Chapter 12 #3
“I’ll see that the money is wired first thing in the morning.”
“Oh …” she breathed. “I don’t want to trouble you. If you just give me the legal right, I can take care of everything. I don’t want to ruin your trip or delay it.”
“The trip you’re so concerned about me taking, right?” he demanded dryly.
“I understand it’s important to you—”
“Yes, it is.”
“Then I wouldn’t want to interfere.”
He watched her gravely, then smiled wryly, but there was little humor in his eyes.
“You’re the most incredible little liar.”
“Damn you, I’m not lying,” she inhaled, fighting back her temper, hating to acknowledge gratitude toward him in any way.
“I’m grateful that you’ll send for Sabrina, and I don’t mean to delay something that’s important to you.
And speak of incredible liars! How you could ever fault me after the performance you put on when you pretended to attack the stagecoach—well, you’ve incredible gall! ”
“Perhaps. But you’ll understand if I find it difficult to trust you. I’ll see that the arrangements are made.”
She started to speak again, but he interrupted her. “I’ll also see to it that you have a reasonable sum of money for personal expenses.”
“I don’t really want your money,” she said uncomfortably. “I just—needed it.”
“Women always need money, don’t they?”
“Not necessarily. Not usually. I wouldn’t have taken anything from you if…”
“If you hadn’t felt that you had to?”
She refused to meet his eyes.
“So you really don’t want to take anything from me, but earning it in your own mind is different?”
She had gotten what she wanted from him, nonetheless, it didn’t seem to calm the tempest within her. At that moment, she wanted to slap him with every ounce of strength in her. But again she controlled her temper. Sabrina wasn’t here yet.
She stared up at him furiously. “Have I earned it?”
“A down payment, at the least.”
Temperance lost out. She gritted her teeth, striking out, then ruing the action because he had goaded her into it, and far too easily he caught her wrists, bringing them back to her sides.
He arched a taunting brow as he stared down at her; for the moment, she almost wondered which of them he mocked. He spoke somewhat harshly. “A man’s wife is entitled to his resources,” he said.
Startled by his words and manner, she felt again the tug of wounded pride. “I will be all right on my own,” she told him. “Once you’ve sent for Sabrina, there will be nothing I want, and there really isn’t anything I need here at the house.”
“Umm. You’d be happy as a lark with me out of it?”
“I didn’t say—”
“You didn’t need to.” He suddenly rose, picking her nightgown up from the floor, offering it to her. “I do, however, insist you dress before going back to your own room.”
She took the garment from him. Then she inched back on the bed, realizing that she was shaking as she tried to shimmy quickly back into it. But he wasn’t watching her. He was pulling his pants back on.
“You’re free to escape,” he said lightly. “You’ve done what you came to do.”
She flushed deeply, dismayed to feel that she was being dismissed.
“You can be very cruel,” she told him, rising with as much dignity as she could muster.
“Can I? Well, you can be very secretive.”
“You’re a stranger.”
“One you accidentally married for the sole purpose of coming here. And taking over Mayfair.”
“Well, then, I suppose, as you have suggested, I will revel in it in the days to come!” she said lightly, turning to leave.
He laughed softly. She was startled by his hand upon her arm, swinging her back to face him. “No, I don’t suppose!” he informed her.
“What do you mean? If your trip was so important—”
“It is.”
“You mean that you’re not going?”
“I’m going.”
“Then—”
“My love, you’re coming with me.”
She stared at him, then gasped, pulling free from his touch. “But you’re riding out into the true wilderness for days. You’re riding out to spend time among the Sioux. You—”
“Right. You’re forgetting something I keep telling you.
I met you as a Sioux. There was no charade in that.
I am a Sioux. Just as you are Lady Douglas, mistress of Mayfair, you’re also wife to Thunder Hawk, warrior of the Oglala Sioux.
You’ve spent some time at Mayfair. Now you’ll get to see a bit of the other half of the life you have chosen. ”
She continued to stare at him, convinced he wasn’t serious.
“But—”
He put his hands upon her shoulders, this time prodding her toward the door.
“Go to bed. Get some sleep. We’ll have to start early to make the arrangements you want and still give ourselves most of the day to ride into the hills.”
“Wait!” she cried, turning back to him, searching his eyes and looking for some hint that he was only teasing her. “I’d prefer to stay here—”
“Yes, I know.”
“You’re just being cruel again.”
“I’m not in the least. I can’t leave you here. I don’t trust you.”
“There’s no reason not to trust—”
“Skylar, my mind is made up.”
She slammed her bare foot against the floor. “This is America!” she informed him.
He laughed. “That’s debatable at the moment! Skylar, go to bed. Get some sleep. You’re going with me.”
“I refuse—”
“Afraid of Indians?” he taunted lightly.
“Damned wary of them,” she countered.
“Umm. But you’ve already been savaged and waylaid by one. Good heaven! You’re married to one. What greater horror could befall you?”
“I’m fond of the hair on my head.”
“Actually, I rather enjoy your hair, too.”
“You—”
“I assure you. I’ll see that you keep it.”
“Are you so sure you can keep your own?” she demanded.
“I know where I am riding,” he told her. “You can ride with me, or I can bring you along the same way I did when I met your stagecoach.”
“Attacked the stagecoach.”
He shrugged, his arms crossed over his chest.
Oh, God, she thought with dread. He was serious.
“It’s going to be a very early morning,” he warned her, his eyes narrowing, “if you want to wire money east.”
“You’re bribing me!”
He shook his head. “I don’t have to bribe you. You’re going. That’s decided. How you go is up to you, and actually, it doesn’t make much difference to me.”
She gritted down very hard on her teeth. He was going to send for Sabrina. He was going to give her the hundred dollars. That was what mattered.
“Fine!” she snapped out.
“Fine?” he said skeptically.
“Fine! I just said fine, I’ll go.”
“You’re right,” he said very softly. “You will.”
“And you are a damned savage!” she hissed.
He laughed softly, suddenly pulling her to him. “You were wonderfully savage yourself tonight, my love!”
She tried to kick him, but he moved swiftly enough to avoid her toes.
“Bastard!” she cried, jerking free from him and striding to the door, which she slammed behind her with such force she was sure its reverberation could be heard throughout the house.
Then she spun and ran toward her own room with all possible speed.