Promise Me (28 page)

“I wish you would have allowed me to remove that painting,” Amanda said. “I don't want to embarrass the other women.”

Margaret waved a hand. “They'd be madder'n hornets in a stirred up nest if you did that. For most of them, the high point of the evening will be pretending to be shocked to see such a thing. It'll give us something to gossip about for months.”

Amanda couldn't keep her eyes from straying toward the staircase, and shuddered at the spot still stained with Caleb's blood. No amount of scrubbing could seem to remove the dark blight upon the wooden floor.

“Any change in Caleb today?”

Margaret shook her head and patted Amanda on the arm. “I'm sorry honey, he's still not awake. The doc was here though, and I have to admit, that man seems to have had some kind of revelation or something.” She grabbed a brightly painted lantern and held it out to examine it. “He was clean and sober and talking just like a regular doctor. He says Caleb has better color today and his breathing is real normal. He's been sipping that good broth Harriet made for him, just a bit at a time, but enough to know he's gonna come out of this, mark my words.”

A wave of relief rushed over Amanda. Worry over Caleb's condition had consumed her for days. She felt guilty that he'd been left alone to face his attacker the morning he was beaten and stabbed because she'd lingered in bed with Sam. If only she'd been a bit more reluctant to frolic with her husband, they might have arrived before Caleb had been hurt.

“You go on up and visit him for a bit, I've got things under control down here.” Margaret nodded in the direction of the kitchen. “We got the best cooks in town setting up in there. The folks will surely have a feast tonight, thanks to you, Amanda.”

Amanda gave the woman a sad smile. “We should be grateful to Arthur Wainwright. It's his money that's paying for all of this. I'm sorry Arthur missed the opportunity to see how happy he could make other people. I'm learning to never pass up the opportunity for happiness, because you might not get that chance again.”

Margaret Abbott nodded. “You got that right, honey. If God hands you dandelions instead of roses, you better learn how to make wine.”

Amanda grinned and walked up the stairs. Is that what God was offering her? Dandelions? She wrinkled her nose. Roses would certainly be preferable, but when she considered the humble dandelion, she had to admit it was admirable. The bright yellow flower attracted children who considered them beautiful. The seeds could be scattered with a soft whisper, to carry wishes across the countryside. The deep, tenacious roots couldn't be destroyed or ripped out, despite all efforts one exerted to remove them. Perhaps it was preferable to be a stubborn weed rather than a delicate blossom, destined to need pampering and care.

Lydia Brown nodded to her when she entered Caleb's room. “He's comfortable. We moved him already this morning, and Doc says there's no sign of bedsores.”

Amanda stared at the pale young face against the pillow and fought the urge to cry. He was just a boy, and the pain of seeing him so weak and helpless gnawed at her. He had sustained a beating clearly intended for her. “I'll sit with him for a little while, until Margaret needs me.” Amanda settled into the maple rocker and folded her hands on her lap.

Lydia brushed at the calico dress she wore and grinned at Amanda. “Don't fret about Margaret. I haven't seen her in such a good mood in years. She's got every available man scrambling to do her bidding and she loves it.”

Amanda leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. “Just come up and get me when you need some help. I'm not feeling well this morning, but it usually passes by noon.”

She regretted her confession when she opened her eyes and found Lydia staring at her with certain knowledge shining on her face. “Oh my,” she said, before quietly exiting the room.

Amanda bit her lip. What a foolish thing to say to the mother of three children. Now her condition would be a topic of discussion amongst all the women. It was only a matter of time before the gossip reached Sam's ears.

She brushed aside her worries. Before the night was over, he would hear the truth from her lips. She planned to give him the opportunity to choose a life with his family.

She'd give Sam one more chance. If he turned and walked away this time, she'd never let him come back.

***

The Chinese lanterns stretched across the mowed area, creating a pattern of orange, red, and gold light. The tables were set at angles to each other, and snow-white linen tablecloths covered them. Candles sat inside mason jars, and small baskets of artfully arranged daisies, roses, and ivy decorated the tables. Silver, china, and crystal gleamed at each setting. Sam gave a low whistle at the simple yet elegant design.

He'd stayed away from the Miners' Association all day. Since Walter had been helping his mother with preparations, he served as Sam's spy, returning to the office with several reports. With wide eyes, the young man had described the plans for the Miners' Ball. Pride surged through Sam as he looked around the hayfield that stood behind the Miners' Association. Amanda had created a miracle.

Sam imagined how beautiful she'd look tonight, even if she didn't wear the gown he'd purchased for her. Her auburn hair would be burnished as a thousand small flames danced in highlight. He imagined her laughter, a clear, tinkling sound echoing in the soft shadows of early evening. Her emerald eyes would shine with pride, or at least he hoped they would.

He cursed his pact with Father Mikelson. He'd made a bargain with the devil himself. All of his lofty arguments went sailing out the window like Amanda's dress yesterday afternoon when he considered the reality of losing her. There wasn't enough whiskey in the territory to dull the ache in his heart. Now, more than anything, he wanted to spend the evening with her. He wanted to hold her in his arms and waltz with her, nibbling on her ear while whispering lewd, suggestive comments.

The hard length of his cock jumping to attention reminded him of the long, delightful nights he'd spent making love to Amanda. Exquisite nights he'd never forget, and never have again.

He tossed the cigar he'd been smoking to the ground and crushed it beneath the heel of his boot. He could stand here and torture himself all evening with fantasies, or get back to his office and try to ignore the laughter and music that would drift down the street. Tonight would have been the perfect time to lose himself between the legs of one of Mrs. Holt's whores, but they no longer interested him.

Amanda was a rare, unique, and delicious wine, and his palate was spoiled for anything else. When she rode out of town in the morning, his heart would go with her.

Turning to leave, he stopped in his tracks. A vision of loveliness stood before him. Her green eyes studied him as she stepped forward and boldly tilted her face to give him a coy smile. He tensed, a raging hunger sweeping through him. His heart kicked in his chest, and his pants felt so snug in the crotch he was sure the buttons would pop off.

“Leaving so soon, Sam? The party hasn't even started yet.”

He swallowed and wondered if he could force any words from his mouth. She had piled her hair on top of her head, and the highlights danced in the light just as he'd imagined. Several long russet curls trailed down a bare shoulder. Her bosom rode high at the lace-trimmed edge of the bodice, allowing Sam to feast his eyes on the creamy skin and deep channel between the twin globes. The dress hugged her full curved figure, the satin wrapping her in an embrace that made him jealous. The simple lines and elegant drape flattered her more than he'd imagined possible. What had he called her yesterday? A butterfly? She was that, and more.

“You've made magic here, Amanda. You should be proud of yourself.”

She stepped closer, and the scent of lilacs swirled around him. He inhaled deeply, wishing he had a daguerreotype to capture her image to sustain him through the long lonely nights of the rest of his life.

“I am proud, Sam.” She looked about the outdoor room then regarded him. “I believe you were correct yesterday. I'm stepping out from the shadows and into the light.” Her soft strawberry-hued lips lifted delicately to give him a gentle smile. “Don't you think it's time I take control of my own life?”

Sam trembled as she picked a piece of lint from his frock coat. She patted his lapel gently, and the tip of her tongue circled to wet her lips. He wanted to crush her to him, push her to the ground, and caress her until she whimpered, begging him to take her. He shuddered, imagining her legs spread wide, his fingers gliding into her moist center until she panted with her need for him. She was a wanton temptress. He took a deep breath to compose himself. He was too hot, too hard, and too hungry for her; he had to get away.

“I was hoping you would stay and dance with me tonight, Sam.”

“You know I can't do that, Amanda.” Damn, he wanted to, but he couldn't.

“Can't or won't?” Her fingers caressed the fabric of his coat and found the edge of his vest. She made a path to the gold watch he had tucked into his pocket, and he stood speechless, wondering where her fingers would travel next. She was playing with him, teasing him. Damn it. A hot, molten trail of desire whipped through him at her touch. His cock was hard as oak and his testicles felt like cannon balls hanging between his legs.

With boldness he didn't expect, she swept her hand across the buttons of his trousers to rub him enticingly. Sam was close to losing control, nearly blinded by lust. He grabbed her hand and gave her a sharp look of warning.

“I thought you knew better than to play with fire.” He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them. “After all, you don't want to get burned do you?”

He suckled the tip of each finger, and she trembled.

“Maybe I'm a moth instead of a butterfly. It could be worth dancing with the flame to experience that wonderful flash of heat.”

Her words shocked him and enticed him at the same time. Liquid fire pooled in his belly as he imagined the kind of heat he could generate with Amanda. “You are a temptress tonight, my sweet.” He dropped her hand. “And I'm not even going to pretend I can resist you.”

He turned to walk away, regretting each step that carried him out of her life forever. If he didn't get away soon, he'd succumb to her wiles and take her right here on the ground. If that happened, he'd never have the strength to leave her again. His honor, his career, his country. None of it would matter.

Her laughter startled him. It reminded him of the soft rustle of birch leaves in the early spring breeze.

“You can't escape from me you know.”

He turned to face her, knowing his astonishment must show on his face. “I beg your pardon?”

She lifted one finely arched eyebrow. “Can't you see? You keep walking away from me over and over again. How many times have you said good-bye, Sam? How many times have you strolled out the door, only to discover yourself back to face me again?”

Her question lingered in the air, unanswered. He studied her. She was different tonight. Confident. With the look of a woman who had faced her demons and struck them down, whipping them into submission. He swallowed, aware of the heavy thud of his heart as the blood rushed through his body.

“I believe, for the sake of your manly pride, you have to pretend you don't want or need me.”

Sam stared as she lit the candles on the tables. Her skin appeared to be sprinkled with stardust. It glowed in the reflection of the lamps, and he struggled to get his powerful arousal under control.

“I know the truth about you, Sam. I know a truth you won't even face.” She shrugged. “It doesn't matter. Despite what you've said, you won't let me ride out of town and leave you forever.”

A bead of sweat formed on Sam's brow and he wiped it away with his forearm. Her words frightened him, because he knew them for the truth.

“Are you so sure of me, Amanda?”

She stepped closer. “I'm sure of me, Sam. For the first time in my life, I know what I want.”

She turned to pick up a small bouquet of flowers and inserted one into each arrangement. Was she putting dandelions into the baskets?

“Do you always get what you want, little girl?”

She blinked up at him, turquoise highlights glittering in the depths of her emerald eyes “Up until now, no. I almost never got what I wanted.” She continued to work on the flower arrangements. “But that was my own fault. I have always been willing to settle for less. I've let other people make decisions for me, but I know better now.”

He was intrigued by her observation. “So, you'll get me because it's what you want.”

She brushed at one of the tablecloths and grinned. “I'll get you because you love me as much as I love you. You won't let me go because you know how good our life will be if we're together.”

Blood rushed to Sam's head, and he was glad to be leaning against one of the fence posts, because he might have tipped sideways otherwise. “What did you say?”

“I love you, Sam.” She lifted her head to give him a dazzling smile. “I plan to stay married to you. And even if you made some kind of foolish agreement with Father Mikelson, it doesn't matter. He should be here by tomorrow morning, and then we can straighten this whole mess out.”