Brighter than Gold (Western Rebels Book 1) (40 page)

“Are you two in league to drive me insane?” Jack felt a pang of jealousy that Katie was sharing dreams with his grandfather that were unknown to him.

The old man chuckled. “Don’t mind me. Go on with your story.”

“Well, when I went to her room, I thought that we might spend a little time
alone,
if you take my meaning.” He flushed, slightly embarrassed to be confiding such things to his grandfather. “I’ve barely kissed her since the night I returned from Sacramento over a fortnight ago! But she announced that she couldn’t join me until she finished her lists, and that might take another hour.” Jack’s voice dropped to a deadly whisper.
“Lists.
Have you heard about those?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“What a surprise! You seem to know everything else!” He drew a long breath to calm himself. “Kathleen is planning a huge Christmas party. An ‘affair of significance,’ she called it. If I hadn’t seen the lists with my own eyes, I’d think she was in jest! There are moments when I can’t believe this is the same girl I knew in Columbia....”

“Isn’t this what you wanted in a wife? Didn’t you encourage her to be a lady?” Ambrose asked simply. “And perhaps she’s just trying to redirect her life now that she’s accepted reality. Perhaps she’s trying to fill the space that she hoped you would occupy.”

Jack stared, jaw tensed, mouth grim. Then he looked away. “What do you mean by
that?
I went to her room to be with her, didn’t I?”

“Jack, you must know Katie better than to think that she could be content with the mere trappings of a marriage. I suspect that going through the motions hurts her more than not being with you at all. And the decision rests with you: either simply share space with your wife or make a real marriage. My guess is, with Katie, there can be no in between.”

Jack’s knuckles were white as he gripped the iron fence for support. “Oh, God.”

“Would you like to hear what I think?” Summers asked gently.

“Do I have a choice?”

“I believe that you hold Katie away from yourself because of your guilt about her father. Perhaps one day you can tell her, and she’ll understand, but in the meantime the best thing you can do for Brian MacKenzie’s daughter is to be a flesh-and-blood husband to her. Let yourself love her.”

“That isn’t as easy as it sounds,” Jack said, his voice husky.

“Perhaps it’s too easy. You think too much, my boy. You’ve gotten so used to thinking rather than feeling these past few years that your heart is out of practice. Listen to it for a change.” He pulled away a thorny branch and cast it to the side.

Sighing deeply, Jack uncoiled his strong body and stood up. “I’ll think about it.”

“There you go again.” Ambrose chuckled. “Will you accept a piece of advice from an old man who’s learned a few things the hard way? Miracles don’t happen overnight, even to you, Jack. Real change comes slowly, and you’ll have to learn patience. Trust yourself. You’re an extraordinary man... and Katie knows that.”

Chapter 27

December 10-18, 1864

December brought a state of chaos to the Wyatt household. New servants were hired, including a ladies’ maid for Katie named Judith, but most of the preparations for Christmas and the party that was planned were made by Katie herself. She was in the kitchen at dawn with a ruffled white apron over her dress, working alongside the cook and her staff to make fruitcakes and plum puddings. Some were for the family, but most would be given as gifts and distributed to the poor. Fragrant, fresh green garlands trimmed with red velvet bows were strung over every wall downstairs and also festooned the mantels, doorways, banisters, and chandeliers. Katie made the wreath for the front door herself. It was huge, consisting of pine boughs, sprigs of red-berried holly, tiny pine cones, and a big bow of red-and-green plaid silk. A single candle burned in every window, and the house was redolent with the scents of spices and evergreen.

Midway through the second week of the month, Hope Menloe came over to help Katie plan the food for the party. Invitations had gone out for the eighteenth, and already more than two dozen acceptances had been received. The two women were seated in the breakfast room, heads bent over cookery books and lists, when Jack and Conrad stopped in to say good-bye.

“I’m going to take Con to the bank on my way to the office,” Jack said.

Katie looked up distractedly. “That’s nice. I hope your day goes well, Jack.” She smiled at her brother-in-law. “And yours, Conrad.”

Jack started to go over and give her a kiss, but when Katie turned back to Hope to point out another recipe, he thought better of it. Sighing, he drew on his gloves as they went out the door.

“Is something wrong?” Conrad asked, summoning up his courage.

Jack arched an eyebrow and shrugged. “No, not really. We always long for the thing that eludes us, don’t we? I’m no different.”

“What is it you long for?”

Jack almost rebuked him for being too inquisitive, but a sudden impulse made him reply instead, “The company of my wife.”

“Do you really! That’s the first time I’ve heard you admit that you care for Katie.”

“Well, I wouldn’t attach too much importance to it, Con.” His tone was light now as they climbed into the carriage. “All I meant was that a house full of Christmas cheer isn’t much use if there’s no one to share it with.”

“Well, perhaps it’s not an issue of crucial importance to you, but I know that if I were married to Katie, I’d hoard her like a miser. I think she’s nothing short of magic. Not only is she simply enchanting to behold, but the air around her is filled with a kind of vibrant goodness—”

“Conrad,” Jack interrupted in mock consternation, “your enthusiasm borders on delirium. Are you harboring a secret passion for my wife?”

“I wish I’d met her first, I’ll say that much!” The young man blushed a little. “No, I’m not in love with her, any more than I was in love with Genevieve, even though I lusted after her mightily.”

“Lusted?”
Jack blinked, amused. “Good God!”

“I’m a man, too, and I’m only human,” Conrad countered, lifting his chin. “As for Katie, it would mean living in fantasy if I were to let myself fall in love her. The reality is that she’s in love with you, and she’s your wife.” He gathered his hat and papers as the carriage approached the First Western Bank, which was owned by Gerald Braithwaite. “My own reality is less exciting, but comforting nonetheless. I think I’ll propose to Emma on Christmas Eve. It’s time, I suppose, for the plunge into manhood.”

With that, Conrad stepped down from the carriage, waved to his brother, and dodged other vehicles and pedestrians as he hurried toward the bank. Jack leaned back against the upholstery and smiled to himself. How typical of a young pup like his brother to lust after an empty shell of a glamorous woman like Genevieve while worshiping Katie as if she were a goddess. The truth was that Katie, with her warmth and goodness, was far more desirable than Genevieve, because of her
own
capacity for desire, which was as great as it was for all other human emotions. Arousal fueled arousal, and love fueled love. These past weeks, during which Katie had steadily blocked him from enjoying her spiritual and physical passions, Jack had slowly begun to understand and then to accept the meaning behind her actions. Now, he had to show his wife that he was willing to change—not just his own life, but the life he shared with her.

* * *

Conrad’s office was a small, dimly lit, airless room dominated by a scarred desk. As a clerk, he worked hard, poring methodically over columns of figures in search of errors, not because he enjoyed it, but because Mr. Braithwaite held out the promise of a promotion “one of these days.” The accounts manager was getting older and was frequently ill. It was this job, which involved interaction with real human beings, that Conrad craved.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you, Conrad.”

Startled, he pivoted on his chair and saw Genevieve Braithwaite peeking around the door to his office. “My gosh! I mean—no, of course not! Can I do something for you?”

She closed the door and stood there for a moment, smiling, so he could fully appreciate the beautiful picture she made. Her dress was powder-blue silk with a daringly low neckline that left little to the imagination. The bodice fit tightly, hugging every curve and accentuating her perfect eighteen-inch waist, then the skirt flared out over her crinoline. Genevieve had removed her bonnet to show off her silky blond curls which were caught up in a profusion of ringlets next to one ear. Her provocative mouth was rosy and moist as she said, “I was just visiting Daddy, and I thought about you, Conrad. I’ve
missed
you.” She glided the few steps to his desk and stopped in front of him. “Have you missed me?”

Mesmerized, he stared at her breasts, which were level with his eyes, noticing the way they swelled with each breath she took. “Missed you? Well, yes, of course.”

She perched on the edge of his desk, slightly higher than Conrad and just inches away. “How have you been? And how is dear Mr. Summers?”

“I’ve been—about the same, I guess. Nothing new. Grandfather is... fine, too. The same.”

“But things are
not
the same at your house, are they? You’ve avoided talking to me about this before, Conrad, but is it really fair of you? Can you not understand how I feel? Not knowing what is happening or who this woman is who took my place only makes me feel more confused!” Looking as if she might weep, Genevieve leaned forward until one breast lightly grazed the side of his face. “Won’t you help me?”

Conrad thanked God that he was sitting down. “Well, wh-what can I do to help you?” he heard himself say hoarsely. She was so close that he could smell her perfume, and her skin looked incredibly soft. Dizzily, he imagined what her breasts would look like if she were to open her gown.

“Tell me about her. Maybe if I understand, if I can think of her as a
person,
I can wish them well....” Her voice was low, hypnotic.

Conrad cleared his throat and tried to respond rationally. His loins ached so that he could scarcely think, let alone speak. “Well, Katie’s actually a very nice person. She’s friendly, and—”

“Are they happy?” Genevieve broke in.

He squirmed. “I—I imagine so. They have a few problems, but I believe they’ll work them out.”

Stroking his red hair and side-whiskers, she purred, “Do you know, you’re a good-looking man, Conrad. Your features are more classical than Jonathan’s. Tell me some more about Katie. Where is she from? How did she meet your brother?”

“She’s from Columbia.” He heard his own voice from a distance. “They met at her saloon....”

“Indeed? How quaint.” Genevieve tried not to betray her glee. Standing, she reached over to pat Conrad’s cheek and said, “Well, I must be going, Conrad. I have a luncheon engagement. But it’s been lovely seeing you again. Do give my regards to your family.”

Conrad panicked, not only because of what he had said about Katie, but also because he didn’t want Genevieve to leave. “No, wait I ought to explain about the saloon. It wasn’t the way it sounds—”

“It probably wasn’t like other saloons simply because your sister-in-law was in it, hmm?” she replied sweetly. “I understand. Now, you take good care of yourself, and tell Papa I said he mustn’t work you too hard!”

With a rustle of crinoline and an intoxicating swirl of lavender scent, Genevieve sailed out of the office. Alone again, Conrad sat at his desk in a daze. It seemed that he could almost feel the blood slowly leaving his groin and returning to his brain. How could he have been so stupid? Not only had he completely forgotten his commitment to Emma, but he had also discussed Katie with Genevieve in spite of his resolve not to. Still, what harm could she do? Jack and Katie were married, and Genevieve had no choice but to accept the fact that she had lost... didn’t she?

* * *

“Judith, could you come in here for a moment?” Jack called from his bedroom.

The young, sweet-faced ladies’ maid, whom Katie had hired for her disposition rather than her experience, hurried in from her mistress’s dressing room. At the doorway she stopped, paralyzed by the sight of Jonathan Wyatt.

He wore a dashingly cut black tailcoat, black trousers, and a white silk waistcoat, all of which fit to perfection on his tall, strong body. Jack’s white tie and shirt, with its starched turnover collar, contrasted strikingly with his tanned, roguishly handsome face. His hair was the color of melted caramel, and his eyes were a shade of green Judith had never seen before.