et her gaze wander in his direction.
The happy voices and laughter of the boys carried into the cabin, an assurance that Bull was keeping them entertained. Lorna sensed that Benteen wasn’t pleased by that. Perhaps she shouldn’t have allowed them to stay outside, but Webb had acquired such a temper lately that she hadn’t wanted to risk one of his stormy tantrums in front of Lady Crawford.
After waiting until she had deemed that her social obligation had been fulfilled, Elaine suggested they tour the new house. Her plan went awry when they went outside and both children wanted to accompany them to the building site. She thought they had been safely pawned off onto the guide, but it seemed she was wrong.
The interior of the house was a maze of skeletal timbers with chunks of sawed wood and stacks of lumber lying everywhere. To the small boys it was a giant playroom. Their running and shrieking seemed to add to the confusion. In spite of it all, Elaine could visualize exactly how the house would look, from the formal dining room to the serving area in the large kitchen. It had the potential to be magnificent by Western standards, and she knew it.
“This is going to be the study,” Lorna explained as they completed the circling tour of the ground floor, which had brought them to the room off the large entryway.
There was a loud thud behind them, followed by a shriek of pain and fright from one of the boys. Elaine was the only one who didn’t react with alarm as both Lorna and Benteen hurried to the younger child, screaming where he had fallen. His stubby legs hadn’t managed to lift his foot over a board. It had tripped him, the fall scraping both knees on the rough wood floor.
Benteen started to pick him up, but Arthur wanted his mommy and sent up a fresh wail, stretching his clutching hands to her. She lifted the toddler into her arms and cuddled him close, rocking him slightly in silent comfort.
“Is Arthur hurt?” The older boy strained to see the injury. “Is he bleeding? Can I see?”
“He just scraped his knees,” Lorna replied, then glanced apologetically to Elaine. “Would you excuse me?”
“Certainly,” she agreed with alacrity. “Your husband can show me the rest of the house.” She turned away to conceal the satisfaction that gleamed in her eyes and crossed the room to the massive fireplace. She listened to the sound of footsteps, separating Benteen’s from those of Lorna and the children as they left through the front door.
“The stairway to the second floor isn’t completed,” Benteen informed her. “There isn’t any more of the house to see.”
Elaine tipped her head toward her shoulder to study him with a sidelong look. “You don’t remember me at all, do you?” she murmured.
“I beg your pardon.” There was a quizzical lift of one eyebrow, yet his curiosity seemed forced. It was obvious his mind was elsewhere.
“I didn’t expect that you would.” Her gaze returned to the fireplace. “Your father used to keep a picture of me on the mantel. I often wondered how long he left it there.”
When she looked at him again, she saw the whiteness under his skin as his facial muscles tautened with cold shock. Elaine wasn’t surprised by the bitter hatred that blazed suddenly in his eyes.
“It was there until the day he died.” His voice rumbled the answer, yet his control remained unshaken.
“Seth always was a hopeless romantic,” Elaine declared on a throaty laugh, then let her gaze wander over the half-finished house. “Perhaps if he had built me a home like this, I wouldn’t have left him. Is that why you’re building it, Benteen? Are you afraid of losing your wife?”
“I don’t know why you’re here, but you can get the hell out!” His low-pitched voice vibrated with the effort to contain his wrath. “Go back to your fancy lords and ladies. You aren’t wanted here.”
“I haven’t come to beg your forgiveness,” she replied with a trace of amusement. “I don’t regret running away from your father and leaving you. When I left Texas with Con Dunshill, I never once looked back.”
“Do you think I give a damn?” Benteen challenged thickly. “I am not my father. You walked out of my life and you can stay out.”
Her dark gaze studied him unmoved by his bitter hatred of her. “You aren’t like your father,” she agreed. “I knew that when I saw you in Dodge City. You are like me, Benteen. Just like me.”
“You’re an adulterous, scheming bitch. You don’t even have the scruples of a whore.” Contempt and derision twisted his features as he spat the accusations at her.
“And you are ruthless, ambitious, and intelligent—all the things you claim I am. In a man, they are qualities to be admired,” she reasoned. “But if a woman possesses them, she is a scheming, gold-digging bitch. I plead guilty to all three. What now, Benteen? Aren’t you just a little bit curious why I’m here after all this time?”
“Not particularly.”
“You do want to know. You just don’t want to admit it.” She smiled with certainty. “So I’ll tell you. Since my husband’s death—”
“I assume you mean my father,” Benteen broke in coldly. “He was your legal husband.”
“Add bigamy to the charges against me, then.” She shrugged aside the technicality. “Since the death of the Earl of Crawford, whom I had been living with these past years as his wife, I have found English society too confining. I am not quite ready to sit on a shelf, as they would have me do. Ever since I saw you in Dodge City, the idea has been in the back of my mind that we’d make a great team, you and I.”
“I’m not interested in a partner, and I certainly wouldn’t pick you.”
“I am an extremely wealthy woman, although I doubt if that’s of any interest to you at the moment. But later, after you’ve had time to get over the … shock—shall we call it?—of seeing your mother again, there’s a business proposition I’d like to discuss with you.”
“I don’t have a mother,” Benteen stated flatly.