Had he known how wonderful the trip would be with her at his side, Seth wouldn’t have strived to shorten it. But as it was, four days and three nights after setting out, they were on the outskirts of Tulsa. Then again, as he looked over his shoulder to a sky turning blacker by the moment, he was glad the town was only a few miles ahead. The storm that was brewing was sure to be a doozy.
The wind had picked up throughout the day, and by the looks of those clouds, rain would soon be striking the red dirt with all the gusto of an inland hurricane. His instincts were kicking in, as well as an internal conflict. He’d never left his men before, but he’d never had a wife to protect, either.
Riding the buckskin next to him, she had on her army-issue hat, a fashion clash with her dress if there ever was one. But the smile she flashed him said her attire was no concern. It also resolved the issues he’d been mulling over.
“I’ll be right back,” he said over the whistle of the wind.
“Is something wrong?”
“No, I just want to talk to the drivers, see how the wagons are faring in the wind.”
She nodded, and he spun his mount around, trotted back and steered the animal to ride next to the first wagon.
“Storm’s brewing, aye, Major?” Sergeant Moore said in greeting.
“Yes, I’m afraid it’s going to hit soon,” Seth admitted, unable to keep his eyes from going back to the head of the line, where his wife rode.
“Roberts and I have the wagons under control. Nothing’s going to happen between here and Tulsa. I know the trail. It’s clear sailing from here on in.” Rex Moore then gestured with his chin. “I’d be obliged, though, if you and your wife were to ride ahead, have warm, dry beds waiting on us.”
Seth had to laugh and shake his head. “You would, huh?”
“Yep, bet the entire lot of us would,” the man said, grinning. “I reckon we’ll look close to drowned rats by the time we get these mules to town. Those horses of yours, though, they might make it before the rain hits too hard.”
“Well, then, Sergeant,” Seth said, once again thankful for the capable men in his unit, “I’m leaving you in charge while I find shelter for my wife. Rooms are waiting for everyone at Brewster’s. I’ll see you there.”
“Aye, aye, Major, you’ll see us there.”
Seth rode back then to the other wagon, where the conversation was relatively the same. Jack Roberts made the same suggestion Rex had before Seth could open his mouth, and the four lieutenants riding flank had the same sentiments.
Farther back, Per-Cum-Ske gestured before Seth made it far enough to turn his horse around. “Go. Take woman. Storm coming.”
Seth waved, then kneed his mount, galloping back to the front. Reining in next to her, he asked, “Feel like a race?”
She frowned, but there was a flash of excitement in her eyes. “A race?”
“Yup, to town. It’s about five miles.”
Lifting a trim eyebrow, and the corners of her mouth into a smirk, she asked, “What do I get if I win?”
“Anything you want,” he said.
Her smoldering gaze roaming him from boots to hat lit a fire in him not even the rain would be able to dowse. “Anything?” she asked in a sultry tone.
“Anything,” he repeated, with a glance that somehow landed on her breasts before her face.
“Ready, set, go,” she shouted in a single breath, already slapping her reins against the buckskin’s rump.
Seth set his horse into a plunge and then a full gallop, catching her within no time. The animals couldn’t run the entire way to town, but they could put some distance between them and the storm. Glancing over, seeing the determined way she lay low over the animal’s neck, he settled himself more firmly in the saddle.
Side by side, they soared over the land, and even with the storm fusing the air, he felt the connection of their hearts as they rode in tandem.
* * *
Millie was filled with glee, a bright, brilliant joy that not even the rain, plastering her hair to her head and her dress to her skin, could dampen. “I won,” she insisted as Seth pulled her out of the saddle.
“Only because you shot in front of that wagon,” he said, rushing her under the awning of the hotel. Once there he took her face between his hands. “You scared the life out of me! Don’t ever do that again.”
His growl didn’t scare her. There was too much love in his eyes for that. “I had plenty of room.”
“That wagon almost crashed, careening out of your way.”
“Oh, it did not,” she insisted, wiping at the water dripping into her eyes. Her hat had flipped off her head and now hung between her shoulder blades by the strap. “Did it?” She attempted to turn, glance through the pouring rain to see if there was a wreck down the road they’d just traversed.
“Come on,” he said, “I gotta get you inside before you float away.”
“You’re always saying that,” she said.
“I was raised in Boston. My mother always thought we’d float away if we swam in the bay,” he said, leading Millie to the door.
At night, while snuggled together inside the tent or back home in their bed at the fort, he’d told her about his childhood, his mother and brother, father and uncles. She loved every tale, but always sensed he wanted her to tell him more than the few clipped answers she’d shared about her own childhood. She was walking a more dangerous path than ever, for he really did make her forget she was living a lie.
Digging her heels in the wood beneath them, she spun around. “The horses.”
“Someone inside will see to them,” he said, tugging her forward.
In no time, he was leading her up a flight of stairs and down a hall to a door that the key in his hand unlocked. Then he scooped her into his arms, and she laughed out loud as he carried her into the room.
“Put me down, silly. I’m dripping wet.” However, she held on tighter, hoping he wouldn’t, as he kicked the door shut.
He didn’t, but instead captured her mouth. The kiss was the kind she loved, deep and penetrating, warming her from tip to toe. His mouth continued to hold her attention as he slowly let her legs loose. With her arms locked around his neck, she didn’t know when her feet touched the floor until she wobbled on them.
A knock on the door had him lifting his face, separating his lips from hers. Millie swayed as his hands slipped away, and they were instantly back, stabilizing her, while silently asking if she was able to stand on her own. Smiling, for his concern was so endearing, she nodded.
Watching her closely, he eased his hands away, and only when she proved she was stable did he move to the door and pull it open.
“Here, Major.” A gray-haired woman with a broad smile said, while handing him a wicker basket. “Towels and dry clothes for each of you until your men arrive.” She turned then, still smiling. “The bathing room is at the end of the hall, Mrs. Parker. Just put your wet clothes in the basket and leave it outside the door. I’ll have them laundered and ready for you first thing in the morning.” Once again addressing Seth, the woman continued, “Yours, too, Major. And the meal you ordered will be up promptly.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Brewster,” he said, setting the basket on the foot of the bed. “We appreciate your efficiency.”
“The army keeps us in business, Major. I’m happy to see to whatever needs you have. And your wife.” The women then held out a hand. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. A real treat.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Brewster,” Millie said, shaking the older woman’s hand. “We do appreciate your kindness, and I’m honored to make your acquaintance.”
The woman’s smile grew yet again as she turned to Seth. “The heater’s been lit, so the water will be hot in no time. I’m sure you’ll show your wife how it all works.”
“I will. Thank you again, Mrs. Brewster.”
Millie waited until the woman had walked out and Seth pushed the door closed before she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind him. “Heater?” she asked, nuzzling his back with her cheek. “As in hot water?”
His hands settled atop hers as her fingers found the brass buttons on his jacket. “Yes,” he replied. “As much as you need.”
She undid the buttons and then lifted the lapels, helping him shrug his arms out of the sleeves. “Enough for two?” She held the coat as he slipped it off, loving being able to assist him so intimately. Being a major’s wife had so many wonderful benefits.
He turned, took the jacket, tossed it on the bed and spanned his hands around her waist. “Yes, enough for two.”
Excitement blazed inside her. “I believe,” she said, starting on his shirt buttons, “I know what I want my prize to be.”
“Prize?”
She nodded. “For winning the race.”
“Aw, yes, the race.”
Tugging his shirttail from his britches, she reminded him, “You said I could have anything I want.”
“Yes, I did.”
She slid both hands into the opening of his shirt. His skin was always so warm and captivating, and though she’d been somewhat unsure the first time he’d asked her to wash his back, now she adored the chore. As much as she loved having him wash hers. “I want you to wash my hair.”
“Just your hair?” he asked, finding the buttons on her suit jacket.
“We’ll see,” she answered, no longer chilled by her wet clothing. Then again, she never really was chilled when he was around.
Except at times when, like hours later—after they’d shared a steamy bath, a delicious meal, and had warmed up the sheets of the bed—a reoccurring dream ripped her from a deep sleep, leaving her trembling and ice-cold.
Gasping, beseeching her racing heart to slow, Millie squeezed her eyes shut and burrowed her face into the pillow, letting it absorb the moisture of her tears.
“Sweetheart?” Seth was curled against her back, and his arms, one around her waist, the other below her neck, tightened to pull her closer. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she whispered, grasping his arms, silently begging him to save her from the torment still raging inside.
“Did you have another bad dream?” His lips were against the skin on her neck.
She nodded.
“Aw, sweetie, you’re safe with me,” he whispered. “Besides, we aren’t in the tent.”
“I know,” she mumbled. “It was just a dream. A silly dream.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
A new chill hit her, all the way to the center of her bones. “No,” she whispered. “I just want to go back to sleep.”
“All right,” he whispered, kissing her neck and cuddling her close. “I’m here. You’re safe.”
She nodded again and pressed as much of her face as possible into the pillow, trying to wipe away the tears before they rolled down her cheeks, onto his arm. The nightmare had come the first night they’d slept in the tent, and had appeared every night since, stronger each time. It was her conscience, telling her that what she was doing was wrong. So very wrong. She knew that, but in the light of day, looking upon his handsome, loving face, her heart took over again, pushed the deceit so far away it only had a chance to come forward in her sleep. Where it tormented her.
The dream was the same each time, and she awoke at the same point. They were in Washington, or a place she assumed was Washington, since she’d never been there, and Seth was talking to a faceless man. Yet she knew the man, and knew he was telling Seth the truth. She was running in the dream, screaming at Seth not to listen, but she was too late. The way he looked at her, the hate and hurt in his eyes... Rosemary was there, too, in her dream.
Another tremble assaulted Millie’s body.
“Hey,” he whispered. “It was just a dream.” He shifted then, rolled her onto her back as he leaned over her. “Honey.” He wiped at the tears on her cheeks. “Don’t cry.”
The tenderness in his voice and touch had a piercing pain ripping at her heart. She had to find a way to tell him, thought of it day after day. But one look into those eyes that held such love, that showered her with a devotion she’d never known existed, and words refused to form. Truth was, it was no longer her deceit that filled her with fear. It was living without him. She not only loved him, she liked herself when she was with him. That was new. In the past, she’d often loathed herself. Loathed her life. A life she had to go back to.
“I think,” he said, rubbing his nose against hers, “I know a way to make you forget.” His hand roamed down, settled on her breast. “Forget all about a silly old dream.”
The ache inside her increased. She’d tried over and over to come up with a way to tell him everything. Her own selfishness was what stopped her time and time again. She’d discovered a love so strong she just might die without it, and ultimately, she didn’t want to give it up. Would spend the rest of her life pretending to be her sister if that was what it took.
Shame, growing stronger, lurched inside her. He was so honorable, so righteous and admirable, he’d never understand why she’d done what she had. Neither would her sister.
“Honey?” He tenderly cupped her face, his eyes searching hers. “Oh, sweetheart. It really was a bad dream, wasn’t it?”
She nodded.
Combing her hair away from her face, he settled down beside her. “Come here, I’ll just hold you until you go back to sleep.”
A desperation sprang forth inside her, and she rolled on top of him, grabbed his shoulders. “No. No, Seth, please, please love me.”
She took his mouth fiercely, almost violently, as a raw panic gripped her heart.
Their union was a hot, wild exchange that tore the bedding from the mattress and left her gasping, her lungs burning. Satisfaction was there, too, but this time, for the first time, disgrace came with it.
Unable to face him, she rolled on her side, dug her hands beneath the pillow. He covered her, first with the sheet and then the blanket, and then stationed himself behind her, holding her.
“I love you,” he whispered tenderly.
Drawing a breath that had the air wheezing into her burdened chest, she answered, “I love you, too.”
She was afraid to close her eyes, and the sky outside the window was turning gray when sleep finally overcame her.
Seth folded the covers back and, fighting the urge to kiss her cheek, eased off the bed. She was finally sleeping, had rolled over and snuggled close to his side just a short time ago. He crossed the room and pulled the curtain, blocking the rising sun from disturbing her, and then, assuming the thud outside the door was the basket containing their clothes, he donned the pants Mrs. Brewster had loaned him last night and sneaked out of the room as quietly as one of Per-Cum-Ske’s braves.
In the washroom, pulling on his stiffly starched uniform, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was the cause of Millie’s fear. The way it had contorted each of her lovely features last night, from her doe eyes to her petal mouth, had torn at his heart, and left it sore and bruised this morning. She hadn’t wanted to come with him to Washington. Had said she’d stay at the fort, wait for him there. He’d refused, said he wanted her with him. He did. Always would, and her pain was his. In an unparalleled way, it hurt worse than any injury he’d ever acquired.
It wasn’t until after Seth quietly returned the basket to their room, resisted yet another urge to kiss her, and made his way downstairs, that another possibility entered his mind. He was penning a brief message Mrs. Brewster promised to slide under the door for his wife when the thought hit.
His wife. That had to be it. Millie was fearful of facing Rosemary. He thanked the hotel owner and left, mulling things over more deeply. Lately, he’d forgotten about Rosemary’s part in all this. If she’d behaved the way she had toward him, how had she treated her sister over the years? Millie had such a kind and gentle soul, and he’d bet his best horse that Rosemary had taken advantage of that.
Anger twisted inside him. He’d wanted to wait until after the meeting in Washington to tell Millie the truth, but he couldn’t let her fear grow. He’d have to tell her, let her know he was there to protect her. That she hadn’t done anything wrong.
He had, though. This was all his fault. Whether his marriage to Rosemary was real or not, he had said the vows and should never have pursued another woman. The fact that he’d fallen in love, had been willing to do whatever it took for her to return his affection, didn’t make it right.
Pressing a hand to his aching forehead, Seth made his way to the stables.
From there he went to the train station to oversee the unloading of the items they needed from the wagons, and to ensure that the private sleeping car he’d requested was part of the long, eastbound train.
Normally, he’d have traveled with the rest of his unit and Per-Cum-Ske and his braves, in one of the cars that sported built-in berths. But a major’s wife needed more privacy than that. If one of Pullman’s hotel railroad cars had been available, he’d have rented that. Men with enough money shot buffalo out windows of those cars, while singing along to an organ, dining on delicacies and drinking wine. A true tale Seth had witnessed and a remembrance that never failed to irk him.
As it was, a smaller, not as lavish private car—with a bed large enough for two, he noted, while touring the accommodations—would suit their purposes. After approving the loading of supplies and the car, he started back for the hotel, but along the way a window display caught his eye.
It was still early and the door securely latched, but he noticed movement beyond the merchandise, and knocked on the glass.
When a woman opened the door, he asked, “That dress in the window, is it for sale?”
“Well, of course—” she pointedly noticed the emblems on his sleeves “—Major.” Stepping aside, gesturing for him to enter, she added, “But it’s not a dress, it’s a traveling suit.”
“All the better,” he said, moving forward to examine the ensemble. “I’d like to purchase it for my wife.”
“Oh, would she be available to try it on? I could make any alterations needed,” the woman said.
He hadn’t thought about size. Stepping closer, he placed his hands around the waistline and the tailor’s form beneath it, and then noted the length, compared to his height. “We’re leaving on the morning train, and I believe this size will be about perfect.”
“I do have an adjustment string sewn inside the skirt,” the woman explained. She unbuttoned the jacket, to expose a white blouse tucked inside a wide waistband made of contrasting black velvet, with a large diamond shape in front, and she pointed out the drawstring.
He nodded, and fingering the soft velvet of the skirt, said, “This color is almost the shade of my wife’s eyes.” Her hair, as well, and the style would highlight her flawless figure.
“They must be beautiful.”
“They are,” he answered. “She is.”
“She’s a lucky woman, Major.”
“No. I’m a lucky man.” Turning to the woman, he said, “I’d like to take it with me now, please.” He’d tell Millie everything as soon as the train started to roll. They’d have plenty of time to talk it through. Have things settled before they arrived in Washington.
“Yes, sir. Will there be anything else? A new slip, petticoat or underskirt?”
He grinned, thinking of his return to the hotel. “Yes, all the under things needed to make a complete new outfit.”
Ten minutes later, as the woman piled package upon package in his arms, she said, “I can help you carry this to the hotel, Major.”
“No, I’ve got it,” he insisted, as she set the last packet on top of the pile and he held it in place with his chin. “But could you get the door for me?”
“Certainly,” the shopkeeper replied.
Mr. Brewster came running to open the hotel door as he spied Seth walking past the front window. The man also opened the door to the room upstairs, and shut it as Seth cautiously tiptoed to the bed.
Careful to keep the crinkling paper from waking her, he set everything down and then moved to other side of the bed, where he eased his weight onto the mattress. A part of him hated to wake her, yet there wasn’t much time before they’d have to board the train.
He smoothed the hair away from her face, tucking it behind one ear as she lay on her side, and then he kissed the cheek he’d just uncovered. Her sleepy, sweet moan had him kissing it again.
She rolled then, onto her back, and blinked several times.
“Good morning,” he whispered.
Stretching one arm overhead, she answered, “Good morning,” as a wistful smile appeared on her lips.
He captured her wrist, kept the arm up to run his tongue down its length, stopping when encountering the edge of the blanket laid across her breastbone. “We have to leave soon,” he said, though the desire to crawl under the covers beside her had his blood ticking in his veins.
“Oh,” she said, popping open her eyes. She grasped the blanket with the hand he let loose and then scooted to sit up. “You should have—” The crackle of paper had her gaze going to the other side of the bed. “What’s all that?”
“That,” he said, touching the end of her nose with a fingertip, “is a present I bought you.”
The tenderness of her sweet sigh floated around his heart. Smiling as she shook her head, she asked, “All that is one present?”
He nodded.
“Why? It’s not my birthday or Christmas.”
“When is your birthday?” he asked, sincerely wanting to know, so he could nail it into his memory.
“Janu—J-June.” Her cheeks were flushed as she shook her head. “You make me fuddle-headed,” she said. “When’s yours?”
“August 18,” he said. “When is yours? January or June?”
“June 12.” She glanced his way briefly, before turning back to the packages, but he’d caught the unease in her eyes.
He took her chin, pulled her face toward his and he leaned down to kiss her, until they were both unable to think of anything else. Which didn’t work, because he was thinking—about things they didn’t have time for right now.
Reaching across the blanket, he grabbed a package, having no idea what it held. “Here, start opening.”
She glanced at the parcel, ran a hand over the paper gently.
“Sweetheart.” He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers. “If you don’t start opening, we’re going to be late. I have some pull, but I can’t hold a train for you.”
The first package—containing a white undergarment of some kind—was opened slowly, but by the time she got to the fourth, or maybe it was the fifth, paper was flying. He really had to learn the names of all these ladies’ undergarments. They seemed to delight her to no end. as did the dress, or traveling suit, as he was again informed.
After a quick dash down the hall in the dress Mrs. Brewster had loaned her last night, Millie was back in the room, and as he helped her into each garment, Seth was told its names. Not one of which he remembered. As soon as she was dressed, he longed to undress her again, layer by layer. He couldn’t wait to get to the privacy of their railway car. She was beautiful. Stunning.
“Perfect,” he said, watching as she twirled before him, flaring the luminous brown skirt. “A perfect fit.”
Keeping her eyes locked with his, she sashayed toward him. “How did you know my size?”
“By doing this,” he said, spanning her waist with both hands. “You fit perfectly into my hands.”
A whimsical smile, coupled with the way she slowly blinked those long lashes, had him tightening his hold, pulling her closer.
“You,” she said quietly as their faces grew nearer, “fit perfectly into my heart.”
Air snagged in his throat, like that of a man falling out of a tree, catching on each branch, and that made their kiss begin as a mere mingling of breath. It grew into several small kisses, openmouthed so he could catch one of her lips for a second, and then it turned into a passionate exploration that had him wondering how late they could be before the train left without them.
It was the fact they had to talk—today—that made him finally pull the door open.