The Temptress (Montgomery/Taggert 8) - Page 43

“Maybe he was jealous after he’d just gotten out of prison and before he’d visited a…a place like Red’s.”

Chris’s eyes widened. “And before he’d moved in with the luscious Pilar.” She pounded a pillow with her fist. “I truly, sincerely hate that man. I wish I’d never seen him before in my life. I wish I never had to see him again. I wish—”

Asher caught her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “Chris, you’re protesting too much. I know a way to put him out of your mind.” He began to lower his head to hers. “You’re obsessed with him because you have nothing else to replace him.” He touched her neck with his lips. “Spend the night with me. I’ll make you forget him. I’ll make you forget everything except us. We’ll be a real married couple and when we leave here, we can go to your father and have a legal ceremony.”

Chris tried to enjoy the lovely way he was kissing her neck. He was a handsome man, he smelled good, there was absolutely nothing at all wrong with him—except that there was no spark. She could have fallen asleep standing up while he was kissing her. As it was, she suppressed a yawn.

“Please, Ash, don’t rush things. I…I’m not sure of myself yet. I’ve just been through something awful with one man and I don’t feel as if I can trust myself with anyone else. Please understand.”

He pulled away from her with a hurt look that made a thread of guilt run through her. She so hated lying for any reason whatever, and she especially hated lying to Ash who’d been so nice to her.

He stepped back. “All right, but I won’t give up trying.”

“I hope you don’t,” she said with a smile. There was no screen in the room, so she opened the

wardrobe door and undressed behind it, all too aware that Asher was lying in the bed watching her. It made her nervous and a little frightened—but it did not make her want to climb into bed with him. She began to imagine how she’d feel if Tynan were lying in that bed, his shirt off, his hands behind his head, waiting for her. Even the thought seemed to make her skin glow.

She took a few deep breaths before she walked out from behind the door. Ash had on a long nightgown and he was watching her like a cat with a mouse. Chris said a soft good-night, blew out the lantern, and climbed onto the little couch. It was hard and uncomfortable, but it was better than the alternative.

She woke the next morning to Asher kissing her face and neck. For a moment, she enjoyed it until she remembered who he was. “For heaven’s sake!” she said, pushing him away. “Really, Mr. Prescott, you must control yourself. I won’t be able to stand this sort of thing every minute of the day.”

“I told you I planned to make you fall in love with me.”

“And you think this is the way? By mauling me at every opportunity?”

Asher stood. He was wearing a robe over his gown and his hair was tousled from sleep. “That’s just what your gunslinger called it: mauling.” He turned away. “Well, today you won’t have to stand my company because your cousin has asked me to drive twenty miles into town to pick up some supplies. You know, Chris, I think the man plans to get all the work he can out of us.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” she asked, putting on her robe before removing the covers from her body. “We are asking him to support us. The least we can do is help.”

“You help in the garden with your outlaw and I get out of the picture. That should suit you just fine.”

“He’s not mine. I didn’t ask him here and I volunteered to help in the garden before I knew he was the gardener. You can’t blame me for any of it. Can’t we have an ordinary conversation? One minute you’re asking me to marry you and the next you’re accusing me of carrying on with another man.”

Asher didn’t answer her but started dressing—behind the wardrobe door. Chris wasn’t sure if he was modest or he was saving her delicate sensibilities. She chastised herself for criticizing every move he made. When he was dressed, he left the room.

Downstairs at breakfast, she began to see another Owen. Until now, he’d been the epitome of cordiality, but now he was giving instructions to Chris and Asher with the authority of a general.

“I want the north acre reseeded,” Owen was saying. “And I want all two hundred of those bulbs I ordered set by the end of the day. And, Whit, I’ll give you a list of what I want from town. You’re to take the wagon directly to the saw mill. You can do it all in a day if you don’t dawdle. Lionel, eat those eggs. Unity, have you shown the new housemaid what to do? I want the ceilings upstairs washed.”

No one else at the table said much. Later, Asher escorted Chris outside. “You don’t have to do this. Remember who you are and that we can go home any time you want. I don’t want you working as a field hand.”

“How kind of you, but I don’t mind working at all.”

Suddenly, Ash moved away from her. “Diana, even you aren’t too stupid to do a little work. Now get over there and act like the woman you aren’t.”

Chris turned to see Owen approaching with Tynan, both men seemingly unaware of what Asher was saying but she knew that, just as Asher had planned, they’d heard.

Owen said a few more words to Tynan, which she couldn’t hear, then gave Ash an appraising look. “Come with me,” he said and Asher followed, leaving Chris with Tynan.

“I don’t guess you could have volunteered to help with the washing, could you?” Ty said. “Or the horses? It had to be with the garden.”

She turned on her heel to glare at him. “If I’d known you were to be in charge of the garden, I would have shoveled coal first. Shall we get started and stop wasting time? I have more to do with my life than spend it listening to you insult me.”

“It seems to me that the man you claim as your husband was insulting you worse than I ever could.”

“It’s part of the charade. Diana Eskridge was a woman who allowed her husband to bully her, so Ash and I are acting out a part.”

“You’d better work on it then, because you don’t look like the type to take bullying from anybody. Every time he speaks to you in that tone, you look like you’re about to set his hair on fire. Here, take this,” he said, handing her a box of bulbs. “You know how to plant?”

Tags: Jude Deveraux Montgomery/Taggert Historical
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