Betina Krahn Read online

  He laughed and shook his head as he reached for her, drawing her against his side and into his arms. “Who but you would think of marriage in such terms: ‘the currency involved in marriage.’ You sound like a real tycoon.”

  “Heaven forbid.” She feigned horror. “Anything but a tycoon or a magnate or a shipping baron. Just plain heiress is bad enough.”

  “You bear the burdens of wealth and privilege well,” he said dryly.

  “When wealth becomes this large, it is a burden,” she said, nuzzling her cheek against his chest and hearing his heartbeat in the brief silence.

  “And so you decided simply to give it all away,” he said, teasing her.

  “Exactly,” she responded.

  In the next silence, Diamond marveled at the ease with which she’d just admitted her deepest, darkest secret. Everything seemed so easy with Bear, even confessions long in the making.

  “Funny. I’ve never told anyone that before,” she said quietly.

  “What? That you—” He frowned, unsure of what he was hearing.

  “Tried to give all my money away,” she finished for him, unable to look up at him just now. “It all started when I was thirteen. My father had just died and Hardwell and Hannah came to take care of me. They were afraid I would grow up spoiled and vain, and so tried to instill in me a sense of responsibility toward others. I simply saw it as a chance to get rid of the money.

  “The cursed stuff made my life miserable. I couldn’t go to school, seldom got to play with other children, and at first they wouldn’t even let me learn to ride for fear something would happen to me. I reasoned that if I gave the money away … I could have a normal life and do the things other children did.”

  “Clearly, your plan didn’t work.”

  She nodded ruefully. “I gave away what I could, then after a while, I realized I could get rid of even more by investing in businesses. I began to make loans and buy impossible-sounding inventions and ideas. People heard of my ‘generosity’ and began to plague me every time I appeared in public. I ended up more limited than ever. Worse yet—several of my lunatic investments began to make money. Lots of money. In fact, the more I gave away, the more I seemed to make. I became known as the local soft touch.” She looked up and found him staring at her with the strangest expression.

  “You can’t tell me you don’t like giving money away,” he charged. “I’ve seen you do it. You enjoy it.”

  “I admit that as I grew older I began to focus more on ‘giving’ than ‘giving away.’ I saw and liked the results of my donations and purchases. I saw the way people’s lives and conditions changed and realized that my money could be a route to making life better for people. Progress. And I had the power to make Progress happen. After a while, my heart and my head finally caught up with my actions. I learned what it was to truly give.”

  After a moment, he touched her face and looked deep into her heart … then closed his eyes.

  “You’re a wonder, Diamond Wingate.”

  “Diamond Wingate McQuaid,” she reminded him, with a playful jab in the ribs. “And I’m not a wonder … just a bit of a soft touch.”

  FIFTEEN

  Hannah had refreshments waiting in the drawing room when they returned to the house, walking hand in hand, swinging the picnic basket, looking somewhat disheveled and thoroughly enchanted. Robbie, who had complained loudly about being barred from their picnic, came bounding in to see them and attack the cookies and finger sandwiches on the tea cart.

  Bear watched him stuffing his mouth until his cheeks bulged and then climbing up onto the settee to sit cross-legged, dirty shoes and all. When he looked up and spotted Bear’s narrowed eyes, Robbie froze. With the motion of one lone finger, Bear both ordered his feet down from the upholstery and warned him against another raid on the refreshments.

  “Smart fellow,” Bear said in a quiet voice. “Got to keep your feet off the furniture if you want to get along with the ladies.” Then he winked.

  Eager to stay on Bear’s good side, Robbie posted himself beside his new cousin and watched and imitated every move Bear made. Diamond watched the pair for a time, thinking about that astonishing demonstration of power. Looking from Bear’s magical index finger to her own, she wondered if the ability were bred in the bone or if a body could somehow learn to do it.

  “Oh, I almost forgot, Bear,” she said rising from the tea table and setting her cup on the tray. “I have something for you.”

  He watched her disappear through the doorway into the hall and return shortly with a ribbon-bound pasteboard box. When she held it out to him, he made no move to take it.

  “What is this?” he asked, dread tensing his shoulders and mood.

  “A gift.” She thrust it closer to him and he recoiled. “A wedding gift.” He seemed so shocked that she felt compelled to assure him: “It’s commonly done between a bride and a groom.”

  A gift. A wedding gift. Coming from her lips, those words sank straight to the core of his conscience. His self-serving logic and the self-interest it was constructed on began a slow, mortifying crumble. Red crept up his neck and brightened his ears.

  “I have everything I need.”

  Now, his conscience added. Since he had married the richest girl in Baltimore. Since he and Vassar had sat down five days ago and hammered out documents that would allow him to take three hundred thousand dollars on loan from the combined Wingate assets. Since Halt had left for Montana the following day with letters of credit and cash money orders that would allow him to close the deals for their right-of-way land.

  “I’m fairly sure you don’t have one of these,” she said with a tentative smile. “Go on. Open it.”

  “I can’t accept a gift from you, Diamond.” He set the box down on the seat beside him and rose to deposit his cup on the tea table. His hand shook.

  “Don’t be silly. This is something you’ll like. Something you’ll use. Something you need.” Seeing that her words made no dent in his determination, she picked up the box and carried it to him at the table. Holding it out, she delivered an ultimatum. “I’m not going to sleep tonight until you open this.”

  “What makes you think I want you to sleep tonight?” he said, raising one eyebrow, hoping to divert her.

  She blushed, just as he planned. But in truth, he was the one who felt embarrassed. How could he have known that she expected a gift from him? When he met her gaze for a moment, the anxiousness in her blue eyes struck him as oddly girlish. Standing there with her hair wind-teased and her cheeks glowing from an afternoon with him in the sun, she was the embodiment of every boyhood dream he’d ever harbored.

  “I can’t accept anything from you, Diamond.”

  “And why not?”

  With his conscience groaning and his pride burning under Hardwell’s and Hannah’s eyes, he determined to be honest with her, at least in this.

  “I had no idea you would expect to exchange gifts.” His face began to blaze. “I didn’t get you anything.”

  “Exchange? As in ‘trade gifts’?” She smiled and wagged her head with exaggerated patience, and looked to Hardwell and Hannah for sympathy. They smiled back. “A real gift is given to enlarge the heart of the giver and to gladden the heart of the receiver, not because a gift is expected in return.” She thrust the box against his chest. “Open it.” When he didn’t move, she added: “It’s all right. Really. I give things to people all the time without expecting anything.”

  If those words were meant to reassure him, they failed miserably. They merely reminded him of how she gave and gave to others and got nothing in return except the “satisfaction of giving.” And he was forced to choose between denying her that lone satisfaction and refusing to take further advantage of her.

  Then she looked up at him with her angel-blue eyes and he took the box from her and carried it to the tea table.

  Inside the bows, pasteboard, and layers of tissue, he found a miniature railroad passenger car, painted black and green, with burgu
ndy trim, complete with interior furnishings and external coupling equipment. It was perfectly authentic, down to the last bolt and rivet. Lifting it out, he held it up to the light. The glass of the windows glinted golden, like the gilt lettering on the side. Pullman. He swallowed hard, recognizing it. This was her little car—from the library.

  “But this is yours.” He frowned as he saw the expectation in her eyes turning to pleasure.

  “Not anymore. I thought it would be the perfect gift for a railroad man. His own private railroad car.” Her shrug had a self-conscious air about it. “I never use it. It just sits there in the roundhouse, collecting dust. And it can make your work in Montana so much more bearable … since you may have to work under difficult conditions.” She paused, searching his turbulent expression. “Sometimes the difference between success and failure can be as simple as a good night’s sleep.”

  “Wait a minute—you mean—” He looked between her and the miniature Pullman car in his hands, then at Hardwell and Hannah, who were beaming. “You mean this is—you’re actually—”

  “Giving you the Wingate private car, for you to take to Montana.” She laughed. “You didn’t think I meant for you to sleep in that, did you?” Feeling more assured, she drew closer and ran her fingers over the little car, brushing his in the process. “It’s not big enough to hold anything but a few dreams.”

  The scent of her, the warmth of her tone, the incidental touch of her fingers … he was suddenly reeling from her presence and from the unthinkable generosity of it. She was giving him his own private Pullman car, velvet drapes, brass spittoons, and all. He felt his blood draining toward his knees.

  “Diamond, I don’t know what to say,” he murmured, unable to take his eyes from that miniature representation of the massive turn of fortune he was experiencing.

  “How about ‘I like it’?” she prompted. “Or ‘It’s perfect.’ ”

  “I do and it is,” he said. He looked up to find her loveliness enhanced by her delight. He felt his throat constricting.

  “Robert, I believe it’s time for your chores in the stable,” Hannah said.

  “Oh, I got plenty o’ time for—” He was staring raptly at the newlyweds, sensing something juicy was about to take place. “Hey!”

  Hardwell had seized him by the ear and was ushering him toward the door. “Do as Hannah says, boy, and save yourself a night of bread and water,”

  Diamond and Bear were vaguely aware of the others’ exit and of the closing of the great double doors behind them.

  “I’m not very good at saying thanks,” Bear confessed, grateful for the privacy. “I haven’t had much practice.”

  “Me, either.” She beamed up at him, her eyes glistening.

  He touched her cheek and ran his hand down her neck, summoning words.

  “Thank you, Diamond McQuaid.”

  “You’re welcome, Bear McQuaid.”

  Desire erupted out of the core of him, setting his hands quaking. Afraid he might drop the little car, he set it on the table. Then he reached for her with both hands and a wide-open heart. From the moment their lips touched, there were no more thoughts of weddings and fortunes and marital duty. There were only Bear and Diamond. Man and woman. Lovers.

  Minutes later they emerged from the drawing room, ruddy-faced and glowing, to announce that they were going down to the train yard to see Bear’s gift. Bear suggested Hardwell and Hannah not wait dinner on them, saying that they might not be back in time, and as she climbed into the coach, Diamond gave Bear a puzzled frown.

  “I had the car brought out and cleaned and prepared to move days ago. It’s not that far to the siding in the train yard. We could make it back in time for dinner.”

  He rolled his eyes, then gave her the most deliciously wicked grin.

  “It’s a Pullman car, right?”

  “Yes.” She still didn’t quite get the point.

  “That means it has beds.”

  Hardwell, Hannah, and Robbie had already retired when Diamond and Bear arrived home late that evening. She asked Jeffreys to bring them up a tray of food and a bottle of wine while they bathed. Neither of them wanted to think about the fact that these would be their last hours together for perhaps months to come.

  Diamond bathed quickly and slipped into her dressing gown. She was just coming out of the bathing room when Jeffreys arrived with the linen-draped cart laden with savory cold dishes and breads, wine, and Cook’s special pound cake with chocolate sauce. The efficient little butler set the table with linen and china, then lighted a candelabra and laid roses from the garden around the base of it.

  “Thank you, Jeffreys,” she said, her eyes sparkling at his thoughtfulness.

  “My pleasure, miss … I mean, ma’am.” Shaking his head at his mistake, he started to withdraw, but spotted a roll of paper sticking out from under the linen drape on the cart. “Oh, I nearly forgot, ma’am. Mr. McQuaid’s papers. He left them here on the day Master Robert took ill … and they got stuck in the butlers pantry by mistake. He may—”

  The door to the other bedroom opened and Bear stood in the opening, smiling. “There you are. And food—Jeffreys, you’re a prince. I’m half starve—” His gaze fell on the roll of documents in the butler’s hands and, after a moment’s pause, he strode straight for them.

  “My deepest apologies, sir,” Jeffreys said, handing them over. “I thought you might need these on your trip. I’m afraid I had mislaid them. I hope it hasn’t caused any—”

  “No, no.” Bear waved off the apology. “No harm done. Glad to have them back, though.” He tucked them away on the window seat, then as the door clicked softly behind Jeffreys, he turned with a determined smile on his face. “You, my Diamond, look good enough to eat.” He swept her up against him, whirled her around, and set her back on her feet in one fluid motion. “But right now I have to know what it is on this cart that smells like Virginia ham.”

  In the wee, dark hours of the morning, Diamond awakened to the feel of Bear’s arm beneath her head, his chest at her back, and his legs molded against hers spoon fashion. She lay in that sweet cocoon for a time, hearing his breathing and feeling his pulse beating beneath her cheek. Their coming parting crept into her thoughts and soon every beat of his heart seemed to be like the clack of the train wheels that would soon carry him away from her.

  How could he have, in so short a time, become so vital a part of her? A month ago she hadn’t even known Barton McQuaid, and now she couldn’t imagine how she would get through the next two or three months without him.

  His smile made her feel as if the sun were rising inside her, illuminating every dark corner, dispelling every dark thought and dubious secret. In their short time together, he had come to know her better than anyone and to accept her complex and sometimes contradictory inner qualities. Early on, he had gathered both her secrets and passions into his keeping and guarded them well. He had kept her confidences and treated her failings with honesty and respect.

  With each revelation, each encounter, he had challenged her to be stronger and more honest, had insisted she take control of her life and do the right thing. Yet, he didn’t condemn her when she behaved in less than admirable ways. He seemed to know instinctively that the root of her greatest weakness was also the source of her greatest strength.

  What a marvelous gift, she thought: to be known thoroughly and to still be valued and cherished. Who but Bear McQuaid—with his unflinching honesty combined with surprising compassion—could have opened the doors to her innermost self? Who but Bear McQuaid could have touched and changed the shape of her personal depths?

  Gingerly, she moved his arm and peeled her skin from his to slide to the edge of the bed. With a tender smile, she studied the softened angles of his face, his boyishly tousled hair, and the vulnerability of his big, sprawled frame.

  “I love you, Bear McQuaid,” she whispered. “Hurry back to me.”

  The air from the open window was surprisingly cool as she slipped from the bed. Sh
ivering, she donned her dressing gown and went to close the window. As she perched on one knee on the window seat, turning the handle, she caught sight of the moon-brightened roll of papers that Jeffreys had just returned to Bear, lying amongst the pillows at her knees.

  Papers. What sort of papers would he have brought to her house on the day Robbie came down with chicken pox?

  Lighting an oil lamp on the desk, so as not to disturb Bear, she undid the cord binding and unrolled the dog-eared documents. On top were several letters, then a stack of ledger sheets filled with numbers and figures—clearly financial reports. What claimed her attention was below all of that: maps … several of them, each detailing different aspects of some location … slope, effective drainage, and soil and bedrock composition. Below was a map clearly marked “Montana Territory” … with Billings, Great Falls, Helena, the falls of the Missouri River, and the routes of the Utah and Northern Railroad and James Hill’s Chicago Milwaukee and St. Paul highlighted with ink. There also, sketched in red, was the route representing the two-hundred-plus miles of Bear’s Montana Central and Mountain Railroad.

  Warmth rose in her as she traced that route with her finger and realized from the discoloration of the paper along that route, that she was not the first to do so. How many times had Bear studied this map … run his fingers along that line, trying to read the future in it? Beginning just outside Great Falls and continuing south and east … the Montana Central and Mountain was intended to connect Billings to the Chicago Milwaukee and St. Paul.

  She rolled aside that map and studied the next one down … a detailed rendering of the MCM’s route, which identified the former owners of the parcels of land he had purchased for right-of-way. Various ranch and individual names were penned along the route, and plat designations and legal descriptions were written off to the side. Finally she came to the huge, folded engineering map of the route, which detailed with concentric dotted lines the elevations they would encounter and with varying penciled patterns the soils and substrates present in each segment.