Rebecca Hagan Lee - [Borrowed Brides 01] (17 page)

Gwendolyn.
Reese closed his eyes and pictured her in his mind. Her features had blurred a bit over the years, but he didn’t need to see them to know what they were. Long blond hair, china blue eyes, porcelain complexion, a perfect hourglass figure, and a mouth that could do wonderful things to a man. He should know. She had had many hours to practice on him. And then she had that Boston Brahmin pedigree. He had wanted her. And he had wanted that pedigree and the respect and stability that went with it.

And she had wanted him. Gwendolyn Terrill had been enchanted with the idea of toying with the forbidden. And he, Reese Jordan, had been the forbidden. He could see it so clearly now. But then he had been blinded by pride and lust. Mostly lust, he admitted but he had also wanted to enter the superior bastion of Boston society. The society that had allowed him admittance to Harvard on the strength of his father’s name and money but had denied him the respectability he craved because of his heritage.

Reese had never made a secret of his background. There had never been any reason to hide it. His mother was part Cherokee. All the Alexanders were a mix of Cherokee and Scots blood. Reese’s father was English. Reese was all three. The mixed blood running through his veins had always been a source of pride for Reese. He’d always been accepted by his society.

But he hadn’t been accepted at Harvard. Not until his father bought his admittance. Bloodlines mattered in Boston society where a good pedigree meant the difference between acceptance and rejection, success and failure. Money might buy his way into Harvard, might even open a few doors, but it couldn’t guarantee acceptance in a society dominated by narrow minds. Only an impeccable pedigree, a blue-blooded lineage, or an advantageous marriage could do that.

Reese reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew another thin cheroot. He struck a match and lit it, enjoying the taste of tobacco. He had thought himself in love with Gwendolyn. The moment he saw her, he wanted her. And he was young enough, rich enough, arrogant enough, to think he could have her.

Reese remembered his wedding day as clearly as if it were yesterday. The church was filled to capacity. Boston society had turned out to see one of its own wed an outsider. Reese’s own family had journeyed from the territory. His father, his mother’s father, his mother’s mother, her brothers, and sisters, the family he loved, had traveled to Boston to share his happiness, to welcome his bride into the family. They waited eagerly to meet the woman Reese had chosen. They waited in a hot, stuffy church all afternoon.

Gwendolyn hadn’t walked down the aisle on her father’s arm. She sent a note instead, saying she had never intended for things to go so far. Certainly she’d never intended to marry him.

It was just a game.

Half of the wedding guests laughed at the setdown Gwendolyn Terrill had given Reese Jordan. The rest of the guests shared his pain, his humiliation, his shame, because it had been their shame as well. Boston society had played a cruel joke on Reese Jordan. It would serve as a lesson to other young upstarts.

He had tried to let it go, tried to forget her, but he couldn’t. His love for her hadn’t died that easily. Weeks later, he found himself on her doorstep asking to see her, begging for an audience.

Gwendolyn had kept him waiting on the stoop for nearly an hour before she breezed past him on the arm of her tall, blond, entirely suitable, escort. Reese had turned away. They’d never spoken again.

Why the hell hadn’t he learned from that mistake? He could have prevented this fiasco with more careful planning. Why had he changed his mind about the doctor? He should have had Faith examined. He had planned so carefully, so meticulously, for all possibilities except one. A virgin. A damned virgin. They seemed destined to be his Achilles’ heel. His ultimate downfall.

He ought to put her pretty, little ass on a train back to Richmond. He ought to stop payment on his bank draft and send her packing. He ought to…

Reese sighed. It was too late for all of that. He had paid good money for her services, and he’d be damned if he was going to let her get away with cheating him! Besides, he might have already achieved his goal.

He flipped down the collar of his coat, then made his way back into the railroad car. He needed to wash before breakfast. The train had a scheduled forty-five minute stop at the next station for water, fuel, mail, and passengers.

Reese was familiar with the schedule. He’d made the trip a half dozen times since the joining of the Union Pacific and Central Pacific tracks in Promontory, Utah, back in May.

He would have to face her sometime. He’d already made arrangements for breakfast for the three of them.

Reese stepped out of the washroom just as Faith closed the door to Joy’s room. She was holding the little girl in her arms. A carpetbag and a small trunk sat next to the door. Faith’s eyes were bloodshot and swollen. Her nose was red. She looked as if she had spent the night drinking—or crying. She looked like hell.

“Going somewhere?” He nodded in the direction of the trunk.

“We’re getting off at the next stop.”

Faith looked at Reese. His hair was wet. Drops of water ran down the inky strands, and dotted the white shirt that hung open halfway down his chest. A linen towel was draped over one shoulder. He smelled of soap and spice and had obviously just finished shaving. There was a speck of lather below his ear. He’d never looked more handsome to Faith.

“Yes,” he agreed, “you are getting off at the next stop. For breakfast. And then you’re getting right back on.” He calmly began to button his shirt.

He didn’t sound very angry, but his words still had an edge to them.

Faith pulled herself up to her full height, squared her shoulders, and raised her head to meet his steady scrutiny. “No, Mr. Jordan,” she said firmly. “Joy and I are going back to Richmond.”

His fingers stopped. He’d managed only half his buttons. “You aren’t going anywhere with my child, except to breakfast.”

“Joy is not your child,” Faith reminded him.

“Nor is she yours,” he countered. “What is she? Your kid sister?” It was a guess on his part, but a lucky one. He could tell by the expression in her red-rimmed eyes that he’d hit the mark.

“That’s beside the point.”

“I wasn’t talking about Joy,” Reese told her. “I was referring to the child you may be carrying inside you, at this very moment.”

Faith tried to step back, away from him, but the door to the pink bedroom stopped her. “I’m not carrying your child.”

“How do you know that?” Reese asked.

“I just know,” Faith insisted stubbornly.

“Did you do something to prevent conception?” His face was taut, his eyes narrowed, dangerously. “Did you do something this morning?” He wanted to shake her. He moved forward but caught himself before he touched her.

“No, I―” she began.

“Then how do you know? Answer me.”

“Because she’s carrying me,” Joy piped up, staring up at her hero with big, silvery-gray eyes almost identical to Faith’s. “Faith’s not big enough to carry two little girls.”

Joy’s innocent words dissolved some of the tension gripping them.

Though he tried hard to maintain his anger, the corners of Reese’s mouth turned up slightly. He and Faith had been so caught up in their battle, they had forgotten Joy.

She was a perceptive five-year-old, equipped with sharp eyes and ears.

He would remember that in the future. He touched Joy on the tip of her turned-up nose. “You’re absolutely right, sprite.” He reached for her and Joy held out her arms. He took her from Faith and set her on his feet. “Why don’t we walk to breakfast? You’re getting a little too big for Faith to carry.”

“Because she’s carrying your child?” Joy asked, solemnly repeating the phrase she’d heard Reese use.

“Something like that.” His brown-eyed gaze met Faith’s. His eyes held a silent warning, as if he dared her to open her mouth and protest.

She took her chances. “I don’t want to go to breakfast with you.” Her voice was soft, yet firm. She was prepared to stand her ground.

“But you will.” Reese’s full lips were pulled into a tight, disapproving line.

“No, Mr. Jordan, I won’t.” Faith refused to budge.

“Suit yourself.” He sounded nonchalant, but his unyielding stance indicated otherwise. “Stay here if you like, but Joy and I are going to breakfast.”

“Joy is not going with you.”

He looked down at the child holding his hand. “Are you hungry, sprite?”

Joy nodded.

Faith offered Joy a hand. “Come on, Joy, we’re getting off. We’re going back to Richmond.”

Joy stayed where she was. “I’m hungry.”

“We can eat on the train to Richmond,” Faith explained.

“Is Weese going with us?”

“No, Mr. Jordan is staying here on this train.”

“Will I have my woom on the train to Wichmond?”

“No, sweetie, we sit on benches like we did the first time.” She stepped closer to take Joy by the hand.

Joy shook her head and clung to Reese. “I want to stay with Weese.”

“You can’t, sweetie,” Faith was getting a little desperate. “You must come with me.”

“You can stay with me if you want, sprite,” Reese promised as Joy moved closer to Reese and wrapped an arm around his leg above the knee.

“No, she can’t!” Faith glared at him. “She’s my responsibility.”

“The contract you signed gave me the responsibility for Joy and for you,” Reese corrected her smugly, reminding her of her legal obligation. “You may return to Richmond if you want to, but you relinquish all rights to Joy for a year.”

“I would never do that!” Angry tears sparkled in Faith’s eyes.

His voice was firm. “If you return to Richmond, Joy will stay with me.”

“That’s not fair! You can’t―”

“I will.” He reached out to touch Faith’s cheek. She jerked away from his fingers. “You lose,
Miss
Collins.”

“It’s
Mrs
. Jordan.” Faith did not concede defeat graciously. She was angry at him for using Joy against her. And angry with Joy for betraying her. “I hate you.”

“Fine.” Reese’s expression was closed, unreadable. “Hate me all you want. After breakfast.” He took her elbow and guided her toward the door. He was furious at her for her stubborn refusal as well as her deception and for reminding him he’d married her by proxy. And he was furious with himself for ruthlessly blackmailing her into submission.

He hated using Joy against her, but he would do whatever was necessary to keep Faith Collins within his reach. He refused to acknowledge the painful expression on her face or the way her angry words ripped at his insides.

“All right, dammit, you win,” Reese exploded as the train slowly chugged its way out of Chicago.

He had endured yet another silent breakfast—the third―and that was enough.

Faith ignored him.

“Did you hear me?” Reese asked. “I said you win.”

“I wasn’t aware we were competing.” The chill in her voice was unmistakable.

“The hell you weren’t!” Reese got up from his desk and began to pace along the length of the carpet right in front of where Faith sat embroidering. “You’ve given me the silent treatment for the past two days. I’ve had enough of it. I’m tired of sitting outside in the cold half the night. And I’m tired of picking you up off the sofa and putting you to bed every night.”

He was also tired of waking up each morning throbbing with unrequited desire. Oh, she was more than willing to curl up to him in her sleep, to share his body heat and plant her firm little fanny against his naked arousal. But the minute she opened her eyes she turned frosty. If he so much as touched her while she was conscious, the air turned decidedly colder.

“I’m quite willing to sleep on the sofa,” Faith reminded him. “I didn’t ask to be carried to your bed each night. In fact, I would prefer to sleep alone.”

“Too bad,” Reese told her, “because that wasn’t part of the deal.” He pointed a finger in her direction. “You haven’t lived up to your end of the bargain. According to our contract, you owe me more time in the sack.”

Faith stood up. His finger missed touching her nose by a mere fraction of an inch. She stared at his finger, then looked him over from top to bottom, refusing to be intimidated. “And you, Mr. Jordan, owe me an apology.” She folded away her sewing and placed it in her basket.

“For what? Remember, you’re the one who lied. You told me you were a widow and Joy was your little girl.”

“I never said Joy was my child. You assumed―”

“So you lied by omission. What about your sainted husband, Champ?”

“Your assumption,” Faith pointed out. “I never actually told you I’d been married.”

“You’re wearing a wedding band.” He grabbed hold of her left hand, lifting it up in front of her face so she could see the thin gold band. His touch burned her flesh. Her body tingled with awareness.

Faith snatched her hand away.

“What was I supposed to think?” Reese asked.

“All right!” she yelled at him, losing control. “All right, I admit it. I lied to you. I deceived you. I betrayed your trust. I let you believe I was something I wasn’t. Is that what you want to hear?” Tears formed in her eyes, then rolled down her cheeks. She ruthlessly wiped them away with the back of her hand.

Reese placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her into the warmth of his wide chest. “What I want to hear,” he said gently, “is why.”

Faith pulled away from him. “The reason doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.”

“Why?” She turned on him. “Because you can’t stand the thought of a liar and a cheat giving birth to your child? Isn’t that all you really care about? Your contract? Your child? Your way?” She whirled around and raced to the safety of the bedroom. She slammed the door, then turned the key in the lock.

Reese stared at the bedroom door. “Faith, open the door.”

There was no answer. He rattled the knob. The door was locked. He wanted to break it down. He longed to kick the damn door in, grab Faith, throw her down on the floor and make hot, sweet love to her. That was what he wanted to do, what he needed to do to ease the throbbing ache in his groin.