“You really don’t have to read anything, my dear. Your father has taken care of that for you.”
“My father brought me up better than that. He’ll expect me to heed his advice.” She canted her head, wondering where that notion had come from.
Malcolm sighed impatiently. “Really, Lenore. The documents are not important enough that they must be read over in detail.”
“I’d rather not attend to the matter just now, Malcolm,” she stated, rather firmly. She resented being pressured by him. “If my father wishes to bring the papers home, I’ll read them there. That is the most I will promise.”
He responded with a derisive snort. “You’ve gotten very high-minded lately, especially since that nigger lover has roosted on our front lawn. Don’t forget, madam, that I am your husband…not Ashton Wingate. You’ll give me the respect that is due me.”
Lenore’s amazement was complete. She saw no reason for him to fly into a temper over her delay in signing papers that he had said himself were not important. “Malcolm, I only ask to be allowed to read the papers.”
“Well, it’s almost an insult the way you insist. It sounds as if you don’t trust me…or your father. We’re only seeking what is best for you.”
“My father taught me long ago to look after my own interests.”
“To hell with your father!”
“Malcolm!” She stared at him in astonishment. “I see no reason for this display of temper.”
“I can!” he snapped. “I ask you to do one simple thing, but you refuse. I bet if your precious Mr. Wingate were here, you’d fall all over yourself doing what he asked.”
“Your jealousy is showing,” she said soberly.
“Isn’t it the truth?” His dark eyes fairly snapped as he threw the accusation at her. “If you had the chance, you’d take that bastard into your bed.”
“Malcolm, you’re going too far,” she warned.
“By doing what? Calling him a bastard or you a bitch?”
Lenore gasped in outrage and, now in a high-flown temper herself, rapped the handle of her parasol crisply on the small door behind the driver. “Henry, you may let me off here, please,” she requested when the tiny portal came open. “I have some further shopping to do.”
“You’re not getting out!” Malcolm protested as the servant brought the conveyance to a halt. “I’m going to take you home.”
“Then you’ll have to kill me here and now, Malcolm, because if you don’t let me out of this carriage this instant, I’m going to create such a scene that you won’t be able to stay in this town another day.” The words were slowly and carefully enunciated and the determination in the emerald eyes convinced him that she meant everything she had said. If he did not use caution and let her go, he could expect to take the consequences.
“If you get out, then you’ll have to walk home,” he threatened.
“Gladly!” Lenore glared at him. “Just move out of my way.”
Her face was flushed and angry as she pushed open the door. Without a backward glance, she descended to the rutted thoroughfare and, snapping open her parasol, marched toward the boardwalk, heedless of the activity on the road. To an oncoming team and wagon, she gave little regard except a brief, cold-eyed glare that might have done much to shrivel the pride of the stout team. They had made large men scurry out of the way, but this trim lass did not display a flicker of fear. The team’s driver sawed hard on the reins, turning the pair aside and shouting as he passed her. “Are you crazy, lady? You almost got yourself killed!”
Lenore mumbled beneath her breath. “Rude despicable lout! God only knows why I ever married him! I wish I had never seen him.”
She stepped onto the boardwalk and walked briskly past several shops. A tall, nice-looking man who was leaning on a storefront ahead of her saw her coming and, with a sudden gleam of admiration in his eye, gallantly swept off his tall, beaver hat.
“Good morning, miss. Can I be of assistance?”
Ignoring him, she stalked past, and with a hurried twist of his body, the roué fell in behind. He ogled the shapely back as if the stylish clothes did not hinder his view of the slender body they covered and smiled broadly when she tossed a glower over her shoulder. She passed another doorway and drew a long, slow whistle from the barber, who was plying his razor to the well-lathered face of a customer.
“She’s a redhead, all right,” he commented in appreciation. “Hotter’n some of them peppers the Cajuns grow in Louisiana.”
The one he attended raised his head to view this sight, and even with a hurried glimpse of her profile through the window, Ashton could not mistake that fair face.
“Lierin!” He threw himself from the chair, and, snatching the towel from his neck, used it to wipe the soap from his face. He dodged several chairs and men on the way out, causing one to start when he dropped the soapy linen in his lap.
“Your coat, sir!” the barber called after him. “You’re leaving your coat!”
“I’ll come back for it!” Ashton flung over his shoulder. He ran after the sprightly stepping woman, gaining the attention of the man who was following closely in her wake. That one frowned and set his arms akimbo in obvious vexation when Ashton ran past him.
When a hand came upon her arm, Lenore came around, ready to jab the pointed end of the parasol into the one who boldly accosted her until she looked up and recognized the handsome face that grinned down at her.
“Ashton! What are you doing here?”
“I followed you and Malcolm into town,” he admitted, “and then when I saw you get in the carriage, I decided I’d get myself a shave.”
She laughed as she rubbed a streak of soap from his cheek. “I don’t think you waited for the barber to finish.”
Ashton scraped a hand over his bristly chin. “Forgive my appearance, madam. I left in a hurry this morning.” He tossed a glance up and down the street. “What are you doing here? Where’s your carriage?”
Lenore lifted her slim nose into the air, still miffed at the one who had caused her anger. “I sent Malcolm and our carriage on their way.”
A sparkle of interest began to gleam in Ashton’s eyes. “Malcolm left you here alone?”
“I suppose my father is still here somewhere.” She gave a flippant shrug. “Though I really don’t care one way or the other.”
Stepping aside, Ashton laid a hand behind her shoulder and swept an arm before them. “If you’d allow me time to get my coat, madam, I’ll be more than happy to escort you wherever you desire to go.”
The handsome roué stood stock-still in the middle of the boardwalk, his feet braced apart and his hands set low on his hips. He might have been slow with his approach, but this wench was clearly one to squabble over. He made no move to step out of their way. Ashton met his challenging gaze with hardening eyes, then lightly handed the lady past the man. When she was securely beyond all danger, Ashton came back with his arm, sharply jabbing an elbow into the man’s chest, right below the rib cage. The fellow staggered back, surprised at the tenacity of this one who had whisked the lady right from under his nose.
“Begone with you if you have a care for your hide,” Ashton growled low. He was not about to endure another man’s interference. “This one is mine.”
The man regained his breath and caught Ashton’s shoulder, ready to make a protest. “I saw her first…”
The frilly parasol was snapped shut in a second, and the pointed end quickly found a tender spot in the roués ribs. He yelped in sudden pain and, deciding the pair were too much for him, stepped into a stance of surrender.
“If you insist!” he cried, holding his arms outspread. He backed away, immediately relinquishing any claim on the fine-figured filly. It was obvious she had chosen her escort.
Chapter Thirteen
EYES turned to regard the handsome couple as they strode along the boardwalk, and Ashton smiled with both pride and pleasure, having been successful in capturing the queen, at least for the afternoon. He beckoned to Hickory to bring the carriage around and, handing his lady in, settled close beside her and took her hand, gently encompassing the fine-boned fingers with his own. Lenore looked at him, unable to deny the warm feeling of contented bliss that quickly enveloped her whenever she was with him. His eyes glowed and brought a light blush to her cheeks as he took in every detail of her with a slow and exacting perusal. When he spoke, his murmur was soft and husky and bespoke of the yearnings that were readily visible in those hazel eyes. “You’re a most pleasurable sight, madam, one that I’ve not had enough of seeing lately.”