Miranda nodded, taking a deep breath. With the new clothes he’d bought her, she looked just like he’d always imagined his future wife to be. Her deep-blue wool dress with the matching jacket, trimmed in black piping, along with a high-collar starched white blouse and a cameo brooch she’d said her mother had given her, was perfect and everything a respectable woman would wear.
He and Miranda had said their vows a mere three hours before, followed by a fancy breakfast at his gambling house. All his staff had attended the breakfast, but not the wedding itself, for which he knew Miranda would be grateful. The woman who had chaperoned the young ladies on the wagon train, Miss Nellie, stood up for Miranda and attended the breakfast.
He doubted Miranda held anything against the people who worked for him, but from his point of view, they wouldn’t look quite proper in church. If they even owned suitable clothes to begin with. He paid the clerk at the town hall extra for a quick marriage license and then the preacher extra to provide the second witness for the ceremony.
“Yes. I guess so. What is it you want me to say to these people?” She tucked a loose hair into her bonnet. “I must admit being a bit nervous about this.”
“Don’t be nervous, and I don’t want you to say anything in particular. We are just going to meet them and have them see I married a very proper and upstanding woman and am serious about following the road to respectability.”
She pulled on her gloves and followed him down the stairs from his rooms on the top floor of the gambling house to the front steps. He took her hand and tucked it under his arm as they walked away from the building. Miranda hurried to keep up with his lengthy stride, forcing him to slow down.
“How do you even know I am proper and upstanding? The only thing I told you about myself was I know math quite well and wanted a job as a bookkeeper. Then you up and offered me the job, based on marrying you.”
He smirked. “Darlin’, I only had to take one look at you, and I knew you were of the proper and upstanding ilk.”
She looked up at him, her head tilted in confusion. “I’m not sure if I’ve been complimented or insulted.”
He tugged her close. “For my purposes, complimented.”
She huffed, and they continued on until they reached Judge Medford’s offices at the courthouse. Preston had requested the members of the town council gather there for an announcement he wanted to make. He didn’t prepare them ahead of time because he knew just one look at his new wife would convince them more than mere words that he was serious about this changing-his-life campaign.
Preston held the courthouse door open, and Miranda passed through. “Mr. and Mrs. Stone to see Judge Medford,” he said to the young man seated behind the desk in front of the door marked Honorable Martin Medford, Judge, Santa Fe County.
“Yes, sir.” The clerk stood and entered the judge’s office. He returned within seconds. “Please follow me. His secretary said he is awaiting you with the others.”
They walked down the hallway, the soles of their shoes clicking on the polished wooden floor. They stopped at a wooden door with a glass panel labeled “Conference Room.”
“The town council is gathered in here, Mr. Stone.” The young man swung the door opened, and Preston and Miranda entered the room.
The gentlemen seated around the lengthy table in the room stood. “Good afternoon, Stone.”
“Gentlemen.” He moved Miranda forward. “I would like to introduce you to my wife, Mrs. Miranda Stone.”
Chapter 6
Miranda faced the group of five men standing around the table. They viewed her with a great deal of skepticism. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Stone.” The man who appeared to be in charge waved her to a chair at the end of the table. “Will you please take a seat.”
She looked at Preston who nodded. She walked to the chair the man had indicated and sat. Preston walked behind her and placed his hand on her shoulder, squeezing just enough to let her know he was there.
The men all sat and faced her. “Mrs. Stone, I am Judge Medford, and this is Mr. Manning, Mr. Davidson, Mr. Eldridge, and Mr. Dreyfus. We represent the town council, and I must say, it is a pleasure to meet you.”
The rest of the men all nodded in her direction as they were introduced. She gave them a smile and wiped the damp palms of her hands on her skirt. “Thank you, Your Honor.”
The judge viewed her with skepticism. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, Mrs. Stone, but we told Mr. Stone only a little over a week ago that he had to marry someone respectable to be able to gain our approval of this project of his. I must admit, I find it questionable that he was able to come up with someone who appears to be exactly the type of woman we had in mind in such a short period of time.”
Since there was no question there, she merely stared at the man, who leaned forward, a slight grin on his face. “How long have you known Mr. Stone?”
“A few days.”
The five men regarded her with slack jaws. The judge cleared his throat. “Indeed. Well, at least you are truthful. Can you tell us a bit about yourself?”
“Certainly.” She didn’t care for the smug look on the judge’s face. He thought Preston was attempting to fool them, and it annoyed her. From what she’d seen so far, her husband was an honest man. They probably thought he was attempting to mislead them in some way.
She raised her chin. “I am the only child of the Reverend Michael Beamer of St. Augustine’s church, who ministered to the people of the town of Marble Lake until a little over five years ago when he died of influenza.”
The judge cast a quick glance at the men sitting across from him. “Go on.”
“I don’t know what else you wish me to tell you.”
“Well, you said your father died five years ago. What have you been doing since then?” The look on the man’s face told her exactly what he thought she’d been doing since then, probably stealing or else earning her living how Frankie had decided she should. It angered her so much she wanted to bop him over the head with her reticule, but that would certainly not gain any favor for Preston.
“My mother remarried, and we lived in Dodge City until both she and my stepfather died.” There was no need to tell them that she was the one who had hastened the man’s departure from this world with a gunshot to the chest. “Since I was left on my own after he died, I signed up with a wagon train to travel to Santa Fe with three other young ladies as mail-order brides.”
The judge blew out a huge breath and sat back and looked up at Preston. “Mail-order bride? Well done, Stone.”
The man who’d been introduced as Mr. Dreyfus asked, “Who chaperoned you and these young ladies on this trip to Santa Fe?”
“Miss Nellie Ward, a friend of Marshal Dale Jones of Dodge City.” Good heavens, what would the judge think if he knew what Miss Nellie’s business had been before she became their chaperone? With Miranda being a murderess and Miss Nellie a whore and brothel owner, the respectability the town council was looking for was hanging by a thread.
The judge brightened. “Jones? I know him. A good man. Honest and hardworking.” Looking around the table, he regarded the other men with raised brows. “Gentlemen, it appears Mr. Stone has presented us with a respectable wife. What is our decision?”
Mr. Manning looked at Preston who still stood behind her with his hand on her shoulder. “I assume you have a duly signed marriage certificate?”
“I do.”
She heard the sound of paper rattling as he pulled out the certificate from his pocket that she’d seen him tuck away when the preacher had given it to him earlier.
The judge waved his hand. “No need to show it to us. I’m sure you would not have gone through all of this if it was not legal.”
After a few minutes of them all huddled together, the judge spoke again. “Mr. Stone, it appears you have met the requirements for securing the license to build your hotel and restaurant.”
“Thank you, Judge.” Preston walked over and shook his hand and the ha
nds of the other men. Then he turned to her and held out his hand. “Let’s go celebrate, darlin.’”
As they reached the door to leave, the judge said, “Congratulations on your marriage, Mr. Stone. May I ask what you are going to celebrate? Your marriage or the building permit?”
Preston grinned as he placed his hand on Miranda’s lower back. “Both.”
His wife took a deep breath as she left the courthouse. “I’m so glad that’s over with.”
Preston took her elbow as they crossed the street. “Was your father truly a preacher?”
She looked at him with raised brows. “Yes. I wouldn’t lie to a judge!”
He grinned at her sanctimonious attitude. “You weren’t in court.”
She shook her head. “But, still. He’s a judge, and my papa was very firm about not lying for any reason. He was a great believer in always telling the truth.”
“’And the truth will set you free.’” He grinned at her and placed her arm in his as they walked away from the courthouse. “At least it did me, anyway.”
“John 8:32,” she murmured.
“That was from the Bible? I thought it was Shakespeare.”
“You read Shakespeare?”
Read. That was another thing that held him back in school. How to explain to this well-educated woman that he struggled in school, not just because of the nasty comments and fistfights due to his mother’s “work”, but because the lessons did not come easy for him. He finally parted ways with school when he was barely thirteen years old and took his first job.
He leaned in close to her and spoke softly. “I heard a little bit about him, but I think it would be a good idea for us to read Shakespeare together while cuddled up in bed at night.”
Miranda sucked in a deep breath, and her skin glowed a bright red. He kept his laughter to himself as he opened the door to Chez Café, the only decent restaurant in town, soon to be overshadowed by his new restaurant.
His spirits rose at the thought of finally seeing his life plan unfolding. An upstanding businessman with a respectable wife, well-mannered children, a snug house, and a place in the growing Santa Fe community. So very far from his early beginnings of living in a brothel.
“I heard a rumor that you got married.” Judith, a waitress he had known since she first came to town a few years ago, approached him and Miranda as they passed through the door.
Preston smiled, proud to introduce Miranda. “Yes, indeed. This is my wife, Mrs. Miranda Stone. We just got married this morning.”
“So pleased to meet you, Mrs. Stone.” She looked sideways at Preston. “Aren’t you the sly one. Just up and marrying, with all the ladies in town waiting for you to make up your mind.” Apparently realizing how that must have sounded, Judith took Miranda’s hands. “No offence meant, hon. It’s just that your husband here has been eyed by more than a few of the ladies in Santa Fe.” She grabbed two menus and waved at them. “I’ll give you a table in the corner since I figure you’d like some privacy.”
They followed Judith to a small table. Preston drew out Miranda’s chair and waved the menu away. “We’ll have the best steaks you have back in that kitchen. And a bottle of wine.” He looked quickly at Miranda. “You do like steak, don’t you?”
A soft laugh came from her. “Yes. Thank you for asking.” She shook out her napkin and placed it on her lap.
Judith shook her head. “Men.” With a wink at them, she turned and left.
He ran his finger under his collar. “Don’t pay any attention to what Judith said.”
Her brows rose. “Oh. And what would that be?” The slight flush on her face told him she knew precisely what he meant.
Preston cleared his throat. “You know. About the other women.”
Miranda fiddled with the silverware at her place. “That does raise a question. Why were you so desperate for a wife if you had other women interested in you?”
He covered her hand to stop her from fingering the silverware. “I needed someone who the town council felt was respectable enough to raise me from my background.”
“And no one in town could do that?”
He shrugged. “Anyone in town who is respectable would not marry me.”
“Your background?” She took a sip of the water Judith placed on the table, along with a basket of warm bread and a crock of butter.
Damn, he probably should have told her exactly who she was marrying, but it hadn’t really occurred to him until now. Might as well get it over with since she would eventually hear about his questionable beginnings. He nodded. “My mother is a prostitute.”
Miranda’s hand stopped as she took the glass away from her mouth. “Is or was?”
“Is.” Hell, he hated to have this conversation. “She worked in a brothel here in Santa Fe while I was a boy.”
“Where did you live?” If her eyes got any wider, they would pop from her face. She licked her lips. “At the brothel?”
“Yes. Until I was thirteen. Then I left to take a job at Shorty’s Stable where I also slept.”
He held his breath as she just sat and stared at him. This was when she would hop up in righteous indignation and demand he obtain an annulment. Then, to his amazement, tears gathered on the rims of her eyes. She reached out and touched his hand. “I am so sorry.”
His stomach muscles twisted, and he fell a little bit in love with his new wife. The rare compassion directed at him threw him off-kilter, but he dismissed it. Even before he would gain all he wanted in life, he had removed himself from his childhood. Years of working for Shorty and saving every penny he could had given him enough to set up his first business. Rule number one from the time he opened was no soiled doves in his gambling house and saloon.
“When I had saved enough money, I paid her to move to Albuquerque. I bought her a small house and send her a monthly bank draft. I had hoped she would retire.”
“But she didn’t?”
“Not the last I heard. She also has a drinking problem, and I think she uses up all her money on that.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you all this before you agreed to marry me.”
“My father was a strong opponent of brothels and was always of the opinion that the women who worked there were to be pitied since, in most cases, they had no other way to earn money. He told me they were to be prayed over. I will remember you mother in my prayers.”
Stunned didn’t even begin to cover his reaction. “You are one remarkable woman, Mrs. Stone.” His words barely left his mouth when Judith placed their dinners in front of them.
“I’m glad you appreciate this fine gal.” The waitress grinned and sashayed away.
They’d been married, had a wonderful wedding breakfast, appeared before the town council, and ended the day with a fine steak dinner that Preston assured her did not come close to the food he would serve in his new restaurant. Now, with butterflies in her middle over the rest of the evening, they were headed to his rooms at The Silver Palace.
Once they reached the saloon, Preston steered her down an alley between his building and the mercantile. They reached a door facing the alley which he opened and escorted her through. “I don’t want you in the gambling and saloon part of the building.”
“But how am I to work?”
“I am searching for a house to buy or lease. I will set up an office there for you.”
They climbed a staircase to the floor where Preston’s rooms were. He fished a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, swinging it open for her to enter. The very first thing she saw was a bed. Right smack in the middle of the room. A huge bed.
She came to an abrupt halt, and Preston walked into her. He covered her body with his arms, leaned his chin on her shoulder, and whispered in her ear, “There is something I’ve wanted to do all day.”
Foolishly, she turned. “What?”
His lips moved into a slight smile as he cupped her face and his head descended. His warm, moist lips covered hers, bringing butterf
lies to her stomach. He nudged her lips with his tongue and she opened. He swept in, and the foreign feeling of having his tongue in her mouth soon changed to pleasure.
Preston pulled back and scattered kisses over her jaw, cheeks, eyelids, and the skin under her ear. “I want you, Miranda. Very much.”
A warning bell went off in her head. She couldn’t allow this. She had plans. She had to escape. Pulling back, she was surprised to hear the deepness of her voice. “I said no…um, this.”
He closed his eyes for a few seconds and then opened them. His eyes had darkened, and his lids had grown heavy. “And I said I would try to change your mind.”
She moved back. “No.”
A knock at the door drew their attention. Preston opened the door.
“Mr. Stone, here is the wine you requested.” A man at the door, dressed in the garb of a card dealer, handed over a bottle.
“Thank you.” Preston closed the door and turned to her. “I must check on things downstairs. You may enjoy this wine while you take your bath.” He set it down on the table and smirked. “Or you can wait until I return and we can share it.”
“The bath?”
“If you wish.”
She shook her head furiously. “No. I’ve been bathing by myself all my life.”
“Ah, a pity, that.” He gave her a quick kiss on the lips. “The bathing room is through that door.” He motioned toward a light oak door. “My small parlor is next to the bathing room.”
“Thank you.” She watched him leave the room, wondering how long she would be able to hold him off. Based on his recent kiss, she was in a great deal of trouble.
Chapter 7
Woody stumbled into his house and cursed as he banged into one of the rickety chairs. “Damn you, Miranda!” If it took forever, he would find out where she went and deal with her. He would beat the living hell out of her before he took her over and over until she was unable to walk. Then sell her into a brothel. Or just flat out kill her. It depended on his mood when he caught up with her.
Prisoners of Love: Miranda (Prisoners of Love Book 4) Page 5
