The barn was crowded and noisy and a bit warm. A headache fingered up the back of her neck and she asked Seth if they could sit the next one out. Before they could get through the crowds to reach the punch table, however, she saw Sadie and Wade heading toward her with a slightly green-faced Jarrod in tow. "Sadie, Wade, are you leaving?"
"Jarrod's feeling a little puny,"—Sadie sent him a peeved look—"I wonder why... so we're takin' him home. I'm sorry we'll have to miss the end of the shindig, darlin'."
"That's all right," Mariah told her. "I'll see you tomorrow. I hope you feel better, Jarrod."
With a hand clutched to his belly, the boy gave a halfhearted groan in reply. They said their goodbyes and she and Seth headed for the punch bowl. Her eyes went wide at the sight of Jesse Winslow standing near the door.
"Jesse!"
His grin faded as his eyes found her. He surveyed her kindly, down the length of her new gown and back up to her face. "Mariah. You look... well, you look... wonderful."
She felt her cheeks grow warm and she smiled back, feeling at ease for the first time all evening. Her gaze took in the bruise that was healing on his cheek, reminding her of that night by the Wolf River. Putting the thought out of her mind, she spread her full skirt wide with her hands. "Not exactly denims and rope belts?"
He took her hand and kissed it gallantly. "Dear lady, like a flower in a field of stones, your beauty needs no ornamentation."
Embarrassed, she laughed. "Why Jesse, I never knew you to be poetic. What a lovely thing to say."
"Yes, lovely," Seth commented dryly, standing beside her with a possessive smile.
"Seth told me you were back," she said, squeezing Jesse's hand. "I'm so glad you came tonight."
"I only came for a few minutes. I just wanted to wish you my best."
His sky-blue eyes bore into hers and she sensed he knew more than he was saying. Of course he did. He'd seen her with Creed in the mountains.
"Dance with me, Mariah? You won't mind missing one dance, will you, Seth?"
Seth grinned and raised a speculative eyebrow. "Should I trust a man who plies my woman with poetry?"
Jesse's sun-tanned cheek dimpled appealingly as he took her hand and pulled her toward the dance floor. "Never."
* * *
Creed stood near the wide double-hung doors of the barn. He ran a finger beneath his choker and straightened the fringe on his buckskin traveling shirt. The hallway was warm with body heat and he was glad he'd left his capote back in the room. He found himself wishing he'd stayed there with it.
He'd made his decision after seeing Mariah in the afternoon. He was leaving. Tonight. It was only a matter of time before more than simple words passed between them. A deep breath filled his chest. They'd been only inches from disaster today.
The memory tightened his gut and sent fresh pain shooting across his chest. He'd wanted to kiss her. God help him, he almost had. He could still feel her breath, warm against his face, and smell the sweetness of her hair. It had almost killed him to tell her to forget him, but it was the only thing to do. As long as she held out any hope for them, she could never get on with her life.
It was a relief, really. Now that the decision was made, he had some semblance of peace. He would go, she would stay, and perhaps they would be happy. Despite what she thought she felt for him, he knew in time she would reclaim her feelings for Seth. Yes, they'd be happy together. Seth would make sure of it.
Ruthlessly, Creed ignored the voice that told him it would never be so.
His gaze scanned the crowd, unconsciously searching for her cinnamon-colored hair, but if she was there, the crowd swallowed her up. Just as well. The plan was to speak to Seth and get out. Creed had already paid Hasty for boarding Buck. All he had to do was saddle up and go back to The Exchange for his things.
He headed toward the clutch of men standing near the punch bowl. Seth intercepted him on the way.
"Hey, Creed!" Seth elbowed his way through the noisy crowd, holding a cup of Haymaker's in his hand. "Where the hell have you been, partner? I almost thought you weren't going to show."
Creed didn't smile. "Seth, I need to talk to you."
Seth eyed him with a speculative frown. "Sure. You want some of this punch first? It's got quite a kick."
Creed shook his head and scanned the dancers. "Where's Mariah?"
Seth frowned. "Dancing with Jesse Winslow. Why?"
"Look... I came to tell you I have to leave town."
"Leave? What do you mean? Before the wedding?"
"Yeah. Something's come up."
Disappointment and anger tightened Seth's jaw. "Something?"
"LaRousse."
"I thought... you've heard from him?"
"Oui, in a circular way. I've kept it from you because I didn't want you to worry—"
"About what?"
"Mariah."
Seth staggered back a step and his punch sloshed onto his shirt. "What the hell are you talking about, Creed?"
Creed told him about the note and his reasons for wanting to keep the whole thing quiet. "But it's been five days, and nothing. I think the bastard's waiting. It's me he wants. If I stay here any longer, I'm only putting Mariah in danger. I'm riding out tonight. I'm going to find him and end it between us."
"Are you crazy? You're putting yourself in the thick of it by leaving town. How can you know where he is? He could be out there just waiting for you to do something like this."
Creed looked at the floor. "Sheriff Fox got word that LaRousse had been spotted up at Cottonwood Ranch," Creed lied, referring to the infamous hangout to gamblers and thieves not twenty miles from Virginia. "I'm heading there."
Seth's eyes narrowed. "You heard this today? Fox is up in Deer Lodge on official business. Has been for the past two days."
A silent curse tore through him. He should have known better than to try to lie. Seth could read him like a book. "His deputy told me. Maudit, Seth, what does it matter how I found out?"
"You should let Fox handle it," Seth replied flatly. "It's his job."
Creed's eyes darkened. "No," he growled and thumbed toward his chest. "I'm going to kill the son of a bitch or he's going to kill me. Either way, c'est finie. It's over."
Seth shook his head at a loss for words. Finally, he said, "Then I'm going with you."
"Merde, you are more a fool than I thought."
Seth rankled at that and Creed put a hand on his arm. "Stay. Stay here with Mariah. She needs you, mon ami. You have a future together. I have... nothing to lose. I have to do this. Alone."
Seth plunged his fingers into his hair. "Have you told Mariah?"
Creed shrugged and glanced around them. "Tell her for me, will you? After I'm gone. I don't want to spoil the evening for her. And keep her close, Seth. Don't let her out of your sight, oui?" He held out his hand and Seth took it grimly. Like a punch, Seth's touch traveled up his arm and nearly made Creed wince. He swallowed hard and looked his old friend in the eye. "You're a lucky man, Seth. I wish you all the best."
Seth regarded Creed for a long moment. He felt as far from truly understanding what drove the man as he ever had. Creed was an enigma, like a wandering rogue wolf.
They were friends. To death they would be friends. It pained him to think it would come to that. But Creed was driven by guilt even Seth didn't fully understand.
"Au reuoir, mon ami," Creed squeezed Seth's hand in parting.
"Au revoir, mon frère." Seth watched him turn and melt into the crowd. Walking to the punch table, Seth poured himself a generous cupful of the rum-spiked punch and tossed it down his throat, trying, without success, to dispel the uneasy sadness that had settled in his chest.
* * *
"Will you go home then?" Mariah asked Jesse after he told her about the letter. So many had lost so much in that War, she reflected, and coming West didn't seem to be much of an escape.
Jesse looked thoughtful as he spun her across the dance floor to the strains of "In the Sweet
By and By." He released a long sigh. "For a while. Maybe it's time they gave up the farm, since they have no one to follow after them. With Zach gone there'll be no grandchildren to inherit the land."
"You may have children one day," she suggested gently.
"Me?" He shrugged. "I'm not the marrying type. My brother was the settling down kind. I like being rootless."
Mariah looked up at him with a sad smile. "That sounds familiar."
He nearly smiled. "You mean Creed?"
She almost denied it, but finally, she nodded.
"I guess you know he's leaving," he said, as his fingers tightened around hers.
She nodded. "After the wedding."
Jesse looked down at her. "He didn't tell you?"
Her step faltered. "Tell me what?" she asked. Her pulse accelerated as a prickle of warning ran up her back.
He nodded toward the other side of the room and she caught sight of Creed's back. Her stomach took a plunge. He was shaking Seth's hand as if... She pulled Jesse to a stop. "What do you mean, he's leaving?"
"He's riding out tonight. He told me late this afternoon. Said he had some ends to tie up with Pierre LaRousse."
At a loss for words, she watched Creed fit his hat back on his head and start for the door. She sent Jesse a desperate look. "Now? You mean right now? Without even telling me?"
He nodded slowly. "Mariah, I don't know what's between you and Creed. It's none of my business, except you both seem more miserable than any two people I've ever seen who care about each other."
Her gaze followed Creed out the barn door, back where the stock was kept in the corrals. "Damn him." A shadow of anger, swift and dark, swept across her face. "Damn him." Why did she care? After all, they'd said all there was to say today. Was there anything left?
Yes, by God, there was. A simple goodbye would have sufficed, but no—he wouldn't even give her that.
"Jesse, I hope you'll forgive me." Her attempt at calm came out raspy with emotion. "I have something to do."
He nodded and squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry, Mariah. Sorry it didn't work out. I probably shouldn't have said anything."
Squeezing him back she said, "I'm glad you did. You're a friend, Jesse. Thank you."
Jesse shook his head as he watched her go, wondering if he'd done the wrong thing. He didn't think so, but it was done. Swearing silently, he made his way out the front doors and headed for The Bale of Hay. He had an appointment with a bottle of whiskey.
The yard was empty when Mariah reached it, but for the horses shifting in the lodgepole pine pens behind the livery. With the party in full swing, any dance-weary soul seeking air would go to the street instead of the less fragrant corrals.
The only person she saw was Creed, tightening the cinch on Buck's saddle at the far end of the pen beneath the shadow of a sprawling cottonwood. Her feet covered the ground between them soundlessly. She stopped a mere ten feet from him but he was too preoccupied to hear her.
"Coward."
Creed jumped and whirled around guiltily. His handsome features seemed pale in the blue-washed moonlight. "Mariah."
She walked slowly closer, her lips tightly compressed. "How could you?"
Dropping his gaze to the ground, Creed searched for an answer that didn't sound asinine. He failed.
"You would have left, just like that, without saying a word to me. Wouldn't you?"
"Mariah—"
"Wouldn't you?"
"Oui." He turned back to knot off the latigo and unhook his stirrup from the saddle horn. "We've said all there is to say, I think."
"We haven't said goodbye."
He stood stock still with his back half-toward her. "Goodbye, Mariah." Hearing her indrawn breath of outrage, he turned just in time to catch her wrist as she swung at him with an open palm. He gripped her hand tightly in his fist and drew her up with a jerk. Her thighs collided with his. "Don't."
Their faces were only inches apart. Her eyes flashed with anger and tears in the moonlight. "You deserve it."
"Undoubtedly. But I don't want us to end this way. Not now."
"No, you'd rather sneak away under the cover of darkness than risk giving me a decent word of farewell. Am I such a shrew that you can't face me anymore?"
"No, ma petite," he said fiercely, his eyes blazing into hers. "It's myself I don't trust." The heat of his hand clasping hers scorched her, but he didn't release her. Instead, his other hand came up to hold her other arm, clamping down over the row of mother-of-pearl buttons that seamed her sleeve.
Her breath came raggedly, as if she'd been running a long way. Blood pounded in her ears like a drum. His eyes searched her face, reaching into her very thoughts.
He cinched his fingers tighter around her wrist. Anger twisted his voice. "What is it you want from me?"
"A little honesty would do."
"Honesty," he repeated bitterly. "Eh bien, ma petite, let's be honest. Look at me. I am the man you see, standing before you, saddling his horse. That's who I am."
"That's only half the truth and you know it. You're just too busy running away from life to know what you're leaving behind. I may not have your gift or 'curse,' as you call it, but I know you better than you do."
He shook his head. "Do you? Then do you know what it would do to me to stay and look in the mirror every day and know that I've betrayed the two people who mean the most to me?"
"So you run?" she asked, curling her fist. "From me? From Seth?"
He dropped his gaze to the silken scarf around her neck. "I guess running is what I do best."
She sighed deeply. "I didn't come out here to stop you, Creed. I know I can't."
"Jesu! Why then? What do you want?"
"I wanted you to know," she finished, choking back the emotion that threatened her voice, "that what happened between us wasn't only your fault. It happened because I wanted it, too. I think you've taken on all the blame and that's not right. I don't want you to go feeling guilty about me or what you've done to my life. I'll be all right. No matter what happens. But I'm.. sorry that you regret the night we shared, because I never will."
Regret it? Creed thought, crumbling inside. She was the best thing that had ever happened in his life and if he only had that one night of holding her in his arms... if that was all he was ever meant to have, it would be enough. But he couldn't say it to her. He would never tell her that.
Mariah watched the play of emotions across the moonwashed planes of his face. He didn't have to speak. She understood now. How would she ever go on without him?
Somehow, she would have to.
Reaching one hand up to his cheek, she wiped away the moisture that slid down his face. "I... I came to let you go....to say goodbye. Say goodbye to me, Creed."
Her gentle touch dissolved his will to stop what was inevitable between them. They met halfway and his mouth covered hers in a tender kiss that washed away the bitterness between them. Their tongues mated in a final dance, seeking, no longer to incite, but to resolve.
He drew her to him, wrapping his arms around her, pulling their bodies together until they were as one. Fused by heat and the destiny that had given her to him for a moment, he held her. He wanted to memorize her: the soft give of her breasts against his chest, her lips, so warm and sweet under his; the way she fit in his arms as if he were holding the other half of himself. Dieu, how he'd miss her!
Mariah cherished the feel of his heated lips on hers, his hands moving across her back, and the hard strength of him that would be forever emblazoned in her mind. His lips slanted across hers, settling more deeply against her mouth, filling her mind, and senses and heart. One kiss, one kiss and he would go; a shadow on her soul. Forever. Forever.
Behind them Buck nickered a warning. Too late—too damn late—Creed looked up to see Seth Travers standing not ten feet away, a look of utter disbelief written on his face. Creed pulled away from Mariah with a curse.
"Mariah... Creed," came Seth's stricken whisper. "My God!"
C
hapter 23
Mariah's hand went to cover her reddened mouth. "Oh, my God. Seth."
Seth stared open-mouthed at the two of them, his fists working at his sides.
"Seth, it's not what it looks like," Creed began lamely, knowing any excuse he could offer would sound like a blatant lie.
"Jesus," Seth whispered in a breathy hiss. "And I didn't even see it... didn't even suspect." His bewildered, accusing look went back and forth between Creed and Mariah and he shook his head. "What a damned idiot I am. I should have known."
Creed took a step forward. "Seth."
"Son of a bitch," Seth snarled in dawning realization.
Creed reached out in a helpless gesture. "Seth, let me try to—"
His face darkened. "My friend! The man I trusted with my life, with my woman." A cough rattled through him, but he didn't seem to notice.
"We were saying goodbye," Mariah told him in a small voice.
A bitter laugh escaped him and his lip curled. "Goodbye? Is that what that was? That's... that's a hell of a goodbye kiss if you ask me."
Creed lowered his eyes, unable to bear the accusation in Seth's. His fingernails dug into his palms.
Then, Seth nodded as if he had suddenly figured it all out. He stared at Mariah. "It was him, wasn't it? He's the one you were talking about when you said you couldn't marry me. Isn't he?"
Mariah faced him, silent, her mouth quivering and her eyes bright with tears.
"Isn't he?"
"Yes. But—"
Seth took two steps and threw a punch at Creed's jaw so unexpectedly, it connected with a smack of bone and flesh, knocking Creed nearly off his feet. His black hat went sailing to the ground.
"No!" Mariah cried, covering her mouth with both hands.
Pain rocketed up Creed's jaw and stars flashed in front of him. Staggering to a stop, he wiped a hand across his mouth and it came back bloody. He shook his head to clear it, but Seth forced him to back up as he came toward him again. Creed dropped his hands deliberately to his sides, showing him he didn't mean to fight.
"You bastard," Seth growled, his eyes bright with hurt. "How could you do it? You knew how I felt about her. You knew."
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