Chapter 10

10

Enya paced across her bedroom floor. A small lantern on the bedside table cast a glow over the bed, its covers turned down by one of the servants.

In her nightgown and thick robe with her hair unplaited and hanging loose, Enya was ready for bed, but she'd been waiting for Sullivan. Even though he'd said he wouldn't share the marriage bed until she invited him, she wasn't sure what to believe.

He hadn't done anything that had given her cause to think he was lusting after her. He'd kept a respectable distance all day, had only assisted her the way any gentleman would, and had hardly even looked at her most of the time.

But he was, after all, still a man. And his valise and garments had been delivered to the house and brought to her room, which meant he was staying with her, whether either of them wanted the close quarters or not.

He'd been polite to her ever since their return from visiting the house he was considering purchasing. But the camaraderie she'd felt with him there had disappeared the moment she'd realized that he saw her as a challenge—one he was determined to win.

She'd been a challenge to Bryan too. He'd done all he could to win her over in those few weeks before they'd gotten married. He'd told her how beautiful she was, wooed her with promises of their future together, charmed her with his humor and teasing and wit.

Sullivan certainly had no humor, teasing, or wit. But was he trying to gain her affection by giving her the ring and buying her a house? She didn't want to have him work hard at winning her heart only to trample it under his feet once he got what he wanted.

She paused in the middle of the room. She wasn't being fair to Sullivan. Just because he said he liked challenges didn't mean he would use and hurt her the same way Bryan had. In her head, she knew that was true. But her shattered heart refused to believe any man could truly care without wanting something in return.

Even so, she needed to apologize for running out on him and being cold the rest of the day. He didn't deserve that from her. She could find a way to live with him cordially, couldn't she? At the very least, she had to make an effort to be polite.

She also had to make him understand that she didn't like his proposal to wait to sleep with her until she wanted it and asked him for it. His plan felt too much like another contest. And she didn't want him doing nice things for her so she'd invite him into her bed.

At the heavy tread of footsteps in the hallway, she drew in a breath and hugged her arms to her chest.

She wasn't familiar enough with him to know how his footsteps sounded, but it was likely him. Who else would it be? Especially since Riley and Finola had excused themselves from the parlor after supper and had disappeared into their bedroom. She'd made her escape a short while later, and Da, Kiernan, and Sullivan had hardly seemed to notice her leaving.

As the purposeful and determined footsteps slowed outside her room, her muscles tightened.

It was Sullivan.

He paused for several seconds, then cracked open the door and slipped inside, his large frame and powerful presence immediately filling the room. While he carefully closed the door behind him, she didn't budge from her spot.

As he pivoted, his attention jumped to the bed first and then swept over the room before landing upon her. In the dimness, his expression remained shadowed. But even if he'd stood in full daylight, his face would have been stoic. She was learning that he rarely gave away his emotions. Unless it was frustration.

In fact, rather than asking her what she was doing awake and standing in the middle of the room, he leaned back against the door and crossed his arms. With his gaze trained upon her, he waited.

His cravat was untied and hung loosely around his starched high collar. His vest was unbuttoned, revealing more of his wide chest. And his cuffs were rolled up so that his muscular forearms showed with all his prominent veins. An intensity radiated from him that told her he was anything but cavalier about the moment at hand.

Maybe she should have been in bed the way he'd expected. And maybe she should have pretended to be asleep. Why couldn't she push issues aside the way Finola did? Why did she always feel the need to be so direct?

She hugged her arms closer to her body. "I apologize for being rude to you at the house earlier today."

He studied her face, his brown eyes almost black.

"I'll try to be more careful about comparing you to—" She didn't want to speak Bryan's name, didn't want any questions, didn't want to have to share any of the sordid details of her failed marriage.

Thankfully, he remained silent.

"I don't want to be causing tension between us and will do better to be more agreeable."

He still didn't reply.

Was he angry with her?

She'd only let Bryan slap her twice. The third time he'd tried to hit her, she'd left the hotel room before he could lay another hand on her. She'd told herself she wouldn't let any man push her around like that ever again. And Sullivan had indicated that he'd never use physical force.

Even so, she couldn't stop the tremble in her hands and hoped he wouldn't see.

But, of course, he never seemed to miss anything, and his attention shifted to her hands.

His dark brows furrowed together, and he pushed away from the door and started toward her.

She stiffened her backbone. "Well?"

He stopped a foot away and lifted a hand toward her face. Or maybe her arm.

She couldn't stop herself from flinching.

He halted, and his scowl turned fiercer. "Do you think I intend to hit you?"

"No, I suppose not."

"Blast." The murmured curse contained an entire moun tain of frustration. He rubbed a palm across his forehead and then over his eyes. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts and his momentum to answer her. When he dropped his hand, he met her gaze directly, his brows still puckered. "Did he hit you?"

"'Tis none of your business."

Sullivan shook his head and narrowed his eyes. "He deserves to be hunted down and tarred and feathered."

"Aye." She wholeheartedly agreed with Sullivan. In fact, she could imagine a lot of worse fates for Bryan—already had imagined them.

"If he ever comes near you again, will you promise to tell me?"

"He's gone west to California, and hopefully I'll never have to see him again." Besides, before parting, he'd made it clear enough that he didn't want her anymore, that she wasn't good enough for him or any man.

"Once he realizes his chasing of gold is a fool's dream, he'll be back."

"Then you think that everyone heading to California to mine for gold is chasing a fool's dream?" She was finished talking about Bryan.

As if realizing her tactic, Sullivan stalked to the bed. He took the blanket from the end and snatched up a pillow. "I never approve of any efforts to get rich quickly. Very rarely does that work out."

"If the tales from California are true, then it has worked for some, to be sure."

"If a man wants to succeed in life, then the best way is to roll up his sleeves, get to work, and put the time and effort in to making dreams come true."

"Is that what you've done?"

"It's what my father did and what he taught me to do. Nothing can take the place of determination and hard work."

It's what her da had done too. His father had been a well-to-do silk manufacturer in Ireland, so after moving to America, Da hadn't been as destitute as the immigrants currently arriving in St. Louis. But still, he'd made his own way and had used the little capital he'd had to start sawmills. Later, he'd used his profits to invest in real estate and eventually sold the mills to build his ironworks.

Sullivan crossed to the fireplace with its low coal flames and dropped the blanket and pillow. Was he intending to sleep there?

Even though she didn't relish the prospect of sharing her bed with another man, she would rather get the consummating over sooner rather than later.

She untied the belt wrapping her robe closed and slipped it off. She let it puddle on the floor, then stepped over it and crawled onto the bed. What should she do? Sit back and try to look seductive? Lay down and beckon him over?

Her nightgown was one of her thicker winter wool gowns and covered her from her feet to her neck. There was nothing enticing about it, unlike the nightgown she'd worn with Bryan. Regardless, she was sitting in bed waiting for him.

She didn't usually embarrass easily, but heat warmed her cheeks at the thought of being so brazen. No, she couldn't make herself entice him. After all that had transpired with Bryan, the prospect was not only mortifying but repulsive. In fact, the whole idea of sharing the bed and offering her body to another man was the last thing she wanted to do.

But she was married, and it was expected of her. Besides, she couldn't let Sullivan pursue her as a challenge to be won. "You must share the bed with me, Captain."

In the middle of spreading out his blanket, he paused. His eyes locked on her for several seconds with searing intensity before he resumed his task, although much more slowly. "I intend to wait until you ask."

"I am asking—"

"And I told you that I want you to be willing and no longer view it as your duty."

"Aye, I am willing."

He released a soft scoff. "We both know you're not willing."

She shook her head, her unbound hair swishing around her. "I don't want you to be doing and saying the right things to get me to like you and win my body only to discard me once you have the prize you've sought."

He straightened, his back suddenly rigid, his jaw taut, his gaze hard. She didn't have to wonder what he was feeling this time. His anger was clear in every single line of his face and body.

She drew her knees up. Had she pressed him too far?

"Let me see if I'm hearing you correctly." His voice was filled with condescension. "You'd rather I use you right from the start because you're afraid that eventually I'll use you anyway?"

Was that what she was saying? Maybe she was. At least if he used her right away, he wouldn't make promises of love and happiness. And she wouldn't have to face such heartache and disappointment when he didn't carry through with his promises.

"You have a jaded view of marriage if you think me capable of either using you now or later."

"I do have a jaded view. If you must know, I had no desire to get married again and only did so because my da made me."

"I gathered that's the only reason you agreed to a union with a man like me." He practically growled the words.

Man like him? What did he mean by that? Because he was a steamboat captain? Or because he was quiet and serious and almost severe at times?

"Regardless," he continued, "I refuse to use you now or in the future. In fact, I would rather have a celibate marriage based on friendship and companionship than a consummated marriage based on selfish passions."

His words had a noble ring. What if he was being honest? What if he meant what he said? On the other hand, what if he was simply saying what he thought she wanted to hear and manipulating her into caring about him?

He opened the stove, tossed in a shovelful of coal, and stoked the fire, getting it ready for the cold night ahead. Then, before she knew what he was doing, he crossed to the bed.

Was he planning to join her after all?

As he towered above her, her stomach quivered, and she tugged the blanket up over her body to her chin. But he wasn't looking at her, was instead staring at a spot on the wall.

In the next instant, he bent and blew out the lantern on the bedside table. Darkness descended over the room except for a low glow from the stove.

She remained motionless, waiting for the bed to bow and squeak as he climbed in. But his footsteps thudded against the carpet and took him back across the room. She couldn't see much except for his outline as he shed his garments down to his drawers and undershirt. Then he lowered himself to the floor and covered himself with the blanket.

Only then did she release the tense breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. As she sank against her pillow and the mattress, she closed her eyes and let relief flow through her.

She hadn't necessarily set out to test his resolve. But maybe all along that's what she'd been doing, forcing him to prove he was a man of his word, that he'd honor what he said.

Whatever the case, she allowed herself the tiniest sliver of admiration for Captain Sullivan O'Brien.