“I don’t like this,” she whispered. “I don’t like any of it.”
As he spoke, he couldn’t remember ever hearing his own voice sound so sad. “You’ve fallen in with the devil, sweetheart. The sooner you accept that, the better off you’ll be.”
He went into the bathroom, shut the door, and closed his eyes, trying to block out the play of emotions he’d just witnessed on her face. He’d seen it all: wariness, an almost childlike innocence, and a dreadful kind of hope that maybe he wasn’t really as bad as he seemed.
Poor little feather head.
6
“Go away.”
“Last warning, angel face. We’re pulling out in three minutes.”
She squeezed her eyes open just far enough to focus on the clock by the couch and realize it was five in the morning. She didn’t go anywhere at five in the morning, so she snuggled deeper into her pillow, and moments later, she drifted back to sleep. The next thing she knew, he was picking her up.
“Stop it!” she croaked. “What are you doing?”
Without a word, he carried her outside into the chilly morning air, tossed her into the cab of the truck, and slammed the door. The chill of the vinyl upholstery against her bare legs brought her instantly awake and reminded her that she wore only his gray T-shirt and a pair of ice blue bikini underpants. He climbed in the other side, and moments later, they pulled away from the abandoned lot.
“How could you do this? It’s only five o’clock! Nobody gets up this early!”
“We do. We’re moving into North Carolina today.”
He looked disgustingly awake. He was clean-shaven, dressed in a pair of jeans and a wine red knit shirt. His eyes trickled down to her bare legs. “Next time maybe you’ll get up when I tell you.”
“I’m not dressed! You have to let me get my clothes. And I need makeup. My hair—I have to brush my teeth!”
He reached into his pocket and withdrew a flattened pack of Dentyne.
She snatched it from him, and as she took out a piece and put it in her mouth, last night’s events replayed in her mind. She searched his face for some sign of remorse but saw none. She was too tired and depressed to pick another quarrel, but if she just let it go, everything would still be on his terms.
“It’s going to be hard for me to fit in here after what happened last night.”
“You’re going to have a hard time fitting in no matter what.”
“I’m your wife,” she said quietly, “and you’re not the only one who has pride. You publicly embarrassed me last night, and I didn’t deserve it.”
He said nothing, and if it hadn’t been for the slight tightening at the corners of his mouth, she might have believed he hadn’t heard her.
She removed the gum from her mouth and folded it in the wrapper. “Please pull off the road so I can get my things from the trailer.”
“You had your chance, and you blew it.”
“I wasn’t awake.”
“I warned you.”
“You’re like a robot. You don’t have any human feelings at all, do you?” She tugged on the bottom of the T-shirt, which kept hitching up.
His gaze settled in her lap. “Oh, I’ve got human feelings. But maybe not the ones you want to hear about right now.”
She busied herself trying to adjust the T-shirt. “I want my clothes.”
“I woke you in plenty of time to get dressed.”
“I mean it, Alex. This isn’t funny. I’m practically naked.”
“You don’t have to tell me that.”
Maybe if she’d had more sleep, she wouldn’t have felt so snappish. “Am I turning you on?”
“Yep.”
She hadn’t expected that. She thought he’d give her one of his put-downs. Recovering from her surprise, she glared at him. “Well, that’s too bad because I’m not interested. In case you haven’t heard, the brain is the most important sexual organ, and my brain isn’t interested in having anything to do with you.”
“Your brain?”
“I do have one.”
“I never said you didn’t.”
“Your tone implied it. I’m not stupid, Alex. My education may have been unorthodox, but it was amazingly comprehensive.”
“Your father doesn’t seem to agree.”
“I know. He likes telling everyone I’m badly educated because mother used to take me out of school so much. But if she was going on an interesting trip, she believed I’d benefit if I went along. Sometimes a few months would pass before she’d remember to send me back. Even then, she didn’t always return me to the same school she’d taken me out of, but she still made sure I was learning.”
“How did she do that?”
“She’d ask whoever she was visiting or entertaining to spend some time with me and teach me a little of what they knew.”
“I thought your mother hung out with rock stars.”
“I did learn a lot about hallucinogenics.”
“I’ll bet.”
“But she spent time with a lot of other people, too. Princess Margaret taught me most of what I know about the history of the British royal family.”
He stared at her “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious. And she wasn’t the only one. I was raised around some of the most famous people in the world.” Only the fact that she didn’t want him to think she was bragging kept her from mentioning the rather spectacular scores she’d received on her SATs. “So I’d appreciate it if you’d stop making your little digs about my intelligence. Anytime you want to discuss Plato, I’m game.”
“I’ve read Plato,” he said, with a gratifying degree of defensiveness.
“In Greek?”
After that, they rode in silence until Daisy eventually dozed off. In her sleep, she searched for a comfortable pillow and found it on Alex’s shoulder.
A stray lock of her hair flipped up in the breeze and grazed his lips. He let it play there for a while, brushing across his mouth and jaw. She smelled sweet and expensive, like wildflowers growing in the middle of a jewelry store.
She was right about last night. He’d acted like an ass. But the whole thing had taken him by surprise, and he didn’t want any kind of public celebration of something he was trying his best to minimize. If he wasn’t careful, she’d get it into her head to take this marriage seriously.
He didn’t think he’d ever met a woman who was so much his opposite. She’d said he was like a robot, without any human feelings at all, but she was wrong. He had feelings, all right. Just not the ones she thought were important, the ones experience had taught him he was incapable of having.
Even though he told himself to keep his eyes on the road, he couldn’t resist looking down at the small, slender body snuggled so warmly against him. She’d tucked one leg under the other, displaying the soft curve of her inner thigh, and his old T-shirt had lost the battle to keep her covered. His gaze fell on the meager strip of ice blue lace that passed between her legs. As the heat gathered in his groin, he looked away, angered by his self-inflicted torture. God, she was beautiful.
She was also silly and spoiled, vain beyond belief. He’d never seen a woman who could spend so much time looking into a mirror. But despite her faults, he had to admit that she wasn’t quite the selfish, self-centered socialite he’d originally thought her to be. There was a sweetness about her that was as unexpected as it was disturbing because it made her so much more vulnerable than he wanted her to be.
As Daisy came out of the truck-stop rest room where she’d managed to bum a cigarette from a female driver, she saw that Alex was flirting with another waitress. Even though he’d made it plain that he had no intention of committing himself to their marriage, the sight depressed her. As she watched him nod at something the waitress said, she realized she had a perfectly good excuse to turn her back on the vows she’d taken. Between the awful scene with the wedding cake and what he’d said afterward, he’d made himself quite clear. He had no intention of upholding his vows, so
why should she?
Because she had to. Her conscience wouldn’t let her escape.
She garnered her courage and, plastering a smile on her face, headed toward the orange vinyl booth. Neither the waitress nor Alex paid any attention to her as she slid into her seat. A name tag shaped like a teapot identified this particular woman as Tracy. She was overly made up but still undeniably attractive. And Alex was Mr. Charm, complete with a lazy grin and wandering eyes.
He finally pretended to notice her presence. “Back already, Sis?”
Sis!
He smiled, the glint of challenge in his eyes. “Tracy and I have been getting to know each other.”
“I’m trying to talk your brother into hanging around for a while,” Tracy said. “My shift ends in an hour.”
Daisy knew if she didn’t put a stop to this sort of thing right away, he’d think he could get away with it for the next six months. She reached over and patted the waitress’s hand where she’d rested it on the edge of the table.
“You sweet, sweet girl. He’s been so self-conscious around women since his medical problem was diagnosed. But I keep telling him—with the wonders of antibiotics, those pesky little sexually transmitted diseases are hardly a problem for anybody anymore.”
Tracy’s smile faltered. She stared at Daisy, then at Alex, and her tanned skin seemed to take on a faintly gray hue. “My boss gets mad if I talk to the customers too long. See ya.” She hurried away from the table.
Alex’s coffee cup clattered onto his saucer.
Daisy met his gaze dead on. “Don’t mess with me, Alex. We took vows.”
“I don’t frigging believe this.”
“You’re a circumstanced man. And circumstanced men don’t flirt with waitresses. Please try to remember that.”
He yelled at her all the way back to the truck, throwing out words such as “immature,” “grasping,” and “conniving.” Only after they were under way, did he finally give it a rest.
They had traveled in silence for less than a mile when she heard something that sounded very much like a chuckle, but when she looked over at him, she saw the same stern face and unsmiling mouth she’d seen from the beginning. Since she knew Alex Markov’s dark Russian soul didn’t possess more than a shred of a sense of humor, she decided she was mistaken.
By late afternoon, she was bleary with fatigue. Only by pressing herself to the limit had she been able to finish cleaning the trailer, shower, fix herself something to eat, and still make it to the red wagon on time to take over at the ticket window. The job would have lasted even longer if Alex hadn’t cleaned up the wedding cake last night. Since she was the one who’d thrown it, his help had been unexpected.
It was Saturday, and she understood from overhearing brief snatches of conversation that the workmen were looking forward to getting their pay envelopes that night. Alex had told her that some of the workmen who handled the canvas and moved the equipment were alcoholics and drug addicts, since the circus’s low wages and poor working conditions didn’t attract the most stable employees. A few had been with the circus for years, simply because they didn’t have anywhere else to go. Others were adventurers attracted by the romance of the circus, but they generally didn’t last long.
Alex glanced up from the battered desk as she stepped into the trailer, and his mouth set in what she was beginning to believe was a perpetual scowl. “There’s a discrepancy in yesterday’s receipts.”
She’d been exceptionally careful as she’d made change, and she was certain she hadn’t made any mistakes. Coming around behind him, she gazed at the neatly printed figures. “Show me.”
He pointed toward the paper lying on the desk. “I’ve checked the ticket numbers against the receipts, and you’re short.
It took her only a moment to figure out what was wrong. “That discrepancy came from the complimentary tickets I gave out. There were only twelve or thirteen.”
“Complimentary tickets?”
“The families were so poor, Alex.”
“And you took it upon yourself to comp them?”
“I could hardly take their money.”
“Yes, you could, Daisy. And from now on you will. In most towns the circus is sponsored by a local organization. They handle comps unless something special comes up, in which case I handle it. But you don’t. Understand?”
“But—”
“Understand?”
She gave him a grudging nod.
“Good. If you think someone needs comping, you come to me, and I’ll take care of it.”
“All right.”
He stood and frowned. “Sheba’ll be back today, and she’ll see that you get a costume for spec. When she’s ready to fit you, I’ll send someone to take over the ticket window.”
“But I’m not a performer.”
“This is the circus, angel face. Everybody’s a performer.”
Her curiosity had grown about the mysterious Sheba whose name made her husband’s face cloud. “Brady said she was a famous trapeze artist.”
“Sheba’s the last of the Cardozas. Her family used to be to trapeze what the Wallendas are to high-wire acts.”
“But she doesn’t perform anymore?”
“She could. She’s only thirty-nine, and she keeps herself in top shape. But she’s no longer the best, so she retired.”
“She obviously takes it seriously.”
“Too seriously. Stay out of her way as much as you can.” He walked to the door. “Remember what I told you about the cash box. Keep your eye on it.”
“I remember.”
With a brusque nod, he disappeared.
She handled the ticket sales for the first performance without difficulty. Things quieted down after the show was under way, and she sat down on the trailer step to enjoy the evening breeze.
Her gaze fell on the menagerie tent, and she remembered that Sinjun, the tiger, was inside. Today, while she’d been trying to scrub the worst of the stains from the carpet, she’d thought about him, maybe because thinking about the tiger was simpler than trying to sort out her troubled feelings about Alex. She felt a disturbing urge to take another look at the ferocious animal, but only from a safe distance.
A late-model Cadillac pulled into the lot accompanied by a rooster tail of dust. An exotic-looking woman with a mane of bright auburn hair stepped out. She wore a figure-hugging chartreuse tank top tucked into a printed sarong skirt that revealed long bare legs and a pair of jeweled sandals. Big gold hoops glimmered through her tousled hair, and a set of matching bangles decorated her slender wrists.
As the woman headed toward the entrance to the big top, Daisy caught a glimpse of her face: pale skin, sharp features, full lips emphasized with crimson lipstick. She had a proprietary air about her that set her apart from a casual visitor, and Daisy decided this could only be Bathsheba Quest.
A customer approached to buy tickets to the second show. Daisy chatted with him for a few minutes and by the time he left, Sheba had disappeared. When no one was at the window, she began reading through the contents of an accordion envelope stuffed with old newspaper clippings taken from a variety of local papers.
Alex’s performances with the bullwhip were mentioned in several articles dated two years ago, but not again until last month. She knew that circuses rotated their acts from one show to another, and she wondered where he’d been performing when he wasn’t traveling with Quest Brothers.
As the first show ended, one of the barkers appeared, a wizened-looking old man with a large mole on his cheek. “I’m Pete. Alex told me to take over for a while. You’re supposed to go back to your trailer for a costume fitting.”
Daisy thanked him and made her way to the trailer. As she entered, she was startled to see Sheba Quest standing at her sink washing up the dishes from the quick snacks Alex and Daisy had grabbed that afternoon.
“You don’t have to do that.”
Sheba turned and shrugged. “I don’t like sitting around waiting.”
Daisy felt doubly chastised: first for keeping a sloppy kitchen, then for tardiness. She wouldn’t add to those sins by being inhospitable. “Would you like a cup of tea? Or perhaps a soft drink.”
“No.” The woman picked up a dish towel and dried her hands. “I’m Sheba Quest, but I guess you already know that.”
On closer inspection, Daisy saw that the circus owner wore her makeup in brighter shades than Daisy would have chosen to use herself. Not that she looked gaudy. Instead, her colorful and somewhat provocative clothing, combined with her rather flamboyant accessories, simply made it apparent that her beauty standards had been influenced by a lifetime as a performer.
“I’m Daisy Devreaux. Or rather Daisy Markov. I haven’t gotten used to the change.”
Some profound emotion flickered across Sheba’s face, a deep revulsion combined with a hostility that was almost palpable. Instantly, Daisy knew she had found no friend in Sheba Quest.
She forced herself to remain still under Sheba’s cold scrutiny. “Alex likes to eat. You hardly have anything in the refrigerator.”
“I know. I’m really not very well organized.” She didn’t have the courage to point out that Sheba shouldn’t be snooping in her kitchen.
“He likes spaghetti and lasagna, and he loves Mexican food. But don’t waste your time making him big desserts. He doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, except at breakfast.”
“Thank you for telling me.” Daisy felt slightly ill.
Sheba flicked her hand over the chipped counter. “This place is terrible. Alex started out with a newer trailer, but last week he got rid of it and picked up this one even though I offered to get him something better.”
Daisy couldn’t quite hide her dismay. Why had Alex insisted they live like this if they didn’t have to? “I’m planning to fix it up,” she said, although until that moment, the idea hadn’t occurred to her.
“Most men want to bring their brides to someplace nice. I’m surprised Alex didn’t take advantage of my offer.”