Perfecting amanda, p.1
Perfecting Amanda, page 1
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
512 Forest Lake Drive
Warner Robins, Georgia 31093
Perfecting Amanda
Copyright © 2007 by Bonnie Dee
Cover by Vanessa Hawthorne
ISBN: 1-59998-607-8
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: September 2007
Perfecting Amanda
Bonnie Dee
Dedication
To Mike, the king of my hill.
Chapter One
Kansas City, 1893
Amanda McCormick frowned and checked the time on the gold watch pinned to the front of her jacket. Her prospective husband was very late.
What if he never arrived? What if this ill-conceived adventure was the biggest mistake of her life?
She’d been waiting over an hour on the bench in front of the Kansas City train depot, feet crossed at the ankles, hands folded on her lap. She examined each new man who came into view as they walked to the ticket window or passed the depot on their way to the feed store. Some glanced at her as they passed, but none walked up to her with recognition on his face. No one was there for her.
The Missouri heat was smothering her. Sun reflected off the weathered gray boards of the depot, making her seat on the bench even hotter. Sweat trickled down her spine and her clothes clung to her skin.
Back home in Michigan, a cool breeze blew off the lake on even the hottest summer afternoon. Right now she’d be sitting on the side veranda of her aunt and uncle’s house drinking a cold glass of lemonade if she’d listened to her family instead of her own impetuous heart.
As she gazed down the dusty street at the bustle of wagons, pedestrians and horses jostling for space, a pervading sense of fear swelled inside her. She may have made a very serious mistake in traveling west to meet a near stranger. Her relatives’ doubts about her long-distance engagement to Travis Baxter appeared to be coming true.
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“Excuse me, miss. I noticed you’ve been waitin’ here a while. Are you expecting someone?”
Amanda jumped at the voice which suddenly came from behind her.
She turned toward the station agent. Bushy eyebrows and a huge handlebar moustache dominated his face.
“My fiancé is supposed to meet me, but maybe he misunderstood the time.” She didn’t believe her own words. Mr. Baxter had sent her the ticket and railroad schedule along with his last letter. There was no mistake about where and when they would meet.
“What’s your fiancé’s name?”
“Travis Baxter. He’s coming from Reederville, Kansas. Maybe something happened to detain him.” She tried to imagine what that might be. Had an accident befallen him or was he merely running late?
“I’m sure your feller will be along soon, Miss…?”
“McCormick. Amanda McCormick.” She extended her gloved hand, noticing the white was now a grimy gray.
The station agent took her hand with a smile. “Well, Miss McCormick.
Your fiancé wouldn’t keep you waitin’ on purpose. No doubt he’ll be here soon. If you want to sit inside my office, I can’t promise it’s cooler than out here, but at least you’d have some privacy.” She glanced at the other benches outside the station. People stood on the boardwalk with baggage near their feet waiting to catch the next train. A couple of old men, who looked like permanent fixtures on their benches, watched people come and go.
Surely Travis would be there any minute now and if she went inside, she might miss his arrival. Besides, with its tin roof and tiny windows the station office would be like an oven. Outdoors at least an occasional bone-dry breeze lifted the damp tendrils of hair from her forehead. “No thank you, sir. I’ll continue to wait out here.” The station agent paused another moment, seemingly in no hurry to get back inside. “So, this fiancé of yours, what does he look like?”
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“Oh.” She blushed at having to admit she’d never seen the man she had agreed to marry, not even a tintype. All she had to go on was Travis’s description of himself. “Um, about six feet tall, brown hair and blue eyes.
He’s a farmer.” That was all she had to offer. It wasn’t much and could have described any man. It suddenly struck her what a long way she’d traveled to meet a man who might never appear, leaving her stranded and practically penniless in a town far from home. Her stomach clenched and she felt sick.
The station agent was so friendly Amanda confided, “I’ve never actually met Mr. Baxter, you see. We corresponded through the post, fell in love and I’ve come from Michigan to marry him.”
“Ah.” The man nodded. “Well, young ladies are still scarce out here, although it’s hardly the frontier anymore. Sometimes it’s not easy to find the right spouse.” He patted her shoulder. “There are worse ways to begin a marriage. Don’t worry, young lady, I’m sure your fiancé will be here soon.”
She smiled and nodded then turned her attention to her purse, rummaging through it as if there was something she needed. Now that she’d shared so much information with the ticket agent, she wished he’d go away and leave her alone with her worries.
Taking her cue, the agent strolled up the uneven boards of the walkway and disappeared back inside the station.
Amanda opened her reticule, took out the last letter Travis had sent her and unfolded the creased pages to re-read his words.
Dear Amanda,
It was wonderful to receive your last letter telling about your preparations for your trip to Reederville. I’m doing my own preparations here so the house will be ready for you. There are improvements that will make your household chores much easier, such as an indoor pump at the kitchen sink. In the future, I plan to do more to modernize the old house.
I can’t tell you how happy I am you accepted my proposal. Over the months of our correspondence, I’ve begun to feel a connection with you that I was unable to find with any of the women I know here in Kansas.
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Enclosed are the train schedule and a ticket to Kansas City. I will be there to pick you up at the depot.
The letter had included both time and date. There was no possibility she’d gotten the wrong day. After telling her a bit more about the farm and his plans for its future, he had ended the letter with the more personal address, “Your devoted Travis,” which he’d begun using after her acceptance of his proposal.
So where was her devoted Travis now? In his letters, he’d seemed a caring individual and the type to be punctual and orderly, but Amanda had no way of knowing what the man was really like. Her eyes prickled.
She blinked, determined not to shed one tear in front of the curious old men on the bench nearby. She wiped a gloved finger beneath one eye.
A shadow fell over her.
She squinted up at the man standing before her, silhouetted against the sun. He was a dark shape without features against the bright light. It was impossible to read his expression.
“Miss McCormick? Amanda?” His deep voice reverberated up her spine.
“Mr. Baxter?” She shaded her eyes and squinted as she tried to focus on his face.
“Please, call me Travis. I can’t believe you’re really here. I’m so happy to see you.” He moved out of the sunlight and she could finally see him.
Her breath caught. Travis Baxter was even more handsome than she’d pictured him in her daydreams and she was even more nervous than she’d imagined she’d be at this first meeting. Beneath his flat-crowned black hat, dark hair curled over the edge of his white collar. Two slightly up-tilted black eyebrows gave him a quizzical expression and accented, vivid blue eyes glittered with reflected sunlight. He wore a sharp, blue suit with a string tie and a deep burgundy vest. His long legs ended in a pair of fancy black boots. The man didn’t look like a farmer at all. It touched her that he must have bought these brand new, fashionable clothes to impress his soon-to-be bride.
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Amanda continued to stare as he took a seat beside her on the bench. It was hard to believe this was the simple, salt of the earth man with whom she’d exchanged correspondence for almost a year, the man with whom she chosen to spend the rest of her life. “Travis Baxter?” He smiled. “I’m sorry for being so late. I had trouble on the road.” He removed his hat and rested it on one knee. His dark hair lifted in the breeze. “I’m so happy to finally meet you, Amanda. Although we have met before, haven’t we? Your letters made me feel like I’ve known you forever.
I can call you Amanda now rather than Miss McCormick, can’t I, since we’re practically husband and wife?”
“Oh… Yes. Of course.” Travis had called her that in his letters for a while now, but it must seem strange to him to say it aloud to a woman he’d only just met in person. He enveloped her hand in his warm grasp.
She felt the heat through her thin kid gloves.
“Darling, I’ve dreamed of t
Amanda’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Travis had never once referred to her as “darling” in any of his letters. He was much more effusive in person than she would have expected, not at all like the reserved man she’d come to know through his writing.
“You must be parched and near fainting in this heat. Let’s go to the hotel and have a drink before dinner. I’ve arranged rooms for the night.
It’s a long drive home and I thought you’d traveled enough for one day.
We’ll head out tomorrow.” Travis stood and drew Amanda to her feet.
“My bags.” She gestured toward her trunk and valises.
“We’ll get them later. Take what you need for the night and the depot manager can store the rest until tomorrow.” The force of Travis’s strong personality swept her along. A night in a hotel wasn’t what she’d expected. He’d said in his last letter they would be married by the preacher in Reederville before going home to the farm.
However, exhausted as she was from the journey and from nerves, it would be nice not to travel any more today and perhaps to enjoy the luxury of a bath at the hotel. Amanda didn’t want to admit even to herself that the idea of the wedding and particularly the wedding night,
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was beginning to frighten her out of her wits. What would it be like to be intimate with a near stranger?
“How was your trip?” Travis asked.
Amanda selected the small valise she’d used for her night in the sleeper compartment of the train. “It went well. There was a delay while they made a repair and once we had to wait for cattle crossing, but overall the train made good time.”
“Wonderful. And how was leaving home? Difficult?”
“My family wished me well, although they still don’t approve my decision.” It was an understatement. Amanda’s aunt and uncle, who’d raised her since she was eight, thought she was crazy for rejecting the suitable young men of South Haven to travel west and marry a stranger.
They didn’t understand the connection that had grown between her and Travis through exchanged letters, how her feelings for him had grown strong enough to allow her to say “yes” to his proposal. “It was hard to say goodbye to them and to my cousins.” Travis slipped an arm around her waist. His nearness was overwhelming, making her pulse race and her body tingle in unseemly places. Amanda wanted to shy away like a skittish horse.
He cupped the side of her face and kissed her mouth lightly. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll do everything I can to keep you from being homesick.”
Her cheeks burned and her lips vibrated with the imprint of his kiss.
The brief touch of his hand on her cheek left a phantom pressure behind when he pulled away. The sudden rush of lustful feelings inside shamed her. She felt anyone could see how aroused she was by his soft kiss, but when she glanced at the thinning crowd nearby, no one was even looking at them.
Travis beckoned a porter. “Could you please move my fiancée’s things into storage for the night? We’ll be back for them tomorrow.” The tall, black man in a navy blue uniform nodded, picked up two of Amanda’s cases and carried them into the depot.
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“The El Dorado is nearby and it’s the best hotel in town.” Travis’s hand pressed the small of her back as he led her away from the depot.
Pedestrians plunged across the street whenever there was a break in the heavy traffic. Travis guided Amanda around a pile of steaming dung and hurried her out of the way of an oncoming wagon and onto the sidewalk. His hand at her waist was strong and steady and felt like it was burning right through the fabric of her clothes. She liked the sense of protection he gave her, making her feel safe and cared for. The nervous fears about her wedding night were slowly fading, replaced by an eager curiosity. How frightening could intercourse be if his slightest touch felt so good?
“It’s busy here. Very different from back home,” she said.
Travis slid his hand up her back and rubbed her shoulder. “I hope I can make Kansas feel like home for you.” He turned her toward him and leaned to kiss her lips again, a soft, lingering pressure that made her pulse flutter. Pulling back, he looked down into her eyes. “I’ll certainly try.”
His steady blue gaze seemed to plumb her depths and read her secret thoughts. Amanda’s stomach flipped. Between her legs, the pulsing heat grew. She dropped her gaze and walked on, cheeks flushing.
“Is this the El Dorado?” She stared up at one of the largest buildings on the street with “El Dorado” emblazoned on the sign over the door and felt foolish for asking.
“I hope you like it.” Travis took her elbow to guide her through the door into the hotel.
Spencer Teague, flush with cash due to some lucky cards the previous night, was in the mood to spend it on a woman, but not the whores and barmaids who were his usual companions. Today he wanted to converse with and make love to a fine, high-class woman outside of his normal sphere, someone who could be an interesting dinner companion
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as well as assuage his sexual needs. With his charm and luck, maybe he could seduce some Kansas City society matron at the tea room in the El Dorado hotel.
But his afternoon agenda abruptly changed when he saw the woman sitting on the bench in front of the depot. The copper flash of her hair, her elegant features and wide hazel eyes scanning the crowd set his pulse racing. Spence wanted to be the person she was searching for.
His life philosophy had always been simple: “Want. Take. Have.” When he saw the pretty redhead, his loins sprang to life and he sauntered over to find out what her story was and how available she might be. As luck would have it and his luck was almost always good, he got there just in time to hear her tell the station agent her story. Spence learned her name, her destination and all the information he needed about her prospective husband.
Acting on impulse, as was his nature, he decided to play the part of the fiancé and see how far he could get with the lovely Amanda McCormick. It was harmless fun, an intriguing diversion on a sweltering August afternoon. He became Travis Baxter, loving fiancé, on the spot, cajoling her to come with him to the El Dorado with no trouble at all. Her reaction to his kiss was revealing. She was hot and eager for some sexual relief—she just didn’t know it yet.
In the lobby of the hotel, Spence paused a moment to take stock and plan his next move. “Darling, I’ll escort you to the tea room then make sure our rooms are ready and have someone carry your bag up.”
“All right.” Amanda gazed around the opulent lobby of the fanciest hotel in Kansas City and he wagered she’d never seen the like back in Michigan. The floor was covered with expensive carpets and scattered with small gilt chairs and potted ferns. Overhead, fans stirred the stifling air, keeping the hotel a few degrees cooler than the oppressive heat outside.
Spence chose a table in a private, shadowy corner of the tea room and pulled back a chair for Amanda. He stooped to kiss her cheek. “I’ll be right back.”
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At the front desk, the concierge perked up when Spence offered him several bills. “I’d like your best room for the night with champagne waiting in the room.”
“Yes, sir.” The man didn’t blink when Spence signed the guest registry Mr. and Mrs. John Smith, even though Spence already had another, smaller room in the hotel under his own name.
After crossing the lobby again, he stood in the doorway of the tea room for a moment, looking at his pretend bride-to-be with fascination, admiring her long, pale neck, her oval face and clear eyes, the swell of her breasts beneath her white blouse and her bright, auburn curls.
Spence pictured that hair tumbling down from its pins or fanned across a white pillowcase. He imagined her breasts free of the constraining shirtwaist and corset. They’d be full and round, the nipples a deep rose color. He fantasized Amanda’s eyes closing and her lips parting in ecstasy. His cock stiffened and he smiled. An evening of pleasure lay ahead if he played his cards carefully—and Spencer Teague always played carefully, especially when he cheated.
