Kary, Elizabeth (39 page)

Hayes
cleared his throat twice before he continued. "I've made arrangements for
a ceremony at the pastor's house this evening, then we can come back and have a
wedding supper in the salon if you like."

All
at once Leigh was on her feet, the bonds of shock and restraint abruptly
loosening, leaving her free to voice her refusal. Leigh sensed that this time
it would take more than polite words and bland evasions to put Hayes off, and
she searched for an effective arsenal of excuses to repulse him.

Her
natural anger and indignation seemed an effective first defense. "How dare
you go ahead and make such plans without consulting me! How could you—"

"I'm
sorry, Leigh, but I thought it was necessary to settle things as quickly as
possible. We're only going to be in New Madrid overnight. It seemed wise for us
to be married before we reached St. Louis, but if you would rather wait—"

Leigh
shook her head vehemently. "No, no! You don't understand. I'm not going to
marry you."

Hayes
came a step nearer. "Leigh, don't be unreasonable. Of course we're going
to be married. Surely you can see it's necessary after what happened last
night. I want to give you the protection of my name before it happens again."

"It's
not going to happen again!"

"Oh
yes it will." His words were irrefutable.

"I
won't let it happen again."

"I
wasn't aware that you were capable of such steely self-control," Hayes
observed dryly, studying her with narrowed eyes.

Color
rose in her cheeks.

"I
think you enjoyed what happened last night every bit as much as I did," he
continued conversationally. "You see, I know you found your own resolution
and experienced pleasure more than once."

Her
flush brightened, and she tried to look away. "I did not," she
snapped, but without enough conviction to give credence to the lie.

"Do
I need to undertake a demonstration to remind you how your body responds to
mine?" His voice held a melting, persuasive quality that was more
dangerous than threats.

Leigh
shook her head. She would not be able to argue her cause effectively with her
mind blunted by the passion Hayes could arouse in her. She would not have the
strength to oppose him once he had taken her in his arms. That acknowledgment
effectively negated one part of her argument and left her terrified of her own
susceptibility. Hadn't her very life been a part of the disastrous aftermath of
consuming passion gone wrong? Hadn't her parents' arguments always filled her
with fear and guilt because of it? She would not let Hayes convince her to
repeat her parents' mistake.

"I
won't marry you," she repeated stubbornly, buying time to marshal her
forces against him.

A
frown gathered at the corners of his mouth and marred the smooth plane of his
brow. "Why are you fighting this, Leigh, when you know as well as I do
that marrying me is the only way you'll ever be able to hold your head up in
polite society? Surely you have been reported missing by now, and only the
story that we impulsively eloped will appease the gossips in St. Louis. Even
that will cause a stir, but—"

"I
don't give a damn about polite society, and I refuse to bow to a few dowagers'
dictates for the sake of a little gossip!"

"Don't
be so hasty, Leigh," he advised. "Have you really stopped to think
what this might mean? Even if nothing had happened between us, your reputation
would be ruined. By the time we reach St. Louis, you will have been gone for
more than a week in the company of a man who is not your husband. There would
be speculation right and left about what went on between us."

"And
the gossips would be right in their suspicions, wouldn't they?" she
snapped.

Hayes
regarded her evenly, retreating into that taciturn part of his nature that made
it impossible to tell what he was thinking.

"Leigh,
stop and consider for a moment what you'll be throwing away if you refuse
me."

"I've
already considered what I'll be throwing away if I accept you. I'll be throwing
away my freedom, my self-respect—"

"You'll
also be throwing away your chance to work as a nurse."

Leigh
paled. "What do you mean?"

Hayes
came closer to lean against the edge of the bed. "At the beginning of this
war nursing was considered an unladylike occupation, as you well know; it was a
job that only the lowliest kind of woman did. But in these last months all that
has changed. The women who nurse are now from the highest strata of society,
and there's not a town in the North without a group of society do-gooders
organized to care for the men who have been wounded. It has become a woman's Christian
duty to care for these men, and where genteel women used to gather for tea and
gossip, they now roll bandages and pack parcels to send to the front. These
women live for their aid societies and their stints at nursing the
wounded."

"And
it's a good thing too," Leigh countered, "since the Army Medical
Department has proven itself incapable of providing for the men in its care. We
women have banded together in this crisis for the good of all."

"That's
true, Leigh, but you miss my point. Those proper ladies are not about to allow
a 'fallen woman' in their midst, much less give her access to the poor,
susceptible boys who are lying sick and injured. Think of the taint they might
pick up."

His
words hurt; and what was worse, they were probably true. "If I'm a fallen
woman, Hayes Banister, it's your fault!" Leigh cried in frustration.

Hayes
was silent for a moment, willingly accepting the blame. His feelings for Leigh,
though basically honorable, were the cause of her current problem, but also the
key to resolving it.

"Leigh,"
he said gently. "Leigh, we both know you're hardly a fallen woman, but
after traveling with me for a week, that's the way those proper ladies will see
you. And they will no more allow you into their society than into their hospitals,
no matter how good a nurse you are."

"They
haven't got that much power!"

Hayes
nodded. "Oh, yes they do."

Leigh
stared down at her hands clasped tightly around her lacy handkerchief.

"And,
Leigh," Hayes went on, pressing his advantage, "what if a child is the
result of what happened last night? Would you condemn him or her to be a
bastard, an outcast, because of your stiff-necked pride?"

Still
Leigh said nothing.

"Leigh,
sweetheart." The endearment slipped out before he had a chance to bite it
back. "Leigh, why are you fighting this so when you know as well as I do
that marriage is the only sensible way to handle this situation?"

When
she raised her eyes to his, they were welling with tears, and he could read raw
fear in their smoky, spruce-green depths. For an instant the emotion startled
him, then anger and hurt were burning in his chest. Didn't Leigh realize that
he would never do anything to hurt her? Didn't she know how much he cared?

"I
won't have a marriage like my parents'," she cried, her voice quivering
with anguish. "I won't live my life in a constant state of war."

Hayes
swallowed hard before he spoke. "I've never been married so I don't
pretend to know all the answers, but I don't think you should confuse
tranquility in a marriage with peace. Tranquility can be boredom or
indifference. Sometimes people fight to show how much they love each other.
It's only when fighting becomes the only way to express love that those people
are in trouble."

Were
her parents' arguments based in love? Leigh wondered. Frankly, she doubted it.
How could two people in love say the terrible, hurtful things to each other
that she had heard her father and mother say? They had been forced together by
mutual passion and her untimely conception, but over the years that passion had
turned to hostility and bitterness. Now there was nothing left between them
except the discord of two wasted lives.

Leigh
would not let that happen to her and Hayes. Their need for each other might
have been strong last night, but she could not believe that it would last.
Surely it would fade in time to be replaced by the same emptiness she saw in
her parents' eyes. She would not condemn herself to that kind of future, nor
would she condemn Hayes. He was too good a man to be saddled with her for the rest
of his life because their desire had burned out of control. She would not marry
him; she could not marry him! It would be courting intimate disaster to pledge
herself to be his wife. She had proof that passion was not enough to make a
marriage work, and Hayes had never offered her anything more than desire.

Sudden
perversity put words into her mouth. "Do you love me, Hayes? Do you expect
me to believe that all our disagreements have sprung from that emotion? For all
our dalliances, you've never once told me that you care. And in truth, the
emotions I harbor for you could hardly be called love, either."

Hayes
recognized that there was a certain twisted truth in what she said. Their
arguments were often the result of the strong feelings he had for her, the tightly
held emotions she would not allow him to express. And he suspected, or hoped at
least, that the very thing that made her fight him most fiercely was the love
she was trying to deny. Either way, pride forbade him an answer, though he
wished with all his heart that he could simply declare himself and take her in
his arms. But, even as he longed for the simplicity of that solution, he knew
he must try to win this argument by logic and emotion, not by passion or force
of will.

"You
were willing to marry Lucas Hale," he observed. "You were even
looking forward to the wedding. Weren't you afraid that marriage would be like
the one your parents have?"

"Lucas
was different," Leigh conceded. There had been a time when she wished
Lucas was capable of exciting her as Hayes seemed able to do, but now she was
glad he had not. Passion was a trap for the unwary, and her fantasies of life
with Lucas had been curiously devoid of desire. "Lucas was special,"
she continued, "and he knew me to my bones. Lucas and I never fought, not
even when we were children. Lucas was someone I could trust."

"You
have fairly stringent requirements for the candidates to be your husband,"
Hayes observed, trying to mask his hurt with a sardonic reply.

"I
suppose that's why I'll never marry."

"Oh?
Never marry? It's not just me, then?" he continued as an eyebrow tipped
upward while the corresponding corner of his mouth turned tellingly down.

"Hayes,
please don't make this more difficult than it is."

He
could see the desperate expression in her eyes, but his patience was wearing
thin. He knew what had to be done and how determined Leigh was to oppose it.
But there came a time when logic and appeals to the emotions had to be set
aside in favor of common sense. Hayes straightened and faced her.

"This
is not difficult at all, Leigh. Tonight at seven-thirty, you and I are going to
be married. The minister is expecting us, and Nathan Travis will be there, too.
He came aboard just after dawn, and I've asked him to stand up with us."

Leigh
surged suddenly to her feet, and Hayes came to stand beside her. "Haven't
you heard a word I've said?" she demanded fiercely, staring up into his
face. "I've told you in the clearest words I know that I will not ever
marry you!"

"Oh,
yes you will, Leigh. You just think over your options: bearing a baby out of
wedlock, giving up the nursing you seem to hold so dear. You'll marry me
tonight, Leigh; you haven't any choice."

It
was not the way he wanted to leave her, with a threat on his lips and defiance
in her eyes, but it seemed the only way to make her understand. With great
deliberation he reached across to gently caress her cheek, trying to soften the
words they had said to each other. "Don't worry, Leigh, in time we'll come
to love each other. I promise you."

With
a single motion she jerked away. "Not enough, Hayes, we'll never love each
other enough!"

He
stood for a moment as a wave of helpless fury moved over him, then turned on
his heel and stalked to the door. "Prepare yourself for a wedding, Leigh,
for whether we love each other or not, there will be one before this day is
over."

Dearly
beloved, we are gathered together in the sight of God, and in the face of this
company, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony; which is
an honorable estate, instituted by God. Therefore it is not by any to be
entered into unadvisedly or lightly; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly,
soberly, and in the fear of God.

Leigh
took the minister's charge to heart as she stood beside the tall, dark-haired
man who was to be her husband. Why she had agreed to this wedding was more than
she could understand. This was not to be a reverent, well-advised, or sober
union. It was meant to do nothing more than sanctify a night of illicit
pleasure. Surely Hayes must realize that as well as she.

Into
this holy estate these two persons present come to be joined. If any man can
show just cause, why they may not be lawfully joined together, let him speak
now or forever hold his peace.