Mountain Laurel (Montgomery/Taggert 15) - Page 15

“In fact”—he smiled broader—“in fact, I’ll even go so far as to guess that you’ve never done this before.” He gave a little chuckle. “I also found out what you think of me.” He lost his smile. “I can assure you, ma’am, that I am not the sort of man to force a woman to trade sexual favors for…for whatever happens. I am a man of reason, and you may discuss anything with me without resorting to unseemliness.”

He was silent for a moment, standing ther

e, looking at her as though he expected her to thank him for his noble act.

“Man of reason?” she whispered. “You, Captain Montgomery, are the most unreasonable man I have ever come across. I have met mules who are more reasonable than you. At least with mules one can hit them over the head with a board to get their attention. I doubt very much if any such solution is possible with you.”

“Now, just a minute—”

“No! You wait just a minute.” She might not be able to outwrestle him, but the volume of her voice was a match for anyone’s. “Since I met you, you have done nothing but insult me.”

“I would never insult a lady.”

“You called me a traveling singer. You told me I must do what you want. Can’t you understand that you have no rights over me?”

“My orders—”

“Damn your orders to hell! You are in the army, I am not. I have done everything in my power to explain to you that I don’t want you or need you, yet here you are and this…” She pulled her jacket closed. “This! You humiliate me, ridicule me so that I am reduced to playing the harlot for you, and—” Her head shot up. “And for your information, I have undressed for many men, hundreds of men. Frenchmen, Italian men, Russian men. And not one of them ever called me a traveling singer!”

“I never meant—”

“Of course you didn’t!” she snapped. “You were just doing your duty, weren’t you? Imposing your will on someone else, weren’t you?”

Quite suddenly, her strength seemed to leave her. She felt dizzy, her knees weak. It was all too much for her. Since the day she’d walked into her aunt’s house and heard about Laurel, she hadn’t had a moment’s rest. Since then her life, a life of music and good food and laughter, had disappeared. In its place was fear and hard beds and dirt and strangers. Her manager was gone; his comfort and humor were somewhere in England now. All the people who knew her, who knew her music and loved it, were on the other side of the world.

She put her hand to her forehead and started to sink, but he caught her before she hit the floor, lifted her into his arms, and carried her to the cot. He went to the bucket of water—no pretty porcelain dishes anymore—dipped in a cloth, wrung it out, then sat on the cot and put it to her forehead.

“Don’t touch me,” she whispered.

“Shhh. There’s nothing wrong with you that some rest and food wouldn’t cure.”

“Rest and food,” she murmured. All the food in the world wouldn’t make Laurel safe.

“Now, Miss LaReina, no, be quiet and rest. I have something to say to you and I mean to say it. First of all, it’s true the army has ordered me to escort you, and I have always meant to fulfill those orders. Lie still.” He said it as though it were an order but his voice was quiet and didn’t anger her as it usually did. She closed her eyes and he adjusted the cloth on her head, then lightly touched the hair at her temples.

“At first I just wanted to get you to leave, to go back east where you belong.”

She wanted to say that she had no choice but to remain in the gold fields, but she didn’t. Better to let him know as little as possible.

He touched her other temple, then, very gently, he put both hands on her head and his thumbs began to make little circular motions on her temples. She could feel herself relaxing all the way to her toes. “Where did you learn to do that?” she whispered.

“One of my sisters has headaches. I learned to soothe them away.”

She could feel tension slipping from her shoulders and her back. “How many sisters?”

“Two.”

She smiled. “I have two sisters as well. Gemma is a year older and Laurel is…” She took a breath. “Laurel is just twelve.”

“That’s a coincidence.” His big hands were massaging the back of her head. “My little sister is just fourteen.”

“The family pet?”

“More than you can know. With seven older brothers, it’s a wonder she isn’t a monster.”

“But she isn’t?”

“Not in my eyes,” he said softly.

Tags: Jude Deveraux Montgomery/Taggert Historical
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