by Amy Sandas
“I had some travel issues that caused a bit of a delay.”
“I’d say that’s an understatement, my dear,” he admonished. “We’ve been wondering what happened to you.”
We?
She wanted to ask who else had been worried about her, but couldn’t quite form the question.
And then she didn’t have to as a woman came out onto the porch. A beautiful woman with bright-green eyes and pale-blond hair, wearing as elegant a dress as any Alexandra had ever seen this far west. It must have been ordered straight from New York.
“Who is it, dear?” the woman asked before her eyes widened and she answered her own question. “Goodness me, is that Alexandra?”
Randolph’s expression shifted as a blush pinkened his cheeks. This pretty woman was obviously the mother of the two children who had greeted them and, by all appearances, was also very likely her father’s wife.
No wonder he hadn’t asked her to come home. He’d gotten himself a whole new family.
Pain washed through Alexandra, and her chest got so tight she could barely breathe. Her homecoming was more devastating than she could have imagined. But in the next second, she realized it was about to get even worse as someone else stepped from the house to join the blond woman.
Alexandra shifted her gaze to the newcomer, and her stomach performed a plunging dive as she noted the calmly concerned expression of Mr. Peter Shaw, her still-fiancé.
Thirty-Seven
This couldn’t be happening.
“Alexandra?” Peter’s polished features shifted just slightly into a look of mild astonishment. “Could that possibly be you?”
Alexandra braced herself. What is Peter doing in Montana?
But of course, he’d come to fetch his bride. He would see it as his duty. In his mind, they were still connected, intended for each other, even though she had not thought of him as such for weeks.
She felt sick. She hadn’t even told Malcolm about him. What would he think of Peter’s presence?
“Hello, Peter. I did not expect to find you here.”
“But of course I would come. When your aunt—who is quite upset, by the way—notified me of your rather reckless departure, I purchased a ticket straightaway.” His tone was one of affront. “We have all been extremely worried for your safety. I do not understand what could have prompted such behavior.”
“I am sure the reasons will be revealed,” the blond woman said with a gracious smile as she stepped down from the porch to approach Alexandra and her father. “The main issue, I believe, is that she has finally made it to us safe and sound.”
Alexandra glanced to her father, then at the beautiful woman who had come up to stand beside him with her arm linked through his. Her gaze flickered over the two attractive children who stood a few steps back, watching the scene with open curiosity.
Then back to Peter, still standing on the porch.
“I am sorry that my impetuous decision to come…home caused so much worry.” She hated the telling hesitation in her voice. “It was something I needed to do.”
“I think it’s fair to say that you could have gone about it in a different way, darling,” Peter declared. Though his tone was relatively gentle, Alexandra couldn’t help but feel resentful of his proprietary manner, as though he had some right to an opinion over her behavior.
But of course he did. Or at least he thought he did.
She’d have to break the engagement in person now. And the sooner the better.
Alexandra struggled to find a proper response to Peter’s condescending comment. But it seemed he wasn’t finished. “And who exactly are you?” Peter asked, having turned his attention to Malcolm.
Everyone’s gaze shifted to where Malcolm stood a few paces back, holding the reins of their horses. He’d dismounted after Randolph had come outside and remained slightly off to the side, watching the scene with his typical dark expression.
Alexandra’s heart stopped.
Malcolm was staring at Peter with a glint of steel in his eyes. Peter’s tone was of one accustomed to getting immediate response to any inquiry, but Malcolm said nothing, just stared silently back at him until everyone grew uncomfortable.
“Why don’t we take this discussion inside?” the blond woman suggested. “I imagine Alexandra would like to freshen up after her journey. I will see her to a room, and we can all gather again in the parlor in about an hour. Is that acceptable?”
She had stepped away from Randolph when she’d started speaking and linked her arm through Alexandra’s. By the time the woman got around to the final question, she nearly had Alexandra through the door and into the house.
There was only a moment to glance back over her shoulder at Malcolm, still standing with their horses, still glaring at Peter, before the door swung shut, blocking her view from everyone else outside.
The blond woman released an audible sigh and gave a side-tossed smile. “Now, that’s better, I’d say. I think the men can manage sorting through the rest without us, don’t you?”
“Has my father been very worried?” Alexandra asked. She felt compelled to go back outside, as though she needed to be there to protect Malcolm.
From what?
The truth of her involvement with Peter? Her father?
Or maybe she was just afraid to leave his side in case he decided to leave her.
The other woman gave a laugh. “From the moment he received the telegram from your aunt, he has been beside himself with excitement. Even when Mr. Shaw arrived ahead of you and we suspected that something had gone wrong in your travels, your father maintained the steadfast belief that you would be all right.”
Alexandra—her thoughts still twisting in the whirlwind that had kicked up since she’d arrived at her father’s new home—didn’t reply, though it warmed her to know that her father had had such confidence in her.
The woman didn’t seem concerned by the lack of response as she walked them through the elaborate foyer, past what appeared to be the parlor on the right and perhaps a library to the left, onward to where a lovely carved staircase led up to the second floor.
“I had the blue bedroom readied for you some time ago,” she was saying. “I do think it will suit you wonderfully. Then your companion, Mr.…” She paused for Alexandra to fill in the blank.
“Kincaid. Malcolm Kincaid. He was my escort.”
“Kincaid?” The woman stopped to look at Alexandra in surprise before she continued. “Well, I will settle Mr. Kincaid in the green bedroom on the main floor. I think that would be best.”
“I don’t know if he will be staying long enough to need a room.” Saying the words out loud had a crushing effect, and there was nothing she could do about it.
The second-floor hallway was wide and thickly carpeted. The blue bedroom turned out to be the last one at the end of the hall. The room itself was lovely. Decorated in a robin’s-egg blue flowered wallpaper with white lace curtains and a white, lace-trimmed bed covering, it felt homey and elegant at the same time. A mixture of country charm and city finery, with south-facing windows letting in a stream of cheerful sunlight.
“Will this room suit you, dear? I can have a bath brought up right away if you’d like.”
Alexandra gave a nod. “Yes, thank you.” She paused, then plunged forward. “If I may ask, who are you exactly?”
The woman’s green eyes widened before she tipped her head curiously. “I’m Sarah, of course.”
When Alexandra lifted a brow, the woman’s expression fell, and her lips formed into a downward curve. Alexandra suddenly regretted being so forward. She should have waited to ask her father.
“I am Sarah,” the other woman said again, “your father’s wife.”
Though it was exactly what she had suspected, having it stated outright somehow twisted the sense of betrayal a bit deeper.
; “Your father didn’t tell you about me and the children, did he?” Sarah asked.
Alexandra shook her head. “I do not recall that news in any of the letters I received.”
“I’m sure he meant to. Or perhaps the letter got lost,” Sarah suggested, but they both knew that wasn’t the case. “I’ll have a bath brought up. Your aunt sent some of your things along with Mr. Shaw. Apparently, she was worried you wouldn’t have proper attire. You will find them in the wardrobe and bureau. Please let me know if there is anything else I can do to help you settle in.”
Alexandra could only manage a soft, muttered, “Thank you.”
Before Sarah left the room, she added one last thing. “We are all very happy you made it home safely.”
Alexandra nodded. As soon as the door closed, the tears started to come. She sat heavily on the bed, her legs no longer able to support her.
This homecoming was not at all what she’d expected. Her father, though obviously happy to see her, seemed nearly the stranger she had expected him to be. A stranger with a whole new family. A new life that he had intentionally kept her out of.
Why?
Why would he do that?
Anger and pain felt like crushing fists battering against her heart and lungs. The sobs she wanted to release were caught behind the tightness of her throat, and all she could do was gasp for breath as silent tears fell one after the other.
She felt lost and insignificant.
Then she thought of Malcolm and what he’d said to her on the ridge. She needed to remember all that she had learned about herself on this journey. She was not a child anymore. She would not shy away from her purpose in fear of what might be revealed.
Maybe this wasn’t exactly the homecoming she’d wanted. But it didn’t change who she was or what she wanted. Her past still had to be resolved. The present—her father’s life—was what it was. But her future…
Oh God, Malcolm.
What could he be thinking right now? She needed to talk to him, explain about Peter.
Her heart squeezed tight with regret. She wished she could rewind the clock to when they’d been together in the cabin. She’d beg him to stay there with her in that safe, secluded valley forever.
But the world beyond would always exist. Malcolm would never be free until he found justice for his brother.
A knock on the door signaled the arrival of her bath.
Alexandra stood and wiped the moisture from her cheeks. She’d indulged long enough in her unexpected disappointment and loss.
She had come here to face her past and clarify her future. So that’s what she’d do. Malcolm believed her to be brave and strong. Certainly, she could get through this. She’d ask her father the questions she needed answered.
And then she’d be free to move forward in whatever manner she decided for herself.
* * *
Malcolm didn’t like the one Alex had called Peter. And he didn’t care if everyone knew it.
He didn’t like the way the fine young man had taken one look at Alex and wrinkled his nose as though he’d walked into a horse stall that hadn’t been cleaned in a week. He didn’t like the cold condescension in his eyes. And he sure as hell didn’t like the tone in the man’s voice when he’d taken it upon himself to admonish Alex like she was a child.
As soon as the two women stepped into the house, Alex’s father approached Malcolm with his hand outstretched. “Randolph Brighton,” he said with a smile before he gestured toward the man on the porch. “And this gentleman is Mr. Peter Shaw.”
Malcolm took the older man’s hand and gave a nod, ignoring Mr. Shaw altogether. “Malcolm Kincaid.”
Brighton’s thick brows lifted. “The bounty hunter?”
Malcolm lowered his chin in acknowledgment.
“How did you come to be escorting my daughter, Mr. Kincaid?”
There didn’t seem to be any animosity in the question, just genuine curiosity. “She ran into me down in Wyoming Territory and hired me on as her guide.” He decided there was no need to bring up the part about her starting off with Lassiter.
“Interesting,” the older man said thoughtfully.
“And where was it exactly that Miss Brighton found you?” Mr. Shaw asked.
Malcolm answered truthfully. “In a saloon.”
The other man’s eyes narrowed, and his mouth pressed into a line. “Miss Brighton would not dare to step foot in such a place.”
Malcolm lowered his chin but maintained eye contact with the stiff-jawed gentleman. “She’s dared that and more.”
Rigid anger stiffened Shaw’s entire body, though his voice was fiercely controlled as he replied, “What are you insinuating?”
“Nothing,” Malcolm said. “But there aren’t many who’d make it through what she did without a proper dose of courage and determination.”
There was a long pause before Shaw replied, “Then I am certain she will be relieved to be back within the circle of her family.”
Malcolm’s jaw clenched. Who the hell was this man to Alex?
Randolph Brighton chose that moment to interject. “And we are thrilled that she made it here safely.” He turned to Mr. Shaw. “I’m just going to assist Mr. Kincaid in seeing to the horses. As Sarah suggested, we can reconvene in the parlor shortly.”
Shaw hesitated a moment, his gaze sliding from Mr. Brighton to Malcolm. Then he gave a graceful tip of his head before he turned and reentered the house.
“Right, then”—Brighton flashed a smile—“this way to the barn.”
Malcolm followed Alexandra’s father with his gut clenched against the urge to glance over at the windows of the house, knowing Alex was in one of those rooms. He’d see Sibyl settled and give Deuce some water and grain, then he’d be on his way.
What was the point in one last look at her? If he took that, he’d probably end up wanting more. Then he’d have an even harder time riding out of there.
And he would ride out. As soon as possible. He had to.
He didn’t get too far before his way was blocked by the boy who had first greeted them. He was looking at Malcolm with an expression that crossed between wonder and wariness. “Are you really Malcolm Kincaid, the bounty hunter?”
“Yep.”
“Did you really corner Marcus Taller and his gang outside Cheyenne four years ago?”
Malcolm arched a brow. “Yep.”
The boy lifted his chin—a chin that betrayed a barely perceptible quiver—and stuck out his hand. “Can I shake your hand, please, sir? Marcus Taller’s gang killed my pa during one of their bank robberies. I can’t say how grateful I am that you brought him to justice in the manner you did.”
Malcolm stared at the boy a moment before he shook his hand. “You’re welcome.”
“Thank you, Mr. Kincaid,” the boy’s sister added as she came up beside her brother and thrust her hand forward in the same manner. She wore a fierce frown, obviously trying to mimic her brother’s stern expression, but her impishness couldn’t be completely disguised.
Malcolm smiled at her as he took her small hand in his. “My pleasure, miss.”
She smiled brightly as a blush pinkened her cheeks. “Are you going to stay with us for a while?” she asked with a coy tip of her head.
“It’d be great if you would,” the boy added.
“I’ll add my voice to that invitation,” Randolph said. “Children, why don’t you two run along to see if your mother needs any help with anything?”
Though they both gave groans of dismay, they did as Brighton asked and trotted off toward the house.
“I need to be moving on,” Malcolm said in reply to the man’s invitation.
“Nonsense. You’ve obviously been on the trail for some time. Have a full night’s rest, some savory home cooking. It does a man good now and then,” he said with a wide s
mile.
Malcolm hesitated.
The sooner he left, the better. Alex was safe and secure with her people, and he still had a killer to face. But when he recalled the look of shock and hurt that’d crossed her face at the realization of her father’s new circumstances, Malcolm knew he couldn’t walk away without ensuring she would be all right.
He wondered if Brighton understood the pain he’d caused his daughter. Not just today, but in the years since he’d sent her east. For all that he’d seen so far, the man was very happy to have her back. But it was just as obvious to Malcolm that Alex hadn’t slid back into her father’s life with as much ease as she may have hoped she would.
Brighton caught his eye and gave a jerk of his head toward the barn. “Come on. Let’s get these horses settled so you can come inside and clean up. Sarah’s already getting a room ready for you, and I’m sure she’ll be pleased to see the trail dust washed away before we all settle in the parlor.”
“That sounds like a family gathering. I’m sure there’s no reason for me to be there.”
“Oh, I think there might be a reason, Mr. Kincaid,” Brighton replied as they stepped into the hay-scented barn.
Thirty-Eight
Alexandra was washed and dressed in just over half the time she was given. That suited her fine, because she intended to speak with Peter before any more time passed.
While she’d soaked in the deep tub that had been brought up to her room, she’d sorted through the muddle of thoughts that had been spinning through her head since she’d ridden up to her father’s door.
First things first, she needed to be up front and honest with Peter. She couldn’t have him thinking and behaving as though she belonged to him.
She didn’t. And she never would.
As difficult as that confrontation was likely to be, Alexandra knew it was going to be the easiest part. Because next, she intended to track down her father. She did not want to have some big family discussion with everyone gathered together in the parlor as she tried to understand why he’d never bothered to tell her about Sarah and the children, why he’d never let her come home.
