“I have to tell you, I haven’t met Matthew yet; but just the thought of you teasing him, and as you say, fawning over him, makes my blood boil.”
“Mrs. Dixon, could we have a slice of your apple pie?” she said after she’d waved Laurie over to their table.
“Of course. Would you like whipped cream on it?”
“That sounds heavenly; yes, please.”
Laurie looked at Micah as he nodded in agreement.
“Darling,” she began when Laurie had hurried away. “Could you do something for me?”
“What?”
“Can you keep your blood boiling until we get back to my room?” she whispered with a wicked wink.
Micah laughed, shook his head at her meaning, and dove into his dessert with gusto.
After dinner,they strolled along the boardwalk arm in arm, nodding cordially at those they encountered. It was peaceful, almost serene, and they didn’t turn around until the sun finally sank below the horizon.
At The Duchess, Cara took Witt in through the side door where they could use the back stairs. There was no point in causing trouble, she explained. If a cowboy saw her taking a man up to her room, all hell would break loose.
Hours later, Micah rested on a feather bed for the first time in his life. Looking around, he marveled at Cara’s room. The hurricane lamp, crystals dangling from the edges, sent slivers of light dancing across the walls. The handmade quilt was incredibly detailed, somehow lightweight, yet warm and cozy.
On the bureau were a pitcher, and a bowl painted with roses. The room had a sweet scent he could not fail to notice, a fragrance much lighter and more floral than what she used at home. Sighing, he put his arms behind his head. Something about this place enticed him in ways he never would have imagined.
Snuggled against his side, Cara snored softly, and he grinned. She was not typically a heavy sleeper, but here she slept better than she did in their bed at home, which had cost several thousand dollars. It was remarkable.
Witt had a great time undressing her, slowly removing each piece of clothing in awe of the numerous contraptions women were required to wear. The corset meant to cinch her waist to a miniscule size left marks on her torso that he was delighted to rub and kiss away.
Making love to her was incredible. He left her stockings and garters on and made use of the slit in her drawers as he excited her with his long fingers. Apparently, women’s fashions in 1880, while uncomfortable, had some advantages for men as well. He imagined it would be quite easy to correct his wife with little fuss were she wearing those thin drawers that separated in the back as well. My goodness, the concept was appealing. A woman’s treasures were hidden away, yet so accessible. Before removing her corset, he had pulled down her camisole, savoring how her breasts were offered up so sweetly.
Pulling the pins from her hair, she removed her wig. He was surprised by how long her hair had gotten. How had he failed to notice she’d been growing it out? Running her fingers through it, she’d sighed in relief.
Apparently, he’d stopped paying attention. Cara was always so chic, so well put together. She’d somehow become less of an individual and more of a fashion statement. He struggled to recall the last time he told her she was beautiful? When was the last time he’d thought so?
Normally she wouldn’t be caught dead wearing pastels with frills and bows, but somehow the style suited her. Her sharply tailored business suits had always seemed appropriate. Suddenly, he saw her in a new light. She was softer, more feminine, and he found he liked it.
Watching her as she slept, her lips slightly pouted, her cheeks rosy, he was enchanted. He intended to make sure she brought every piece of her new wardrobe home with them, if only to please him.
Witt wondered if the passionate love they made put a child in her belly. Oddly enough, that thought also pleased him. What the hell was happening to him? Why was the idea of staying in 1880 so enticing? Why did he long to see her belly swell with his child at least once, maybe more?
Confused and slightly alarmed, he slipped from the bed, tucking the cover around his wife. The noise from the saloon carried and was loud and raucous. That, too, urged him to go downstairs. He wanted to absorb every bit of this remarkable journey through time. Music from the tinny piano and Fancy’s melodic voice called to him. He could hear laughter and the occasional glass breaking. Dressing quickly, he quietly opened the door and slipped out. Using the back stairs, he walked into the saloon, intending to experience every moment of the adventure. There were only three days left before the wedding. After that they would return home and hope for the best, but for now he didn’t intend to miss a thing! Something had changed him.
CHAPTER 18
Lillian Piersal stood at the window in her rooms above the millinery as she had many times in the past. Her hands clenched so tightly her fingernails left half-moon imprints in her palms.
This should not be happening. Nothing was turning out as she intended, and she had planned so carefully for years. She was the one who should be getting married today! She was the one who, with her handsome groom at her side, should be surrounded by gushing young women, admiring her gown and wishing they could take her place.
That was how it was supposed to be, but that was not at all the way things had turned out. At one time, she was engaged to Morgan Whittaker. Smiling, she recalled the days when he’d been enamored with her. Back then, he found Callie Mae Walker an annoying nuisance. It frustrated Morgan when she followed them around, mooning after him with her sad eyes, hoping for the smallest kindness from him. When he did notice her, he’d scold her and send her on her way, much to Lilly’s amusement.
Then he went off to fight. Years later, Morgan returned a different man, and for the life of her, Lilly could not figure out why. Of course, by then he’d been presumed dead, and Lilly had accepted the proposal of Morgan’s younger brother, Mead. After all, he couldn’t expect her to wait forever.
Morgan, as the oldest son and heir, would have been the better choice by far, but it seemed he didn’t mind a bit that Lilly had moved on. In fact, he seemed to be almost delighted to be released from his obligation to her.
It was galling, to say the least, but she still had Mead who would provide for her. His job at the bank was secure, and she was confident his older brother would see that Mead had a nice piece of land once their mother passed on. The Whittaker’s had quite a holding.
Watching Morgan turn his attentions to Callie Mae was appalling, especially since she’d bought a saloon rather than marry the man her father had chosen for her. Yes, Callie Mae was the proud owner of The Duchess. Then she brought all of those girls from St. Louis to help her run the place, and that was the end of any patience Lilly had with the wretched young woman.
