Wanton Angel (23 page)

“I mean it, Eli—” she sputtered, pushing at his broad shoulders with her hands, but her words were cut off when his mouth closed over her own. Only a moment later, her hands stopped their fruitless pushing and moved to the back of his head, where they tangled in the richness of his wheat-gold hair.

Bonnie called on her suppliers alone, walking from one office to another and placing her orders. The wholesalers were all gracious and eager to accommodate her requests for piping, plumbing fixtures, paint and hardware. They were goggle-eyed at the size of the deposits she put down and solicitous in a way that made Bonnie wonder if the thorough loving she and Eli had engaged in showed in her eyes or some aspect of her person.

The very thought mortified her.

When her business had been concluded, Bonnie treated herself to a hearty luncheon in a sandwich shop—thanks to Eli, she’d never gotten around to having breakfast—and then shopped for small gifts for Katie, Genoa and Rose Marie.

Doing this was the closest Bonnie came to admitting to herself that Northridge even existed. Regardless of the true state of affairs, in fact, she felt quite deliciously, completely married to Eli.

It was late afternoon when she returned to the suite and found it empty. Yawning from the combined exertions of making love, tending to her business and then shopping, Bonnie was content to be alone. She removed her hat, took her hair down, and brushed it thoroughly. Then, with more yawns, she stripped down to her drawers and camisole and stretched out on the neatly made bed for a nap.

Some hours later, she felt cool air on her breasts and turned from her side to her back, still half asleep. “Ummm,” she said, as warm hands gently caressed the plump, pink-tipped bounty. Oh, it was a nice dream indeed, sweetly erotic …

She even felt the ribbon ties of her drawers being pulled,
so softly and so slowly. Liking the dream more and more, Bonnie stretched, making a purring sound deep in her throat, her arms reaching above her head.

When they were caught there and held tenderly captive by a strong masculine hand, Bonnie opened her eyes. She gasped with sleepy pleasure as, simultaneously, Eli’s mouth claimed one swollen nipple and his hand slid down inside her drawers to seek, caress and madden.

It was a wonderful way to be awakened, Bonnie thought, even as her body began to thrash about in its own involuntary response. Her nipple blossomed in the warm, suckling moistness of Eli’s mouth, her hips delighted in the slow pace he set for them, and her arms made no effort to be free of the forceful hand that held them so gently at the wrists.

Freshly bathed, Bonnie huddled in the corner of one of the twin sofas in the sitting room, clad only in her practical corduroy wrapper—was there a less glamorous garment to be found anywhere on the face of the earth?—watching as a bellhop wheeled a dinner cart into the suite. The young man’s eyes never touched her, even when she extended the small bill Eli had provided for his tip.

It was a relief when the waiter-bellhop found his way out of the suite and closed the door behind him. In the bathroom, Eli was taking a noisy bath, singing for all he was worth and splashing so much water around that Bonnie was sure it must be seeping through the floor and dripping onto the heads of the people in the room directly below theirs.

Eli’s merriment gave her a forlorn feeling, and she bit at one fingernail for a moment before slapping her own hand.

Strangely distraught, Bonnie got up and padded over to the serving cart, lifting one silver lid to reveal steaming roast beef, neatly sliced and pink at the center. Under another lid was a vegetable dish, and under still another, mashed potatoes drenched in butter. Suddenly, Bonnie was fiercely hungry.

“Eli!” she called, out of fairness. “Dinner is here!” Then, having given him adequate notice, she took a plate and began to fill it with a meal more suited to a smelter worker than herself.

She was nearly through eating when Eli joined her,
wearing a robe made of royal blue velvet. After casting one mocking glance from the slim pickings remaining on the serving cart to Bonnie’s plate, he dished up a dinner of sorts and sat down on the sofa opposite hers to eat.

“What did you order for dessert?” he asked after some time, his eyes on the one serving dish Bonnie had not uncovered and plundered.

Bonnie shrugged indifferently. After all, she had consumed most of the roast beef, most of the mixed carrots and peas and all but a dollop of the mashed potatoes. She was full.

Eli arched one eyebrow. “Since you devoured more than your fair share of the main course, I would think you might at least have the courtesy to check and see if there is anything for dessert. Man does not live by breast alone, you know.”

Bonnie flushed at the wicked reminder and flounced off the sofa to lift the lid from the unexplored serving dish. There was nothing to fill out Eli’s scanty repast; only a small, hinged box with a beautiful Renaissance angel painted on its lid.

Charcoal-violet eyes lifted to laughing golden ones, then returned to the delicate little box. With a slightly tremulous hand, Bonnie unfastened the tiny catch and lifted the beautifully painted lid.

Instantly, tinkling notes of music flowed into the mundane world, seeming to have had their beginning in another, better place. Bonnie didn’t recognize the tune, but that didn’t matter. She lifted the music box carefully, her hands cupped beneath it. Her eyes rounded in wonder as she watched the miniature works turn beneath a layer of glass.

Bonnie had owned beautiful things before in New York—all of them given to her by this same man—but she had left them all behind when she fled her marriage and since then she had not possessed such a frivolous, splendid treasure. Now, she was moved almost to tears, though a pragmatic thought saved her from disgrace at the very last second.

“Is this payment? Like the fifty-dollar bill?” she demanded. Oh, Lord, if he said yes, she was going to die. Just die.

But the expression snapping in Eli’s twenty-four-karat
eyes was angry, not mocking. “It’s a gift,” he said, and the fury in his voice spoiled the gentle melody of the exquisite music box.

Somehow his words were more like a slap across the face than the reassurance they should have been. Unwilling to part with the music box, Bonnie clutched it close, turned and walked into the bedroom.

She locked the door behind her, but Eli only came undramatically through the one leading into the bathroom. He undressed and Bonnie finally undressed, too, and got into bed beside him.

They made love that night with a ferocity unequaled by any previous joining, but their union was more a battle of souls and bodies than a celebration of human passion, and for that reason Bonnie perceived it as a sinful act. Memories of that fevered skirmish, which left them both exhausted and damp with perspiration, were to weigh heavily on her spirit in the difficult days to come.

T
HE HOTEL DINING
room was busy, as dozens of guests enjoyed their breakfasts. For all the sound and fury, for all that she was sitting directly across a table from Eli McKutchen, Bonnie felt very much alone.

“There will be talk, Bonnie,” Eli said, in a moderate voice, “whether we go back to Northridge separately or together.”

Seeing the truth of that didn’t make matters any easier for Bonnie. The dream was over. Indeed, it had ended the night before, when things had gone sour between the two of them. “I still think we should take different trains. I’ll go today and you can follow tomorrow. That way, we can both arrive in time for the public meeting on Sunday and there will be less gossip.”

Eli’s shoulders moved in a shrug, and there was a somber look in his eyes. Still, his lips were trying to smile as he said, “Seth tells me that you plan to attend the meeting in your capacity as mayor.”

Bonnie’s face and throat heated. Now that the topic of Northridge had been brought up, she was remembering things she would have preferred to forget: her time as a hurdy-gurdy, the struggles of running a mercantile, her temporary engagement to Webb Hutcheson. She stiffened in
her chair, stunned to realize that she had not given so much as a thought to the proposal or to Webb himself in the past two days. Even more startling, Eli had not asked a single question about that rainy night she’d spent across the river, in Webb’s house.

“Close your mouth, dear,” Eli said quietly.

Bonnie obeyed. “You never asked about that night on the other side of the river—”

Eli took his time before answering, taking a sip of his coffee, smiling at the waitress when she came to remove the dirty plates. “I don’t need to ask. I know what happened between you and Hutcheson—nothing.”

Bonnie was both relieved and insulted. It was good to know that Eli credited her with a measure of morality, but did he perchance think that no other man would want her? “How can you be so certain?”

He grinned but, for the sake of discretion, he at least kept his voice low. “You let me make love to you in a railroad car, Bonnie, in the bright light of day. And you didn’t quibble when I asked you here to the hotel. Those things, among others, tell me that you’ve been—shall we say—chaste for a long time. You needed me as badly as I needed you, and that wouldn’t have been the case if someone else had been taking you to bed.”

Bonnie cupped her hands around her water glass and then lifted them to her face, trying to cool her stinging cheeks. There was nothing she could say in reply, so she kept her peace.

“Don’t marry Hutcheson, Bonnie,” Eli warned, suddenly and in a grave tone of voice. “You won’t be happy with him.”

Something kept Bonnie from confessing that she had no plans to marry Webb, now that there seemed to be no immediate danger of her losing Rose Marie. “I don’t know about that,” she reflected, almost blithely. “I think Webb is the kind of man who could make a woman very happy. He’s solid and dependable, you know, not to mention handsome.”

There was an almost imperceptible change in Eli’s color; he turned a shade paler even as a pink flush crept up his neck and glowed just beneath his jawline. “Meaning?”

“Meaning that if we should ever suffer a family tragedy, Webb would still be faithful to me. He wouldn’t allow his private pain to drive him to someone else. And he would certainly never go rushing off to some silly war, leaving me to face my grief alone.”

The jibe struck Eli with an obvious impact, but he kept his composure. “Hutcheson will be as faithful as a lap dog—there’s no denying that,” he said evenly. “But don’t look for the kind of passion we’ve shared, Bonnie—he’s not going to be able to give you that.”

“You could not possibly know such a thing!”

“Yes, I could. I know human nature, Bonnie, and I know you. You need fire and excitement. Hutcheson is a decent sort, but he’s not going to try to please you in bed because it will never occur to him that you want to be pleased. The wives of men like that see sexual intercourse as a duty, Bonnie, and that’s the way their husbands like it.” He paused, sighed. “Hell, you’d be happier with Durrant than with that plodding print jockey.”

Enough was enough. Bonnie grabbed for her handbag and stood up. “I won’t listen to another word!” she hissed, snatching her valise from the seat of the extra chair at their table.

Eli caught her by the wrist and deftly forced her back into the chair nearest his. The valise thumped to the carpeted floor. “For God’s sake, Bonnie, stop reacting to all the things I’ve done to you and hear what I’m saying now!”

“I don’t want to hear any more!” Bonnie snapped, folding her arms across her bosom and thus adding an unspoken “and I won’t.” “You’ve done nothing but insult the man I—the man I—”

“The man you love, Bonnie? The man you want to spend the rest of your life with? You want to be safe and respectable, but you’re paying one hell of a price for those things, Bonnie! Your spirit will wither away to nothing!”

Bonnie trembled. For some reason, she could not give ground, could not admit that she had these same doubts about any union with Webb Hutcheson. She couldn’t say that she had changed her mind about marrying the man, though that would have made things so much easier. “Let me go!” she whispered.

Eli’s fingers slowly loosed themselves from around her wrist. “Hutcheson is a good man, Bonnie. But he’s dull as dishwater and he’ll expect you to have no more interest in lovemaking than the baby you might get from it. And he’ll be disgusted if you make him think otherwise.”

“Webb is a passionate lover!” Bonnie argued in a whisper. “Why would Earline Kalb be so jealous of me if he didn’t p-please her?”

“In his eyes, Earline is a whore, Bonnie. She’s supposed to like being tossed into the long grass. But you’ll notice that Webb isn’t looking to marry his landlady—he’s only using her.”

Bonnie stood again, hauling her valise along, and this time Eli made no effort to detain her. That was a good thing, for if he had, she would certainly have fetched him up alongside the head with her satchel. “I’m going back to Northridge right now,” she said. “I’ll thank you to wait and catch tomorrow’s train.”

Eli nodded a grim and vaguely menacing agreement. “Very well. After all, we wouldn’t want Hutcheson to find out that I’ve been bedding his lady love while he slaved over the presses. He’d be shocked, you know.”

Bonnie swallowed, too stricken to be angry. “You wouldn’t tell him, would you? I mean, you did promise—”

“I gave you my word, Bonnie, and I mean to keep it. I won’t tell anybody that we’ve been together, but there will be those who guess what’s been happening between us.” Eli stood up, leaving money behind to pay the breakfast tab and taking Bonnie’s valise from her. “The least I can do is see you safely aboard the train.”

They walked to the depot, since it was only a short distance from the hotel. Bonnie was furious with Eli, but she also felt as though a cherished part of her life was ending—for a second time—and she was distraught. The years ahead looked infinitely long and empty. Whether she married again or not, a part of her would be hollow. Raw.

Bonnie was standing on the railroad platform, bracing herself for an awkward good-bye, when Eli bent his head to encircle the rim of her right ear with just the tip of his tongue. “I’ll see you in Northridge,” he said.