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The whiskey had burned its way into her veins, thank God, because otherwise she might have fallen to her knees and wept. Instead, she reached for the lamp.
She’d loved this man for so long. He’d treated her like she was the most beautiful woman in the world. As if she were too lovely for his rough hands. She’d never felt that was true, but she missed the sweet reverence. He’d spent years watching her as if it broke his heart not to touch her. But that had been before. Now she was a transaction. A service.
Jessica led the way to the stairs and started up. His footsteps followed.
Halfway up, she realized she was waiting for him to stop her. To change his mind and apologize for degrading her. To ask what had happened and offer his forgiveness, his love, his promise to take her away.
Jessica pressed her fingers to her mouth to stop the sob that wanted to escape. Even after all these hard months, she was still trying to retreat to the fantasy that her old life would somehow return, that she wasn’t a penniless whore, and this wasn’t her reality.
But Caleb didn’t tell her to stop. They walked down the short hallway to her bedroom door, he followed her in, and she was his whore now. For the week.
Chapter 6
‡
He sat on the bed while Jessica stayed near the doorway, clutching the lamp in numb fingers.
“More light,” Caleb said as he shrugged off his coat. “I want to see you.”
Of course. She set the lamp on the dresser and went to light the second one on the wobbly table next to her bed. Despite the way the match shook in her hands, the lamp flared to life quickly, blazing with light that she wanted to snuff out. Once they were in bed, she could close her eyes, at least. He wanted to look, but she didn’t want to see any of this.
His eyes were on her as he tugged off his boots. Not wanting to hear him order her to strip, Jessica reached for the buttons at the collar of her dress. His gaze followed her hand. She
opened only one before she balked.
“What about California?” she asked, not sure why she was trying to shame him. She needed the money. If he walked away and took his coin with him, she’d have to beg him to stay.
“California?” His chin pulled back a little at that, and he paused with his boot in his hand.
“Don’t you have someone waiting? A sweetheart?”
“What the devil are you talking about? You were my sweetheart. Before you decided to do this.”
“There’s no one else?” The knowledge was only a tiny ripple in the vast, dark ocean of her regrets. She’d known at some point how meticulously she’d been set up. Being told Caleb had a new woman in California was only one more lie, but it had been the lie. The one that had made it easier to succumb to her fears. She’d thought he’d abandoned her. She’d thought she had no one. But Jessica couldn’t explain it to Caleb or she’d have to explain everything.
“Why would you think that?” he demanded.
“I just… It’s been so long. I assumed you’d settled down out there.”
Caleb’s jaw hardened. “You never believed I was coming back for you. Not from the start.”
No. That was wrong. She’d believed it for so long. “You never wrote,” she said by way of explanation.
“You knew I wouldn’t write,” he growled. “But I said I’d come back. I made you a promise. You clearly don’t understand what promises mean.”
She didn’t. Not anymore. She thought she’d been betrayed by Caleb, but she’d been the one who’d lost faith. She should’ve known better. If Caleb’s loyalty hadn’t kept him true, his stubbornness would have.
Jessica had ruined everything.
She wanted to damp the lanterns and hide beneath her covers and weep for what she’d done. But she’d made a deal with him, and now, she realized, she owed him this. Revenge. Whatever comfort he wanted to take.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
His jaw clenched at that. “Just take off your dress,” he muttered, finally looking away from her.
Without the burn of his gaze, it was easier for her to undo her buttons, though her fingers fumbled at the task. Even without a dress, she was nowhere close to naked, she told herself as she freed the buttons at her wrists and began to slide her dress off. She still wore petticoats and a corset and drawers. Really, the only things revealed as her dress fell to the floor were her bare arms, and he’d seen those often enough on easy summer days when they’d walked near the creek or dined at a church picnic.
His eyes returned to her then, and his gaze rose immediately to the tops of her breasts. She’d forgotten about that bit of skin, and Jessica felt her face heat with a blush. A blushing harlot. Perhaps she’d found her specialty.
