Read Online Cold Steel and Hot Lead [How the West Was Done 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) by Karen Mercury - Free Book Online Page B

petticoat in a heap on the floor, she snatched it up and held it before her lap. “You,” she said weakly. “A married man! You should not be acting like this. And your constituents, all those poor unsuspecting women. Thinking that you want to set them free from their shackles when all you want to do is keep them in the bondage of servitude.”
    Derrick stood there lamely, his erection tenting the crotch of his trousers, rising obscenely in the mirror reflection behind him. He lifted a limp hand to his chest and said softly, “Me? Married?”
    She wanted to step into her petticoat, but she had a good tempo to her harangue. “You pretend you want to give them the vote, but you really want them to choose you because of your lovemaking skills. Hah!” she spat. The more she ranted, the better it felt. “You probably have paramours in every city waiting for you with open legs, telling all of their friends that when they get the vote, they must vote for you—Derrick Spiro, the hypocritical shyster, the Grecian man about town!”
    Derrick chuckled. He dared to chuckle! “Alameda,” he said patiently. “In the first place, I’m not married. Whatever gave you that idea?”
    She had to pause. Wasn’t that a well-known fact? “You said…you said your wife had experienced some lightheadedness, some fainting or other, when her corset was too tight.”
    Hands dangling at his sides, Derrick took a few steps toward her. She clutched her petticoat protectively to her lap. “Yes, that’s true. That did happen. Two years ago, when my wife was still alive.”
    It was as though all the ire and rage deflated from her. Alameda’s brain went blank as she let go of her load of self-righteous anger. Now she should feel sorry for him. Yes. That’s what she must feel. But it was difficult to turn the page on the anger she had been so puffed up with. “Oh. I’m terribly sorry. I’m sorry for having misunderstood.”
    He held his hands out, innocent of almost all charges. “So? Am I still a hypocritical shyster? I’ll admit I do know women in every town, but they’re all of the prairie flower variety whose job it is to hang on to a senator’s every word. To give him temporary pleasure for an hour. I have not sought out another belle since my wife died. As I am now seeking you out.”
    “Oh,” Alameda said in an even smaller voice. She looked at his tie because she couldn’t face him, but she only wound up wishing she could straighten his tie for him. Summoning up her dignity, she stepped into her petticoat, acutely aware that her breast swung freely. But now it wasn’t so insulting that he looked. He was only a widower, and they were allowed to look at breasts. And he was “seeking her out.” “I am very sorry for your loss. You must have loved her dearly.”
    “Yes.” When she buttoned her petticoat she dared to look at him. His look was boyish, hangdog, as any man would look when thinking of a dearly departed wife. “But I think I’m prepared to move beyond that grief. I mourned for a long time and dove into my work, finishing up what Cora started. The dream of giving the vote to women.”
    Oh! How could she resent a dead woman when she had such admirable goals? Sticking out her lower lip petulantly, she even moved a step closer to Derrick. “That is very noble of you.” And it was.
    “And by the way,” he said in a new, lighter tone. “I’m not Greek, my duck. My father is a Russian Jew, from Saint Petersburg. A banker. His name is Spirovsky, so you can see why I shortened it. Easier to write on a ballot.”
    “Oh, how charming!” she cried. “So do you practice the tenets of Judaism?”
    He tilted his head. He looked so adorable in that moment, Alameda just wanted to crush him in her arms, but she was still embarrassed by her outburst. “Well, I do observe some of the more ridiculous holidays, and I avoid eating pigs, hares, and camels. And I was circumcised, although I don’t suppose I had any say in