Schulze, Dallas

by Gunfighter's Bride

“I didn’t sneak!” Lila flared. “I just... left.”

  “Well, you must have done your leaving very quietly to avoid waking me.”

  “Considering how much you’d had to drink, I doubt anything less than a cannon blast would have roused you.”

  “I could say the same about you. As I recall, the champagne was flowing pretty freely that night.”

  “The last thing I want to do is recall anything about that night,” she said tightly. “If I could, I’d forget it ever happened.”

  “I tried to see you the next morning. Your maid said you weren’t seeing anyone. I would have thought you’d make an exception for me.”

  Bishop had awakened the morning after Douglas’s wedding with a mouth full of cotton, a pounding headache, and a sick feeling in his gut that had less to do with the amount he’d had to drink than it did with the vicious bite of his conscience. There had been no merciful period of forgetfulness, no whiskey-granted amnesia. His memories of the night before had been painfully clear. The feel of a woman in his arms, the uncertain eagerness of her response, the soft warmth of her body against him, beneath him.

  “You were the last person I wanted to see,” Lila said, pulling him away from the memories. “What was there to say? Unless you were going to offer to marry me?” When he said nothing, her mouth twisted in a mocking smile. “I didn’t think so.”

  “I didn’t think you’d want to spend the rest of your life paying for one mistake,” he said. That was the conclusion he’d reached after a considerable amount of painful thought.

  “How kind of you to think of me,” she said with exaggerated gratitude. “But your efforts were in vain because here we are. It looks like we’re both going to paying for that particular mistake for a long time to come. You should have stayed where you were. No sense in two people suffering where one would do.”

  Her mocking tone sparked Bishop’s own temper. “Aren’t you forgetting the man you were about to marry?” he asked. “Or is he so in love with you that playing father to another man’s bastard was a small price to pay to have you?” “Logan isn’t in love with me. He’s a friend. Nothing more.”

  “Seems to me he’s carrying friendship a bit far,” Bishop said sardonically. “Tying himself up for life.”

  “I was once engaged to his brother.” Lila offered the explanation reluctantly. “Logan is like one of the family.”

  “What happened to the brother?”

  “Billy was killed in a riding accident shortly before we were to be married.”

  “When was that?”

  “Three years ago, though I hardly think it’s any concern of yours.” Her chin lifted, her eyes daring him to offer any sympathy. “Logan thinks of me almost as a sister. That’s why he offered to marry me.”

  “Noble of him,” Bishop said sardonically.

  “I think it was. He’s a true gentleman.”

  “If he’s such a paragon, why didn’t you tell him the truth about how you came to be carrying my child? Or didn’t it bother you to lie to him?”

  “I didn’t lie to him.”

  “I forgot—he assumed that I’d forced myself on you and you didn’t correct him.” He didn’t trouble to hide his contempt.

  “It was easier that way,” she muttered, her eyes avoiding his.

  “I can imagine it was. I’m surprised you didn’t let the he stand. Douglas would have seen me dead, if Sinclair didn’t beat him to it. That would certainly have simplified things.”

  “I wish I’d thought of it,” Lila snapped.

  “I bet you do,” he said in a silken tone that had been known to make grown men pale. “Maybe, if you’d thought things through a little more clearly, you could have married your friend Logan. You managed to convince him it was rape when we both know I didn’t exactly have to force you. With just a little effort, you could have had him believing the baby was his.”

  Lila felt a flash of rage so intense it was physically painful. It struck her that she hated Bishop McKenzie with a passion like nothing she’d ever felt before. She wanted to wipe that hateful expression from his face; wanted to see him lying dead at her feet. Without conscious thought, her hand came up. Whether she intended to slap him or to try to claw his damned, knowing eyes from his face, she didn’t know. In that moment, causing him physical pain seemed the only way to ease the sick ache she’d been living with for the last three months.

  But Bishop moved with the same easy speed that had surprised her before, his hand coming up, fingers closing around her wrist, halting her palm inches from his face. He used the hold to jerk her forward until they stood a heartbeat apart, the heavy silk skirts of her wedding gown rustling as they swirled against his legs.

  Five feet eight inches in her stocking feet, Lila had grown accustomed to looking most men directly in the eye, a habit her mother had discouraged. Keep your eyes modestly downcast, sweetheart. Gentleman always admire modesty in a lady. Too much directness makes them nervous. Bishop didn’t look the least bit nervous. But perhaps that was because he was a good seven inches taller than she was, forcing her to tilt her head back to look at him.

  They stood there, eyes locked in a silent duel of wills. Pride kept Lila from struggling. Pride and the sure knowledge that she couldn’t force him to release her until he chose to do so and she’d only make a fool of herself by pitting her strength against his.

  This close, she could see the tiny flecks of gray that lightened the blue of his eyes. Unwanted, unwelcome, a memory came to her of those same eyes, heavy lidded with desire; of the softly scratchy brush of his mustache against her skin; of the warm rush of sweet pleasure that had followed on his every touch. The strength of that memory frightened her in a way that the anger in his eyes couldn’t.

  “Let me go.”

  “Not until you settle down. I’ve already been hit once today. I don’t particularly want to make it twice.”

  “Settle down?” She repeated the phrase from between gritted teeth. “I’m not a fractious horse you’re trying to break to saddle.”

  Bishop took his time in answering her. He’d spent three months trying to figure out what it was about Lila Adams that had made him abandon his common sense and betray his friendship with her brother. He’d told himself it was too much drink and the fact that seeing the way Douglas and Susan looked at each other had suddenly made him feel older and more alone than he had in his entire life. But looking at Lila, he was forced to admit that there had been more to it than whiskey and loneliness. She was fire and ice, all pale skin and big green eyes and temper. And he wanted her, the same way he’d wanted her the night of Douglas’s wedding. The knowledge put an edge to his voice.

  “Seems to me there’s considerable similarity between a woman and a horse,” he drawled. “They both need a firm hand on the reins to show them who’s in charge.”

  Enraged beyond words, Lila forgot her determination not to struggle and tried to jerk away from him. Bishop’s fingers tightened around her hand for a moment and then he released her, having made it clear that he was doing so because he chose to.

  She took a quick step back. Only the weight of her skirts kept her from rushing from the room. That and her pride, which refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her run.

  “I won’t marry you,” she said. Despite her best efforts to sound calm and controlled, her voice shook with rage.

  “You’ll marry me.”

  “You can’t force me.”

  “I don’t have to. They will.” Bishop inclined his head toward the door, reminding her of the church full of guests who’d witnessed his dramatic arrival, who had since dispersed to their homes to speculate on the truth behind the interrupted ceremony. He was right, she thought despairingly. She’d marry him because it was the only real choice open to her. The knowledge did nothing to soften her anger.

  “I should have let my brother kill you,” Lila hissed.

  “Maybe. But it’s too late now.”

  His calm response made her want t
o scream. She glared at him, her eyes stormy with frustration and rage. She was trapped. Because of one night of champagne and madness, she was going to be forced to join her life with that of the man before her, a man with whom she’d shared intimacies she could barely bring herself to remember and yet whom she knew not at all.

  Bishop must have seen the acceptance in her eyes. His mouth twisted in a half smile that held no real humor. “I suspect Douglas’s patience has stretched about as far as it’s going to,” he said, moving toward the door.

  Lila hesitated a moment longer but there was no sense in delaying the inevitable. She couldn’t stay in this little room forever. Bishop opened the door and then stood back politely to allow her to exit first. The guests were gone and the church was empty except for Douglas and Susan, who rose from one of the pews and came toward them. Seeing her brother’s worried face, Lila was suddenly acutely aware of all that she was losing. If she’d married Logan, at least she’d have been able to preserve a piece of her life. Now it was all gone.

  She glanced up, her eyes meeting Bishop’s. “I wish you’d arrived too late,” she said, her voice more weary than angry. “If I’d already been Logan’s wife, there would have been nothing you could do to change things.”

  Bishop smiled down at her, his eyes pale blue and cold as ice. “I could have made you a widow.”

  CHAPTER 3

  "We gather together in the sight of God and these witnesses to join this man and this woman in the bonds of holy matrimony,” Reverend Carpenter intoned solemnly.

  For the second time in a matter of hours, Lila listened to the same words. They didn’t sound any more real to her now than they had earlier. Standing in the parlor of River Walk, her family’s home for the last one hundred fifty years, she had the same feeling that she was standing outside herself, watching what was happening but not really a part of it.

  The words were the same but everything else had changed. There were no guests this time, only Douglas and Susan to act as witnesses. The elaborate white silk wedding gown with its rows of lace and fine pleated trim had been replaced with a simple dress of pale-gray muslin, its plainness relieved by touches of creamy lace at the wrists and throat. And instead of standing beside a man she’d known all her life, she was standing beside a man she didn’t know at all.

  The ceremony was mercifully brief. No doubt, given more time, the reverend would have come up with an oration appropriate to the circumstances, something laden with allusions to the wages of sin. As it was, he kept his commentary to a minimum. He conveyed his disapproval by the stern tone of his voice, but he couldn’t hide the avid curiosity in his eyes.

  Aware that everything she said and did was going to be reported over tea and cakes with the good reverend’s friends, Lila struggled to present a calm façade. There was no sense in providing even more fodder for the gossip mill. Lord knew, this day had already given enough to keep the town talking for weeks.

  I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride

  Her feeling that she was observing everything from behind a glass wall was shattered as if a hammer had been applied to that same wall. She was only vaguely aware of the prim disapproval in Reverend Carpenter’s eyes. All her attention was focused on the man standing beside her― the man who was now her husband.

  Bishop felt Lila jump when he put his hand on her shoulder to turn her to face him. She stared up at him, her green eyes wide and dilated, swirling with a mixture of emotions he couldn’t even begin to read. She was his. His wife. He was caught off guard by the gut-deep feeling of possessiveness that came with the thought. He touched her cheek. Her skin was cool and soft beneath his fingertips. His. Crazy as it was, considering the circumstances, there was an odd satisfaction in the knowledge.

  She drew in a quick, sharp little breath as he lowered his head. He expected her to turn her face away, but she didn’t. She watched him, her eyes smoky green and filled with a mixture of uncertainty and defiance. Bishop’s mouth quirked. He should have known better than to think that Lila would turn away. If he’d learned nothing else about her, it was that she wasn’t much inclined to turn away from a challenge.

  Lila saw the flicker of amusement in Bishop’s eyes but she had only a moment to wonder at its cause before his mouth touched hers. She’d expected nothing more than a brief peck on the cheek, a token gesture for Reverend Carpenter’s benefit. Instead, his lips settled on hers in a kiss that was warmly caressing. Caught by surprise, her mouth softened, welcoming him. She lifted one hand and set it against his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his coat.

  His mustache was softly rough against her skin, contrasting with the firm smoothness of his lips. She had a sudden memory of his mouth skimming down the length of her throat, the moist touch of his tongue against the pulse that beat at its base, of her own soft moan of encouragement as his mouth slid lower still.

  Whether Bishop felt her stiffen or whether he’d never intended to draw the kiss out any further, Lila didn’t know. He lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers for a long, still moment. She could read nothing in that look, no reflection of the memories that had crashed over her, no regret over the marriage they’d just entered into—not even resignation. His eyes were still, blue pools, revealing nothing.

  “Lila.” Susan’s light voice was a welcome interruption. Relieved to have an excuse to turn away from her new husband, Lila stepped into her sister-in-law’s embrace. “I wish you every happiness, my dear,” Susan said as she hugged Lila.

  “Thank you.” If only all it took was good wishes, Lila thought, blinking against the sting of tears.

  Stepping away from Susan, she turned to look at Douglas, her expression uncertain. Between the debacle at the church and the start of the ceremony here in the parlor, she’d made sure that there was no opportunity for a private talk with her brother. It had been enough to see the hurt in his eyes when he’d found out about her and Bishop; she couldn’t bear to hear how he felt. Now she wanted desperately to see forgiveness in his eyes.

  He looked at her. For a moment, she thought his expression softened and dared to hope that he might be able to forgive her for what she’d done. But it was too soon for that.

  “I hope you’ll be very happy,” he offered stiffly. He gave her a perfunctory hug, stepping back so quickly that she wondered if he couldn’t bear to touch her.

  She turned away blindly and her gaze collided with Bishop’s. Blinking against tears, she lifted her chin, daring him to notice her distress. His expression didn’t change but he reached out, sliding one arm around her shoulders and drawing her against his side. She told herself that the only reason she didn’t pull away was because she didn’t want to make a scene, but that didn’t explain why her body curved into his, why she leaned into his hard strength.

  “Thank you,” he said, speaking to Douglas and Susan as if they’d included him in their good wishes.

  The muscles in Douglas’s jaw knotted visibly, his expression tight and hard. Susan’s eyes skittered uneasily from her husband to the newlyweds and then settled, almost gratefully, on the minister, who’d been watching the small scene with the expression of a hungry dog presented with a particularly juicy bone.

  “Thank you so much, Reverend,” she said. Her smile held no sign of the strain she must be feeling, and it struck Lila, not for the first time, that Susan was remarkably well suited to being the wife of a man with political aspirations.

  “I’m always pleased to be able to be of service to this family,” Reverend Carpenter said.

  Particularly when he was lucky enough to find himself in the midst of the juiciest scandal to hit Beaton since the blacksmith’s wife ran off with a drummer who’d come through town selling musical instruments two years ago, Lila thought cynically.

  “You’re welcome to stay for supper, if you’d like,” Susan said, making the obligatory gesture.

  “I wouldn’t wish to intrude,” he demurred, his eyes gleaming at the thought of a fine meal to
go with the additional information he was sure to gather.

  The thought of spending yet more time under the reverend’s avid gaze made Lila want to weep. Unconsciously she leaned more heavily into Bishop’s supporting hold, feeling as if she’d reached the end of her rope.

  “It wouldn’t be an intrusion,” Susan said in a tone that struggled to conceal her dismay.

  “Well, then...” The minister all but rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

  Bishop spoke up unexpectedly. “It’s been a long day and I think my wife is too tired to entertain guests.”

  Douglas, Susan, and Reverend Carpenter all gaped at him with varying degrees of surprise. It was hard to say what had surprised them most—the blatant arrogance of him rescinding Susan’s invitation or hearing him refer to Lila as his wife. He returned their looks calmly. Lila knew she should be offended by his presumption, but all she felt was gratitude.

  The minister’s face crumpled like a child denied a favorite piece of candy. “But—”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” Susan said, looking tom between annoyance at Bishop’s presumption and relief at the thought of getting rid of the minister. “It really has been a very long day, hasn’t it?”

  Lila nodded and forced herself to smile at the reverend. “Perhaps another time, Reverend,” she murmured, knowing it would never happen. No doubt Bishop planned to return West as soon as possible. It would take her a few days to pack, but then she’d be leaving her childhood home forever. She’d gladly have dined with the nosy minister if it meant that she didn’t have to leave. But since it wouldn’t change anything, it was a relief to see him go.

  ***

  An hour later, Lila was starting to wonder if it might have been a good idea for Reverend Carpenter to have stayed. Surely nothing could be worse than the taut atmosphere that reigned at dinner. Tense silence was the rule, broken by brief intervals of stiff conversation, initiated by Susan and participated in, with varying degrees of cooperation, by the other diners. Years of social training forced Lila to try to support the façade of normalcy her sister-in-law was attempting to maintain. But no amount of social grace could gloss over the incredible awkwardness of the situation.