Younger & Wylder, page 8
Both women exploded in renewed peals of mirth.
“You’ve got it. I need to go meet Rick. I’m running behind already, but he’d probably chewing the fat with Ralph Wylder and hasn’t noticed. She helped a groggy Caleb off her lap and took him by the hand. “Do tell me how it goes next week.”
They said good-bye and Una put the final touches on Millie’s hair. “I’m not gonna wait till next week. I’ll be by sooner.” With a wink, Una followed Sarah and Caleb out the door.
Millie took a breath as deep as her corset would allow. She felt like her breasts were almost up around her chin, but Una approved the affect. She re-locked the front door and pulled the curtains closed. Dusk settled in as she climbed the stairs to their home. She’d been so nervous all day, she’d not given a thought to dinner. Race went up earlier, after finishing at the bank. She wasn’t hungry, but she hoped he’d made dinner for himself, at least.
He wasn’t sitting at the dining table as she’d expected, nor did she find him reading in his chair. After a brief search of the other rooms, the only place left was Race’s bedroom. No light shown from under the door. Had he already turned in? Was he ill?
She should forget her whole plan. It would never work if Race was sick. No. She wouldn’t scrap it before even walking through the door. She would be bold. She touched the cool knob and paused to listen. She heard a masculine chuckle. Reading in the dark, surely not? She turned the knob. “Race?”
She’d placed her lamp on the hall table. Its light shone faintly into the room, illuminating familiar furniture and her husband’s form on the bed. “Race, are you all right?”
“Right as rain, Mills, darlin.”
She ventured further into the room. “You don’t sound yourself.”
“I’m not nobody else, much as I’d like to be.”
Millie could now make out the glass in his hand and three-quarters empty bottle on the nightstand. “Why would you like to be somebody else, Race?”
“Cause then I wouldn’t have ten-ty-five problems.” He snickered.
He was completely soused! She’d never known Race to drink more than a glass or two of liquor. “Race, what problems do you have? What can I do to help?” This was serious, and much more important than her silly plan. Her husband needed her.
“You! You’re fifty of my problems. Standing there all delable, decatable, delatable. Damn! Pretty! Standing there so pretty. What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to protect you? I can’t even remember what I’m protecting you from, dammit.”
Millie tried to make sense of his ramblings. Race called her pretty, after he tried to call her delectable. Now drink made him forget why he wouldn’t touch her. She smiled. Her plan was back on. Her palms turned clammy. She wiped them on her skirt and stepped up to the bed. The door was still open, and from this vantage she no longer blocked the light and Race could see her dress.
“You shouldn’t have glass in the bed, Race. You could cut yourself.” She bent over him to retrieve the tumbler from his hand. She reached across his body and angled her cleavage, so it passed practically under his nose. She heard him take a sharp breath in.
“Mills,” he moaned.
She straightened and placed it on the table next to the bottle. She wondered momentarily if this would be considered taking advantage but decided she didn’t much care. That was being bold.
“Are you going to sleep in your suit? It looks uncomfortable. Let me help you.” Millie sat down on the edge of the bed, her hip touching his. She reached for his tie. It was already loose, so she finished the job and slowly pulled it from his neck. “This vest is also very constricting.” She began working the buttons.
Race lay very still. He watched her fingers for a minute, then reached up and traced her cheek with a finger. “So soft.” It continued down and brushed the exposed portion of her breasts.
Millie shivered. The same heat as when she read about Fanny Hill, again pooled in her core. “Race,” she whispered. “Sit up so I can help you take this off.” She leaned back to give him space.
Race sat up. Millie moved to help him with his clothes, but instead he pulled her forward with his hand cradling her head. He mashed his lips to hers like a brand. He moaned her name as he dragged his lips to her neck. Meanwhile, his other hand kneaded her thigh, urging her closer still.
Millie barely registered his whiskey-tainted breath. All her Fanny Hill and Una lessons escaped her, and she tumbled along like a leaf in a brook. All the feelings she’d read about were magnified a hundred times. The man she loved really wanted her! She turned her head to kiss whatever she could reach. Mostly hair, but Race didn’t seem to mind. His tongue delved down the front of her dress. She moaned. “Race, yes!”
Apparently all the affirmation he needed, he flipped her to her back and straddled one of her thighs. This position caused her breasts to heave and nearly breach her bodice. Race noticed and immediately aided their escape. If Millie hadn’t sewn them on so securely, her mother of pearl buttons would have gone flying. His warm fingers grazed the skin of her breast, then lifted it away from its confines. He replaced his hand with his mouth. The sensation of his warm mouth and gentle suction on her nipple almost sent Millie through the ceiling.
He gave her other breast equal attention, and when she thought she could take no more, Race shifted to straddle both of her legs. Yards of garnet fabric bunched between them and something hard pressed into the apex of her thighs. He pressed again and she raised her hips to meet him. She moved her hands to his waist and pulled him into her again. He ground down again while moving his lips back to her neck and mouth. The cool air on her damp nipples added to the sensations between her legs. Her body reached for something, but for what, she didn’t know, only that Race could take her there. She badly wanted to spread her legs, but she was pinned. She panted and moaned Race’s name. He put his hand beneath her and pressed her into him. Something was happening. He released her backside and took her nipple between two fingers and squeezed while surging into her again.
Millie’s world exploded. She forgot to breathe as powerful ripples cascaded through her, emanating from her core. Race growled and wrenched her bodice down. A sharp ripping rent the air. He stilled. He was off of her in a second.
“Millie. Oh, no. Dammit. I’m sorry.” He backed away, stumbling into the doorframe. “I’m sorry.” He turned and disappeared. Second later the outside door slammed.
She’d just had the best experience of her life and her husband ran from her. Well, he wasn’t getting away that easily. She sat up and swung her legs to the floor.
Chapter 10
Race staggered past the Five Star Saloon. He had to get to the church. He’d done the exact thing he’d been trying to avoid. Damnable drink! It wasn’t right to blame the alcohol. It only lowered his resistance. What occurred had been brewing in Race’s blood for a while. Every moan, every breath, every damn time she said his name, it was like his dreams made real. He tripped over legs in his path and got a face full of dirt.
“Watch it, yous!” slurred a cowboy sitting on the ground against the saloon.
That’s probably what he looked like to Millie when he attacked her. He pushed to his knees, only to fall back on his hind end. A delicate hand appeared in front of his face.
“Be off with you, clock man, you don’t belong ‘ere.” Aoife McCarthy stood over him.
Even in his drunken state, he saw the buzzards begin to circle. “Neither do you. Git and leave me be.”
“Wouldn’t be very good repayment for you seein’ me ‘ome safe de other night, now would it?” She grabbed his arm and yanked. He had no choice but to move with her or drag her down with him.
“You need a fella you don’t have to carry, sweet thing?” A stocky man approached from the saloon.
Race was in no position to defend anyone’s honor. Best to diffuse the situation rather than get into a pissing match. “Little woman’s just seeing me home.” He wrapped an arm around Aoife’s waist. She stiffened and he prayed she wouldn’t smack him.
“That so? You’d best get her tucked away before someone bigger takes her offa yer hands.” The man narrowed his eyes, as if looking for a crack in Race’s story.
“Aim to. Let’s go, darling.” Race forced himself not to stagger. He stared down two other men as he and Aoife made their way back to Sidewinder Lane.
As soon as they left the light of the saloon behind, Aoife did hit him. She wrenched her body away from his but returned her arm to his waist when he swayed. The entire way back she kept up a steady litany of creative ways to describe what a fool he was, all with an Irish lilt. He imagined she was Rosemary, risen from the dead, to berate him.
When they reached his store, Race let himself into the shop rather than go upstairs to face his wife. He’d sleep on the floor of his workroom. It was no better than he deserved.
“How will you get home?” he asked Aoife as she untangled herself from him.
“Buckboard Alley is quiet this time o’ night. I’ll stay to de shadows and be just fine. I doon’t know what is wrong with you tonight, but you need a keeper. I’ve no intention o’ takin on de job, so I’ll tell you dis only once. No mahr, Mr. Lowery. No mahr goin to de church. If God be there, ‘es not goin to solve your problem.” She peered at him solemnly in the darkness.
“How will you stop me?”
“I don’t know as yet. You seem like a good man. I ‘ad a good man, and I would give anythin’ to ‘ave ‘im back. Go on an’ be a good man to your wife, Mr. Lowery.”
“But I’m not.”
“Frum what I be seein’, she’s got mahr faith in you than you’ve got in yourself. Let her ’eal what ails you an’ leave God alone.” Aoife stepped off the porch and disappeared into the darkness.
Race locked the door and went to do a night of penance on the floor of his workroom.
****
Millie stood outside the shop door and contemplated confronting Race while her anger was fresh. He was still drunk. She shouldn’t assume the worst of him when Aoife may well have been the one taking advantage. Not a whore? That was a load of balderdash. What was Aoife McCarthy doing with her dirty papist arm around Millie’s husband? She never had a thing against Catholics before other than Race’s late wife had been one and gave him all kinds of ideas about sin and repentance. If that Aoife was looking to better her situation, she was looking in the wrong place.
And Race! He was far too familiar with the woman he’d only briefly met twice. Tears threatened. Did he see Aoife every time he went to the church or out walking?
She waited in the shadows until she saw Aoife exit the shop. The woman slipped between the buildings and headed in the direction of the social club.
Millie couldn’t decide if her encounter with Race earlier that evening improved their marital relationship or made things worse. Only time would tell.
Being a shrew wouldn’t endear her husband to her. She’d go to the social club the next day and confront Aoife as well as charge Adelaide to keep her employees on their own side of the tracks. Their business was to service the men who sought them out, not solicit husbands in town. She turned and headed up the stairs to her bed. If Race wanted to sleep on the floor rather than in her bed, she’d let him. But not for much longer.
****
1838
Millie awoke to a soft kiss on her cheek. She peered into the darkness, sensing her mother nearby. “Mama?”
“Sweet, Millie. I couldn’t leave without saying good-bye,” her mother whispered.
“Where you goin?” Dark was for sleeping, not leaving.
“Oh, honey, I have to go away.”
Millie squirmed to get out of bed, but her mother was sitting on her blanket, pinning her in. “I go, too.”
“No, sweet girl. You must stay here.” Her voice sounded funny. “And take care of Papa.”
“When will you come back?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll try to come for you real soon.” Her mother rubbed Millie’s back now, like she did before bedtime.
Despite her sleepiness, Millie’s eyes filled with tears. “Don’t go, Mama.”
“Sh, sh. I must. Bethy will help you. You go to her if you need anything. You hear?” Continuing to rub her back, her mother stood. Then she tucked the blanket around her and kissed her cheek again. “Stay in bed, young lady. If you get out, you’ll get whippings from Papa.” Mama was stern now.
“Nooo!” Millie whined into her mattress. Tears flowed now.
“I love you, always, Mildred. Be a good girl.”
“Mama, no,” Millie moaned. She wanted to jump out of bed and follow her mother, but she feared the idea of a whipping. At four years old, she’d never received one, but she’s seen Papa use the whip on the horse. She’d wait and follow so her mother wouldn’t hear her. She lay still in her bed pretending to sleep, counting as high as she could over and over, waiting for the right moment to sneak away. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. She wouldn’t fall asleep for real. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. 1, 2, 3…4, 5. 1…2, 3…4…1…2…
****
Early the next morning, Millie rapped sharply on the door of the social club. After several moments with no answer, she rapped again. The residents kept late hours, but someone should be up. Putting her ear to the door, she tried to detect sound from within. Anything she might have heard was drowned out by the train pulling up to the platform down the road a piece. She shifted her basket to her left arm and tried the knob. To her surprise, the door opened. She’d find Mrs. Willowby herself.
As she made her way down the hallway that led to the madam’s receiving room, a commotion came from behind one of the closed doors. She could identify Adelaide’s voice and Aoife’s lilt, as well as that of a hysterical woman. None of her business. She’d wait in Adelaide’s room.
She found the door to the room where they’d had tea last time. It was wide open, so Millie didn’t truly feel like she was invading the woman’s privacy. Though she hadn’t particularly noticed Addie’s scent when she last visited, a light floral aroma lingered throughout the space. She pulled the borrowed book from her basket and moved to the bookshelf. It surprised her to see a second volume and considered asking to borrow it as well. In light of the pointed conversation she intended to have with the owner, she didn’t think she’d continue to be allowed lending privileges.
She placed the first volume next to the second and went to sit. On the table next to Adelaide’s chair sat an interrupted breakfast and a letter. Next to it lay a childishly drawn picture of what appeared to be a dog, or perhaps a mouse. She leaned closer to get a better look.
At the bottom of the page, a series of lines and circles imitated words. After the scribble were very adult letters that read, ‘To Mother’. Adelaide? A mother? Where was her child? Obviously, not in Wylder if she was receiving mail from her.
Giving in to her curiosity, she turned the letter so she could see the words.
Adelaide,
As you can see, Eliza Jane has been working on her letters. She wants to be able to write you herself as she doesn’t believe I entreat you to come for her in every letter on her behalf. She’s a clever child and will eventually see through your thin excuses. I appreciate the money you send for her care, but it breaks my heart to hear her pray every night that you and ‘Papa Farley’ will set up your household quickly so she can finally join you. But I repeat myself.
I’m thankful for your continued desire to hear about your daughter as it gives me the opportunity to express my frustration with this untenable situation. Mr. Standish disappeared in the wind when I continued to be unable to tell him how long I’d be responsible for my niece. He was a good man and my best prospect thus far. I fear spinsterhood is my future.
I am angry, but I also fear for you. I told you Farley Willowby stunk of untruth. Now, he has taken you away from your only family with no good reason, or none you will divulge. I continue to pray for your safety. I’m relieved every time I receive post from Wylder—
“What are you doing here?”
Millie whipped her hand back as if stung, too surprised and embarrassed to speak.
“Well? Who let you in?” Adelaide demanded, stalking to her seat. A fresh floral wave replaced the lingering scent as she passed.
She didn’t mention the letter, so maybe she didn’t see Millie reading it. Inwardly sighing in relief, she forged ahead with her original intent. “For one, I was returning your book. I replaced it on the shelf. It was very informative, thank you.”
“If there is one, there must be a two.” Adelaide took a bite of her toast and wrinkled her nose.
“Yes, well, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your girls away from my husband.” She tilted her nose in the air.
Adelaide stared at Millie. She picked up her tea and took a swallow, grimacing before replacing it on the saucer. “I don’t make a habit of turning men away from the club. It’s bad for business. If you can’t keep your husband at home, it seems the book you borrowed wasn’t very helpful after all.”
Millie tried not to let the barb catch hold. “My husband did not come here. One of your girls threw herself at him in town last night.”
“Which girl? And if you know this happened, why didn’t you stop it yourself?” She leaned back in her seat but still held Millie’s eyes.
“I saw Aoife with Race last night and have reason to believe this was not the first such occasion.” She clenched her fists in her lap. She hated confrontation.
A condescending smile stretched across the woman’s face. “Aoife!!” she yelled.
Millie jumped and spun to the door.
A harried Aoife appeared with a damp towel in her hand. “What do you need? I’ve got me ‘ands full with calmin’ Amber right now, don’t I?”
“I apologize for taking you from your work. I just have a question. Did you go to town last night for the purpose of enticing Mr. Lowery with your feminine wiles?”
Aoife turned to Millie and snorted. “Not likely. I’m still mournin’ me own. I’ve no interest in takin on your man an ‘is ridiculous notions. I’ve got things to do.” She turned on her heel and went, presumably, back to Amber.
