her longing. There was such an indecent amount of dirt in her hair that her scalp itched, her entire body felt sand-pitted and crusty, and her traveling suit was no longer either pale green or gray. It was now a pitiful shade of orange. The entire territory was made up of red-hued dirt that clung to everything. But it was the bed she wanted most. Just a few quiet moments, without wheels turning beneath her, to gather the energy to become her sister.
Seth leaned a hip against the table. “There’s a community bathhouse at the end of the barracks. I don’t have any tea, and I guess Russ just gave you his bed, but I’d advise you to change the sheets. I don’t how long it’s been since he did.”
A smirk still sat on his face, and it increased his genuine handsomeness, so much that she wondered if Rosemary remembered what he looked like, for looks meant a lot to her sister. Then again, perhaps Rosemary did. He was the one, after all, demanding the divorce. A weight settled on Millie’s shoulders. It was her job to make sure it didn’t happen for three months—until Rosemary delivered her baby.
Holding in the sigh welling in her chest, Millie concluded that, whether she was ready or not, it was time to start acting.
“Seth,” she said. A wife should call her husband by his given name, yet it felt very strange. “I understand you’re curious about my arrival, but I’ve been traveling for almost two weeks, and I’m more than exhausted.”
He folded his arms, and the way his eyes traveled from her broken boot to her itching scalp made her need for a bath and clean clothes intensify.
“Curious?” he asked with a hint of cynicism.
She nodded.
“Oh, I am curious,” he said, with a direct stare. “Even more now that you’ve arrived.”
The way he said “you’ve” sent a tingle coiling around her spine. Rosemary had said they’d never been together, as in man and wife, so that was not something Millie needed to worry about, but that’s what settled in her mind. Men grew amorous when they were alone for long lengths of time. Women, too, or so her friend Martin said. Not that she’d actually understood exactly what he’d meant.
Seth was still staring at her, and the least she could hope was the muted light of the room made it too dark for him to notice the way her cheeks blazed. Of all the things to think about, Martin’s explanation should not be one of them. The fluttering in her stomach had her trying to reroute her thoughts. Rosemary was married to this man. He just wasn’t the father of her child. It was truly a jumbled mess—which now, unfortunately, Millie was right in the midst of.
She was here for the child’s sake, would do whatever it took to keep Seth from learning about the baby. Once things were settled—back home, that is—she might travel to Texas. Martin was there, and after this escapade—pretending to be married to a man she wasn’t—she’d need her best friend. Her only friend. Few others would forgive such a scandal. But a life—no, two lives—were worth more than her reputation. Especially the life of an innocent child.
Seth shifted his stance, leaning farther back, and the smirk grew to resemble more of a smile as he looked her up and down again. It was unnerving, yet she couldn’t think of a thing to say that might make him stop, nor slow the outrageous fluttering inside her.
“Matter of fact,” he finally said, slowly, thoughtfully, “I’m so curious I want to know the truth right now.”
She gulped, a nervous reaction she couldn’t have stopped if she wanted to. The flurry in her stomach turned into a heavy glob. “Oh?”
“Yes, Millie.”
Every muscle in her body froze.
“Why are you here? Instead of Rosemary. My wife. Your sister.”
Chapter Two
“I...I...I—” This couldn’t happen. Closing her eyes for a moment, Millie imaged how her sister would react to the accusation. It appeared instantly, for Rosemary never accepted fault. Huffing out a breath, she sent across the room a bitter glare akin to ones she’d witnessed on several occasions. “Millie?”
“Yes, Millie,” Seth repeated. The ire zipping beneath his skin was mixed with a goodly portion of mirth. She was a sight, not just her travel-worn outfit and windblown hair, but her beet-red cheeks and eyes as big and round and startled as a doe’s at the end of a gun barrel.
“I’m not Millie,” she insisted. “Goodness, Seth, I’d have thought you’d remember your own wife.”
“I do. And you’re not her.” There wasn’t anything he could put a finger on, for he didn’t know the sister any better than he knew his wife. But this woman was not Rosemary, therefore she had to be Millicent, the younger sister. Why—the foremost question that had been bouncing around in his head for over a week—intensified.
“Seth,” she said, pressing both hands to the base of her throat. “I realize it’s been five years, and I understand how easy it is to question my youthfulness. Yes, Millie is younger than me, but please...” Her sigh was accompanied with a steady batting of her eyelashes. “She’s shorter than me, somewhat chunkier and not as attractive—her eyes are too close together. People have said that for years. Since the day she was born, actually.” Patting the hair sticking out in all directions, his visitor continued, “Now, I know I must not look myself right now, but once I’ve had a bath, you’ll see it’s me, Rosemary.”
Now, that sounded like Rosemary. Matter of fact, those were almost the exact words she’d said the first time they’d met. General St. Clair had just introduced them, and commented that the youngest sister wasn’t home, but the two were practically identical. Rosemary had piped in then, stating that she was much more attractive than her sister. Seth recalled it so clearly because at the time, he’d thought her the snootiest girl he’d ever met. The next morning he’d decided she was a lot more than snooty. Downright mean and nasty was more like it.
Maybe she had changed. The Rosemary that had climbed into his bed back in Virginia, the same one that insisted he’d taken advantage of her, and convinced the general her reputation was ruined, would not have been as calm and patient as the woman standing before him. The girl from that night would have been screeching and stating a list of demands before she got off the wagon. Actually, she’d never have gotten on the wagon.
Frustration gurgled in his stomach. The two girls looked enough alike to be twins, he remembered that, and Rosemary was older by three or four years, if he recalled correctly. She’d be twenty-four now. He shoved away from the table. Why was he concerned with any of it? All he wanted was a signed divorce decree.
A knock sounded and the door opened before he responded. That wasn’t unusual; his men knew he was always at their disposal.
“Excuse me, Major,” Ben Cutter said, barely glancing his way. “Ma’am, the bathing house is ready. I saw to it myself.”
“Oh, thank you, Mr. Cutter. Your kindness is never-ending.”
Seth’s back teeth clamped together and had his jaw stinging. Not just at her fawning, but at how Cutter was looking at her. One would have thought the man was gazing at an angel. Seth, of course, knew differently.
“If you tell me what you need, ma’am,” Cutter said, “I’ll carry it down there for you.”
An uneven
