Chapter 26
Stormy could not find a comfortable position on the backless Neo-Greek chair in Lady Epriam Doom’s newly refurbished drawing room. She’d been assigned the seat next to her ladyship, who was taking notes for her weekly Society column in the St. Louis Telegraph-Dispatch.
“And, where did you go to finish?” Lady Dooms asked in her imperial British accent.
“Finish what?” Stormy asked blankly.
“Your education, my dear.”
“I studied mostly at home.”
“I see.” The tip of Lady Doom’s plume pen danced over her journal. “You had tutors. Field of study?”
“Have you read a book?” Mary Masters whispered.
Grateful for the translation, Stormy nodded. “Shakespeare, Homer, Voltaire, Hugo, Dickens, and Aristotle.”
“Notable.” Lady Dooms studied her again over the half-moon of her reading glasses. “Few girls revere the classics these days. Other interests?”
“Bareback racing and roping steers.”
Lady Dooms’ smile contorted with disbelief. “That is quite impossible. Your father would never give his permission. You’re a woman. And, his heir.”
“It’s true,” Stormy said eagerly. “Until Zed had his heart attack, he raced against me. His stallion is fast, but my horse is half his age. Odin loves to run. Jump, too. He can clear a five-foot fence at a full gallop.”
Mary, Emily Llewellyn, and Blade’s mother gasped audibly.
“I’m going to write Natural Sciences and hope no one asks.” Shifting regally on her purple cushion, Lady Dooms dispatched her elderly butler for a fresh pot of Earl Grey tea. “Let us turn to more interesting subjects. Who is designing the wedding gown?”
“We haven’t settled on a designer yet,” Olivia blurted.
“I see.” Lady Dooms sniffed. “Have you set the date?”
Stormy stiffened. After last night, she wasn’t sure where she stood with Blade. She’d waited for him to return, hoping to talk, until she fell into an exhausted sleep. When she woke, the coverlet on the other side of the bed hadn’t been mussed.
She didn’t want to marry a man who wouldn’t trust her with his secrets, confide his dreams, or share his plans. All the great poets and philosophers said abiding love was built on sharing and honesty.
And yet, she’d done more than her own share of mistrusting. She’d doubted him when he’d disarmed her in front of the Land & Loan, questioned his motives at the Founders Day dance, and rejected his marriage proposal. She needed to think, and this barrage of questions from Lady Dooms wasn’t helping.
“Well?” Lady Dooms’ strained disapproval swept from face to face.
There was a jostling outside the drawing room door, and then a crash of tray and china.
A striking woman with curls piled high in a pin-studded chignon burst into the room. Sooted lashes framed her brown eyes, and red gloss glistened on perfectly-outlined lips. Rose accents on her tight gown highlighted her hourglass figure.
“I heard what you asked as I was removing my gloves, Dorothea. You’re not viewing this correctly,” the woman chided. “Blade Masters’ wedding will be the gala event of the year. Hundreds of decisions need to be made. Flowers. Colors. Caterers. Guest list.” She wagged her finger in front of Lady Dooms’ nose. “Details will set the date of this wedding, not the other way around.”
The plume at the tip of the dowager’s pen quivered. “I suppose, Candace. Still, I need news for my column. Ophelia, where would you like to honeymoon?”
Silently thanking her unfamiliar rescuer, Stormy said what was true. “At home.”
“You’d better rethink that, sugar.” The woman glided to the seat opposite Stormy. “Blade’s an adventurer. He can’t stand being penned in. Dorothea, write that the honeymoon will be a wild buffalo hunt across the Colorado plains capped by a picnic at the top of Pike’s Peak. Blade will love that.”
~ ~ ~
Blade flopped onto the rococo chaise longue that had been moved into Stormy’s room sometime during the day. The daybed was undoubtedly a plea for propriety from his gossip-fearing mother, but he had no intention of sleeping on it while Stormy occupied the big poster bed. His yearning to undress her had simmered ever since he’d stood on the bank’s stairs this morning and compared her to Candy.
He turned onto his side and patted the brocade fabric in invitation. “Pike’s Peak? Candy has an over-active imagination.”
Instead of responding, or getting up from the vanity and joining him, Stormy turned back toward the mirror. She reached up and fumbled with the tiny screw that clamped a dangly ear bob to her lobe.
They were playing a cat and mouse game. He preferred being the hunter, but his aching johnson pleaded to be the prey.
He crossed the room. As he set his hands on Stormy’s shoulders, his simmering desire burst into full boil. He wanted to finish this business in St. Louis, take her back to the ranch, and love her for the rest of his life.
“Let me help.” He loosened the screw on the second ear bob and set it next to its mate in the cut crystal holder. “Thank you for going out with my mother and sister today. I know it wasn’t fun.”
“It was awful. Everyone stared like I was a two-headed steer on a fancy smorgasbord table.” She stood, walked to the farthest window, and looked out at the moonless night.
He followed, trying to stay calm, hoping that whatever had upset her was minor and simple to soothe. “Stormy, tell me what happened.”
“How well do you know your sister-in-law?”
There it was. The question he’d hoped to avoid. His stomach clenched as he stared at his shoes and picked his words. If Stormy hated knowing he’d once loved Candy, it would be over between them. He’d lose his one chance at happiness. “I used to know her well, but that was a long time ago.”
“Well, I don’t like her.” Raising a hand, she struck the window with the side of her fist. The glass vibrated ominously. “At first, it seemed she was saving me from Lady Dooms. Then, she started interrogating me.”
He held his breath again and prayed that Candy had not asked if Stormy had found the puckered, snag-of-a-scar on his left buttock. Or, discovered he was ticklish on the back side of his knees. Surely, Candy had as much to lose from revealing their past as he did.
“In case you don’t know, being from the wild west and all, cornflower blue is last year’s color.” Stormy mimicked Candy’s scheming Southern belle voice. “How do you feel about moving to St. Louis and becoming a Society wife?”
Relieved, Blade winced sympathetically. “What did you say?”
“I looked her straight in the eye and said I intended to buy the biggest house in Lafayette Square and hold exclusive soirees to discuss great literature. You should’ve seen her jaw drop.”
He exploded with laughter.
“Why are you laughing? Your mother squealed with delight. Now, she wants to take me house shopping as well as clothes shopping.” She glared at him. “My home is in Prosperity.”
“And, my home is wherever you are. I want to live in Prosperity with you.” He walked to the bed, jimmied off his boots, and propped his back against the puffy bolster. “Your lie gives me an idea. I need your help.”
“Finally. Anything’s better than high tea with snippy socialites.” She rushed to the bed and perched on her knees in the middle. “What can I do?”
“You have to come closer. We’re plotting. Someone might overhear.”
She glanced quickly toward the door.
“Up here, next to me.” When her shoulder rubbed against his, he fought the temptation to stroke her thigh. “Ask Candy to accompany you.”
“To look at houses? Why?”
“This morning, Mouse watched as Candy gave Peabody a sum of money.”
“That doesn’t make sense. If she supplied Peabody with details for the report Purdy showed you about your family, he would pay her, not the other way around.” Stormy sat straight up and faced him. “She could be settling up for a job he did for her.”
“Or, hiring him to do something new.”
“It’s quite a coincidence that she’d hire the same investigator as Jonathan Vance.”
“I agree. If you took Candy to look for houses, you might be able to figure out—”
“Why she paid Peabody.” Stormy’s eyes darkened to a midnight blue. “What about your mother? This is leading her on. I refuse to hurt her feelings.”
“When it’s all over, I’ll grovel and make amends.”
“No. You’ll say it was your idea, and I was following orders.”
“Got it.” He tugged on her arms and teased her onto his lap. Her weight settled deliciously on his thighs. He leaned forward, intending to kiss her.
To his dismay, she shook her hands free, scooted to the foot of the bed, and turned her back.
“Candy said something else,” she said. “In front of everybody.”
Moving quickly, he knelt on the floor in front of her and managed to keep his voice even. “Can you tell me?”
She avoided his eyes. Shook her head.
“Tell me, please.”
Imitating Candy again, she said, “I’d never marry a man who bought such an ugly engagement ring. Even if I loved him to death.”
Wishing his hands were around his ex-fiancée’s throat, Blade clenched his fists. She had no cause to treat Stormy cruelly. After he took care of Peabody, he’d force her to apologize. “The ring,” he ordered. “Take it off.”
Stormy’s wrist bent. She wiggled her fingers until the diamond-dotted band slipped off and fell onto his outstretched hand. Still seething, he rose from the bed and threw the ring down into the dainty refuse bin beside the vanity.
Behind him, Stormy’s trembling voice pierced his rage. “I’ll need a ticket home.”
He turned in time to see her sad eyes fill with tears. Heart in his throat, he rushed back to the bed. “Forgive me, sweetheart, please. This is all my fault. I bought that ring when I was a river rat and thought it could buy me love.” He blotted her cheeks tenderly. “First thing tomorrow morning, we’ll go downtown and commission three new ones. We’ll run our fingers through diamonds and rubies until you pick the gems you want for an engagement ring. Then, we’ll buy matching wedding rings.”
She looked unconvinced. “That’ll cost an awful lot of money.”
“Now you sound like a Society wife.” He grinned like a fool and waited for her to smile back.
She didn’t. “I want to get married under the black-walnut tree. And, we will invite your parents.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“Your mother thinks I’m the tiara and train type, but I’m not. I’m boots and bandanas, clothes you can work in.”
“Got it. I’ll tell her not to expect a harpist or a seven-tiered wedding cake.”
Her chin lifted with the stubborn set he’d come to love. “We’re going to do things the way I want from now on.”
He sat back on his heels and traced circles on her knees. “What will we do after the ceremony?”
The corners of her mouth turned up. “Clean the barn, of course.”
“I know what we can do on a fluffy bed of straw.” His hands dove under the hem of her pastel-blue dress and slid up her silk stockings.
She swatted ineffectively at his traveling hands. “We have to check fences first.”
Cupping her rump, he pulled her toward him. The skirt of her day dress slid up around her hips, exposing her garters. “Remind me to tie a blanket to Belinda’s saddle.”
“Running Bear might have beans to shell. The stove always needs more split wood.”
“After all that work, we’ll definitely need a bath.” He stood and shimmed his legs between hers, pressed his swelling johnson against her black satin panties. “You, me, naked in hot water.”
“Hot water makes me floppy.” She slumped back onto the mattress and giggled like a schoolyard child waiting to be tagged.
He leaned over her, set his hands next to her shoulders, and looked down.
Her laughter stilled. A flush spread across her cheeks and down her neck. Her breasts rose and fell in siren waves.
The swelling of his heart outpaced the pounding in his johnson. He wanted to marry her tomorrow. After picking rings, they could run to the blue-domed courthouse and hire a judge. They could still have a ceremony in Prosperity. Maybe he could convince her to let his mother host a party for her Society.
“Stormy?” Her name escaped his lips like a plea. “May I kiss you?”
She raised her arms, hooked her hands around his neck, and pulled his face close to hers. “Yes.”