way. “I'm going to empty your bathwater. I'll see you in the morning.”

Her mouth had a mind of its own. Before she realized it had opened, she heard herself saying, “It doesn't have to happen until December.”

With one hand on the banister as he turned the corner toward the hallway, he stiffened and twisted to look at her.

She pressed the hand she'd slapped over her mouth harder against her lips. His frown was fierce, but it was the squint of his eyes that sent her heart into her throat.

Shaking his head again, he turned, and a moment later the bathing room door shut so hard she flinched.

A powerful anger rose, so fast and severe that Millie wanted to scream, hurl things across the room or pummel both fists against something until it hurt as bad as she did. Never in her entire life had she thrown a fit, but right now, she wanted to throw one that would leave all of Rosemary's in the dust.

Instead, Millie grabbed the brush and yanked it through her hair until her scalp burned. Then she marched up the steps. This wasn't right. It wasn't fair. It wasn't how things should be. Seth didn't deserve to be treated this way, and neither did she.