Harlequin Historical February 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: The Major's Wife\To Tempt a Viking\Mistress Masquerade (17 page)

Martin shut the door with the back of one heel before he carried a tray across the room and set it down on the table near the wardrobe closet. He crossed his arms then, stared at her somberly. “You're going to tell me everything, Millie. Everything.”

Shrugging, she shook her head. “What's there to tell?”

“Why are you pretending to be married to Rosemary's husband?” He started to pace. “Of all the things you've done for your sister, this is the most outlandish. The craziest. What the hell were you thinking?”

Never, not once in all the years she'd known him, had Martin ever shown anger toward her, but right now he was furious.

The once numb emptiness inside her erupted with enough force that the contents of her stomach hit the back of her throat. She slapped a hand against her lips, but it didn't help. Thankfully, Martin had pulled out the chamber pot from beneath the bed and held it in front of her.

When she was done, with nothing left inside her, he handed her a glass of water. “Rinse and spit,” he said.

She did and then he took the water and the chamber pot, hid them from her view and sat down beside her. “You're so upset you've made yourself sick, Millie.”

Closing her eyes against the tears, she nodded.

“I'm not leaving this room until you tell me everything,” he said. “And we both know Seth Parker will be back soon.”

Injustice erupted inside her, but she was so spent it couldn't go anywhere, except to burst forth in a new set of tears. It all had to end, she knew that, but she didn't know where to start.

“Aw, Millie,” Martin said, folding an arm around her.

“I had to do it, Martin,” she sobbed. “I had to pretend to be Rosemary. She said she'd kill herself if I didn't.”

“Oh, Millie, not that again,” he groaned.

“She meant it,” Millie insisted. “I know she did.”

He sighed heavily. “Start at the beginning and tell me everything. I'll need every detail if I'm going to help you. If that's even possible this time.”

Martin had helped her in the past, more than once, when she'd found herself in too deep, and though she doubted there was anything he could do this time, she told him every last detail.

Afterward, while she was shaking her head at the fiasco she'd created, he bolted off the mattress. “Are you loco?” He took off his hat and ran a hand through his straight brown hair. “Do you have any idea who Seth Parker is?”

“Of course I know—”

“No,” he said, with eyes wide and his arms flapping at his sides. “I'm talking about Major Seth Parker.” Pacing the floor, he continued, “The man half the Indian Nation is afraid of—if not all of it. He's not in charge of Fort Sill by accident. Have you ever noticed how big he is? He was building ships at the age of ten. Carrying beams twice as long and heavy as he was, and running his own crew by the time he was fourteen. Criminy, Millie, Major Parker can hold a man off the ground by the neck with one hand while punching him in the gut with the other.”

She sighed at Martin's overinflated antics. “Seth would never—”

“There are men who say they saw it.”

“Martin—”

“He's been in wars, Millie.”

Martin's eyes were somber, serious, and that had her nerve endings coming to life.

“Battles where people died, yet he came out unscratched.” Kneeling in front of her, holding her hands, Martin said, “How do you think the army went from fighting the Indians to befriending them? Men like Seth Parker, that's how. He's a good man, Millie, don't get me wrong. I respect him, as does most every man he encounters. But along with that respect comes a touch of fear.”

She shook her head. The thought of people fearing Seth was ludicrous.

“That's why I'm in Washington, Millie. When my commanding officer heard Major Parker was traveling out here...” Her friend shook his head. “Hell, every fort sent representation to be here. They knew he'd get something done. He fights for what he believes in, and Millie...I saw how he feels about you.”

An inkling of hope sprang up inside her. Seth did love her, and she had to find a way to make him understand why she'd done what she had.

Martin shook his head. “No, Millie,” he said. “It's no good. He loves you, I saw that, but when he learns what you and Rosemary did...”

Millie lifted a hand, ran a finger along the scar on Martin's cheek. It went from the edge of his nose to his ear. Used to it, she hadn't noticed it for years. Until right now, recalling he'd gotten it from a branch when he'd jumped in the river to save Rosemary from drowning herself. “Martin,” she whispered. “I did it for the baby.”

His eyes narrowed. “Rosemary's threats again.” He grabbed her shoulders then. “Millie, when are you going to realize she will never hurt herself? Others, yes. Herself, no.”

“I do know that, Martin,” she said. “Now. And it's more frightening than ever. I'm doing all this for the baby.” Shaking her head, she whispered, “If I don't protect it, who will?”

“Aw, hell,” Martin growled. “I'd rather be an Indian right now.”

* * *

Seth was about as close to losing his patience as he'd ever been. Pigheaded men had kept empty negotiations going deep into the evening, and that built his worries about Millie, ill and alone at the hotel, into mammoth proportions. Spinning at the sound of his name while entering the hotel lobby, he frowned at one of the men he'd just sat across the room from.

“Senator,” he said, once again moving forward.

“May I talk to you for a moment, Major?”

His patience was stretched, threatening to snap, but Seth held rein on it and gave a nod.

“Thank you,” the portly man said, gesturing toward a more secluded area.

The lobby was empty, yet Seth followed Louis McPhalen to stand next to the wall, and waited. He wasn't a close acquaintance of the man, but knew who he was because he'd been receiving congratulations the last few days. It seemed the man's son had just been born a week or so ago, and hearing it had Seth once again wondering about a family. Children.

“I'm glad a partial agreement was reached this evening,” the senator said, wiping at the sweat gathering over brows as red as the hair on his head.

“I just hope you and the rest of Congress will come to a full agreement soon,” Seth replied, glancing toward the stairs.

“We will,” the man said. “I'll go above and beyond to see it happens.”

An odd chill gripped Seth's spine and he couldn't help but glower at the man.

Senator McPhalen's Adam's apple bobbed, but he didn't look away. “I considered not saying anything, Major, but I need you to know I won't forsake my responsibility. Ever.”

Seth fought to keep his expression from changing, even though confusion swarmed his mind. Eventually he nodded, just to let the man know he'd heard.

“My son will be raised properly and respected, as any son of mine should be.”

Still not letting his bewilderment show, Seth nodded. “I'm glad to know that, Senator.”

The man lifted his chin. “I've heard of you, Major, of your...abilities. And though I don't expect us to be friends, I don't want to be enemies, either.”

A chill had the hair on Seth's arms standing on end. Thinking of Millie no doubt, because she was on his mind. What he had to tell her. He really didn't have time to listen to this man any longer.

“I'm willing to discuss any type of agreement you wish to suggest, Major,” McPhalen said.

Seth's gaze was on the staircase, and his mind on the woman in the room on the second floor. Growing more frustrated, he said, “I expect a full agreement to be reached soon and fulfilled.”

“It will, Major,” the man answered. “I give you my solemn promise.”

Seth had little hope that bucket could hold water. “I hope so, Senator,” he said. “Now if you'll excuse me.” He didn't bother waiting for an answer, just marched toward the stairs, straight-backed and stiff, as taught all those years ago by his father in their yard, hearing tales of how he'd go to West Point one day. Seth had thought more and more about his father lately, mainly on the train the past few days, while imagining having a son of his own someday.

“Evening, Major.”

Seth came to a stop outside his hotel room door, where he'd stationed Rex Moore, to ensure Millie didn't attempt to complete Ilene Ketchum's list instead of resting.

“Mrs. Parker hasn't left all day,” the sergeant said.

“Did you see that she ate?”

Rex frowned, shook his head. “Well, I didn't look to see if the plate was empty when Sergeant Clark carried it out.”

Seth's hand squeezed the doorknob so hard his knuckles stung. “Who?”

Surprise, worry, maybe fear flashed in the man's eyes. “Martin Clark. He has a scar across his right cheek.” Rex gestured to his own face.

“When was he here?” Seth asked, suddenly grasping why the army man at the bookstore had looked vaguely familiar.

Rex Moore swallowed, but Seth made no attempt to hold back the glare he'd settled on the man.

“The second time—”

“Second time?”

“I—I assumed you'd sent him, Major, knowing he and your wife were friends and all.”

Something dark and looming grew inside Seth. “How do you know they're friends?”

“Well, 'cause...” The Sergeant cleared his throat. “Just assuming, sir.”

“Tell me what you saw,” he all but growled.

Wide-eyed, Moore responded, “Nothing, sir.”

The desire to grab the man by his shirt had the doorknob digging into Seth's hand. He released it, made sure the man, who'd been on more than one battlefield with him, noticed just how close to being throttled he was. “Tell me now, Sergeant. What did you see?”

Shifting from foot to foot, Rex Moore stuttered, “Well, uh, um, I heard a noise.” He pointed toward the door, and then shoved both hands in his pocket. “When I peeked in to check, they were hugging, sir.” Snapping his head up, he added, “But just a hug like friends do.”

Martin Clark. The man Millie was engaged to. No wonder she'd fainted. “Where's Clark now?”

“I don't know, sir,” Rex said. “It was several hours ago.”

“Find him,” Seth demanded, glancing at the door. It was time to put this sham to rest. All of it. But he wanted all the ammunition he could get before confronting her. Needed it, with the way his insides were turning inside out. How could he ever have imagined the two sisters were different? Teeth clenched, he turned away from the door and snapped, “Have him meet me downstairs in the restaurant.”

“Now, sir?”

“Yes, now.”

“Don't you want me guarding the door?”

Seth started for the stairs. “Figure it out, Sergeant.”

Having no doubt his order would be followed, Seth went straight to a table in the back of the hotel dining room, where he downed two shots of whiskey, something he rarely did. It didn't help. The fire from the liquid only intensified the burning in his throat and stomach.

Within minutes the same soldier from the bookstore walked across the room. Stopped at his table. “Major.”

Seth stood, taking in the man's stiff stance. “Sergeant Clark, thank you for answering my summons.”

“I was in the lobby. Figured you'd be looking for me.”

Waving a hand for the other man to be seated, Seth returned to his chair, and eyed his opponent as he sat. Average height, common brown hair. The only thing that stood out about Martin Clark was the jagged scar on his cheek. “Why would you expect me to be looking for you?” He knew the answer, just wanted the other man's opinion.

The waitress arrived and when Clark shook his head, Seth waved her away.

“Well, sir,” Clark said. “I'm assuming you heard I was in your hotel room, and you already know I caught M-Mrs. Parker when she fainted at the bookstore.”

Mrs. Parker.
The name could have been a knife, it cut so deep, but Seth nodded and spun his empty glass in a circle on the table. “You mean the woman you're engaged to, don't you, Sergeant?”

The man coughed and patted his chest a couple times while shaking his head before he squeaked, “Engaged?”

“You and Millie.”

Clark, wide-eyed, took a deep breath and held it for a minute. “Aw, hell, Major,” he said, with all the remorse of an undertaker. “I wish you'd just shoot me now.”

“I might,” he admitted honestly.

“And I wouldn't blame you, Major.”

A chill settled inside Seth, so fast and strong he probably had frost on his fingertips, the way they'd frozen to the glass he'd been twirling.

“As much as I hate to say this, sir,” Clark said, “I can't give you any answers.”

Stung, Seth felt the muscles in his neck start to throb, and not trusting his mouth, he simply glared at the man.

Clark touched the scar on his cheek. “I got this when I jumped in a river to save my best friend's sister from drowning. Ironic thing was, she wasn't drowning, just pretending to be.”

Seth was listening, but the bile churning in his stomach was burning the back of his throat, and every muscle in his body had gone tight. “Why should I care about that, Sergeant?”

Clark shrugged. “I guess I just wanted you to know.”

“Why?” he pressed.

“Because Millie's my best friend.” Clark swallowed. “And I love her.”

Seth bottled his reaction, refused to let it show, but it was like a steam cooker, spitting bouts of boiling hot mist throughout his system.

“Ultimately, sir,” Clark continued, “that's all I can say. It's Millie's story, and she wants to be the one to tell you the truth.”

Seth's anger was so thick, thoughts couldn't form. Just actions. His hand came down on the table hard enough to make the empty glass bounce and tumble to the floor.