Читать книгу The Marriage Mishap - Judith Stacy, Judith Stacy - Страница 8

Sacramento, California1894

Whose shirt was she wearing?

Haley Caufield lifted her head off the pillow and squinted down at the strange white linen shirtsleeve draped over her hand. Her breath caught. It was a man’s shirt.

Curled on her side, she craned her neck and peered over the satin coverlet. Bright morning sunlight streamed through the lace curtains across the room, piercing her eyes and sending a dull ache reverberating through her head. The room came into focus: marble-topped table, green velvet settee, beveled mirror.

Ribbons of fear threaded through her. Nothing looked familiar.

The bed behind her suddenly shifted of its own volition, and an arm snaked beneath the covers and around her waist. Fingers brushed her bare belly and settled between her breasts.

Haley froze. She pressed her lips together to hold in the scream that burned her throat. Someone was in bed with her!

The arm tightened and pulled her across the bed, molding her against a hard chest; muscular thighs eased against the backs of her legs. Haley’s heart slammed into her ribs, pounding with an intensity that escalated the dull ache in her head to a pulsating throb.

Slowly she pushed her thick brown hair aside and looked back over her shoulder. A man!

A little whimper slipped from her throat. Panic overwhelmed her. A strange shirt, a strange bed, a strange room—and a man. What had she done?

Haley turned her head away, her mind spinning. How could this have happened? She’d never been on an unchaperoned outing before, never allowed a man to so much as kiss her—not even Reginald Farnsworth.

The image of her mother flashed before her eyes, and Haley nearly groaned aloud at the memory of her dire warning about coming to Sacramento alone. The entire twenty-three years of Haley’s life had been spent safeguarding her reputation. How could she face her mother again? The woman still brooded over the Farnsworth episode. What would she say if she found out about this?

Haley cringed. If her mother ever discovered the real reason she’d come to Sacramento, she’d probably never speak to her again.

The hand between her breasts shifted, and Haley tensed. A wave of nausea swept over her. When word of this scandal got out, she’d be ruined.

Haley pressed her fingers to her lips, afraid she’d be physically ill. The deep, even breathing of the man behind her echoed in her aching head. As if nothing were amiss, as if the world hadn’t just come crashing down, he lay sleeping, oblivious of everything.

A glimmer of hope blossomed in Haley’s mind. Maybe, just maybe, she could slip away without waking him, and no one would ever know of this debacle.

Holding her breath, Haley reached beneath the covers and closed her hand around the man’s forearm. The coarse hair covering his thick, heavy muscles felt foreign against her fingers. Carefully she lifted his arm and dislodged his hand from between her breasts. Hope flickered. This just might work.

“Not so fast.”

Haley gasped as the man quickly captured her waist and rolled her onto her back. He pushed himself above her on one elbow. Dark stubble covered his firm chin and square jaw. Tousled black hair hung over his forehead. Deep green eyes assessed her lazily, playfully. Haley swallowed hard.

“You’re not trying to get away from me, are you?” He dipped his head and nuzzled her neck.

Haley’s mind reeled as strange sensations assailed her. His lips, soft yet demanding. His body, powerful against hers. She wanted to push away, but was afraid to touch him. He exuded an animal strength.

Haley licked her dry lips. “Well, yes, I have to go now.”

He lifted his head and frowned down at her. “All night includes the following morning.”

What was he talking about? Haley shifted away, but he tightened his grip on her. She forced a smile. “Actually, I don’t think it’s morning any longer.”

He shrugged indifferently. “I don’t give a damn what time of day it is. I’ll pay you extra.”

“Pay? What are you—?”

He lowered his head to her neck again. “After last night, you’re worth any price.”

Haley gasped, and her body went rigid, blocking out the feel of his mouth on her skin. “You think I’m a…a…”

He lifted his head again. “Look, honey, I’m not paying to hear you talk.”

Haley swatted at him. “Get off of me! Get your vile, disgusting self off of me this instant!”

He pushed himself higher on his elbow. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

She thrashed wildly, kicked back the covers and sat up. “How dare you say such a thing to me! I’ve never been so insulted in my entire life! Where did you ever get the idea that I am one of those…those…soiled doves?”

A wry grin tugged at his lips, and he gestured with his hand. “Well…”

Haley looked down and gasped in horror at the sight of her shirt hanging open, her bare breasts peeking out. She grabbed the fabric and pulled it tight against her.

“Call yourself what you like, honey, but it’s getting late, and I’ve got things to do today. Come on.”

She slapped his hand. “Don’t touch me!”

“Maybe you’d better explain what you’re doing in my bed.” He leaned back against the pillow and dug his knuckles into his eyes.

Haley felt her cheeks burn at the sight of his wide chest, covered with crisp, dark hair. A new wave of humiliation washed over her. “This is your room?”

He gazed around, then pushed his fingers through his hair and shrugged. “No, I guess it’s not. Is it yours?”

“Of course not!” Hot indignation burned in her. She couldn’t bear another second of this.

Haley scrambled from the bed, clutching her shirt closed as a fresh tide of embarrassment engulfed her. Her gown lay on the floor, beside his trousers. One of his socks rested atop her stocking. Her petticoat hung from a chair, with his undershirt draped over it.

Mortified, Haley bent to retrieve her stocking, then remembered that the shirt she wore barely covered her thighs. She froze and glanced back over her shoulder. He lay propped against the pillow, the sheet barely covering him, one arm resting casually over his drawn-up knee, watching her and looking comfortable and relaxed, as if he woke every morning of his life in a strange bed with a strange woman beside him.

Cautiously she bent at the knees and snatched up her stocking, then rushed around the room, grabbing her clothing. Then she dashed into the bathroom and slammed the door.

Her head throbbed painfully and her stomach rolled as she stood by the sink, trembling. How could this have happened? She’d had only one thing on her mind when she left San Francisco, and that would be scandalous enough if word ever got out.

She had no notion of where she was or how she’d gotten here, but one thing was certain. She was leaving immediately, and would never lay eyes on that man or this place again.

Haley dropped her bundle of clothing on the tile floor—evening wear from the wedding she’d attended yesterday with Aunt Harriet. Haley shuddered at the thought of going out in public now, with no hat, no gloves, exposing her bare shoulders at midday. What would Aunt Harriet say?

She didn’t care. She would get to the safety of her aunt’s house and bribe the kitchen servants to let her sneak inside. She’d climb up the rose trellis, if she had to.

As Haley frantically sorted through her clothing, her heart sank into the depths of her churning stomach. Not everything was here. In her haste, she’d left some of her clothing in the other room. And that would mean parading around the bedchamber again, with those deep green eyes scrutinizing her every movement. Haley slumped against the wall.

A soft knock sounded on the door. Haley jumped. It was him. What if he came in after her? What if he wouldn’t let her leave?

His deep voice came from the other side of the door. “You left your handbag. I thought you’d need it.”

Haley tossed the tangled mass of hair off her shoulder. She needed her handbag desperately. Drawing in a deep breath, she stood behind the door and opened it slightly.

Her purse passed through the opening. “I found it on the table.”

She cleared her throat. “Thank you.”

“This was by the door.” A silk stocking appeared.

She pulled it from his fingers.

“On the bureau.” Her corset dangled in the opening.

She gasped and snatched it away.

“Under the covers.” Pink ruffled drawers passed through.

Haley stared, horrified, at the garment and mumbled a fervent prayer that the floor would open and swallow her whole.

“That’s all I found…so far.”

It was enough. Haley pushed the door closed and dug through her purse. She found her comb and twisted her hair into a simple chignon. The fasteners on her gown were nearly impossible without help from her maid, but she closed as many of them as she could. She dared not look at herself in the mirror. Pulling herself up to her greatest height, Haley walked into the bedchamber again.

Jingling coins drew her attention to the window. Hands thrust deep in his pockets, the man stood looking outside, his profile outlined by the bright, sunlit sky. He wore tan trousers and a sleeveless undershirt that molded itself to his tight belly and wide chest; dark hair curled above the scooped neck. His shoulders were straight, his arms muscular.

Haley held up the white linen shirt she’d brought from the bathroom and willed herself not to blush. “This must belong to you.”

He accepted it and dropped it on the table in front of the window. “I think we’re at the Madison.”

“A hotel?” Haley peered out the window at the trolley cars, horses and carriages on the street below. Her stomach rolled violently. “We’re at a hotel?”

He nodded. “Do you need help with your gown?”

Stunned by the familiarity of his offer, she looked up at him sharply. “No—I…”

He stepped behind her. “We can’t have you walking through the lobby with your gown undone. People might get the wrong idea.”

She felt his hands against her back as he closed the fasteners. Her skin tingled at his touch.

He stepped away and slid his hand into his pocket again, jingling his coins. “Do you want me to have breakfast sent up for you?”

Haley pressed her palm against her stomach. “No, no, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat again.”

“Head hurt, too?”

She looked up at him. “Yes. How did you know?”

“You have a hangover. What you need is another drink.” He rubbed his forehead. “And so do I.”

Her back stiffened. “I do not drink. Why, I only took one sip of champagne yesterday to toast the bride and groom. After that, I only drank the punch.”

“You were at the wedding?”

“Yes, I was.”

He gazed down critically. “As an invited guest?”

Her chin went up a notch, and she clamped her mouth shut. He didn’t need to know that her aunt was a friend of the bride’s family. Nor did he need to learn that she had arrived in Sacramento less than a week ago, escaping the fiasco in San Francisco that had turned her own mother against her and set her on an unexpected path.

He shrugged. “Well, remember not to drink the punch at any more weddings. It’s the best way to avoid a hangover—and a lot of other things, too.”

Haley pinched the bridge of her nose and drew in a deep breath. So, she’d gotten drunk out of her mind and fallen into bed with a strange man. How humiliating.

Pulling together the last shreds of her dignity, Haley looked up at him. “I’m leaving, Mr.—”

He gave her a stiff bow. “Adam Harrington, at your service, madam.”

“Harrington?” Haley thought she might faint now. He was a member of one of the oldest, most prominent families in Sacramento, and she’d behaved like a common streetwalker. With all the aplomb she could muster, Haley turned to leave.

“Wait. Let me see you home.”

“I hardly think that would be proper, Mr. Harrington.” When he grinned, she realized how ridiculous she sounded, and that made her angry.

“You’ll at least need money for a hansom cab.” He searched through his trousers, then picked up his coat from the chair and went through the pockets.

Her chin went up. “Mr. Harrington, I have no idea how I came into these circumstances, but I am fairly certain it couldn’t have happened without some help on your part. So you can rest assured that you have done more than enough for one day. In fact, I would say that if I never lay eyes on you again in my life, that would be too soon.” Jaw set, Haley marched across the room.

“Excuse me?”

Annoyed, Haley stopped at the door. “What?”

“Would you happen to be Haley Caufield?”

She turned and saw him reading from a crumpled paper he’d removed from his coat pocket. “Yes, I am.”

“Haley Carissa Caufield?”

A chill swept up her spine. “Yes.”

“You might want to wait a minute before leaving.” She sighed heavily. “Why would I want to do that?”

He looked up at her. “Because, Miss Caufield, it would seem that you and I are married.”