Wicked Temptations (7 page)

Priscilla knew that
The Town Tattler
might ultimately be forced to take sides, and she didn't see how she could side with Adam. Having traveled west with a wagon train made up of homesteaders who'd risked everything they had to start new lives on land they owned made her sympathetic to their cause. All they wanted was the 160 acres granted them by the Homestead Act, and the right to work the land and make it their homes. On the other hand, cattlemen who'd built up vast empires by grazing thousands of head of cattle on thousands of acres of land belonging to the government, were intent on driving the farmers and homesteaders away, depriving hard-working people of the right to carve out a life on the new frontier and establish farms and raise families.

Priscilla sat at her dressing table, brushing out the tangles in her hair, while mulling over
The Town Tattler
's presence within this contentions publishing community. The cattlemen's newspapers viewed the prospect of
 
The Town Tattler
as nothing more than a pesky little bug they could squash if they chose to do so. And the homesteaders’ newspaper brushed it off as the frivolous pastime of a spinster lady who had nothing better to do. But the time would come when they would all be forced to take notice because
The Town Tattler
would be the talk of
Cheyenne
. She was certain of that. But that was in the future. She had other concerns right now.

She was about to move into the house of a man whose presence caused all manner of emotional and physical upheaval. Not only had she been thoroughly kissed by him, but he'd kissed her in a way that she'd never read about in her Dime Novels. She'd never imagined a man would explore her mouth with his tongue, or that she'd enjoy it. No, not enjoy it. Crave it. But the feel of Adam's tongue rasping against hers while moving in and out of her mouth awakened a different need, low and deep. The woman's need Adam spoke of. She'd contemplated the marital act as any untouched woman would, concluding that it was nothing more than a physiological necessity that a woman endured in order for procreation.

But reflecting on Adam's intimate kiss and the reaction it stirred in her, for the first time in her life she could imagine taking part in the marital act with him for pleasure. Which, of course, she wouldn't. But she would like him to kiss her again like he had. But he'd also kissed her in other places, and in other ways. She had no idea that darting his tongue in her ear or kissing her neck would send a flurry of chills racing through her, blocking out thoughts of everything but the myriad of sensations centering in places that only a husband should be allowed to touch. She also realized Adam was the reason she kept getting winded. She had no idea why it happened, but it did, and she'd have to get used to needing extra air whenever he was around. Which might not be for very long, she realized, sadly, as she looked at herself the mirror.

She was an unattractive spinster woman who'd come west with the homesteaders and understood a person's need to start anew, and Adam was a breathtakingly handsome man who could have any woman he wanted. She was also certain that even if Adam did feel
something
for her now, those feelings would cease when his campaign for mayor began and she'd be forced to take sides. For the moment, however, she'd enjoy what Adam offered her and set the rest aside.

***

Lady Edwina Whittington peered through the parlor window at Priscilla, who was climbing aboard her buckboard to go after another load of belongings. "It's no wonder the woman's a spinster," she said to Adam. "She's as plain as an old shoe, poor thing."

Adam eyed his mother with irritation. "Looks are not everything, Mother. You've been telling me that for years."

"Only to take your mind off the kind of women you have pursued in the past, women who use their beauty, female assets, and seductive charms to catch your notice."

"Then you should not find fault with Miss Phipps," Adam said. "She hardly fits that description. But the fact is, I find her rather charming."

Lady Whittington looked at Adam with a start. "I hope you have not led the pitiful creature on in any way, Adam," she said, a furrow of concern touching her brow. "She is without question naive in the ways of men, and you are clearly experienced along those lines. It would be unkind and unconscionable for you to give her any encouragement at all, or any hope of finding romance with you. Spinster ladies like Miss Phipps look to those silly Dime Novels to fulfill that role in their lives, and it's best to leave them to it."

Adam allowed a smile to curve his lips. "What if I told you I was infatuated with Miss Phipps?"

"I'd say that was so much twaddle," Lady Whittington said. "Besides, if you were to find enjoyment in the woman's company, though I cannot imagine it for a man like you, she'd be an embarrassment for you to have hanging onto your arm during your campaign."

Adam forced back a scathing retort. "So the kind of man you think I am is one only interested in pursuing women who flaunt their female assets for my pleasure."

"That is not what I meant!" Lady Whittington clipped. "You are a man with the looks, command, and presence to keep company with countless beautiful and gracious women who would be an asset to your political career."

"But I am not seeking a political career, Mother," Adam said, "only the position of mayor so I can serve the cattlemen of this region, whom, I might remind you, are supplying beef to England. With homesteaders coming in droves and seizing vast acres of land, it won't be long before cattlemen will have no land for grazing, or trails for driving herds to market because of all the fences going up. When that happens, the cost of beef in
England
will be out of reach for ordinary people. There needs to be regulation to protect cattlemen against this incursion."

"Well, if you fancy yourself mayor," Lady Whittington said, "you had better keep your eyes off Miss Phipps, or your electorate will think there is something wrong with you that you are unable to attract a decent-looking woman."

Adam bit back a string of expletives. The fact that he found Priscilla appealing might be his assessment alone, but he liked the way she looked when she was scrubbed clean, and her green-brown eyes held that glint of passion he'd seen after he'd kissed her, and her hair was a tangle of carrot-red curls around her pretty oval face. Perhaps God gave him the eyes to see beyond her plain facade and into the soul of the exhilarating woman she was. But he'd never convince his mother that he could care for a woman who looked the way Priscilla did when she was the way God created her. "When Miss Phipps is fashionably dressed and made up she is a different woman," he said. "When I was at the church social last Sunday I had to outbid two men for her picnic basket, and her company."

Lady Whittington looked at Adam as if he were deranged. "I cannot believe you would be drawn to the woman in any way."

"That's because you don't know her," Adam said.

Deciding it would do more harm than good to plead a case for Priscilla and chance his mother wanting her to move out, Adam said, "You can rest assured, Mother, I have no designs on Miss Phipps. I merely wanted to do something charitable for the woman, plain as she is, and it was, after all, a benefit for the church. But the main reason I asked her to live here is so she can keep an eye on Trudy, who has her sights on a young cowboy out at the ranch. Moving Trudy here, under Miss Phipps' watchful eye, would keep Trudy away from that temptation. Miss Phipps' virtue is above reproach, so she would be a good example for both Trudy and Alice to follow. And she has a razor sharp tongue when she has a mind to chastise someone. I can assure you, Trudy would be no match for her."

Lady Whittington straightened her spine and pursed her lips, and her head gave a little wiggle, a clear sign that she was yielding the argument to him, which she confirmed, when she said in a conciliatory tone, "I was not aware of that side of Miss Phipps's nature. That being the case, I suppose it's good that she will be here."

"I am glad you see it that way," Adam said, relieved to be done with the session.

Lady Whittington offered him a self-righteous smile. "Don’t get me wrong, Adam. I have nothing against the woman. She seems pleasant in fact. It's just that she is so very unattractive."

"Well, I hope you will not continue to hold that against her," Adam said, feeling his temper mount, knowing he'd better bring this whole unpleasant affair to a close before he said something he would regret.

Lady Whittington bristled. "I am not so shallow as you portray me to be, Adam," she said. "I feel sorry for the woman because of the way she looks. But I would certainly not hold that against her. In fact, I hope to get to know her better."

Adam stood. "You will soon be given that chance." He started for the door.

Lady Whittington raised her hand to stop him. "Before you go, Adam, tell me... What is this business you say Miss Phipps plans to start?"

Adam shrugged. "A singlesheet newspaper, which she will call
The Town Tattler
. It will cover topics appealing to women—recipes, society news and such, short stories, a bulletin where women can air personal grievances. Things like that."

Lady Whittington pursed her lips and sucked in a long breath. "Well, I suppose that would be appropriate for the woman. She would certainly not do well running a millenary shop or other business catering to women's fashions, as she has clearly not been schooled along those lines. I doubt if she has even been to a proper finishing school."

Adam eyed his mother with vexation. "I advise you not to underestimate Miss Phipps," he said. "I suspect she could be a force to reckon with should you, or anyone else, rankle her. I for one intend to stay on her good side." And
that
was the understatement of the day, Adam silently conceded. If truth be known, he intended to cover all sides of Priscilla while she lay naked in his arms. The idea had taken root and wouldn't let go. But for the life of him, he didn't know when, or where, it would take place. The ranch was miles from town, his house was soon to be a hive of activity and watchful eyes, and
The Town Tattler
building was a far cry from being a love nest....

Then he remembered the mattress pads in the upstairs rooms that Priscilla had mentioned. They were unoccupied, now that the women had moved into a boarding house, and he was becoming increasingly impatient to alleviate a problem he was having, and to do it with the oddly appealing, totally exasperating, easily roused spinster whose mere image in his mind's eye brought a smile to his lips and action below his waist...

"I don't believe I like that smile, Adam," his mother's voice caught him up short. "It was never a good sign when you were growing up."

Adam looked at his mother in amusement. "Then I suggest you get used to it," he said, "because I'm afraid it's here to stay." With that cryptic message, he left the house and headed for
The Town Tattler
building, almost tasting the lips he intended to capture the first chance he got. But now, his hands were restless to capture other parts of Miss Priscilla Phipps' anatomy. She was a fireball of passion waiting to be released. And he was more than ready to do her that honor. And to do it very soon, or he was apt to go mad.

CHAPTER FOUR

'To be a king and wear a crown is a thing

more glorious to them that see it than

it is pleasant to them that bear it.'

— Queen Elizabeth I

Lady Whittington leaned over Priscilla, studying, with rapt attention, the lock of copper-red hair pressed between her fingers. "We could tone it down with a lightener such as lemon juice and chamomile tea and have you sit in the sun," she said to Priscilla, "but I am afraid you would acquire yet more freckles, so that would not be advised. Besides, dark hair is preferred over blond, so I believe it would be best for you to go darker. I will have cook boil down some black walnut shells and mix it with black tea."

Priscilla saw the look of pity on Lady Whittington's face. All her life she'd seen that look while people talked around her on what to do about the color of her hair. At different times her mother tried rinsing it in coffee, then in boiled sage leaves, then in an infusion of cherry bark and chicory root. When that didn't work, she tried lightening it with a mixture of mashed rhubarb and pineapple juice and having her sit in the sun. The next day her face was red as a beet and covered in blisters. When that passed, she had a new crop of freckles.

Seeming to pick up on that, Lady Whittington said, "We could do something about those freckles, but there is no magical formula. It would require time and patience and continuous care. But there are bleaching agents that can fade them to a color that closely approximates the color of your skin, although sometimes it results in an undesirable lightening of the skin surrounding the freckles, calling more attention to them."

Knowing that her voice would be wobbly if she replied, Priscilla nodded and said nothing. Her freckles had been a constant reminder of how plain and unattractive she was, though no one said as much. But it had been implied by the teasing of her classmates and the remedies her mother tried over the years. One bleaching agent had her face breaking out in a rash. Another burned her skin. Then there were the sour cream washes, and the vegetable masks made with mashed cucumbers, and strawberries, and apricots...

Lady Whittington cupped Priscilla's chin and raised her face so she could study her skin more closely. Brows pinched in deliberation, lips pursed in dismay, she sighed, and said, "You do have quite a crop, but I can have cook make up an infusion of parsley juice, lemon juice, red currant juice and orange juice. If you apply it to your skin under your facial cream, it will help make the freckles less noticeable while getting rid of them."

Feeling utterly unattractive, tears misted Priscilla's eyes, and to her mortification, she saw Adam standing in the doorway. She had no idea how long he'd been there, but the look on his face could stop an advancing army. He crossed the room in three long strides. Glaring at Lady Whittington, he said, "What the bloody hell are you doing, Mother!?"

Lady Whittington looked at Adam in shocked surprise. "Do not use that language with me, Adam," she clipped. "I am helping Miss Phipps with her toilette."

"Miss Phipps is fine just the way she is. Do not impose your standards on her. She is fresh and pretty and does not need the aid of infusions and dyes and all manner of female fripperies that will make her look like a clown!"

Lady Whittington's eyes darkened with awareness. "I do not believe you are in a position to dictate what is best for Miss Phipps. You are not her husband nor her father. And I would ask you to leave this room at once."

"No, I will not leave. You're causing Miss Phipps distress when there's no reason for her to feel anything but satisfaction with her fresh, natural appearance. She's perfect the way she is."

When Priscilla looked at Adam's reflection in the mirror and saw the resolve in his dark eyes, she realized his words had not been hollow praise. He actually
believed
what he was saying. The idea that Adam thought her pretty brought tears of joy welling, and when she blinked, they brimmed over her eyelids and trailed down her cheeks.

Lady Whittington glared at Adam. "Do you see what you've done! You have upset Miss Phipps and made her feel miserable about herself, when most of her problems can be overcome with a few simple remedies."

"She has no problems!"
Adam bellowed, "except the incorrect notions about beauty that you and others like yourself
 
have put into her head. She is beautiful the way she is."

Unable to sit any longer without breaking into sobs, Priscilla shoved the dressing-table stool back and rushed out of the room and down the hallway. Hearing footsteps close behind, she hurried down the stairs, ran out of the house and rushed toward her buckboard.

Adam grabbed her arm as she attempted to climb up. "Where are you going?" he asked.

She swiped a finger beneath each eye. "To
The Town Tattler
."

"Why? Because of my mother?"

"No, because that's why I moved to
Cheyenne
in the first place. But I seemed to have gotten distracted of late. Now, I want to get back to the reason I'm here." She shrugged off his arm and climbed onto the box, and he didn't try to stop her.

His hand on the buckboard, he looked up at her and said, "Don't take to heart the things my mother said. They mean nothing."

Priscilla took the reins. "The things your mother said were nothing less than what I have heard all my life. And it really doesn't matter because
The Town Tattler
is what's important to me, not trying to fix myself up so I can attract a man who will try to run my life." She gave the reins a jiggle and the horse started forward.

Until now, she had accepted the fact that she was unappealing to men and would never know love. Or if she did, it would be unrequited. But after Lady Whittington's close scrutiny, all of her mother's fretting and fussing about her appearance came rushing back. But for some unexplainable reason, Adam did not see her the way everyone else did, and it was baffling and disturbing and confusing. It was also heartbreaking. She had at last found a man who looked at her through rose-colored glasses, but if he aligned himself with her, he'd be laughed at and ridiculed by the voters he needed to help him get elected as mayor. And although Adam might think she was pretty, his mother would be a constant reminder of how the world really saw her.

***

The following week, to a great burst of cheers from Priscilla, Trudy, Alice and the four women, Jim Jackson pulled the first edition of
The Town Tattler
off the press and laid it on the copy table. As Priscilla stared at the five-column folio, she was so excited she had to remind herself to breathe. A banner headline set in large flourishing foundry type, and occupying the width of the page, heralded the establishment of
The Town Tattler
, and on the top of the page, an ornate nameplate embellished with attractive calligraphy, stated:
Volume 1, Number 1, July 31, 1885, Serving Cheyenne, Wyoming Territory
. The editorial below the banner headline invited women writers to visit the office of
The Town Tattler
and chat with Miss Priscilla Phipps about submitting poems, short stories, viewpoints, and opinion pieces for possible publication. Readers were encouraged to write to
Miss Manners
with questions about proper etiquette , and to
Miss Valentine
for advice for the lovelorn. As a bonus, all new subscribers would receive a lovely engraving suitable for framing.

Priscilla looked at the small decorative wood engravings set above each editorial column, pleased with what she saw. The cut for
Miss Manners
showed children gathered around a table, the one for
Miss Valentine
displayed a couple sitting on a loveseat, and the one for her Women's Suffrage column, was of Esther Hobart Morris, a suffragist whose efforts were instrumental in passing the equality laws that governor Campbell signed into law in 1869, granting the women of Wyoming Territory the right to vote, along with the right to hold public office, own land, and retain property from their dead husbands, making Wyoming's government the first to do so. Priscilla had been twenty-two at the time, but it stirred a longing back then to move to the place where she could hold property in her own name.

Her eyes returned to the woodcut of the romantic couple and the fact that
Miss Valentine
was a middle-aged maiden lady who had never been in love. Although now, she did know what it was like to be infatuated. Oddly, she felt qualified to give advice to the lovelorn because it would not be muddled up with senseless female emotions.

Edith, who had not read the
Miss Valentine
column until now, peered over Priscilla's shoulder, and commented, "I can't imagine ARJ, whoever she is, even asking if she should allow a man to court her who left her sitting alone at the Picnic Social to go off with some other woman. But you set her straight. Do you know who she is?"

Priscilla realized Edith had been off with young Frank Gundy during the time when she'd told the women that the questions and answers for
Miss Valentine
would be fabricated until readers began to write in. "ARJ and the others are made up for this issue," she said. "After the women start sending in questions, I won't have to do that."

Edith's smooth brow gathered with a frown. "But... was the incident based on something that really happened to... someone?"

On the way home from the picnic social, when the women asked about her time with Lord Whittington, Priscilla had been vague about what happened after Adam bought her basket. She hadn't wanted to explain where they'd gone, or what they'd been up to. Now, she suspected Edith thought
she
was ARJ, and Adam had left her to go off with another woman. Perhaps it was best left at that, because the truth made her blush, and it would later be an embarrassment, when Adam lost interest. If, in fact he was actually interested in her. He gave every indication he was, unlikely as it seemed. Answering Edith, she said, "No, it was just something I came up with."

Edith said nothing, but Priscilla knew she was not convinced. It would be perfectly reasonable to think that the freckle-faced, red-headed unattractive spinster had been deserted to sit alone with her picnic basket and eat the delicacies she had prepared, while the handsome, wealthy, British cattle baron slipped away and picnicked with a beautiful and charming woman more fitting for a man of his station. How shocked Edith and the others would be to learn that prim and proper
Miss Valentine
had not only been thoroughly kissed by Lord Whittington, but that she had lost complete control of herself during that kiss.

Trudy, who was reading over Priscilla's shoulder, said, "What does Mrs. W. M.
Coggswell
mean when she says
'the man who has a wife controls two votes instead of one, and he who has grown daughters controls as many as he has daughters?
'"

Priscilla glanced over her shoulder at Trudy. "The letter written by Mrs.
Coggswell
was read in the Massachusetts House of Representatives during a debate on suffrage and used as an example of why enfranchising women was pointless."

Trudy looked at Priscilla, puzzled. "Is that true what Mrs.
Coggswell
said, that if I were grown, my father would take my vote from me?"

"Not exactly," Priscilla said. "Women in
Wyoming
Territory
can vote as they wish, but most don't bother to do so, and those who do, vote as their husbands dictate."

"Well, when I am old enough, I will vote as I please," Trudy huffed.

"Then you had better marry a man who will not challenge you, or you will have a very troubled household," Priscilla said. "But even if women start exercising their right to vote, they are still not allowed to vote when nominating men for office, or in primaries and conventions. But after the delegates have made the primaries, the men up for election are very glad for women to come in and help elect them."

Trudy's face brightened. "Then I shall help my father get elected as mayor by writing things about him that you can post in
The Town Tattler
," she said.

Priscilla looked at Trudy with concern. Taking an open political position at this point would alienate many potential subscribers. But she didn't want to put a damper on Trudy's new-found interest in suffrage.
Wyoming
Territory
, being the first government to allow women the vote, was a maverick in
America
. Offering a compromise, she said, "
The Town Tattler
will not be taking sides in the upcoming race for mayor, but I will be holding what I will call Town Tattler Meetings, where I'll talk to women about suffrage and temperance and other issues that are important to them. Perhaps you'd like to attend the meetings and pass out some leaflets about your father there."

Trudy broke into a wide grin. "Yes, I'd very much like that, and I'll start at once designing the leaflets. Would I be able to print them here?" she asked.

Priscilla considered that. Being involved in her father's election would take Trudy's mind off Tom Rafferty. For that reason, Adam might approve of her interest in women's rights. "I'll talk to Mr. Jackson and see if it's something we can do on our press."