The Major's Wife. Lauri Robinson
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pulled in air through her nose until her lungs were full all the way to her chin, but it didn’t help. Rosemary would have an opinion on that, but Millie really didn’t. Letting the air out, she asked, “Where will I live?”
Seth shrugged.
Her last nerve was gone, and she really didn’t know what to do about it. Not that there was a whole lot she could do. Between the train and wagon rides, her well of self-encouragement had gone dry. Finding the fortitude to pretend to be Rosemary was impossible. Yet she was here, had arrived and needed to regain her composure to make it through the next three months. Taking another breath seemed to be her only option. So she did that. Long and deep.
Mr. Cutter and Mr. Winston chose that moment to appear at the door with two of her trunks. Both men had done all they could to make the unpardonable journey across the most desolate land in the nation as comfortable as possible—despite their predictable but unfortunate reactions to the beans.
“Where do you want these, Major?” Mr. Cutter asked.
Seth moved away from the door, stepping into the room, which made the tiny space ten times smaller. She didn’t budge. She remained standing next to the little stove, which emitted a scent of creosote. Her nostrils would never be the same. They seemed to thrive on obnoxious smells now.
“Just set them down anywhere,” Seth instructed, never taking his eyes off her. With a wave of one arm, he said, “I’d like to see you in my office.”
“No,” she answered, returning a gaze just as bold as his. The clump of hair hanging over her right eye probably took some of the sting out of her glare, but she kept her chin up, mentally telling her hand not to tuck the hair behind her ear.
“No?” His expression suggested he rarely heard the word.
She didn’t have a chance to respond before someone said, “I’ll get my things.”
A young man with the longest legs she’d ever seen set her traveling bag on the table and then sidestepped around her toward the room with the closed door. Two other men set down her additional trunks and ducked out the front, while clanging and banging erupted behind her.
“Russ, your corporal, I assume?”
Seth nodded.
Had his eyes always been that blue, that piercing? Perhaps. She’d seen him only once. The day he’d married Rosemary. A few minutes ago Millie did recall his hair had been so black it looked blue, but he appeared taller than he had years ago, broader across the shoulders, and more unapproachable than her feeble memories recalled. Maybe it was the blue uniform. The tailoring of the outfits could do that to men.
The gangly corporal nodded as he scurried past her with his arms full. “I’ll bring over some clean bed linens.”
“Later,” Seth responded curtly.
The man shot out of the cabin, and Seth shut the door behind him. The sound, as well as the darkness—for only a small amount of light filtered into the room from the open office door and alcove above—had Millie holding her breath. She’d best get used to it...being alone with him. Three months was a long time.
Once again he pointed toward the office.
Emptying her lungs with an audible sigh, specifically for him to hear, she held her ground. “I need a bath, I need a cup of tea and I need a bed. In that order. Then I’ll meet with you in your office.”
Saying it aloud increased her longing. There was such an indecent amount of dirt in her hair that her scalp itched, her entire body felt sand-pitted and crusty, and her traveling suit was no longer either pale green or gray. It was now a pitiful shade of orange. The entire territory was made up of red-hued dirt that clung to everything. But it was the bed she wanted most. Just a few quiet moments, without wheels turning beneath her, to gather the energy to become her sister.
Seth leaned a hip against the table. “There’s a community bathhouse at the end of the barracks. I don’t have any tea, and I guess Russ just gave you his bed, but I’d advise you to change the sheets. I don’t how long it’s been since he did.”
A smirk still sat on his face, and it increased his genuine handsomeness, so much that she wondered if Rosemary remembered what he looked like, for looks meant a lot to her sister. Then again, perhaps Rosemary did. He was the one, after all, demanding the divorce. A weight settled on Millie’s shoulders. It was her job to make sure it didn’t happen for three months—until Rosemary delivered her baby.
Holding in the sigh welling in her chest, Millie concluded that, whether she was ready or not, it was time to start acting.
“Seth,” she said. A wife should call her husband by his given name, yet it felt very strange. “I understand you’re curious about my arrival, but I’ve been traveling for almost two weeks, and I’m more than exhausted.”
He folded his arms, and the way his eyes traveled from her broken boot to her itching scalp made her need for a bath and clean clothes intensify.
“Curious?” he asked with a hint of cynicism.
She nodded.
“Oh, I am curious,” he said, with a direct stare. “Even more now that you’ve arrived.”
The way he said “you’ve” sent a tingle coiling around her spine. Rosemary had said they’d never been together, as in man and wife, so that was not something Millie needed to worry about, but that’s what settled in her mind. Men grew amorous when they were alone for long lengths of time. Women, too, or so her friend Martin said. Not that she’d actually understood exactly what he’d meant.
Seth was still staring at her, and the least she could hope was the muted light of the room made it too dark for him to notice the way her cheeks blazed. Of all the things to think about, Martin’s explanation should not be one of them. The fluttering in her stomach had her trying to reroute her thoughts. Rosemary was married to this man. He just wasn’t the father of her child. It was truly a jumbled mess—which now, unfortunately, Millie was right in the midst of.
She was here for the child’s sake, would do whatever it took to keep Seth from learning about the baby. Once things were settled—back home, that is—she might travel to Texas. Martin was there, and after this escapade—pretending to be married to a man she wasn’t—she’d need her best friend. Her only friend. Few others would forgive such a scandal. But a life—no, two lives—were worth more than her reputation. Especially the life of an innocent child.
Seth shifted his stance, leaning farther back, and the smirk grew to resemble more of a smile as he looked her up and down again. It was unnerving, yet she couldn’t think of a thing to say that might make him stop, nor slow the outrageous fluttering inside her.
“Matter of fact,” he finally said, slowly, thoughtfully, “I’m so curious I want to know the truth right now.”
She gulped, a nervous reaction she couldn’t have stopped if she wanted to. The flurry in her stomach turned into a heavy glob. “Oh?”
“Yes, Millie.”
Every muscle in her body froze.
“Why are you here? Instead of Rosemary. My wife. Your sister.”
Chapter Two
“I...I...I—” This couldn’t happen. Closing her eyes for a moment, Millie imaged how her sister would react to the accusation. It appeared instantly, for Rosemary never accepted fault. Huffing out a breath, she sent across the room a bitter glare akin to ones she’d witnessed on several occasions. “Millie?”
“Yes, Millie,” Seth repeated. The ire zipping beneath his skin was mixed with a goodly portion of mirth. She was a sight, not just her travel-worn outfit and windblown hair, but her beet-red cheeks and eyes as big and round and startled as a doe’s at the end of a gun barrel.
“I’m not Millie,” she insisted. “Goodness, Seth, I’d have