Promise Me (13 page)

“I'm so tired of black. I swear this year will be the longest of my life. Widow's weeds are so depressing, it's no wonder women wearing them don't want to go out unless they have to.”

She wrapped the shawl around her shoulders and picked up her gloves.

“Why don't you just dispense with them? After all, you've admitted you're not exactly in mourning for good ol' Arthur. Why not exchange them for some bright colors and get on with your life?” He stepped over several petticoats piled in front of the door.

Amanda made a disparaging sound and shook her finger at him. “As if that wouldn't make people talk. Women are expected to follow strict rules of mourning. There are very specific wardrobe requirements. Black, to gray, to blue, to colors.”

Sam opened the door and followed her into the hall, offering her his arm gallantly.

“Well, you don't always have to do what other people want you to. Isn't it time you learned to defy the expectations of society and do what you want? Don't wait for someone else's approval, Amanda, because you might have to wait a very long time.”

Maybe a lifetime, and then you discover what you wanted wasn't worth the price you were forced to pay. For a moment he wanted to tell her about Elsbeth, his beautiful aristocratic wife. The woman who had deceived and nearly destroyed him. But not yet. A tiny door slammed shut inside him. If he told her about Elsbeth, she'd know the worst of him. He couldn't face the possibility of Amanda backing away, shocked and frightened. He wanted a few more precious days of believing in happiness.

They descended the stairs together, and Sam noted all talk ceased when they entered the dining room. They faced curious glances from the other diners, and a few whispered comments swirled around the room. It was already common gossip that he'd moved into the hotel and taken the room next to Amanda Wainwright. He expected a visit from Jack Pruitt, who was probably awaiting a public boast from Sam about bedding the widow.

As he pulled her chair back and inhaled her scent, he faced the reality of his situation. One simple comment at the bar of the saloon, and his mission would move forward. He'd earn the trust of the other mine owners, and he'd discover if they were stockpiling silver in an effort to force up the value.

An offhand remark about the talents of Amanda Wainwright in bed, a bit of bragging about his successful seduction, and everything he'd worked so hard for would finally be his.

But, at what price?

Amanda looked around the room. A touch of strawberry color tinged her cheeks, proving she wasn't immune to the gossip or the stares. Despite the hard veneer she tried to project, a gentle, vulnerable woman lay underneath. If he ruined her reputation, she'd leave Willow Creek. It was probable she'd leave Montana altogether, considering the way sensational stories spread across the territory.

He imagined her in San Francisco as part of the wealthy social whirl. She'd meet another man and become his wife, bear his children, and be happy. He frowned. He didn't like the picture of her holding another man's son in her arms.

He didn't like it one bit.

“The chicken and dumplings, I think. I know Harriet's dumplings are probably light as a cloud.”

She peered at him over her coffee cup. “Are you all right? You look angry enough to fling that menu across the room. Has it annoyed you in some way?”

He drummed his fingers on the table, unnerved by his own thoughts. He should get Amanda out of town, and he had the means at his disposal. At the same time, he didn't want to humiliate her, and he really didn't want her to leave.

“That's fine, I'll have the same.” He knew he sounded abrupt, and both Harriet and Amanda stared at him before exchanging glances.

“I'm thinking of having a dinner.” Amanda's voice wavered.

“Some folks call it supper, but I predict you're right.” His voice was sharp. The thought of losing Amanda filled him with melancholy, while at the same time he knew he should get her out of Willow Creek. He ran his fingers though his hair. Ultimately, he didn't know what he was going to do. But for tonight, he wanted to recapture the warmth of their embrace upstairs. He touched the tips of her fingers.

“So, do your plans include eating all of your dinner and some of mine too?”

She looked at him with her mouth open. “I do seem to enjoy eating your food, don't I? How impolite of me.” She blushed a pale rose color. “I apologize. Can you ever forgive me for being so rude?”

Sam relaxed and settled back in his chair. Teasing Amanda served as a tonic for his tender nerves.

“You also mess up any place you're in for more than five minutes, become a small tyrant when you boss people around, and can be a bit of a spoiled child when you don't get your own way.”

Amanda's face turned a shade pale and her eyes widened. “How awful of me, Sam. Why didn't you mention these things before? I'm appalled to discover I've behaved so badly. I've just simply lost all my manners.”

Sam placed his hand over hers and leaned forward again. “Despite these faults, you're kind, loving, beautiful, and immensely entertaining.” He sat back again. “Not to mention you possess a variety of special talents that have not gone unappreciated.”

This time she blushed a deep scarlet which Sam found most appealing. Just sitting at dinner with her aroused all his senses, not to mention made his private parts jump to attention. She was the only woman he'd ever met who could be so profoundly sensual and innocent at the same time. When they made love, she had no inhibitions, but afterward, she'd confess to being embarrassed by her own lack of modesty.

She nodded her head to indicate the people scattered around the room. “My behavior is already under scrutiny here in Willow Creek. I believe people are quite scandalized by your move into the room next to mine. I might be considered a fallen woman.”

She didn't sound as devastated by the idea as he thought she'd be. Amanda was always a puzzle to him. She could be a feisty do-gooder one minute and a naughty vixen the next.

“People will talk, Amanda. You're rich and powerful, and there are folks who resent that in a woman. Are you tough enough to handle it?”

Holding her coffee cup gently between her hands, she shook her head. “I don't know...” Her voice trailed off into a whisper. “I pretend I don't care what people say, or think, for that matter. But as you so carefully pointed out upstairs, I'm too bound by society's expectations to discard a practice I consider stupid and impractical.” She sighed. “I've always been jealous of men. They don't seem to ever care what anyone thinks of them. If I were a man, I could simply do what I please and the devil take the high road.”

Sam shook his head. “It might seem that way, Amanda. And I agree—men aren't constrained by the rules of society in the ways women are.” He stared off into space for a few moments, remembering the beautiful houses, the parties and balls, and all the spiteful, jealous gossip. He'd wasted years of his life trying to live up to the standards of others. He'd married a woman he didn't love because of his family's expectations.

“We may have different rules, but they can be just as unforgiving.” He rubbed her hand, enjoying the softness of her skin and the warmth of her touch.

He looked into her eyes. “I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of, and sometimes I've even forgotten what I stand for or believe in.” He glanced away; her eyes were too trusting, too full of…love? God, he hoped not. Falling in love with him would be the worst mistake Amanda Wainwright ever made.

“We can all sometimes forget who we are, Sam.” Compassion softened her voice. “After I married Arthur, I forgot about my dreams, my hopes.” She caressed his fingers and closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them.

“But I'm beginning to remember some of those dreams.” She straightened in her chair. “That's why making the Miners' Benevolent Association a success is as important to me as it was to Arthur.” Her voice grew stronger. “I want to succeed at managing a charity that I've created. I want to prove I'm capable of taking care of myself and making my own decisions.”

Their supper arrived and the creamy chicken and dumplings smothered in smooth, tasty gravy melted in his mouth. A companionable silence enveloped them for a while before Amanda finally set her fork down.

“That's why I'm planning a dinner. Well, actually, a ball.”

Sam nearly choked. “A ball? In Willow Creek?”

Amanda nodded. “A Miners' Ball, with all the families of my miners invited. I want to have the best food, beautiful music, and gifts.” She warmed to her subject. “Wonderful gifts for everyone.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Isn't it a bit early for Christmas, Amanda?”

She picked up her fork and waved it. “I want a magical evening, an opportunity for the people who work for me to feel important.” She studied him. “Don't you think everyone has the right to feel important, even if it's only for one night?”

Sam wanted to argue with her, to tell her this was just another crazy idea. But he agreed with her. He knew many of the men who worked in the mines, who spent long, hard hours beneath the ground, digging ore. Their lives could be dark and dismal, and when he considered it, he figured every man was entitled to at least one night of feeling rich and important.

“I guess you could be right about that, and I'm inclined to think this is going to make you more popular than ever with the miners. But remember what I told you, you have enemies.”

Amanda gave him a smirk. “With you to protect me, Sam, I'm not afraid of anyone.” She returned to her meal, but Sam pondered her response for a few moments.

“Don't put all of your trust in me, Amanda. I'm afraid at some point I will fail you, and you're going to be disappointed.” He glanced down at his meal which no longer held any appeal. He pushed his plate toward her. “Would you like another dumpling?”

She raised her shoulders in a delicate shrug. “If you're sure you aren't going to eat it.”

He grinned. It was difficult to remain in a foul mood when in Amanda's company. “I'm sure, darlin'. You won't offend me if you eat it.”

She stabbed at the dumpling with her fork and popped it onto her own plate. “I will never be disappointed in you, Sam. You're a good man, even if you don't think so.” She brought her fork to her mouth, then set it down again. “I understand you've done some things you're sorry for, but Sam, believe me, we all have.” She nibbled at her lower lip.

“Maybe that's why I need to do these things for the miners, because I know I never loved Arthur the way I should have. Maybe I could have tried harder. I think the one thing I learned is that you can't make your heart do something it simply doesn't want to do. You can't choose love, Sam. Love chooses you.” Her eyes brightened and her beautiful face glowed.

“Even when it's inconvenient, or tragic, or just not supposed to happen, people come together. And if it's only briefly, we need to grasp love with both hands and hang on for dear life.” Amanda sat back and gave him an understanding smile.

“No more promises, Sam. No tomorrows. No yesterdays. Let's just enjoy today and we'll pretend that's all there is.”

Sam felt the room tip sideways when he finally grasped what she was saying. Amanda didn't expect any promises of forever from him. She didn't need that. She just wanted to enjoy what they had, while they had it. His heart danced as he absorbed her words.

“You keep that crowd of rowdies away from me so I can do the things I need to do. We'll be happy and together for as many moments as we're given.” She stared into his eyes, then stood abruptly.

“I need to meet with Mr. Penny at the Miners' Association. There are some papers to sign, and he told me an old friend of my father's is in town. I should see him before he leaves.” She adjusted her skirts and wrapped the shawl around her shoulders.

Sam nodded, then he stood up to offer her his arm. “If you don't mind, there's some business I need to attend to also. I'll leave you with your Mr. Penny and come back for you later.”

Harriet waved at them then she turned her attention back to Robert, who shot an angry look at Sam and shook his head. Robert Holcomb was his best friend and partner, and it didn't bode well for Sam if he'd done something to upset the man.

Settling his Stetson on his head, he slowed his pace to match Amanda's smaller steps. The spring evening was mild and there hadn't been any rain for several days, so the streets were fairly dry with only a thin covering of mud. Sam inhaled the fresh air and his spirits lifted.

He'd made a decision tonight. He wasn't the kind of man who could destroy a woman's reputation for his own purposes. Amanda wasn't expecting much from him, but he didn't intend to disappoint her, or to use her for his own gain. In the morning, after breakfast, he'd tell her about the arrangement he'd made with the other mine owners. He'd confess his role, and he'd do everything he could to convince her things had changed. He had no intention of hurting her. Amanda Wainwright was a woman worth having, and he wanted to keep her in his life, no matter how briefly the happiness lasted.