Mail Order Brides and The Doctor (A Western Romance Book)(COMPLETED)

Chapter 14

"What was he doing on our porch?" Theodore shouted. He could still not believe what he'd just seen—his wife in the arms of another man. And not just any man, his greatest enemy.

"He came to apologize," she said, her face glowing a bright pink. Her curls were a dark wildfire around her head, going this way and that, not one of them tamed by her brush or her hand.

"I cannot understand you," he told her. "What could you be thinking allowing him to touch you?" Theodore said, then became suddenly aware of their neighbors.

His home was on a semi-busy street, and he had no intention of letting anyone hear him and Irene arguing so that fresh rumors could spread about them. Especially now that the old ones seemed somehow to be dissipating. Business today had been good; he'd had several patients in the morning, and at least the promise of one for later this afternoon. He had only come home for a snack before heading back.

He opened the front door and motioned for Irene to go inside. "Into the house," he said. "I cannot argue with you out here." She frowned but went in as asked.

"You cannot go around punching out every man who upsets you," she said to him.

"Not every man," he said. "Just Maurice. And he did not just upset me, he was touching you. And you allowed it!"

Irene set her hands on her hips. "He was here to see you. When he learned you were not at home, I offered to sit with him on the porch and hear his reasons for coming."

Theodore threw his head back and laughed. "So you've given over to his charms just as my aunt has done? The two of you shall make fine friends yet, for you've both been duped by the same man."

"I've been duped by no one," Irene said. "Maurice has changed, and it is only you who cannot see that."

"Assuming that is so, why should you care? Why should my aunt? It makes little sense to me that Erma would allow him into her life unless she stands to gain from it in some way. It makes even less sense to me that you would allow him in as well, given his past."

Irene shrugged. "We've discussed this already," she said. "I shall not spend the next hour going in circles with you." She turned away from him them as if to head to the bedroom, infuriating him even more.

"I forbid you to see Maurice again," he shouted after her, afraid he was somehow losing this argument if she felt she could just walk away from it.

She stopped and turned back to him. "Excuse me?" she asked. "Forbid it? I am not a child."

"No, you are my wife, and you allowed another man to put his hands on you."

"I am sorry for that. You are right that I should have stopped it, but nothing was meant by it other than simple friendship. If you—"

"Do not make excuses for yourself," he said. "Or him."

"And do not take such a tone with me as to make me feel I've committed a mortal sin when I've done nothing except try to help you."

"Help me?" he cried. "It seems to me that you were helping only him—or rather, allowing him to help himself. You claim innocence in your relationship, yet there is nothing innocent about a woman who cannot say no."

Her eyes widened, and her hand flew out, slapping his cheek. "How dare you!" she cried, tears forming in her eyes, and he knew he'd gone too far. It was too late to back down now, however. "I will not allow you to speak to me in such a manner. If this is how things are to be between us, then I cannot wait even the thirty days before I go."

"That is fine with me," he snapped. "Money is of little consequence to me when I must deal with you and Maurice both."

She turned then and stomped towards the bedroom. He waited a minute then followed after her. She had a small bag out on the bed which she was throwing clothes into. "Where do you intend to go?" he demanded.

She merely glared at him.

"I am still your husband," he said. "You must answer my questions when asked."

"Far away from you," she snapped and gathered up her bag even though it was only half full, then stormed out of the place.

When she was gone, Theodore drew in several deep breaths and sat down. She might not have told him where she was going, but he knew it must certainly be to Lucille's. Where else would she go? He did not care what she did, so long as she did not embarrass him.

He returned to work and, as the day went on, he began to rethink his actions. Business had been steadily growing better, but it was not yet what it should be. He was still behind to his creditors, and without that money he had little hope of catching up. Irene did not need to love him, only pretend to.

When he finally left his offices for the day, he hoped that he might find Irene waiting for him back at home, but he had no such luck. He went to bed, hoping again for her return in the morning, but again she failed to appear. On his way to work, he stopped at Lucille's house, assuming Irene must have spent the night there. He was determined to see her and make sure she knew he intended to hold her to her end of their deal.

"I have not even seen her," Lucille told him when she answered. The sun was shining brightly overhead, hurting his eyes.

"You mean she did not spend the night here?" he asked her, suddenly unnerved.

"No," Lucille said and shook her head. A moment later she shut the door.

He scratched his head, wondering where else she might have gone. Concern began to creep up on him, but he pushed it away. He would not worry until he had to. He would wait until lunch. If Irene did not show herself by then, he would go and look for her.