Sunset Embrace (19 page)

"What's wrong with you, letting Lee try like that?"

She brushed back a mass of curling hair as she straightened from bending over the fire. The long fork she was holding dripped bacon grease as she waggled it at him. "Nothings wrong with me and I'll thank you not to start a conversation with me in that tone of voice. It sounds like you're accusing me of something." Her own guilty conscience and the heat from the fire had painted a healthy color on her cheeks.

Ross wished to God she didn't look so healthy. His body was responding to her vitality with a burgeoning strength of its own.

"Its good for a baby to cry now and then without someone rushing to pick him up," she went on. "That way he won't get spoiled." At least that's what Ma had told her to say if Ross should notice Lee's unusual fussiness.

Ross wiped his face of shaving soap. She was right, of course, but he knew what it was like to be neglected, to have a scraped elbow and no mother to take care of it because she was busy with someone else. "Just see to it that you don't let him cry too long without checking on him."

"Do you think I would let him cry if I didn't know he was all right?"

Ross tossed down the towel and pulled on his hat. "You're to take care of Lee, first and foremost. Or have you forgotten that's the reason I was forced into marrying you?" He stalked off in the direction of the temporary corral.

"Bastard," Lydia hissed through her teeth.

"He just might be," Ma said from behind her. Lydia spun around, unaware that anyone had heard her epithet. "And touchy as a boil about it too. But whatever he is, that mans actin' stranger and stranger every day. Like the other day when we crossed the river, I never seen a man so scared as when he thought somethin' had happened to you. And when he come out of that wagon, he looked like he'd been poleaxed right between the eyes." She stared after Ross's anger-straight figure as he went into the cover of the trees. "Makes a body wonder what's ailin' him, don't it?" she said musingly. "Well, let's get that young'un his breakfast."

Their schedule worked out fine during the day, as Ross was always busy. It was the nighttime bottle that was tricky. Lydia would turn her back and open her dress just as if she were nufsing, then sneak the bottle of cow's milk out from where she had secreted it earlier. So far, thank God, Ross was none the wiser. But Lydia expressed another concern to Ma.

"What are you telling the Norwoods?"

"Told 'em one of my own was lookin' puny and I thought he could use some fresh milk."

"You're having to pay them for it, aren't you?"

"I got some coins tucked away. Don't you worry about it none. You can pay me back once Mr. Coleman finds out."

Lydia shivered. "Not yet, please."

"The man'll find out sooner or later, Lydia. You can't go on pretendin' forever."

"Yes, but later, Ma, please."

They successfully carried out the charade for a week.

After a particularly arduous day of travel, the train had gratefully camped near a running stream that was crystal clear and cold. Ross was talking to Scout over cups of coffee when Ma came up to the wagon, hiding a bottle of milk in her apron pocket.

"Let's walk a piece and find some cool shade near the water."

Lydia heartily approved the suggestion. Eastern Arkansas was beautiful. Wildflowers abounded in the meadows, and the forests were thick with undergrowth. Finding game was no problem. Rarely did Ross or the Langston boys, or any of the men who hunted for the train, come back empty-handed. The evening menus were far from monotonous. When they passed a town, they would send emissaries to buy staples, potatoes, and occasional treats like fresh eggs.

Lydia and Ma found an immense oak and sank onto the shady green turf beneath it. Lydia placed Lee against her and offered him the bottle. He had adjusted to the cow's milk amazingly well and was getting plumper every day.

Ma launched into a tale about one of her pet peeves, her disappointment in Bubba for trailing after the Watkins girl. Lydia was listening, but her mind was wandering. That's why she looked up with lazy indifference when she noticed movement behind Ma's shoulder. Her whole body jerked to rigid attention when she saw Ross. He was staring down at his son, fury turning the green eyes as sharp as nails that pinned Lydia to the ground.

Ma, seeing Lydia's sudden reaction, turned around and assessed the situation immediately. She heaved herself to her feet.

"What the hell is
that?"
Ross spat, pointing at the bottle.

"What does it look like? It's a bottle of cow's milk," Ma said. "Lydia, give me the boy. I'll take him down to the river and let him finish his dinner in peace. I fear if he stays here, he'll likely get indigestion."

Lydia's arms and hands were trembling so spastically, she could barely lift Lee into Mas outstretched arms. And all the while her eyes remained fearfully on Ross's glowering face. His scowling brows all but obscured his eyes. His lips had sternly disappeared beneath his moustache, and every muscle in his body was straining against his skin.

"Why is Lee sucking on a bottle?"

Beneath his burning gaze, Lydia's eyes lowered to her lap where she was twisting the fabric of her skirt between white, bloodless fingers. "My milk stopped coming," she muttered.

His vile curse made her flinch. "When?" he barked.

"The day we crossed the river. Ma said—"

"Over a week ago?" His roar disturbed the family of blue birds in the tree overhead. They jay-squawked back at him angrily.

"Yes."

"The day after we got married." He laughed then, an ugly, self-deprecating laugh.

Lydia looked up at him and licked her lips nervously. "A few days after."

He slumped against the tree trunk and looked up through the branches as though imploring heaven to tell him what terrible sin he had committed to deserve such punishment. "So now I'm saddled with you, an unwanted wife, and you're not even good for the reason I married you?"

That brought Lydia surging to her feet. "Well, did you ever stop to consider that I'm
saddled
with you too?"

"It isn't the same."

"You're damn right it isn't. It's a helluva lot worse."

"See? What kind of man wants a wife who talks like a tramp?"

"I learned it from
you!"

He taught her a new, extremely explicit word before he asked, "Why did your . . . you know . . . your milk ..." When he glanced at her breasts, he began to flounder. He drew himself up straight and said harshly, "A woman's supposed to be able to nurse her baby indefinitely. What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

"Something sure as hell is or you'd still have milk."

"Ma said the river crossing caused it to dry up. I got too excited and upset. I . . ." Her voice trailed off as once again they were reminded of those tumultuous minutes in the wagon.

Annoyed because she had reminded him of what he had tried for a week to forget, he turned away so he wouldn't have to look at her. He didn't want to see her eyes wide and eloquent because he remembered so well how they had looked up at him before and after that kiss. He didn't want to see her hair surrounding her head like a flaming halo because he knew what it felt like to sink his fingers into it. He didn't want to see her mouth because even now he could taste it. He didn't want to see how her front filled out the bodice of her dress because he could remember how soft and feminine she had felt lying beneath him.

Damn! He didn't want to remember any of it and he remembered all of it. The memory had stalked him for a week, sleeping and waking, every luscious detail haunting him.

Lydia took advantage of his silence. "Ma said it's not unusual. Sometimes if a woman gets scared, like I did on the ferry, this can happen. But Lee's doing fine," she rushed to add. "He learned to suck from the nipple. The cow's milk hasn't given him a stomachache or anything. He's growing every day. He—"

Ross whipped around. "But the fact remains that I'm still married to you and I don't want to be. I had a wife. A wife who was even-tempered and soft-spoken, who was a lady and wore her hair as ladies should, who wouldn't—" He broke off. He had started to say that Victoria wouldn't have let him kiss her with the unbridled lust with which he had kissed Lydia, but he didn't want to tell her that. He didn't want to admit he even remembered it.

If he had intended to cut her to the quick, to hurt her as best he could, he had succeeded. Lydia wished he had belted her as Clancey used to, because then the pain would only be physical and would eventually go away. But Ross had inflicted the worst kind of pain. He had reminded her of what she was, and of what she would always be, no matter how many fine clothes she wore or whose name she carried. She would still be trash on the inside.

Like a wounded animal, pain made her vicious. Her eyes gleamed with the fiery gold of a sunset. She tossed back her mane of hair with a haughty flick of her head. "Well, I haven't made too good a bargain either, I hate you and your bad moods and the way you hurt people for no good reason. I've got a notion you aren't any better than I am, and that's what you can't stand, Mr. Coleman."

With a low growl, Ross advanced toward her. Lydia's impulse was to flee him and his murderous eyes, but she was too angry in her own right to heed common sense. "I can't think of anything worse than spending the rest of my life as your wife," she shouted, "you . . . you . . . you fornicating hillbilly."

Ross stopped dead in his tracks, his mouth falling open as though the tendons holding up his lower jaw had been clipped.

"Evenin', Mrs. Coleman, Mr. Coleman."

Winston Hill's drawl wafted over the sulphurous air shimmering between Lydia and her husband. His greeting had been spoken pleasantly enough, but he eyed them narrowly as they turned to face him. They had looked like two fighting cocks about to fly into one another, spurs sharpened.

The woman was trying to compose herself and cover her embarrassment by smoothing her hands over her skirt. Ross Coleman was gnawing at the corner of his moustache with his lower teeth.

"Hill," he said tersely, then nodded toward Moses.

Lydia let a quick nod of.greeting include them both.

"Beautiful countryside, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is, Mr. Hill," Lydia said breathlessly. She had been ready to slap Ross's smug face. What if Mr. Hill hadn't happened upon them? Had he heard the insulting way her own husband had been shouting at her? She could easily die of mortification and hoped that the stinging heat in her cheeks was invisible. "The wildflowers are so pretty," she said with a futile attempt to set things right.

"I just picked these down by the river. Would you accept them, Miss Lydia?" Moses offered her the bouquet. "They'll perk up your wagon."

She hazarded a glance at Ross. His face was as hard and implacable as granite. "Thank you, Moses," she said softly, taking the cluster of flowers and automatically sniffing them. They tickled, and she embarrassed her self further by sneezing.

Mr. Hill and Moses laughed. Ross shifted from one foot to another in apparent vexation.

"Moses admires the way you handle your horses, Mr. Coleman," Winston said. He wasn't as tall as Ross, but his posture was dignified and gave the illusion of height. "Moses has always worked in the house. I rode, of course, but never handled a team of six. Would you mind showing Moses a few pointers on handling the team? They've been engaged in a battle of wills since we left."

Ross cleared his throat uneasily. "I suppose I could."

"I surely would appreciate it, Mr. Coleman. I couldn't ask for a better teacher," Moses said deferentially.

"I'll see if I can spot your trouble."

"Good, good." Winston beamed at Ross, then addressed Lydia. "Have you seen the river yet? It's cool and pleasant down there. I'd love to escort you. With Mr. Coleman's permission, of course."

"I ... uh ... I was about to take Lydia down there myself."

Lydia jerked her head around to look up at her husband, who had spoken the sentence with the casualness of a man who often takes his wife out for an evening stroll. When his arm slid protectively around her waist to draw her closer beside him, she could have been knocked over with a feather.

"We'll bid you a good evenin' then," Winston said graciously, tipping his hat to Lydia.

"Evenin' ," Moses said before accompanying his employer back toward the train.

Ross's arm was immediately dropped from her waist and Lydia was vastly disappointed. For just a moment, walking to the river with him had sounded like a good idea. He had walked in the twilight with Victoria, hadn't he? she thought dismally.

There would be no enjoyable stroll. She supposed now that Mr. Hill and Moses were gone, they would start fighting again. She didn't think she had the energy, but she looked up into his face with a challenging expression just in case he lit back into her.

"Fornicating hillbilly?"
he asked in a soft whisper.

"What?" Was he deliberately confusing her? He wasn't angry. A grin was tugging at one side of his moustache.

"Where in the world did you ever hear such a thing and how could you bring yourself to repeat it?"

It had been an insult often flung at Otis and Clancey by their "neighbors." Lydia had thought that if it fit them, it must surely be the worst of insults. "Is it bad?" she asked timidly, her eyes rounding.

Ross threw back his head and laughed. It was the first time she had ever seen him laugh that way and, after looking at him in slack-mouthed wonder for several, moments, she joined him.

"Bad?" Ross said at last, wiping his teary eyes with the back of his knuckles. "Yes it's bad. If I were you and wanted to be treated like a lady, I wouldn't say it in front of anyone again." He started chuckling again and when the laughter finally subsided, he slouched against the tree and slid down its trunk until he was sitting on his heels. He looked up at her with an expression she had never seen before. It was almost tenderly affectionate.

"Goddammit, Lydia, what am I going to do with you?" He ran his fingers through his hair and then hung his head dejectedly, shaking it in bewilderment. "One minute I'm mad as hell at you, ready to strangle you with my bare hands. And then the next minute you're giving me the best laugh I've had in a long time."