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Authors: Ann Collins

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Genre Fiction, #Historical, #Romance, #Victorian, #Historical Fiction, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #United States, #Historical Romance

A Matter of Marriage (13 page)

BOOK: A Matter of Marriage
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She
toed off her shoes and unfastened the buttons at her nape. Fatigue from her
lack of sleep began to set in. Try as she might, contorting her hands and arms,
she could not reach the rest of the buttons. Spent, she let her arms fall to
her sides and dropped her chin to her chest. She needed help, and the only help
available was Alex.

She
uttered an unladylike curse. Well, she might as well give in now. She would let
him become her husband in every way, and she’d find out if his claims about
lovemaking were true.

Squaring
her shoulders, she left her room, crossed the apartment, and knocked lightly at
Alex’s door.

It
swung open, and he stood shirtless in front of her, the top two buttons of his
pants unfastened.

Her
mouth turned to sand.

“I
didn’t expect you so soon.” He folded his bare, muscular arms over his bare,
muscular chest. Even worse, he smiled. She wished he wouldn’t. She tended to
forget herself when he smiled.

She
tried to find her voice. “I, uh, can’t reach the buttons on my dress.”

He
chuckled, the sound making her insides quiver. “Turn around.”

She
did, her legs wooden again.

His
deft fingers started where she had left off and slowly moved down. They brushed
her skin where the edges of the dress fell open.

Julia
could barely breathe. She stood perfectly still, trying to quell the little
tremors spreading over her body. How did he manage to touch her so lightly yet
send ripples of feeling flowing to the very tips of her fingers and toes?

When
he stopped, she managed to ask, “Are you … finished?”

“That
depends.”

“On
what?”

“On
how much further you want me to go?” His breath and words feathered across the bare
skin above her combination camisole and corset.

She
shut her eyes at the sensation. Her normally rational brain felt as if it were
floating in a thick fog. “I … don’t understand.”

He
skimmed kisses along the top of her spine, and her head dropped forward,
seemingly of its own accord. “Would you like to come in?”

Shivery
from his seductive touch, she slowly turned and glanced from his warm gaze to
the wide bed. The reality of her situation flooded back to her. She was not
married to a man she loved, but she was about to give herself to him anyway,
because it was his right as her husband. She also owed him for her future at
the hotel.

She
nodded, the movement like a woodpecker’s. “Yes, I will come in. I want to get
this over with as quickly as possible so I can go back to my room and sleep.
It’s been a very long day.”

Instead
of stepping aside, he rubbed his jaw. “Julia, making love to you for the first
time will not happen ‘quickly.’ It will be slow and sensual, every moment and
movement to be savored. You’re a passionate woman. You proved that when we
kissed.”

“I
suffered a moment of weakness. I don’t expect it to happen again.” She told
herself she didn’t want it to happen again, but standing in front of this man—her
husband—with his chest hair gleaming under the electric lights and his rich
brown eyes looking so knowing, she felt her resolve eroding like Coronado’s
beach during a winter storm.

“You
enjoyed that kiss as much as I did.” His long, dark lashes lowered over an
amused glimmer. “And when we make love together, you will enjoy that even more.
Like our wedding kiss, our mating will go on and on, but even that won’t be
enough.”

Instead
of laughing at his outrageous talk, she trembled. “I don’t think so. Now let’s
just do this before I lose my resolve.”

He
dropped his hand to the waistband of his dress pants, which now seemed to fit
more snugly across the front. The moment Julia realized why, she whisked her
errant gaze back up. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment while her lower body
pulsed. What had she been thinking to look down there?

He
pursed his lips, then released what sounded like a groan and a sigh. “Julia, I
know I’m going to regret this for the next few hours, but I’m sending you back
to your room. When we consummate our marriage, it’s going to be because you
want me as much as I want you. Tonight, nothing is going to happen between us.”

“But—”

He
covered her lips with his fingers. “We will, eventually, make love. I think I
can promise you that. The time and place are what will remain in question.”

She
curled her hands into fists. Not knowing when it would happen was even worse
than doing it now, when she didn’t want to but was resigned to letting it
happen.

He
leaned down, cupped one side of her face with his hand, and pressed his lips to
the other side in a tender, lingering kiss.

Her
knees went soft. Any hope of whirling away from him, exerting some semblance of
control over herself and the situation, deserted her.

He
straightened, trailed the pad of his callused index finger along the line of
her jaw, and said, “Good night, Mrs. MacLean. Sleep well.”

With
that, he stepped back and closed the door.

Breathless,
staring at the wood grain just inches away from her nose, Julia didn’t think
she would sleep at all. Alex had given her a reprieve, but one she wasn’t so
sure she wanted anymore.

*   *   *

Alex
leaned against the bedroom wall as hot and hard as he had ever been for a
woman. Sleep would not come easy tonight, but he had done the right thing by
sending Julia and her alluring innocence away. He didn’t want her coming to him
out of obligation. He wanted her in his bed as a willing marriage partner—because
she wanted him, scar and all.

Only
then would she be his.

Chapter Nine

 

Dressed
in a pastel-blue shirtwaist and skirt, Julia sat at the small dining table in
her apartment and attempted another bite of toast, but she had no appetite.
Every time she heard Alex moving around in his bedroom, she jumped. Hearing him
taking a bath had sent her imagination soaring to places she didn’t want to go.
At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

His
door opened.

She
stiffened, her spine as rigid as the pilings holding up the boathouse on Glorietta Bay. Her fingers clamped down on the triangle of toast. It crumbled, dropping
onto her plate.

“Good
morning, Mrs. MacLean.” He came up behind her, placed his hands on her
shoulders, and leaned over her.

When
she dared to look up at him, tipping her head back, he kissed her forehead. She
struggled not to close her eyes. If she lost the struggle, she would end up
picturing him taking her into his arms and passionately kissing her on the
mouth.

“Did
you sleep well?” he asked, coming around the table and sitting down across from
her. He wore his faded work clothes.

“No,”
she admitted, relaxing a bit now that he wasn’t touching her.

“Me
either.” He leaned his forearms on the table. “The doctor was right about a hot
bath, though. I can move better now.”

“He’ll
be glad to hear it.” She lifted the silver coffee pot. “Coffee?”

He
nodded. “Thanks.”

As
she poured him a steaming, fragrant cup, she noticed his gaze roaming over the
china platters kept warm by silver covers. There was also a linen-lined silver
basket filled with toast and breakfast rolls, as well as a pitcher of orange
juice—everything her kitchen staff had thoughtfully provided for a hungry
couple the morning after their wedding night.

He
lifted one of the silver covers, revealing crisp bacon slices and scrambled
eggs. “Mmm. Smells good. I don’t suppose you cooked this up yourself this
morning.”

“No,
it’s all courtesy of my breakfast chef and his staff.”

“You
didn’t go down there alone, I hope.”

She
heard the concern in his voice and liked it. “No, I promise you I am taking the
threat against my life seriously. I used the annunciator. One of the waiters
responded, and when he came to the door, I ordered breakfast. He returned with
a lot more than I asked for.”

“Nice
of him. And them. I’m starved.” He served himself a generous helping of
everything, took a bite of roll, and glanced at the apartment’s small, but
serviceable, kitchen. “Do you cook?”

“I
know how. When I was growing up, I often spent time in the hotel kitchen, first
in Philadelphia and then here, watching and learning from the chefs.” She
picked up her glass of orange juice and took a sip. “I don’t usually bother,
though. If I don’t eat in the Crown Room, I have the chef prepare something
that can be delivered to my office. Or here.”

“It’s
a good arrangement. Elizabeth and I had a cook by necessity. I would’ve wasted
away otherwise. My wife, uh, first wife, couldn’t boil an egg and didn’t care
to learn. In the five years we were married, I don’t think she entered the
kitchen more than a handful of times.”

“What
was she like, if you don’t mind my asking?” She was grateful for the opening
Alex had given her. She wanted to know more about his past and was curious
about her predecessor.

His
eating slowed. “She was beautiful, with dark hair and big brown eyes, but she was
also spoiled, the only child of an old, powerful, and rich Baltimore family.”
He put down his fork and took a sip of coffee. “When she set her sights on me,
I was ‘over the moon,’ as they say. She had poise, beauty, breeding, and
connections. I’d grown up poor in an insignificant little town and was only
just starting to make my name as an architect. One of my buildings had won an
award. Elizabeth was at the ceremony, and we were introduced.” He shook his
head, and he wasn’t smiling.

“What?”

He
picked up a slice of bacon and ate half. “It seems so long ago now.” He
finished the rest of the slice. “I was young and foolish, and she bewitched me
with her looks and background and consuming interest in me. I fell in love. I thought
everything would be perfect. We’d be together, and her parents—the Ellingsons—would
praise my architectural accomplishments and services to their well-to-do friends.”
A faraway look came into his eyes.

Julia
wondered what he was seeing. “What happened?” she quietly asked.

His
gaze came back to her. “Nothing turned out the way I expected. Elizabeth accepted my marriage proposal, but her parents disapproved of me. I was a nobody
to them, and always would be. They tried to keep us from marrying. Even offered
me money.” He laughed, the sound hollow. “Funny, isn’t it? You offered me money
to marry you. They offered me money to walk away.”

She
winced. No wonder he had adamantly refused her monetary offer. “You obviously
didn’t take their money.”

“No,
and they couldn’t talk Elizabeth out of the marriage either. What I didn’t know
then was that she had set her mind on having me, as if I were a doll or puppy
that she wanted but was being denied. Eventually, as always, she got her way. I
didn’t know how until about a year after we were married, when I experienced
for myself what turned out to be legendary amongst the servants in her parents’
home. She threw a tantrum, shouting and screaming and throwing things around
the room.” He stared at a crumb on the white tablecloth.

Julia
carefully folded her napkin and laid it on the table. “That must’ve been a
nasty shock to you.”

“I
was more disillusioned than anything. And I was disappointed in myself for not
seeing her character clearly.” He drank down his entire glass of orange juice. “You
and I, after less than two days, are more compatible than Elizabeth and I ever
were.” He picked up his fork and slowly finished the last few bites of egg.

She
had to admit they were getting along well. Maybe their marriage could work. Julia
didn’t want to think what might have happened if he had not agreed to marry her
when he did. He deserved more from her than just her thanks.

“Did
Elizabeth want children?” she asked.

He
pushed his plate away, a mask seeming to slide over his features. “What are
your plans for the day?”

His
sudden change of subject took her aback. Had he said enough about his first
wife? Or did he prefer to avoid the subject of children and the family he had
hoped to have? Feeling guilty about denying him what he wanted, Julia avoided
the subject, too. “I intend to catch up with my paperwork and do my rounds.
What about you?”

“I’ll
take you on your rounds, then do some investigating. I want to find out if
Tyler Wolff is in the area. If he is, then we can assume he’s still interested
in acquiring the hotel and is therefore a suspect.”

She
got up as well. “You’ll need to go to San Diego then. He’s staying at the
Heritage Hotel, or he was, at any rate.”

“I’ll
try there first.”

“While
you’re in San Diego, I’d like it if you could stop into Marston’s Department
Store and purchase some new clothes, both for your job as carpenter and for
evenings in the hotel. You can charge everything to my account.”

“No.
I’ll buy what I need after I’ve worked some.”

She
crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her fingers against one elbow. “Alex,
you know I have a reputation to uphold. If you plan to stay here as my husband,
you must be presentable. You’re welcome to leave if you object.”

“Nice
try, but I’m not going anywhere. You might as well bury whatever hopes you harbor
on that point.”

She
sighed. It had been worth a try, half-hearted though it was. “Then you’ll go
shopping?”

“I’ll
get enough of what’s needed so I won’t shame you. You can take the costs out of
my future wages. I don’t want your money.”

“It’s
not charity, Alex. You’re my husband.”

“I’ll
earn my own way, same as you’re earning yours by managing the hotel. I assume
you can understand that.”

“Yes,
I understand.” After teetering on the brink of destitution, she understood very
well.

“Elizabeth couldn’t,” he said, his tone one of resigned acceptance. “She had no concept of
the value of money or work. She spent and spent, with no regard for the amount
I was earning. When I complained, she said she’d ask her daddy for help, even
though she knew I didn’t want a single penny from him.”

Julia
dropped her arms to her sides. She had married a proud man, and the more she
learned about him, the more she found to like about him. “I’ll keep an
accounting of your purchases and deduct the costs from your earnings. Will that
suit you?”

“Yes.
Thank you.”

“Good.”
She strode to the annunciator and pressed it. “A waiter will be here in a few
minutes to clear away the dishes. After that, I’d like to do my rounds.”

“I’ll
be ready.”

As
would she. For two nights in a row, she had neglected the hotel. Everything
needed checking on, but she also welcomed the opportunity to spend more time in
Alex’s company, maybe even to feel again what she had felt last night on the
threshold of his room.

*   *   *

Thirty
minutes later, Alex accompanied Julia downstairs. He told himself he was not a
coward for veering away from telling her more about his life in Baltimore. She had a right to know, but the losses and humiliation he had suffered were
buried deep within himself. Bringing them out into the light would be heaping
one painful episode onto another, like a cascade of water hitting rock after
rock on its way to the pool at the bottom, where he’d be pushed under. Not only
that, his past might act like a poison, tainting his hopes for a future filled
with love and maybe even family.

Walking
with Julia, Alex concentrated on her and the present. He wished he were back in
bed and that she were beside him. Waiting until she wanted him as much as he
wanted her was going to try his patience and fortitude. Maybe he could nudge
her toward a quicker decision in his favor. He smiled to himself. During Julia’s
rounds, he would get to explore the hotel and study its architecture, as well
as search out the best spots for a man and woman wanting a little privacy. If
he found a spot with promise, he believed he could entice Julia into taking
advantage of it.

They
crossed the Rotunda, and she immediately went to speak with the weasel at the
registration desk about the number of guests due to leave and arrive. Alex stood
close enough to listen to their discussion and intimidate Chalmers if the clerk
showed her any disrespect.

The
man, Adam’s apple bobbing, glanced over at him several times and stayed on his
best behavior.

“Thank
you, Mr. Chalmers,” she said. “I’ll check with you again later.”

“Yes,
Miss Fair—” His gaze shot to Alex. “I mean, Mrs. MacLean.”

Alex
winked at him, took Julia’s elbow, and led her away. “Where to next?”

“The
laundry.”

On
their way out the front door, Theo was coming in, pushing an expensive leather
trunk on his cart. He tipped his pillbox hat to them. “Morning, Mr. MacLean,
Mrs. MacLean.”

Julia
greeted him with a self-conscious smile.

Alex
leaned down to the bellboy and lowered his voice. “Any news for us?”

Theo
pushed his spectacles higher and glanced around the lobby. “Not much, I’m
afraid. Mrs. Reynolds spread the news about her near fall after stepping on a
rotted stair. No one has said anything about it being sabotaged, so whoever did
it is keeping quiet.”

“As
will we,” Julia said.

“Anything
else?” Alex asked.

“Well,
the biggest news, of course, is your wedding. Everyone is talking about”—he
pulled his head into his shoulders like a turtle—“the kiss.”

She
grimaced, color flowing into her fair face. “I’ll never live that down.”

“I’d
rather you didn’t,” Alex said. “It was a great kiss, which is why everyone is
gossiping about it.”

A
short laugh, quickly covered up, escaped from Theo’s mouth. At Julia’s pointed
look, he cleared his throat. “Sorry. There is one more thing you should know.
Marshal Landis has been wandering around the grounds asking a lot of questions.
Mostly about you, Mr. MacLean.”

Alex
glowered. The man’s jealous preoccupation could endanger Julia. “He’s wasting
his time, time that should be spent searching for Julia’s assailant.” He shoved
a hand into his pants pocket. “Theo, later on, I’m going over to San Diego. I’d appreciate it if you could check on my wife every so often while I’m gone.”

“Happy
to do it. But now, I’d better be off.” He tapped his cart. “Mrs. Trouville in
three-sixteen is waiting for her trunk.”

They
let him go and headed outside, across the carriage drive and lawn, toward the
red brick smokestack rising above the hotel’s engine house and laundry.

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