by Debra Cowan
He deepened their kiss. Molly rose on her toes and parted her lips, then gasped when he accepted her invitation. The world seemed to spin and she lost herself in his strength, in the heat he gave off. Adam groaned as he slid his hand up her waist and closed it over her breast. Molly sighed and pressed closer.
Then, just as suddenly, it ended. Adam pulled away. Cold air swirled between them. He held her at arm’s length, his breathing heavy, his desire for her obvious.
Molly gulped, bringing herself under control, as well. Good gracious, what had happened? How had she been so quickly caught up in this? What would she have done if Adam hadn’t had the strength to stop?
“I’ll walk you back home,” Adam said, his voice low.
She just nodded. She knew it was the right thing to do but—
Molly refused to allow herself to think further.
The cold breeze blew harder as they walked back to the rear of the Cottonwood. When they got to the door, neither spoke. Molly hurried inside without looking back, glad Aunt Libby and Carrie were nowhere in sight.
In her bedroom Molly lit the lantern on her bureau and gazed at her reflection in the mirror above her washstand.
Did she look any different for what she’d just done? She tilted her head to the left, then the right, and decided that she was the same on the outside.
But on the inside, things were very different.
A tiny glimmer of hope glowed inside her. It was something she’d never felt—not once.
Adam had said he didn’t like rigid social standards. He seemed unconcerned about the gossip that swept through town involving him. And after tonight in his workroom, Molly knew he felt something for her.
Could it be love? Could he want to be with her always? And if he did, would he still want that after she told him the truth of her past?
Molly ached with the hope that it could happen. She wrapped her arms around her middle as if to hold in the possibility, squeeze it until it became a reality.
She’d heard the talk around town about Adam’s family in Charleston. Wealthy, everyone had said. The closest to royalty or aristocracy possible on this side of the ocean.
If only she knew for sure.
Molly whirled around, realizing there was a way for her to know.
She found her handbag and pulled out the instructions Adam’s sister and mother had made for the wedding. Molly hurried to the lantern and held the pages close to the light. A lump rose in her throat as she read, then a single tear slid down her cheek and splashed onto the paper.
The wedding instructions held the demands of a wealthy, well-bred, highly respected bride from a very old, aristocratic family. Everything she’d heard about Adam’s family was true. All the rumors were right.
She’d never fit in. They would never want her in their midst.
Adam might accept her—at first—but his family never would. Eventually, he’d regret his decision. He’d resent her. He’d wish he’d never met her. And their children—
A sob tore from Molly’s throat. Her room seemed airless, confining. She yanked open the door and rushed into the kitchen, wanting nothing more than to get outside, find a dark corner in the alley and cry until her breaking heart wouldn’t give up another tear.
But she spotted Aunt Libby seated at the little table in the corner of the kitchen. A single lantern burned on the wall. She hadn’t seen her there when she’d come in earlier.
Molly forced down her tears, unwilling to share her thoughts with her aunt. She couldn’t possibly tell anyone, not even Aunt Libby, how foolish she’d been to think that she might have had a future with Adam. A home of her own, a man of consequence who loved and respected her, children whose future would be bright and free from the mistakes her own mother had made.
Odd that Aunt Libby hadn’t called out to her, Molly realized. Then she heard soft sniffles and realized her aunt was crying.
Molly hurried over, her own troubles set aside. She’d never seen Aunt Libby upset—never. Something truly awful must have happened.
“Aunt Libby?” she asked softly as she approached the table.
Libby looked up as if just realizing Molly was in the room, and touched the corners of her eyes with the handkerchief she clutched.
“What’s wrong?” Molly asked, easing into the chair beside her.
A few moments passed in silence. Finally, Aunt Libby drew a big breath. “Your Uncle Roy…”
Molly gasped. “Is he all right?”
She patted Molly’s hand. “He’s well.”
Silence stretched between them again.
“Then what’s wrong?” Molly asked.
“Your uncle has made a decision,” her aunt said. “I don’t agree with it, but there’s nothing I can do.”
Molly recalled how Carrie had overheard them fighting. A dozen worrisome thoughts flashed in her head.
“What is it?” Molly asked.
With another heavy sigh, Aunt Libby said, “Roy has decided to sell the Cottonwood. He doesn’t want to live in Spindler anymore.”
Molly’s eyes widened. “But—how—”
“Don’t worry,” her aunt said softly. “Your uncle made a promise to your grandmother that he would take care of you. He’s a man of his word, as I’m sure you already know. As soon as a buyer can be found, we’re heading for California, Molly. And you’re coming with us.”
Chapter Nine
A beautiful bride. A handsome groom. Friends and family filling the church.
Molly looked on from the back pew as Constance exchanged vows with Harry Burnette. The dress Olive had made for Constance fell in graceful folds of white lace. Harry looked dashing in a black suit. Candles lit the church, casting the congregation, the wedding couple and Reverend Holcomb in warm shadows.
Constance, her mother and her sisters had done most of the wedding preparations. Molly had suggested and ordered the candles and flowers, and had helped with a few other things. The wedding celebration would be held at the home of Constance’s parents. Molly was glad for that.
Without wanting to, her gaze swept the congregation. Adam. Was he here?
Annoyed with herself, Molly focused her attention on the bridal couple at the altar. She’d looked for Adam in the church too many times already.
For the past week she’d avoided him. She’d stayed in the Cottonwood taking care of things that required her attention, including overseeing the details of Adam’s sister’s wedding to Travis. The family had arrived in town but she hadn’t met them yet. When Adam had come to the hotel and asked for her, Aunt Libby had told him Molly wasn’t receiving visitors, as she’d asked her aunt to do.
At the front of the church, Reverend Holcomb pronounced Constance and Harry man and wife. The couple looked into each other’s eyes with sheer joy. Harry leaned down and gave his bride a chaste kiss on the lips. Then, arm in arm, they walked back down the aisle. Molly didn’t remember when she’d seen a more radiant bride—or when she’d felt so miserable at the sight.
The family, then the congregation followed the couple out of the church with gentle laughter and calls of good wishes. Molly remained in the pew as others rose around her. She was supposed to go to the wedding celebration. It was expected. But she didn’t know how she could continue to feign happiness, when her own heart was breaking.
The news that Uncle Roy was selling the Cottonwood Hotel had spread through Spindler in less than a day’s time. Everyone had understood why he was selling out: her uncle had made no secret of his dislike for the recent changes in the town.
But would Molly go, too?
She remained in the pew watching as friends and neighbors filed past and out of the church. Almost everyone smiled or nodded at her. She’d gotten to know so many people since arriving in Spindler. What a wonderful feeling to be accepted by them. She didn’t want to leave them behind.
She didn’t want to leave Adam.
Molly pushed to her feet, forbidding herself to think of him again. She’d already spent lo
ng days and sleepless night trying to do just that.
True, they were partners now. He’d promised to build the social hall for her to run. It was her best—her only—opportunity to have the future she craved.
But what would it be worth if, one day, she had to stand by and watch him wed some other woman, as he surely would?
Molly dropped onto the pew again, the notion robbing her of her strength. The church was empty now. Reverend Holcomb’s wife had extinguished the candles. Miss Marshall had closed the piano lid, gathered her sheet music and left. In the silence, Molly shut her eyes and said a quick prayer that the answer be revealed to her.
She opened her eyes and pulled herself to her feet. Somehow, she’d have to make it through the wedding celebration. Gathering her shawl around her shoulders, she turned and saw Adam leaning against the door frame.
Her heart lurched. It pounded hard in her chest, then rose into her throat and hung there. For an instant she was overwhelmed with the need to rush to him, throw herself into his arms, hold him forever.
But Adam didn’t look so happy to see her. His jaw was set, his lips pressed into a thin line and his brows were drawn together. Molly imagined he’d frightened more than one grown man with that look. But she wasn’t frightened. Instead, she was drawn to him as never before.
“You owe me an explanation,” he told her. Before she could respond, he said, “I’ve been to the hotel to see you, but your aunt claimed you weren’t receiving callers. I’m not a caller, Molly. I’m your partner.”
Something about the way he said the words made her heart beat a little faster.
“You owe me an explanation,” Adam said again. “And I want it now.”
Just then Reverend Holcomb stuck his head inside the church. “I need to lock up,” he said.
“We’re just leaving,” Adam said. He took Molly’s arm and led her outside. The wedding guests milled around under the tall trees in the churchyard in the closing darkness as others headed toward the bride’s parents’ home on the edge of town.
“I’m supposed to go to the party,” Molly said.
“You’ll be late,” Adam told her.
With his arm still hooked through hers, he led the way through town. Businesses were closed for the night; few people were on the streets on a Saturday evening, except for cowboys heading for the Lucky Strike.
They headed down the alley beside the bank. At the stairs leading up to Adam’s room, Molly hesitated. It wasn’t right for her to go to his place unescorted. It could ruin her reputation. She’d been lucky no one had seen her when she’d gone there before.
“I shouldn’t,” she said.
“We had a deal,” he told her. “I need to know if you intend to hold up your end.”
So, it was all business with him. Molly felt foolish, thinking otherwise.
He took her elbow and they climbed the wooden steps to his place. Inside, he took off his hat and closed the door. Molly drew her shawl closer around her, suddenly chilled by the breeze that blew in through the windows.
“I know your mother and sister and all her friends got here two nights ago,” Molly said. Even though she’d kept herself isolated at the Cottonwood, the news had reached her no sooner than their trunks were unloaded from the baggage car. “I sent them a note, explaining everything was ready. The wedding decorations they brought with them were beautiful. I’ll have them in place in plenty of time for the ceremony on—”
“I don’t give a damn about the wedding,” Adam told her. He stepped closer, crowding her. “I want to know about you.”
“You heard about Uncle Roy selling the hotel,” Molly said. She drifted away, unable to meet his gaze. “I should have come to you and discussed it. That was wrong of me.”
“Are you walking out on our partnership?” Adam asked. “Are you leaving?”
A fresh wave of pain sliced through Molly as visions of Constance and Harry’s wedding flashed through her head. She’d seen the love they shared and her heart had ached with envy. How wonderful it would be to marry, to have that someone special to confide in, to turn to, to share her life with. For a few brief moments over the past weeks she’d allowed herself to think she might have that with Adam. But she’d been foolish to imagine that sort of future for herself, considering her past.
“I suppose so,” Molly said. The words came out in a strained whisper.
Adam stared down at her. She couldn’t read his expression, didn’t know if he was angry or disappointed with her.
“I can’t stay in Spindler without my aunt and uncle,” she told him, reciting all the reasons that had gone through her mind since her aunt had told her of Uncle Roy’s decision. As she spoke the words, the ache in her chest grew. “It wouldn’t be right. I’d have no place to live. I’d have no money. I’d—”
“Marry me.”
His words shocked her. She didn’t understand them, couldn’t imagine why he’d spoken them.
Then she knew. “You needn’t worry about your sister’s wedding. Uncle Roy doesn’t even have a buyer for the hotel yet, so I’ll be here to take care of the ceremony and the party at the Cottonwood.”
Adam crossed the room in two long strides. He laid his hands on Molly’s shoulders. “I didn’t ask because I’m worried about the wedding—or our partnership on the social hall. I asked because I want you to marry me.”
Molly’s emotions rose, sending a tingle through her. How she’d longed to hear those words from Adam. How she’d wanted to hear them—and to say yes.
But she couldn’t. She couldn’t marry him.
Tears pooled in her eyes. “No,” she said.
Adam tightened his grip on her shoulders. “Why?” he demanded.
She shook her head. “I—I can’t.”
“Then tell me why,” he insisted.
“I—” The pain that stabbed at her heart cut off her words.
“You’re keeping something from me, Molly,” Adam said. “Tell me what it is. Let me help you.”
“No!” The word burst from her lips. Molly dashed for the door. She had to leave, had to get away. The pain was too much.
Adam caught her arm and pulled her into his embrace. She struggled to find words to explain, something that would satisfy his questions so he’d let her leave. But he asked nothing. Instead, he covered her mouth with his and pulled her tight against him.
Molly melted into him. His strength, his warmth held her there, and she knew there was no other place she’d rather be. Adam deepened their kiss. His hands circled her waist and pulled her even closer.
For so long, she’d looked toward a solitary future. She’d known it would be that way. She could never have this.
But what sort of life would that be? One without Adam. At that instant, Molly couldn’t bear the thought.
Adam spread kisses over her cheek, then down to her neck. His hand rose to caress her breast. He pressed against her and she gasped at the feel of his desire for her.
“I love you. I want to marry you,” he breathed against her neck. He lifted his face and looked into her eyes. “If you don’t feel the same, just tell me now.”
Molly knew what her future held. She knew, too, what this moment meant. This, surely, would be her only opportunity to know Adam. In a matter of days, she’d likely be gone, off to California with her aunt and uncle, never to see him again.
She wouldn’t let this moment pass her by.
Molly draped her arms around Adam’s neck and kissed his lips. He groaned, then lifted her into his arms and carried her to his bed in the corner. Adam laid her down and sat next to her. He threaded his fingers through her hair, then lowered his head and placed another kiss on her mouth. His lips trailed down her cheek.
Molly gasped and stroked his hair. She touched his arms, his chest. The heat he gave off warmed her palms. Adam rose from the bed and pulled off his clothes. He tossed them aside and stretched out beside her.
He kissed her as he unbuttoned her dress and slid his hand inside. Moll
y moaned when his fingers brushed her breast, then gasped with pleasure as his lips followed. He made quick work of her dress, petticoats, corset, shoes and drawers. Molly let him, feeling no shame.
Adam lifted himself above her and slid between her thighs. He kissed her tenderly as he made a place for himself inside her. Slowly he moved with her. She caught his rhythm and moved with him, unable to resist. She wrapped her arms around him and yanked at his hair as pleasure broke within her over and over. Adam called out her name, and he followed her until he was spent.
Molly woke with a start. It was dark, save for a lantern burning low beside the door. Steady breathing broke the silence. She glanced beside her and saw Adam sleeping soundly.
The warm afterglow of their lovemaking enveloped her. She’d never imagined an act so intimate could exist, could make her feel so wanted and accepted. Adam must really love her. He must really want to marry her.
Tears pooled in Molly’s eyes as she clutched the quilt against her bare breasts. She could marry him. She could have a future—a real future with a home and babies, lots of babies—
Babies?
Horrified, Molly sat straight up in bed. Oh, heavens, what had she done? What had she been thinking? To give herself to Adam, to revel in the joy of their union and run the risk of conceiving a child?
Visions of her own life bombarded her thoughts. Out of wedlock. Illegitimate. Unworthy. Unaccepted.
Molly pressed her palm to her lips to keep from crying out. What if, at this very moment, she was pregnant? Had she just condemned another child—her child—to suffer as she had?
She threw off the covers and dashed around the room, pulling on her clothes, praying Adam wouldn’t wake. He didn’t. As soon as she was decent, she ran from the room all the way to the Cottonwood Hotel. Safe in her bed, Molly cried into her pillow.
Chapter Ten
The first rays of morning light filtered through Molly’s bedroom window, rousing her from her bed. She dragged herself to the washstand and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were red and puffy from all the tears she’d cried, but she couldn’t bear to look any further. Not after what she’d done.
