Erin licked her lips. She felt the muscles of the arm she held tense and swiftly removed her hand. The fight seeped out of her as exhaustion swept over her. She glanced away from him, closing her eyes briefly, undecided about what to do.
The insidious thought that this meekness she displayed concealed a deeper fear slid into Mace’s mind and stayed. He knew he should give her some time; he wasn’t an insensitive man. At least he hadn’t been with Sky. But the tiny claws of desire were not retracting, they were stretching inside him, warning him to hurry and satisfy them or he’d have no peace.
Yet he found himself leading her away from the door, asking, “If you find me not to your liking—”
“I did not say that.”
“You don’t have a husband or irate father back in San Francisco that you forgot to tell me about, do you?”
Erin looked up at his face. “No, I don’t have anyone. I’m an orphan.”
Mace took note of the lack of emotion in her voice. A feeling of pity, which he somehow knew she would take exception to, rose in him but remained hidden. “I assume that you are old enough and free to marry?”
“I would not be here if that were not true, Mr. Dalton. But—” Helplessly, Erin glanced around the lobby again. The clerk had been joined by another man behind the desk. Two men were now engaged in an earnest discussion in one corner and a couple were coming down the stairs. She wished she could find the courage to tell him about her baby, but she couldn’t, not here. Not where others could see and hear his reaction. Not when she was unable to sense what that reaction would be.
“Well? If there’s nothing else, Miss Dunmore, let’s go.” Mace took the few steps to the door and yanked it open. “After you.” But before she moved, he added, “You didn’t lie to me about being able to cook, did you?”
“No, Mr. Dalton. I did not lie to you about my ability to cook, or clean, or sew, or work hard.”
“Good. Then we have nothing else to discuss.”
A tiny spark of temper flared and grew. Erin glared at him. The man had made it perfectly clear why he was marrying her. If she mattered so little to him as a woman, she would not care what surprises she had in store for him.
Erin sailed out of the door with her head high and her eyes sparking temper.
But the light of temper died immediately. She had to find some way to tell him about her child. Faced with the actual sight of Mace Dalton, not the vague image she had kept in mind, she knew this man had a great deal of pride. That certainty settled deeply inside her, although she didn’t know why. She was almost four and a half months along by her closest reckoning. Time seemed to have run out, and she didn’t know what to do.
Mace stood a moment, looking at the natural sway of her hips, and wondered if her little fanny was as tempting as the rest of her. He tried to remember his vow. He surely did try.
He followed her outside, knowing it was going to be a long, long night.
Chapter Four
Mace took hold of her arm and led her along Main Street. Erin felt the enormity of what she was about to do settle like a cold, hard lump in her stomach. Yet for every warning that whispered to her to back out now, she countered it with the knowledge that she had no where else to go.
She had twenty dollars left of the money he had sent to her. Taking the cheapest accommodations made her journey a hell. She had never given thought to having to pay for food. The greasy fare offered to travelers wasn’t expensive, but she couldn’t eat it.
Besides, she had a strong feeling that Mace Dalton would ask for his money back. Erin felt the strain of the silence between them and nervously began to ask him questions about Walla Walla. She hoped that he would reveal more about himself to make him less of a stranger.
Mace answered readily enough, telling her of the town’s beginning as a British fur trading fort called Fort Nez Percés, although this was the homeland of the Walla Walla and Cayuse Indians. Most white men still couldn’t tell the difference between the tribes. And few wanted to learn.
Erin freed her curiosity and looked wherever she could, listening to the deep, lazy drawl of his voice as he explained the growth the town enjoyed as mining, farming and ranching interests spread in the surrounding area.
She was reassured to learn the town supported six doctors, a surprising number, and that two of them practiced obstetrics. Maddie had warned her to look for such a physician, for she had in her blunt way expressed concern over Erin’s narrow hips and poor health. She would be pleased when Erin wrote to her and told her not to worry.
The town boasted two newspapers, Spirit of the West and the Walla Walla Statesman, along with two fire engine companies. Everything she saw spoke of a thriving community, and Erin felt hope bloom again that she would be a part of this.
Entertainment was not lacking, for Mace told her they had a theater group, skating parties and Grange dances along with church socials. Longing to attend each one filled her. She never learned to skate or dance. Erin had once attended the theater with Silas, but when she asked that they go again, he made excuses. Mace Dalton had not assured her they would be attending any of these offered entertainments, but she could hope for the future.
After a wagon and carriage passed, they crossed Third Street, and she noticed that Mace nodded to almost everyone. He made no attempt to introduce her, and Erin didn’t ask him why. She knew what she looked like and couldn’t blame him for being ashamed of her appearance.
There were two hotels beside the St. Louis, and Erin smiled when he told her the restaurant was called the San Francisco.
“I’ve made arrangements for us to have supper there this evening,” he stated.
“But how did you know—”
“I’ve had a standing reservation for a table for the past week.”
“That is kind of you, Mr. Dalton.”
“Not at all, Miss Dunmore. It is a respectable place to take a wife.”
Erin stared straight ahead and thought of how stilted and formal they sounded. Wishing wasn’t going to change it. She spotted the small post office as they walked up Second Street. “Would I have time to send off a letter before we leave for your ranch?”
“I thought you said you didn’t have anyone?” Mace realized he spoke quickly and harshly, too much so, for she glanced up at him with dismay. He stopped walking and gazed at her.
“As I told you, Mr. Dalton, I have no family. She is a dear friend, the only one I have, and I simply wish to write and let her know that I arrived safely. She was most concerned about my traveling alone.”
Mace searched each word, each inflection of her lilting voice for the reprimand he was so sure would be there. But there was none. He found himself forced to acknowledge her quiet dignity as she stood and awaited his response. He apologized, adding, “Of course, there will be time. I’ll make sure of it. And don’t refer to the Diamond Bar D as my ranch. It is to be your home, too.”
Erin’s lips formed a smile, a smile that was reflected in her eyes, making him catch his breath. Suddenly aware that he was standing in view of several pairs of curious eyes, Mace once again took her arm and began walking.
Erin kept her smile in place as she saw the City Book Store. She had taken the stern headmistress’s advice and did well with the little schooling the orphanage allowed her to have. She would dearly love to buy a book for her very own, but hesitated to ask him to stop now. It was embarrassing to need to ask him if she could spend the balance of his money on a book and small gifts for his children.
Fears that Walla Walla was a wild and rough town faded from her mind. Everything she saw led her to believe this was a thriving, civilized place. If only she could be as sure that Mace Dalton was civilized.
The Methodist Church was up ahead, next to the office and residence of a Dr. Simonton. A man hailed them from the front porch as they walked past.
“Glad I saw you, Mace,” he called out. “Save you the trouble of going to the church. He’s not there. Got called away almost two hours
ago. Stopped here and said to tell you he’s not sure when he’ll be back.”
Erin ignored the mutters that sounded suspiciously like swearing coming from Mace. He stopped, and she with him, as the man she assumed was the doctor came down the steps and walked across the front yard toward where they stood.
She greeted the news that the preacher was not waiting with a burst of fear. Was this an omen that she and Mace would not be married? Had the good Lord taken pity on her need to tell Mace about the baby first, and granted her time?
Mace dispelled the very idea. “Don’t worry, there’s still the J.P. at City Hall.”
“Oh,” Erin managed, missing his pointed look.
Mace counted himself lucky that no one he knew had stopped him to demand an introduction. Wil Simonton was not going to let him get away without one. “Miss Erin Dunmore, may I present Dr. Wilbur Simonton.”
“Wil to you, Miss Dunmore.”
“Then you must call me Erin,” she replied, smiling.
“Mace, I’ve called you this before, but you are a sly devil, ordering yourself the prettiest gal for a wife.” And to Erin, he said, “All the marriageable ladies having palpitations every time he came to town and spoke to them was good for my business. You’ve got yourself a prize catch here, young woman.”
“Don’t be filling her head with a lot of nonsense, Wil. Women aren’t falling over themselves to marry me and you know it.”
Erin wasn’t looking at the doctor. She watched Mace and found herself surprised to see a dull flush creep into his cheeks.
“Figure you’re in a hurry, Mace, marrying her right off the stage.”
“Stage?” Mace repeated.
“Ain’t you heard the river’s nearly two inches down? Can’t have river travel till the snows melt. With the weather warming like today to almost forty-five, we should have the snow melt soon and Hell’s Gate open.”
Mace glanced down at Erin. He hadn’t even bothered to ask her how she had arrived. Knowing that she had a rough stage trip behind her made him feel guilty for rushing her out. But he was still uncomfortably aroused by her, even if he damn well knew she had done nothing deliberate to cause it.
“I hope you will be happy, young woman,” Wil said, eyeing the delicate shadows beneath Erin’s eyes. “You take good care of her, Mace. We’ll expect you to bring her to the grand masquerade skating carnival at the end of the month. Folks’ll want to meet your bride once I tell them how pretty she is.”
“Won’t be back to town that soon,” Mace answered with an impatient note.
“I’m sure it would be lovely, but I don’t know how to skate,” Erin added, smiling to soften the rejection of his invitation. She knew by the shrewd look Wil Simonton sent her that she hadn’t fooled the portly, bewhiskered doctor.
“Tickets are only fifty cents, Mace. Free skates if you come in a mask. Your children might like it. Don’t get to see much of them.”
Mace had enough to contend with, feeling that the mask he wore was about to crack. All this while they stood, he noticed that Erin had a habit of licking her bottom lip. If she did it one more time, he was going to lean over and take the tip of that pink little tongue and pretend he was a kid with an all-day sucker.
“You both give it some thought. I’ve got patients to get back to. Welcome to our town, Miss Dunmore.”
“Thank you. You’re very kind.”
Mace once again took her arm and guided her up the street, across Main and into the City Hall. Jason Crawford, the Justice of the Peace, was in his office and more than pleased to perform the ceremony.
The stark office was not the place Erin had envisioned for her marriage. The dry, almost bored voice reading the vows for them to repeat made it all seem so cold. She truly felt as if she were merchandise ordered and paid for by the man who was promising to endow her with his worldly goods and care for her in sickness and in health. Erin was already attuned to the sound of his voice, and could not miss the pause, or the choked mumble he made of the word love. She began to tremble even as he recovered and spoke in a stronger tone that he would honor and cherish her.
This was wrong. She knew it. There was no way she could go through with this. But where could she go without money? Who would take care of her and her baby? She didn’t think Mace had noticed her trembling, but his hand covered hers, which was resting on his arm.
“Erin is tired from her trip, Jason. She’ll be all right now to finish.” When her gaze locked on his, he added, “Won’t you, Erin?”
The question was a warning for her not to embarrass him, and she took it. Erin didn’t think she had moisture enough in her mouth to repeat one word. But somehow she did, somehow the cold band of gold found its way onto her finger, and then Mr. Crawford was smiling, closing his book and urging Mace to kiss his bride.
He placed both hands on her upper arms and drew her toward him. Mace lowered his head, angling for a brief touch of his lips to hers, but he found himself staring into her wide green eyes, which darkened as he watched with a strange sensual curiosity. Once more his muscles clenched and he found himself wishing they were alone and that he was free to take that dusky rose shaded mouth the way he wanted to. Completely. Deep. Hard. Fast. The temptation to slide his tongue into that sweet mouth surprised, then angered him. He pressed his lips lightly against hers, intending to pull back.
Good intentions went to hell.
With a tiny rush of breath, Erin’s lips parted slightly. Her mouth softened with unconscious invitation as she felt the silky brush of his mustache, the warmth of his lips.
She could feel the hard lineup of their thighs, the crush of her belly and breasts against the unyielding hardness of his body. Her gaze seemed helplessly caught in his. The eyes she thought near black were dark brown splintered by flecks of gold. Every intake of breath brought her his scents, all richly masculine, so subtly layered she couldn’t distinguish them.
Erin’s breathing grew shallow. She didn’t understand why she wanted this kiss. His hands, moving gently in tiny circular motions, drew her closer. With a breath-catching languor, his mouth caressed hers, his dark lashes drifting closed. And her eyes closed, too, the beat of her heart hammering in her throat, in her head.
The delicate swirl of their mingled breaths, the generous giving of her mouth, made desire explode through Mace. For one wild moment he deepened the kiss, skimming the seam of her lips with his tongue, urging her to open for him. She was satin sweetness, yielding with innocence that both infuriated and tempted him
With a savage move he jerked his head back and stepped away from her.
Bewildered, Erin stared at him while he paid the justice. What had she done wrong? Her only experience was with Silas and he had never quite kissed her like that. But his had been a deliberate seduction. And she, whether out of need for love, her loneliness or whatever excuses she offered to herself, had given him what he wanted. But Mace Dalton seemed to want more. She had never felt the ache that this man, her lawfully wedded husband, stirred. As much as it excited her, Erin didn’t deny that it frightened her, too.
He was silent and abrupt, taking her arm and leading her to the hotel. Once up the stairs to his room, he opened the door, but remained in the hallway.
“You should have told me you’d come by stage. Learn to speak up, Miss Dunmore. I can’t pretend to be a fake and read your mind.”
Miss Dunmore? The name stung, coming from the lips of the man she had just promised to love, obey, honor and cherish. She could barely nod in acknowledgment.
“Well? Go inside. Your bag is there and I’ll have hot water sent up. When you’re done, come down to the lobby and I’ll take you to supper.”
“Yes, Mr. Dalton. Thank you kindly, Mr. Dalton. Your thoughtfulness and consideration are overwhelming, if not too late.” With that said, Erin stepped over the threshold and closed the door in his face.
It was going to be a long, long night.
Mace had thought so before and now knew it to be fact. He stare
d at the darker swirls of the knots in the wooden door, wishing he had never kissed her, wishing that the fierce elation that Erin Dunmore was as innocent as she was tempting would disappear.
Sliding his hands into his pants pockets, Mace rocked back on his heels. He was going to skin Ketch alive. She wasn’t at all what he wanted. This was no plain-faced, levelheaded sober woman of modest manner. She had a temper. She was pretty. Her lips were too soft, too giving. And he mustn’t forget that walk. Or that pink little tongue.
He could likely stand here all night and make a list of what was wrong with her. But he wouldn’t. It was too late. He had married her. Taken her to wife. And the guilt began beating on him. Sky had been dead for five years; why did he suddenly feel as if he had cheated on her?
With a loathing directed at himself, he spun around and left.
Erin sagged against the closed door. He was gone. Repent at leisure. Well, she had all the time in the world to repent her mistake. She had been too hasty to enter into this marriage. Mace Dalton wasn’t at all what she hoped for. He wasn’t a sober, kindly man at all. He was arrogant. And hurtful. He shouldn’t have kissed her as if she were fragile, courting her lips and body with subtle promises.
She mustn’t forget the sense of danger in him. And she knew, if she were not exhausted, that she could and would go on.
But there was tonight to get through and all the days to follow. Miss Dunmore, indeed. How could the man be so callous? If he had no regard for her feelings, what would he do when he learned she was going to have a baby?
It was the fierce protectiveness of her child that finally spurred Erin away from the door. Somehow she had to survive her mistake.
Time. That was all she needed. Time to show Mace Dalton that she would be a good mother to his children, a good housekeeper and an obedient wife.
Gifts of Love Page 5
