Seger, Maura (3 page)

Realizing that it would be churlish to refuse such a sincere invitation, and grateful for the opportunity it afforded her to escape from Storm's unrelenting scrutiny, Erin graciously agreed.

But her relief was short-lived, for as they all rose, he took her hand in his and touched a light kiss to it that seared her even through her glove. "Then I will look forward to seeing you at supper tomorrow evening, Miss Conroy." Glancing over at Carmody, he asked, "That is, if the dinner party you were planning is still on?"

"Why, yes, of course," their host assured them. "Miss Conroy is undoubtedly eager to make the acquaintance of Yokohama society, and I'm sure everyone will be equally happy to meet her."

"Undoubtedly," Storm murmured, so softly that only Erin could hear him. "They have no idea what a treacherous creature you are. But I harbor no such illusions. Be assured, my dear, I will enjoy exacting payment for every cent of your debt!"

With that he was gone, leaving a confounded young woman to wonder how she was ever going to cope with the man whose love she had once so thoughtlessly spurned and who now saw her as an enemy to be crushed.

Chapter Two

"I've pressed the royal-blue silk, Miss Erin," Meg announced in that no-nonsense tone that meant she was not prepared to tolerate disagreement. "And I've been able to secure several petticoat hoops from Miss Elizabeth's maid, so you have no excuse for not being properly dressed this evening."

Erin sighed. She climbed reluctantly out of the bath and wrapped herself in a large towel before sitting down at the dressing table to brush the tangles from her waist-length ebony hair. The oval face that stared back at her from the mirror was pale but composed. It revealed little of the turmoil of her thoughts. But she knew perfectly well that her apparent composure didn't fool the sharp-eyed Irishwoman.

Meg was certainly aware that Storm's presence at the consulate had upset her young mistress and that she had conflicting feelings about seeing him again at that evening's dinner. Wisely she had decided to provide the best possible weapons to bolster Erin's flagging self-confidence and inspire her courage.

"That bath should have perked you up," she murmured soothingly. "It's been a long time since we've seen that much fresh water."

Erin nodded absently. She had enjoyed her leisurely soak in the privacy of her large bedroom in the Carmody house, but it had failed to ease much of her anxiety. Nor did the fact that much of the strangeness she naturally felt upon arrival in a new country was dispelled by Ned and Elizabeth, who already seemed like friends.

"Of course you will stay with us," the petite Mrs. Carmody had announced when Erin delicately suggested that if her arrival at all inconvenienced the household, she and Mrs. Gilhoully would be perfectly content to stay elsewhere. "I wouldn't dream of passing up the chance of becoming acquainted with one of the few other American ladies in Yokohama."

Elizabeth laughed warmly, belying the porcelain delicacy of her blond prettiness. "Or at least one of the few that I'm allowed to know about. I declare, Ned seems to think I have to be protected from the very air itself. Just because we've been married only a few weeks, he acts as though he expects me to vanish at any moment."

With her new understanding of what caused the young diplomat's fatigue, Erin took pains to give her host and hostess plenty of time alone. In turn, they seemed concerned that she recover from her journey before attempting to make any headway with the man Elizabeth described as "that very attractive but rather frightening Captain Davin."

Frightening indeed, Erin thought. The moment she imagined facing him again, doubts assailed her.

"Meg ... do you think the blue silk is really right for this evening? After all, it is cut low on the shoulders and we can't be sure that the ladies here don't dress more modestly."

The motherly woman shook her head firmly. "Do you really think I'd let you wear anything that wasn't ladylike? Heavens, child, you favored more daring gowns when you were sixteen."

That was true. At sixteen she had been the closest thing to wild the staid Conroy family had ever seen. Pampered and indulged from the time she was born, she had taken it as a natural right that young men should flock about her, ready to do her slightest bidding. Other girls had struggled to hide their envy while striving for her friendship. Adults who might have known better forgave her anything simply because she was so lovely.

Until Storm Davin came along. He provoked her, challenged her, and set her afire with longings she had never experienced before. He shook her safe, privileged world to its foundations. She both loved and hated him with all the fervency of her unfledged spirit.

When he asked her to marry him on the eve of war, the hatred won. She had turned on him unrestrainedly, punishing him for all the doubts and insecurities he made her feel, for the sleepless nights she had lain in her bed dreaming of him, for the hot yearnings of her body that left her ashamed—for all that she now understood made her a woman instead of a callow child.

"Perhaps," she murmured, slipping behind the modesty screen. "But it's been so long since I wore the blue silk that I can't even remember how it looks. Are you sure it will do?"

"Absolutely. Besides, it's time you started dressing in something other than those serge skirts and cotton blouses. Now that we're off that leaky rowboat, you can start looking like a lady again."

Erin grinned at the description of the
Pacific Star
that would have made Captain Foster apoplectic. Dropping the towel, she slid a white linen chemise over her head. Trimmed with lace, the almost sheer garment skimmed lightly over her body.

Through it, the outline of her high, full breasts was clearly visible, as were the velvet smoothness of her nipples, the narrow indentation of her waist, the ripe swell of her hips and the shadowy triangle of dark curls that lay between her long, tapered legs.

The chemise ended at mid-thigh and was tucked into lacy pantaloons tied beneath her knees. When she stepped out from behind the modesty screen, Meg was waiting with a whalebone corselet and a stern look.

"Into this, now, and no arguments. You can't wear the blue silk without it."

"Then I'll find something else. I'm not sitting through any dinner party unable to breathe properly."

She tried to dodge out of the way but was too slow. Before she could move, Meg had dropped the garment over her head and begun tightening the laces.

"Don't exaggerate," the Irishwoman ordered. "I'm only fastening it the least little bit."

"Then what do I need it for if you're only going to . . .
Ouch!
Not so tight!"

"You haven't been in one of these things for so long that you've forgotten what tight really is."

"I'm getting my memory refreshed in a hurry," Erin muttered as she felt her already small waist clinched in even further and her full breasts thrust upward. They swelled precipitously over the lacy top of her chemise. "I'm going to pop right out of that dress, and it'll be all your fault."

Meg didn't deign to answer. She merely gave the laces a final tug, secured them in a double bow and dropped the petticoats supported by steel hoops over Erin's head.

Gathering up the gown, she waited while her young mistress grudgingly slipped her feet into delicate blue silk slippers, then cautioned, "Stand still. I declare, you wiggle more than you did when you were a little girl."

"And you're bossier. I don't know why I put up with you."

The older woman laughed, not at all fooled by her young mistress's tartness. "Because you like a challenge." Hesitating a moment, she took it upon herself to add, "That's why none of those men who came calling on you in Boston got very far, nor the dozen or so on this trip who would have liked to court you. You need someone who has as much spirit and gumption as you do, someone who won't make everything so easy for you that you end up bored."

Their eyes met in the mirror. Erin silently admitted the truth of what Meg said, but she couldn't resist a quiet demurral. "It hasn't always been easy."

Sharp black eyes softened. "I know, child. You've had a hard road these last few years. Few men could have taken on what you did, much less a young girl. But that's all the more reason to be thinking about finding someone to share your life with. Neither the good nor the bad is meant to be faced alone."

Erin could hardly deny the wisdom of that. Next to remorse over what she had done to Storm, loneliness was often the harshest burden she had to bear. What worried her most was that she was becoming accustomed to it. She feared she was losing not simply the need to open her life to another person, but perhaps also the capacity.

Seeing Storm again had brought home to her just how much she had missed in all the years since they were last together. Her cheeks grew pink as she caught herself wondering if there might still be a chance for the happiness he had once offered.

Meg mistook the faint blush for her reaction to the sight of herself in the gown. Cut low on her shoulders, the royal-blue silk highlighted the sapphire radiance of her eyes, the graceful curve of her throat and the alabaster purity of her skin at the swell of her full breasts.

It was a dress another woman would have felt compelled to wear with an elaborate necklace. Erin had long since sold all her jewelry, but she did not feel the lack. The bell-shaped sleeves, snug-fitting bodice, tapered waist and wide, graceful skirt were all the ornament she needed.

When Meg had fashioned her hair into a soft chignon, and handed her the shawl, fan and gloves that completed the outfit, the older woman pronounced herself satisfied. "I told you this was the right dress. You've never looked better."

Gazing at herself in the mirror, Erin couldn't doubt her. The restrained young woman Storm had seen in the consular office was gone. In her place stood a vibrant beauty whose glowing eyes, perfect skin, sensual mouth and slender but curvaceous body were undeniably provocative.

No outward sign hinted at her hard-won maturity. She looked utterly free and untroubled, as though she had never known a difficult moment in her life. Even as she regretted the impression she was bound to give, Erin was glad that her vulnerability was well hidden. She could not bear to let Storm see how greatly he affected her and how susceptible she would be to anything he might choose to do.

Giving Meg a quick peck on the cheek, she moved carefully from the room, mindful of the need to keep her voluminous skirt from wrinkling, and made her way downstairs.

The Carmody home, situated in the most genteel quarter of Yokohama, had nothing in common with the marvelous descriptions she had read of Japanese housing. It was, however, a very nice wood-and-brick row house of the type favored in Boston, New York and San Francisco.

The rooms were large and high-ceilinged, but rather overfurnished for Erin's taste. She realized she was out of step with fashion when she longed for open space and bare walls. Ned and Elizabeth clearly had no such desires. A full complement of fringed Oriental rugs, potted palms, ornately framed etchings, solid mahogany and oak tables, upholstered chairs and elaborately carved sofas graced each room.

The effect was a bit stifling but still comfortable. Erin was feeling more relaxed as she entered the parlor. Her host and hostess were already there preparing to meet their guests. They were seated so closely together on the couch that she felt reluctant to disturb them, but both rose the instant they caught sight of her.

"How lovely you look," Elizabeth exclaimed. No hint of envy marred the compliment, nor was there any reason why it should. The young Mrs. Carmody was a vision of dainty prettiness.

She was dressed in a gown of pale mauve satin trimmed with lace at the elbows and bodice. Her golden blond hair was swept up in a braided coil that gave her added height while emphasizing the purity of her delicate features.

Green eyes sparkled with happiness as she gazed up at her adoring husband, looking very elegant in a black cutaway, matching trousers and a sparkling white linen shirt lightly ruffled down the front.

"Indeed you do," Ned avowed. "You are only the second lady of my acquaintance to recover so quickly from such an arduous journey." Beaming a loving smile at his wife, he explained, "Elizabeth was the first."

"Your hospitality has a great deal to do with it," Erin assured them both. "I must thank you again for making me feel so much at home."

"I just hope you plan to stay a long time," her hostess said. "I'm so eager for all the news from the States."

Erin attempted to satisfy her curiosity as they settled down in the parlor. Both the Carmodys had left the United States before the end of the Civil War, Ned on his own to take up his present consular posting and Elizabeth to be with her parents, who were missionaries. They had naturally heard about the last days of the war and the murder of President Lincoln, but they knew little of what had happened afterward.

Briefly Erin described the progress of Reconstruction, which, despite what she considered to be Andrew Johnson's valiant effort to carry out the policies of his martyred predecessor, was being controlled by vengeful factions determined to strip the South of all remaining wealth.

As she did so, she was relieved to note that neither Carmody took it at all amiss that she should be interested in political events. Too many people she had met seemed to think a woman should have no thoughts in her head beyond how to set a gracious table and sew a fine seam.

But perhaps because of Ned's diplomatic calling and Elizabeth's upbringing by parents who struggled daily against the abuses of worldly power, both were every bit as eager for information as she herself.

As the rigorously correct Japanese houseman stepped into the parlor to announce that the first guests had arrived, they were forced to break off their discussion, but with promises to continue later.

Erin instantly found herself the center of attention as she was introduced to a Dutch couple involved in the silk trade, a British officer and his wife, who were with the local garrison, a beautiful Portuguese lady and her French husband, who owned a porcelain-exporting firm, and half a dozen others who helped form the small but growing international community that had sprung up over the last decade or so since Admiral Perry "persuaded" the shogun to end Japan's centuries of isolation.