At her urging, he stripped his own shirt from his body, kicked off his boots and pulled off his trousers.
As he came down upon her, naked and reveling in the sensation of her bare flesh against his, she whispered, “I need you so much, Briggs....”
With one swift thrust of his hips, he entered her. Heavy rain pelted the roof over their heads, roaring steadily as the rhythm of his penetration deepened.
They moved together, Sarah digging the nails of her good hand into his back, while Briggs raised himself up on his arms to look down at her—her face so impossibly beautiful in the murky light of the afternoon rainstorm. He found himself making love to her harder and deeper than ever before, wanting to claim her as his own, to prove that she belonged to him. Soon she reached her peak and cried out as wind shook the windowpanes. Greedy for his own release, Briggs clenched his jaw as the orgasm came upon him. It trembled through his body and he felt the hot, throbbing rush of his seed pour into her.
For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. All he wanted to do was remain there inside her, holding her tight against him, while time stood still all around them.
But time would not stand still, he knew. Life didn’t work that way. There was so much left to resolve with Sarah, so many secrets and legalities he needed to understand. How long would that take? he wondered, breathing deeply and feeling Sarah also take a deep breath beneath him. His heart tugged in his chest and he hugged her closer, then wondered when he would ever feel certain of anything again.
What if Sarah went to jail for what happened, even though Garrison had tricked her? Allegedly.
With that old familiar urge to protect himself—something he thought he had conquered when he started to love Sarah—Briggs rolled off her and sat up. Damp air chilled his skin.
“I have to go,” he heard himself saying. “I’m sorry. I need to go for a walk or something.”
“Briggs, please don’t go…” Sarah sat up and pulled the blanket up to cover herself.
He pulled on his trousers, then his shirt.
“Where will you go?” she asked “Why?”
“I don’t know.” He honestly had no idea. All he knew was that his stomach was in knots and there was a quiet, simmering anger coursing through his blood. “I just need to think.”
He bent over her, gently brushed her hair away from her eyes with his thumb, kissed her on the forehead, then walked out of the room.
What just happened? Sarah wondered uneasily, realizing that she had felt a desperate need for Briggs to make love to her—and in the middle of the afternoon, no less. But after seeing him with Isabelle, she had felt possessive and jealous, and wanted to prove that he belonged to her, and that she was what he wanted. The desire to be held in his arms had been overpowering. She simply had to have him, body and soul, in that moment.
So, if that was her motivation, what was his? He’d made love to her more roughly than usual, with all the force of a prairie storm, and she’d seen the carnal need in his eyes. He, too, had wanted her in a way that was different from the other times in their candlelit sod house. Why? Had he closed his eyes and imagined he was with Isabelle?
No. He had assured her he didn’t want Isabelle. Sarah was just feeling insecure and irrational.
Suddenly aware of the throbbing sensation in her arm—which she had been completely distracted from while Briggs made love to her—she rose from the bed and awkwardly dressed herself. Then she stood in front of the mirror and straightened her tousled hair.
A short while later, Sarah jumped at the sound of the front door opening. Had Briggs returned already? Gathering her skirt in her fist, she moved out into the hall, only to look down from the top stair and see George hanging his overcoat on the hook behind the door. Briggs entered behind him.
George peered up at her and removed his fogged spectacles. “Sarah, are you all right? Your cheeks are flushed.”
Embarrassed, she touched each of them with her good hand. “I’m fine. I was just resting. It’s rather warm up here.” She started down the stairs. “Did you learn anything about the situation?”
George folded his spectacles and slid them into his breast pocket. “Why don’t we all go into the kitchen?”
All three of them went in, and Sarah sat at the table while Briggs poured a cup of coffee from the pot on the stove. Pockets of dread burst like spasms under the surface of her skin. All she could do was grit her teeth and prepare herself for the worst. “Please tell me, George. I can’t stand this any longer.”
He stood just inside the door, looking down at her, his hands cupped in front of him like he was about to recite the Lord’s Prayer. “Well, you’re married. There’s no question there.”
“To whom?” she whispered.
George nodded at his brother. “To Briggs.”
Sarah leaned back in the chair. “Oh, thank God.”
“But there’s more.”
“More?”
“Yes. I think Briggs should sit down.”
Briggs set his cup on the table and sat down across from her.
“The good news is, your marriage, currently, is valid,” George told them.
Briggs met her gaze, and she wished she knew what he was thinking. Was it relief she saw in his eyes? Or uncertainty? What had he been thinking about during his walk in the rain? That if it turned out he was not truly bound to her by law, it might be easiest to simply part ways and forget all of this ever happened?
“I took some notes,” George continued, “and it seems a bigamous marriage is considered void, whether or not either party moves to end it with an annulment or a divorce. So you were right in your assumption that it was invalid, Sarah, when you agreed to marry Briggs.”
Sarah nodded, relieved to hear this. “You said there was more?” she mentioned, working hard to keep her voice steady.
“Yes.” George reached for a document he had laid on the counter. He put on his spectacles and read some of it over to himself. Those few silent seconds felt more like an eternity.
Finally, he set down the page. “In 1862, an Anti-bigamy Act was set forth. It’s a federal statute making bigamy a criminal activity.”
“Will Garrison go to jail?”
“Yes, once he’s reported to the proper authorities, but so could you, Sarah.”
Heart suddenly racing, she felt Briggs’s eyes on her. “But I didn’t know,” was all she could say.
“That being the case, you would be innocent, of course, but if Garrison says otherwise....Do you believe he would try to incriminate you?”
“Yes. He told me if I ever revealed any of this, he would say I knew what I was doing because I wanted his money.”
“But you left him without taking anything from him, isn’t that right?”
“Of course.”
“Then he’d have a difficult time proving you wanted his money.”
“So, you think I have nothing to worry about?” Sarah asked, afraid to even hope.
“I would certainly do everything in my power to help you.”
Through all this, Briggs said not a single word. His silence troubled Sarah more than anything.
“But this is good news,” Sarah said to George. “Why are you looking so...so concerned?”
“Because there is still one other point.”
Sarah steadied herself.
“It has to do with your marriage to Briggs.”
Briggs leaned back and folded his arms. “I thought you said our marriage was valid.”
“I did, but there are some complications.”
“Because we didn’t know each other?” Sarah asked. “People do that all the time.”
“Yes, they do, but in this case, it was more than not knowing each other. There’s the issue of fraud.”
“Fraud,” Sarah repeated.
“Yes. On the day you arrived by
train, Briggs let me read your letter. Don’t be angry, he was just trying to convince me he was doing the right thing. I distinctly recall that you wrote you had never been married before.”
“But I hadn’t been. Not legally.”
“I understand that, Sarah, but a court might see it differently if Briggs were to bring it forward.”
Sarah shot a glance at Briggs. He was sitting calmly, listening to it all. “What do you mean, bring it forward?”
“I mean that Briggs has grounds to seek an annulment. If he wants to.” He looked down at Briggs, questioning him with his eyes. “He may not, of course, in which case everything would remain as it is.”
Staring across the table at her husband, Sarah swallowed nervously. Perhaps the worst of it was she couldn’t begin to guess what he was thinking, despite the fact they had shared so much over the past few weeks, and he had just made love to her that very day.
“Why is everyone staring at me?” Briggs asked, flipping his hair back off his shoulder. “I suppose you both want me to say I don’t want to end this marriage.”
George stepped back and set the paper down on the table by the stove. “I think we’d both like to know what you—”
“I don’t know. If you’re looking for answers, I can’t give them to you.” He grabbed his coat and strode out of the room. Sarah sat frozen in her seat, staring helplessly at George.
The front door opened and slammed against the inside wall. George hurried to the foyer. “Where are you going?”
“I don’t know.”
Heartsick with dread, Sarah listened to her husband’s boots pound down the veranda steps. He has not forgiven me. He doesn’t want to love me.
Chapter 26
Rain-soaked and exhausted, Briggs pushed through the swinging doors at the Long Branch Saloon. He stopped just inside, inhaled the thick scent of cigar smoke, and removed his waterlogged hat. The place was uncommonly busy for this time of day. Must be the rain, he thought as he strode toward the bar and dug into his pocket for a few coins.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked, wiping his hands on a damp cloth.
“Whiskey.” Briggs didn’t take a drink often, but he reckoned, if there was ever a suitable time, this was it.
The bartender poured him a glass, then turned to set the bottle back on the shelf.
“Leave it,” Briggs said, knowing he wasn’t going to be ready to return to George’s house for a while yet. He had a lot of thinking to do and he wasn’t about to do it in the same house with Sarah. She’d cloud his judgement with the way she made him feel—constantly aroused and possessive and desperate to hold onto her.
He should have known something like this would happen when she’d first told him about Garrison, and about her parents being dead for four years instead of four months. The lies had started then, but he’d felt obligated to stick to their agreement, and he had to be honest with himself. He’d been attracted to her from the first moment, and he’d wanted her in his bed.
Raising the shot glass to his lips, he took the first drink, and tasted the bitter liquid for a moment before he swallowed. He carried the bottle to a table and sat down.
After everything that had happened with Isabelle, he should have been more careful about bringing another woman into his life so soon. And he certainly shouldn’t have let himself fall so hard for Sarah, so quickly, without knowing her better. He probably should annul the marriage. Put all this behind him and move on. It was quite simple, really.
Except that it wasn’t.
He tipped up the glass, downed the rest of the sour-tasting drink, then poured another. He watched as the amber liquid gushed into the glass. What the hell was he supposed to do?
His head was telling him to cut her loose. The law was clear. He was justified.
But the idea of leaving Sarah behind and returning to the farm without her was unthinkable. Just the thought of it made his body ache with dread. Never see her again? Never touch her? Smell her? Could he go on knowing that he’d never be able to bury himself in her sweet, warm body ever again?
Laughter erupted in the back corner of the saloon. Briggs jumped, then tossed back another mouthful of whiskey, welcoming its numbing effect. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his stinging eyes. What were the chances this would all work itself out? What were the chances he’d be able to trust her? Ever?
If he was smart, he’d never trust any woman again. Or at least he’d never trust the idea that he could be happy and loved without God, in the very next minute, pulling the rug out from under him.
Briggs heard footsteps approach and felt someone’s unbidden presence behind him. He swiveled in his chair.
“We meet again,” Garrison said, touching the brim of his black top hat and sporting a nasty-looking black eye.
“Not by choice.” Briggs had to force himself to stay seated when all he really wanted to do was toss Garrison outside, straight through those swinging doors, face first into the mud.
After a short pause, Garrison pulled out a chair. “Mind if I sit?”
“Yeah, I do mind.”
“Oh, come now. You’re being a bit hard on me, don’t you think? Sarah’s the one you should be angry with.”
Something jolted inside Briggs. He downed another mouthful of whiskey and gritted his teeth, biting back a surge of violence that was rising up from within.
Garrison sat down across from him, despite Briggs’s earlier objection. “Bartender, I’ll have what he’s having.”
The bartender brought a second glass. “You want a bottle too?”
“No, just a glass. I’m not in need of it like this gentleman is.”
The bartender poured, then turned his back on them and returned to work. Briggs felt Garrison’s gaze upon him and tried to ignore it. The last thing he needed was to get into a saloon brawl and spend the night in jail.
“Ah. The drowning of the sorrows,” Garrison sighed.
“It’s none of your business, McPhee.”
“I’m only trying to make conversation. We got off on the wrong foot, it seems.”
“There is no right foot where you and I are concerned.”
“I don’t blame you for being angry. I would be, too. But like I said—it’s not me you should be angry with. I’m only trying to help.” Taking a slow, dignified sip from his glass, Garrison crossed one leg over the other. “I’m here to talk to you, aren’t I? You look like you need some helpful advice.”
“You’re my problem, McPhee, not the solution.”
“That’s not very neighborly of you.”
“You ain’t my neighbor.” Briggs raised his shot glass and gestured toward Garrison’s black eye. “I’m surprised you’re willing to come within ten feet of me.”
Garrison chuckled with too much confidence. “We’re in a public place, Mr. Brigman. If you lay a hand on me, there are plenty of gentlemen here to come to my aid.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.”
Garrison took a drink, staring straight ahead. “No?”
“No. I could talk to the sheriff. You’d be locked up before you even knew you’d left the room.”
“Locked up? And how may I ask would the charges read?”
“They’d read exactly as they should. They’d spell bigamy with a capital B.”
Garrison nearly choked on his drink. “Is that what she told you? I must admit, that’s not one she’s used before.” Garrison swallowed another mouthful, then smiled and dropped his hand onto Briggs’s shoulder. “Bigamy. How original. But in this case, I’m not the bigamist, Brigman. She is. I suppose that makes you one, too.”
Brigg’s felt his guts twisting like a corkscrew. “I’ll have you know my brother is a lawyer. He’s checked into things for me. My marriage to Sarah is valid. Yours isn’t.”
Garrison scoffed. “I’m s
orry, I shouldn’t laugh. This is very serious.”
“You bet it is. I think it’s about time you tell me what’s so funny.”
Garrison reached for Briggs’s bottle of whiskey. “May I? Perhaps you should have another, too.” Briggs watched as Garrison filled both their glasses. “This is always difficult.”
Briggs glared intensely at him.
“I’ve had to do this before, you see. It’s not the first time Sarah has gone off for a new life and I’ve had to bring her home, and you’re not the first man she’s married.”
Feeling tired all of a sudden, Briggs rested his forehead in his hand.
“I see you’re surprised,” Garrison said.
He looked up. “I’m only surprised you’re fool enough to make any of this up.”
“I’m not making it up. She’s my wife and she has a problem.”
Briggs downed the rest of his whiskey and slammed the glass onto the table. He wiped his sleeve across his mouth and stood up to leave. “Why don’t you go back to Boston and take your lunatic stories with you.” Briggs walked toward the door. The confident sound of Garrison’s voice stopped him.
“I suppose she told you her parents were dead.”
Briggs froze. He stared out over the swinging saloon doors at the curtain of rain cascading from the roof. Slowly, he turned around to face Garrison. The man had risen and moved to stand at the bar.
“Did she say they’d died in a train accident? Or was it the Pox?”
Every thought in Briggs’s head was humming with anger and disbelief. This couldn’t be. Why had he even stopped to listen? He knew he couldn’t trust Garrison.
“Well?” Garrison asked. “Which was it? And was this when she was a child? Or was it recently?”
Swallowing his unease, Briggs searched his brain for an answer. Before they were married, Sarah had written him and told him they’d died four months ago. She’d later told him four years. Which was it?
Garrison poured more whiskey into both glasses. “Maybe you should have another drink.”
Briggs didn’t want another drink. He didn’t want to look at Garrison another minute. But he did want answers. Most likely, Garrison was playing him for a fool. At least, that’s what he hoped.
Prairie Bride: (A Western Historical Romance) (Dodge City Brides Book 1) Page 20
