Prince Charming

Chapter 6

The man had a warped sense of humor. It took Taylor a minute to understand what he was suggesting. She didn't get angry. Just irritated.

"I don't have any fear of being accosted by you, Mr. Ross. Should I?"

"Taylor…"

He said her name in a warning tone of voice. "Yes?" she replied.

"I'll be right back. Don't wander."

He squeezed her shoulders until she gave her agreement. Then he went back over to the front desk. She watched as he handed a key to one of the hotel's staff. He leaned forward and spoke to the man, then turned around and walked back to her.

"We're staying in the same room."

Her eyes widened. Mr. Ross didn't look at all happy about the arrangement. She shook her head. "You weren't able to secure a room of your own?"

"I gave it back."

"Why?"

"Because you draw a crowd."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Never mind. We're married now and we've already slept in the same bed."

"But Mr. Ross…"

"Don't argue with me."

He grabbed hold of her hand and turned to walk over to her friend. He kept right on frowning until he reached Victoria. He smiled at her. He let go of Taylor and assisted Victoria to her feet.

"Shall we go upstairs and get you settled in your room?" he asked, his voice every bit as pleasant as a summer's breeze.

"Then you were able to secure a room for me?" Victoria asked. "There were so many gentlemen in the lobby I thought all the rooms must surely be taken."

The worried expression on her face told Taylor she'd obviously been sitting there fretting about their sleeping arrangements. Taylor felt terrible. Her new friend wouldn't have worried if she'd stayed by her side to soothe her fears. In her delicate condition, she shouldn't be worrying about anything. Expectant mothers needed a tranquil environment. They needed rest, too. Poor Victoria looked exhausted.

Taylor stepped forward to apologize. "I've been very thoughtless," she said. "I should have stayed with you. I'm sorry, Victoria."

"I was quite all right," Victoria replied, embarrassed over the attention she was getting. "Several gentlemen tried to keep me company, but I sent them on their way. Will you tell me what was going on over there? Why were all those men cheering?"

"The porter's waiting," Lucas announced. "Taylor will explain later. Shall we go upstairs?"

His impatience was apparent. He glanced back over his shoulder several times on the way up the stairs to the gallery level of the hotel, and Taylor thought he was anxious to get away from his admirers.

Their rooms were on the fourth floor. Victoria's bedroom was at one end of a long, winding corridor, and Lucas and Taylor's room was at the opposite end. Lucas left Taylor to help Victoria with her unpacking and went with the porter down to their rooms to see to the deposit of their luggage. The trunks would be left in storage in the hotel's basement for safekeeping until they departed.

Victoria's room had been painted a pale lemon yellow that Taylor declared was very soothing on the eyes. It wasn't a large room, but it was elegantly appointed. The furniture was a dark, polished cherry wood. Taylor couldn't resist trailing her fingers over the exquisite detail on the front of the wardrobe. The craftsman must have spent months carving the delicate design of leaves on the front of both the dresser and the wardrobe.

While she hung up Victoria's dresses, her friend went to look out the window.

"I didn't realize how sophisticated Boston was," she remarked. "It's every bit as modern as London, isn't it?"

"I suppose it is," Taylor agreed. "There's a laundry downstairs, Victoria. If you need anything washed and pressed, the hotel staff boasts they will have it back to you in less than a day. Madam told me in the literature she read that most of the better hotels have steam laundries attached and that businessmen never have to bring more than a single shirt when they travel. And do you know why?" she asked. "The linen is washed in a machine that actually churns. It's moved about by steam, you see, and wrung out by a strange method called centrifugal force. The shirts are dried by currents of hot air. God's truth, they can be washed, dried, and ironed in just a few minutes. Isn't that amazing?"

Victoria didn't answer her. Taylor had been so occupied unpacking her friend's clothing, she hadn't noticed how withdrawn Victoria had become. When she didn't get an answer or a comment about the marvel of steam laundries, she turned to look at her friend. Victoria was sitting on the side of her double bed. Her hands were folded in her lap and her head was bent so low, her chin was all but touching her chest. She looked dejected and horribly sad.

Taylor immediately stopped what she was doing and went over to stand in front of her friend. "Is something worrying you?" she asked. "No."

She gave her answer in a soft whisper. She sounded pathetic. Taylor frowned with concern. Something was definitely wrong all right, and she was determined to find out what it was.

"Are you ill?" she asked, her worry obvious in her voice. "No."

Taylor stared down at her friend for a long minute. She wanted Victoria to tell her what was wrong. She didn't want to nag the problem out of her. Well-bred young ladies didn't pry, and they never, ever nagged. It was, in Madam's estimation, the eleventh commandment.

"Would you like to rest before dining?"

"I suppose I would."

"Are you hungry now?"

"I suppose I am."

Taylor held onto her patience. She sat down on the side of the bed next to Victoria, then folded her hands in her lap and simply waited for her friend to tell her what was bothering her.

She was thoroughly confused by Victoria's sudden bout of timidity. They had spent a good deal of time together on the ship, almost every afternoon in fact. While the more seasoned travelers huddled around the funnel to smoke and share stories about their past voyages or played chess and backgammon in the gaming salon and the younger, more energetic men played rowdy games of shuffleboard up on deck to pass the time, she and Victoria stayed closeted inside the ship's library and talked about every subject known to man. They solved most of the world's considerable problems and a few of their own. Victoria told Taylor all about her family, a little about the man who had betrayed her, though she stubbornly insisted on never revealing his name, and she also talked about her dreams and her hopes. Taylor never talked about herself. She did, however, tell Victoria dozens of stories she'd read about the American wilderness. The only hope she admitted to harboring was that she might one day meet a real mountain man.

Because of the storms, the voyage had taken longer than anticipated. They were on the ship a full twelve days, and in all that time, Victoria hadn't ever been shy or reserved with her. Taylor believed her friend had confided all her secrets. This sudden change in her disposition worried her. Perhaps there was one more secret that needed telling.

Long minutes passed in silence. Taylor decided then she'd waited long enough. Victoria looked miserable. Taylor reached over and patted her hand. She was determined to get to the heart of the problem so she could help her solve it.

"Is there something more you haven't told me? Something that has you fretting now?"

"No."

Taylor let out a loud sigh. "You're going to make me do it, aren't you?" she announced in a dramatic tone of voice.

Victoria finally looked at her. Taylor noticed she had tears in her eyes.

"Do what?" Victoria asked, intrigued by Taylor's remark in spite of her misery.

"You're going to make me nag you until you tell me what's bothering you."

Victoria managed a weak smile. Taylor sounded pitiful. "I take it you don't like to nag," she replied. The smile had moved into her voice.

"I love to nag," Taylor confessed. "I just know I shouldn't. Now tell me what the problem is, please. I want to help."

Victoria burst into tears. " 'A heavy heart bears not a nimble tongue,' " she whispered.

Taylor rolled her eyes heavenward. Victoria didn't notice her exasperation. She was fully occupied staring down at her hands.

She was quoting Shakespeare again. It seemed to be a peculiar trait of hers, Taylor decided, because whenever she became upset, she hid behind the famous playwright's poetic words.

"In other words, you're having difficulty telling me what's wrong," Taylor interpreted. "Is that right?"

Victoria nodded.

"Just spill it out. We cannot solve this problem until you name it."

"I can't pay for this lodging."

"Well, of course, you can't pay," Taylor replied. "I realize that. I'm going to…"

Victoria interrupted her before she could finish her sentence. "I feel like a pauper. Back home I could buy anything I wanted. My parents had accounts with all the fashionable establishments in London. Oh, God, I am a pauper."

She wailed out the last of her worry. Taylor patted her hand sympathetically. Then she stood up and began to pace around the room. She considered the problem for several minutes before coming up with what she believed was a sound solution.

"You will only be a pauper until tomorrow."

Her statement gained Victoria's full attention. She mopped at the corners of her eyes with the handkerchief Taylor handed her and then demanded to know what in heaven's name she meant by that odd remark.

"How can I be a pauper today and not tomorrow?"

"Madam used to tell me that the best way to understand how someone feels is to try to put yourself in the other person's shoes. I know I wouldn't like to be…"

"Pregnant?" Victoria supplied.

She was nodding before Taylor could answer, so certain was she of her friend's conclusion.

Taylor surprised her by shaking her head. "That isn't what I was going to say," she explained. "But as a matter of fact, I would very much like to be pregnant some day. If you think about it, in a different light, of course, and put aside just for the moment all the reasons why you wish you weren't carrying…"

"Yes?" Victoria asked when Taylor hesitated.

It was difficult for Taylor to put into words the emotions she was feeling. "It's a blessing," she finally blurted out. "And a miracle. It truly is. You have a precious life growing inside you. Think about that, Victoria. An innocent new life. I envy you."

Victoria's hand went to rest on her stomach. "I've never even held a baby in my arms," she confessed.

"You're going to be a wonderful mother," Taylor predicted.

"It's easy enough for you to talk about wanting to be pregnant. You're married and… why do you think I'll be a wonderful mother?"

"Because you're kind and loving and thoughtful."

Victoria started to blush. "Enough flattery," she demanded. "You'll fill my head with pride and then I won't be fit to live with."

Taylor smiled. She was pleased to see her friend was in a more cheerful frame of mind. She decided to change the subject back to the issue of finances.

"What I was going to say a minute ago is this," she began again. "I know I wouldn't like to feel like a pauper, and so, tomorrow, when I meet with Madam's bankers, I'll transfer funds into an account for you. By early afternoon, you'll be a completely independent woman."

Victoria was shaking her head before Taylor finished explaining her plan of action. "I cannot accept charity. It wouldn't be right," she protested vehemently.

Tears were already welling up in her eyes again. How she could laugh one minute and cry the next was a mystery to Taylor. She thought that perhaps her friend's delicate condition made her more emotional. If that were true, it was only a temporary condition. Taylor had been raised never to show her feelings. It wasn't considered ladylike to laugh loudly in public, and weeping was always frowned upon, regardless of the circumstances. Dealing with someone who constantly broke that sacred rule was difficult. "I did promise I would help you," she reminded her friend.

"And you have helped," Victoria insisted. "You've been a very good friend to me."

Now she was being stubborn. Taylor decided to convince her by quoting from Shakespeare. She seemed to hold great store in his clever words. The problem, however, was that she couldn't think of a single phrase to use. And so she simply made one up. Perhaps Victoria was too distraught to notice.

"It is far better to receive than to decline," she announced with a good deal of authority in her voice. "Shakespeare," she added with a nod when Victoria gave her a quizzical look.

"He never said that."

So much for her clever ploy. "He would have if he'd lived long enough," Taylor said.

Victoria shook her head again. She let out an inelegant snort, too. Taylor immediately tried a different approach. "The money is for the baby," she said. She felt certain her friend wouldn't be able to argue that point,

"I'll find work. I'm strong and quite resourceful."

"And pregnant," Taylor reminded her. "I cannot let you do anything that would jeopardize the baby." She raised one hand when it appeared to her that Victoria was going to argue. "I know you wouldn't deliberately do anything to injure your daughter, but if you work long hours every day you'll surely exhaust yourself. You need lots of rest and so does the baby. No, Victoria, I won't hear of it. You're taking the money. Madam would want you to have it."

Victoria stared up at Taylor for a long while before saying another word. Her mind was racing from one thought to another. She was stunned by her friend's generosity. Yet she was confused as well. She had never met anyone quite like Taylor. She was caring and compassionate and kind. She was, in Victoria's estimation, an angel who had come down from heaven in the moment of Victoria's greatest need and had taken her under her wing.

But she was also human, Victoria reminded herself, and it suddenly occurred to her that she actually knew very little about her friend and benefactor.

"We spent hours and hours together on the ship, didn't we?"

Taylor was confused by the turn in the topic. "Yes," she agreed. "We did."

"I told you everything about myself, didn't I?"

Taylor nodded. "What does-"

Victoria interrupted her. "I was very self-concerned during the voyage," she admitted. "And because I was so consumed with my own problems, I never noticed, until now, how little you told me about yourself. It has just struck me how secretive you've been."

"Not secretive," Taylor corrected. "Just. private."

"Are we not friends?"

"Of course we are."

'' 'A friend should bear his friend's infirmities.'"

"Why do you quote Shakespeare whenever you're upset?" Taylor asked.

Victoria shrugged. "He was a comfort to me growing up," she explained. "I could forget my problems when I immersed myself in one of his plays. There were times when it was very… difficult at home. You do the same thing, Taylor."

"I don't."

Victoria smiled. "All those stories about Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett. They were your friends. You didn't have an easy time of it growing up, did you?"

Taylor shook her head. "Are you deliberately changing the topic, Victoria?"

"Do you trust me?"

Taylor only hesitated a second or two before answering. "Yes."

"Then why do I feel…"

"Feel what?"

"Left out."

Taylor's shoulders slumped. She walked back over to the bed and sat down next to her friend again. "I'm sorry you feel that way," she said. "It's just that… it's very difficult for me to talk about myself or my family in any way that isn't superficial."

"Because of the way you were raised?"

"Perhaps," Taylor answered.

Victoria let out a sigh. "Friends share confidences," she said. "You've never shared any confidences or worries with me. Don't you have any?"

Taylor almost laughed, so ludicrous was the question to her. "Oh, yes, I have worries," she admitted. "Too many to count."

Victoria reached over to take hold of her hand. "Am I one of your worries?"

"You aren't a worry," Taylor assured her. "I was in dire need of a friend and suddenly there you were. It was almost… mystical. Heavens, I'm being very dramatic, aren't I?"

Victoria smiled. "I was thinking the angels sent you to me," she admitted. "Illogical though it may seem, it is the only answer I can come up with. You did appear out of nowhere and save me from disaster."

Taylor was becoming uncomfortable with the praise she was receiving. She hurried to turn the topic around.

"About the money," she began again. "We really should get this issue settled now."

"I want to ask you a question first."

"Yes?"

"Would you take money from me? Be completely honest, Taylor. Would you?"

"I would do anything to protect the babies. Anything."

Her voice radiated with conviction. And still Victoria's pride wasn't completely soothed. "You aren't just telling me what you think I want to hear, are you? You would really accept charity?"

"I would demand charity if I had to," Taylor told her. She let out a weary sigh and threaded her fingers through her hair in an act of frustration. "Dear God, Victoria, I've already done things I never would have thought possible. I married a complete stranger just to…"

"You what?"

Taylor stood up and began to pace while she collected her thoughts. "It's a long story," she said at last. "I'll explain everything to you tomorrow. I promise. For now, please accept the fact that you have one very special reason to stay healthy and do whatever it takes to survive in this confusing world, and I have two very special reasons. I'm too weary now to go into details, and I know you have to be just as exhausted. Let's have a quiet supper and go to bed early tonight. I'll answer all your questions after I meet with the bankers. All right?"

Victoria's mouth had dropped open when Taylor admitted marrying a complete stranger. She was, in fact, rendered speechless. No wonder she called him Mr. Ross all the time. It was starting to make sense to Victoria now. The reason behind the marriage remained a mystery, however, and she found she was already becoming impatient for tomorrow to arrive.

She finally found her voice. "Yes, we'll wait until tomorrow to have our talk. Just answer one more question for me now, please."

"All right," Taylor agreed.

"Do you ever get scared? I know it's a foolish question. I was just curious," Victoria blurted out when she saw Taylor's expression. Her friend looked incredibly sad. "You radiate such confidence all the time. In truth, you're a comfort to me. I always feel you'll know exactly what to do… even twenty years from now."

Taylor suddenly felt overwhelmed with fatigue. Her nerves felt frayed and she wanted more than anything to be able to let her guard down, if only for a minute or two.

She gave in to the urge. "Scared? Oh, yes, I get scared. Sometimes I'm so afraid inside I shake with it."

Her voice trembled with emotion when she gave her confession. Sharing the confidence had been difficult for her. Victoria immediately felt guilty because she'd broached the topic.

"You are right," she announced then. "We are both very tired. We'll wait until tomorrow to have our talk."

Taylor gave an abrupt nod. "And the money?" she asked.

"I will be happy for your assistance."

"Thank you."

"It is I who should be thanking you," Victoria said. She stood up and smiled at her friend. She wanted to try to lighten her mood, for Taylor was looking as though she had all the burdens of the world on her slender shoulders.

"Tell me another story about Daniel Boone," she requested.

Taylor was thrilled by the request. She immediately launched into one of her favorite tales about the mountain man. That story led to another and another, and only when her stomach started protesting did she realize how late the hour was.

"Mr. Ross is probably pacing the floor waiting for me," she announced. "Tomorrow I insist upon giving Davy Crockett equal time," she added with a smile. "He also was quite a gallant figure."

"Yes," Victoria agreed. "And when you're finished, I shall recite my favorite verse from one of William's most famous plays."

Taylor laughed. "I believe we are both quite peculiar," she remarked. "You must be famished. I know I am. Your baby must have immediate nourishment. I don't believe I'll even take the time to change my dress. I'll just run along down to my room and collect Mr. Ross."

She started for the door, but Victoria stopped her with a casually given remark.

"When we were talking about finances, you said you would do anything to protect the babies. Do you remember?"

Taylor turned around. "Yes, I remember."

"I'm pretty certain I'm only going to have one baby. I can't imagine having two," she added with a bit of laughter in her voice. "And twins don't run in my family."

Taylor smiled. "They run in mine."

"Oh?"

"Georgie and Allie," Taylor said then. "They're twins."

"Who do they belong to?"

"Me."

Victoria looked stunned. She had to sit down before her knees gave out on her. "Yours?" she whispered.

"Yes," Taylor answered.

"You have two babies?" Victoria asked. She couldn't seem to take it in.

Taylor smiled. A knock sounded at the door, interrupting the conversation. Neither Taylor nor Victoria moved. "What I've just told you must remain in confidence a little longer. I'll explain why tomorrow."

She waited for her friend to agree before turning around to answer the door.

"Does Mr. Ross know about the twins?"

"Not yet."

"Good heavens."

"Exactly."

"Are they his?"

Taylor continued on. She reached for the doorknob before answering. "They will be," she called out. "If I need him to help keep them safe," she qualified.

She opened the door and found Lucas standing in the entrance. He looked impatient, irritated, and completely wonderful to her. She couldn't seem to get used to his size, she realized once again. The man towered over her, even when he was leaning against the frame of the doorway in such a relaxed stance, obviously meant to suggest he'd been waiting a good long while for her to open the door.

His frown didn't bother her much. She was too busy noticing all the differences about him. He'd changed into a black jacket and black pants. The white shirt he wore underneath was sparkling clean and starched stiff, indicating to her that he'd taken advantage of the hotel's amazing laundry facilities. The whiteness of the shirt made his skin look all the more bronzed.

She gave him a thorough once-over before looking into his eyes. His shoes were newly polished, his pants were definitely too snug, his shoulders seemed to have grown wider in the hour or so they'd been apart, and his hair was still damp, indicating he'd taken a bath. He smelled just as wonderful as he looked.

She let out a little sigh. Then she finally settled her gaze on his eyes. She decided the color was his finest feature. His eyes were such a dark, velvety brown, with a hint of gold in them. When he smiled, his eyes seemed to shine.

He was going to make a wonderful father. Lord, how she hoped he would come to love the babies. What if he didn't or couldn't? It was a chilling possibility.

Lucas was thoroughly exasperated with Taylor. He was about to ask her if she was finished with her inspection and didn't she realize wives shouldn't be looking at their husbands with such blatant curiosity, but something in her eyes stopped him from making any sarcastic remarks.

The smile was gone. She looked somber now, but there was something more he couldn't quite put his finger on. Just as strange was his own reaction. He suddenly felt like taking her into his arms and telling her everything was going to be all right.

He wanted to protect her from harm. He wanted to keep her safe.

He wanted to grow old with her.

The appalling thought popped into his mind before he could stop it. Lucas could feel the noose tightening around his neck. Damned if he would spend the rest of his life with her. He straightened away from the door frame and all but glared at the woman trying to turn his life upside down.

Taylor's manner also changed. She gathered her composure and forced a smile for her surly husband's benefit.

She seemed to have just noticed his irritation.

"Why are you frowning?" she asked. "Did you receive bad news?"

"No."

"You won't digest your food properly if you're irritated while you eat, sir. I suggest you rid yourself of your unpleasant mood with all possible haste."

He felt like throttling her. "Taylor, do you know what time it is?"

She shook her head. "I've been waiting over two hours," he told her.

"You have?"

"Yes," he snapped out. "What in thunder's taking you so long?"

She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. She continued to stare into his eyes when she asked, "Have you been waiting long?"

Hadn't he just told her he had? What was the matter with her? He expected an immediate apology. Yet she was staring up at him with a look that suggested she wasn't even paying attention to the conversation. Her mind was obviously somewhere else.

Lucas decided he wanted her full attention. By God, he wanted an apology, too. And just as soon as she finished being contrite, he'd tell her how much he detested waiting on anyone for anything and that she'd best learn to be prompt from this moment on.

"Mr. Ross?"

"Yes?" he answered in a hard, downright mean voice. She knew damned good and well he hated being called Mr. Ross and yet she persisted with the formal address. He'd go to his grave before reminding her once again to call him Lucas.

She didn't say another word for a full minute. He decided she was trying to find the right words to apologize. She probably didn't like admitting she was in error, and since he'd never ever apologized to anyone in all his days, he found himself sympathetic. He decided to make it easy for her.

"You're sorry, right?"

"Excuse me?"

"You're sorry you made me wait. Don't let it happen again. If you're finished unpacking, we'll go to supper now. I'm starved and I have a meeting I don't want to miss in an hour."

She didn't know what he was rambling on and on about. Her mind was fully occupied with the question she realized she needed to ask him. Heavens, why hadn't she asked him before? She immediately excused her own stupidity by telling herself she'd been too occupied with other matters. Besides, Madam had certainly asked him, or at least Taylor hoped she had.

The second he quit talking, she blurted out his name.

"Yes?" he said, thinking she was about to add a word or two to the apology he'd very nicely made for her.

"Do you like children?"