The Fortune

by Beth Williamson

  A band of steel encircled her, stopping her fall completely. The kindling scattered with a series of noisy thumps. John had snatched her in midair, saving her, for the second time, from being hurt. He turned her around and pulled her up until she was flush against him. To her consternation, her pulse quickened. Frankie’s breasts pushed up against John’s hard chest. A chest she had seen naked minutes before. Its sinewy, smooth imprint had never left her mind.

  The moment stretched on, their breaths mingled as their hearts thumped against each other. She didn’t protest or move, strangely comfortable within his arms, a dangerous place to be. He leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. Once, twice, thrice. His lips were soft but firm as they pressed down on hers, moving from one end of her mouth to the other. Sweet saints above, she could kiss this man forever. Her pulse pounded through her veins, her body alive for the first time in her life.

  Stop this. Now.

  Frankie raised her hands to extract herself from his hold, fully aware her palms were now in direct contact with that amazing specimen of male chest, which was as hard as granite. Her fingers itched to feel the muscles beneath his shirt, but she pushed at him, needing to put air between them.

  To her relief, he released her instantly. She straightened up and ran her hands down her hair as though she needed to groom herself after kissing him. Silly and unnecessary, but it gave her a moment to gather her wits since they seem to have deserted her. Her skin was on fire from being pressed against him from stem to stern, not to mention her lips, which throbbed in tune with her pulse. Her body wasn’t supposed to react like that to a man. Frankie was a mess of confusion.

  She gathered the spilled kindling from the ground with trembling hands. “I do hope I have not given you a false impression, Monsieur Malloy. I do not kiss complete strangers. This will never happen again.”

  “I could tell.” His arrogance infuriated her.

  “You are no gentleman.” She wanted to hit him for kissing her. At the same time, she wanted him to do it again.

  “I never said I was.” The cocky man had the nerve to try to take her arm.

  She pulled out of his grasp. “I do not need further assistance, Monsieur Malloy.”

  Frankie walked away with as much dignity as she could muster. He called her name but didn’t chase after her, and she wasn’t about to stop. The tall grass made her progress difficult, but she dared not stop. She could hardly believe she had allowed him to kiss her.

  Worse, she wanted to do it again.

  John watched Frankie hurry away like her ass was on fire. He wanted to go after her, but he knew his job was on the line if he continued to mess with one of the settler’s daughters. No matter how incredibly tempting she was.

  His dick had taken over his brain. That was the only explanation. He’d kissed her. Several times. He’d held her flush against him, like holding a piece of heaven. Jesus, the woman was made for loving, full of natural passion. He hadn’t expected that from such a prim and proper girl. She’d surprised him at the creek and now again in the field.

  He stood there with the axe and wood, staring at her retreating back until the deepening darkness swallowed her. His body thrummed with the echoes of the kisses. He’d not been with a woman in months, or even longer, given the way the last experience ended. As if on cue, the scar on his shoulder twinged.

  Frankie was dangerous, far more dangerous than Veronica Harvey. Not once in any of the trips he’d made previously with Buck had there been a woman who caught his eye. Now there were two females complicating things.

  Frankie was trouble with a capital T. Intriguing, bossy, opinionated and sexy. He damn well shouldn’t have kissed her. Hell’s bells, how was he going to get through the next four months with a constant wooden stick in his britches?

  He was no green boy sparking for the first time. John was twenty-five years old and he’d done a lot of living in that time. Damn sure shouldn’t be doing anything with any woman. The sad truth was, he didn’t have time for anyone but himself.

  He spent the evening helping folks when he needed to, finding this batch of settlers to be more helpless than the last. From people who still couldn’t start a campfire to the old woman who refused to get in or out of the wagon without him to lost children and dogs who bit him. John escaped to the small creek nearby and washed off the day’s dust in the frigid water. He was in a foul mood when he finally headed for his tent by the edge of the wagons.

  His boots slid along the dew-covered grass, the cold night air making the blades almost snap under his weight. The sounds of the camp had settled into low murmurs, the crackle of campfires, a crying baby in the distance and snores. Peaceful, at least somewhat. Enough to allow him to sleep, anyway.

  He crawled into the tent and stopped in mid-motion. The barest hint of sound hit his ears, an intake of breath. Then he caught the scent of someone else, someone who smelled like soap. His hand crept to the pistol riding his hip. He cleared leather and strained to see the shape of whoever had dared lay in wait for him.

  “You’d best start talking about why you’re here before I stain the canvas with your brains.” He cocked the pistol, the snick loud in the quietness of the small tent.

  “I hope you don’t treat women like this all the time.” A nervous laugh.

  Shit. Veronica Harvey was in his goddamn tent.

  “Get out. Now, before your father sees you.”

  “That’s the whole point, silly.” She moved closer, one pale hand swiping his cheek.

  John jerked back and hightailed it out of the tent. He got to his feet and waited, yet she didn’t follow. This reminded him of a time he’d like to forget, years ago when another young woman decided she was his for the taking. No way he would allow Veronica to manipulate this situation.

  “Get out, Miss Harvey.” He didn’t want to get any louder, but the damn woman was testing his patience. “What the hell are you doing in my tent?”

  “Waiting for you.” Her voice told him she knew exactly what she was doing. He’d been right to steer clear of this one. She would swallow him whole, and not in a good way. “I need a way to escape from my father and you are the perfect man.”

  “I am nowhere near perfect and I sure as hell don’t want to be your escape.” He didn’t want to be the idiot she used.

  “You’re handsome, strong, and you aren’t married. Those are the three most important things I’m looking for.”

  “Don’t make me tell you again to clear out. I’ll find Buck and your father if you don’t.” He knew Harvey might ask for his job. Since he’d just left Buck five minutes earlier, at least his boss would know he hadn’t been up to no good with the Harvey girl.

  “Oh, now, Johnny, you don’t want to do that. I’m not wearing any clothes.”

  John nearly cracked a tooth clenching his jaw. “Then I’m leaving now.”

  “No, don’t leave.” Rustling sounds in the tent preceded her sticking her blonde head out of the tent flap. Her hair was down around her shoulders, but it was too dark to see if she truly was naked. “I came here for you. I need your help.”

  The woman certainly had guts coming to him with a cockamamie story about needing help. He didn’t believe it for a minute. Damn sure he needed to get her out of his tent straight away before someone saw her.

  “Veronica?”

  Shit. Shit. Shit. Reginald Harvey appeared out of the shadows, striding toward John like an avenging angel.

  “I’m glad you’re here, Mr. Harvey. Your daughter seems to have lost her way.” John’s gut clenched tighter than a well digger’s ass. “I just found her in my tent.”

  Right behind Mr. Harvey was Buck. Well, it was a party now. John put his hands on his hips, waiting for the blow he expected.

  “What’s happening here?” Mr. Harvey looked between the tent and John. “Why is my daughter in your tent, Malloy?”

  “I have no idea. I found her here not two minutes ago.” He glanced at Buck, hoping his boss would back him up. “I
was helping other folks out with Buck until then.”

  “Your shirt is unbuttoned, Malloy. I don’t think Mr. Avery would allow you to help settlers in an undressed state.” Mr. Harvey folded his arms across his ample girth.

  John cursed under his breath. He’d taken off his shirt to wash up. Hell, he’d forgotten it was unbuttoned at all. Oh, this was not good, not good at all.

  “I stopped to clean off the trail dust in the creek.” The explanation sounded like a weak excuse, even if it was the truth.

  “And my daughter? How long has she been here?”

  “Mr. Malloy and I are in love, Daddy.” Veronica popped out of the tent, her dress askew, her hair down and mussed, looking for all the world as though she’d been tussling with him.

  “We are not in love, Miss Harvey. I barely know you.” John gritted his teeth. This was not going to end well.

  “You kissed me the first day we left Independence.” She moved toward him, her hand raised as though to touch him. He moved back out of her reach. “It was love at first sight.”

  “Miss Harvey, I think you’re mistaking me for someone else.” John could hardly believe the woman. She was closing a trap on him and he never saw it coming.

  “Are you calling her a liar or a strumpet?” Mr. Harvey puffed up his chest.

  “I’m not calling her anything. She’s just confused.” John kept expecting Buck to say something, anything, but he remained silent.

  “I’m not confused. You kissed me.” She smiled at him and he saw the intensity in her gaze. Veronica meant to have him for a husband. He didn’t know why she wanted him. The steel jaws of the trap had already begun to close on him. She had planned this well, damn her.

  “Did you kiss her, Malloy?” The avenging father was a jackass, but John saw the actual concern in his face.

  “No, sir. She kissed me. Once. I haven’t spoken to her since.” John didn’t want to admit it, but he was backed into a corner.

  “And now? Are you saying you had no part in—” He gestured to Veronica’s dishabille. “My daughter’s current state?”

  “No, sir, I didn’t. I told you, I was with Buck most of the night helping folks.” John turned to Buck, waiting.

  “Avery, how long ago did you see Mr. Malloy?”

  Buck rubbed his whiskered chin with one beefy paw. “I can’t rightly remember exactly how long it’s been. Fifteen minutes, maybe twenty.”

  John’s heart thumped hard. “It hasn’t been that long.” Yet he didn’t know exactly how much time had passed. He cleaned up in the creek but hadn’t tracked the minutes.

  “Plenty of time to seduce an innocent girl.” Mr. Harvey pointed at him. “What are your prospects, Mr. Malloy? Can you support a wife?”

  Bile coated the back of his throat as John saw his plans, his dreams, his future, falling beneath the heels of Veronica Harvey’s boots. He wanted to tell these folks to go to hell. If he fought this, he would lose his job, possibly his life if a shotgun was involved.

  “No, I can’t. I have no land. The only thing I own is my horse, my tent and a few clothes.” John started to shake, with fury and disbelief.

  “I will assist until you can. Consider yourself affianced, Mr. Malloy. A wedding will take place as soon as possible.” Mr. Harvey took Veronica’s elbow, regardless of her state of dishabille. “Pull yourself together, daughter. Your mother will need to be apprised of this development.”

  Veronica didn’t smile, but she looked satisfied. Her objective had been achieved. The Harveys walked away and with each step, John saw the cage closing around him. He looked at Buck, anger twisting his guts inside out.

  “I can’t believe you just fed me to that wolf. I didn’t touch her, Buck. Not once.” He needed to punch something, anything. His fists clenched, eager to be let loose.

  “Harvey paid me a lot of money, John. I can’t go against his wishes, even if his daughter is a liar. You don’t have a wife, and she’s pretty enough.” Buck shrugged, as if he hadn’t just helped to destroy John’s life.

  “That’s all you have to say? You don’t have a wife either. Why don’t you take her? I sure as hell don’t want her.” John walked away from the man he had looked up to. Truth was, Buck Avery was like most folks, only looking out for himself and the money in his pocket.

  “Where you going?”

  “Away from you before I beat your ass into next week.” John’s response was more of a growl. He’d never been so furious in his life.

  Frankie woke with a feeling of dread deep inside. She couldn’t explain it, nor could she shake the notion something bad was going to happen. There was no reason for it. The sun was out. She had slept well and everyone was busy doing chores.

  Charlotte wasn’t feeling well, so Frankie offered to help her father get the oxen ready. It wasn’t her favorite chore—the animals smelled and they were clumsy. One of them almost stepped on her foot as they were securing the yokes.

  Frankie started when Josephine and Isabelle popped up beside her. “You scared me.”

  Josephine’s expression could only be called grim. “Mr. Avery is gathering everyone together for an announcement.”

  Isabelle twisted her hands. “I hope no one is sick or dead.”

  Her nerves jumped. Dread reared its head again, telling Frankie she had been right all along. Something bad was coming. Fast. “What kind of announcement?”

  “I’m not sure, but Mr. Malloy is there and that Veronica Harvey with her father.” Josephine took one arm and Isabelle the other. “I think we need to hear what’s going on.”

  Frankie didn’t want to go, truly she didn’t, but she had to know. Jo was right—she needed to hear whatever Mr. Avery had to say. Mr. Malloy had kissed her last night and she’d let him. She’d enjoyed it too. Her dreams had been full of images of his chest, his lips, his arms. Foolish, girlish imaginings not meant for a woman who had no room for dreams anymore.

  Josephine hadn’t asked, but she seemed to know something had happened. Isabelle was too sweet and innocent to make that leap. Frankie was grateful Jo was quiet and understood when to speak. They hurried over to the center of the circle of wagons where a crowd had already gathered. Murmurs of excitement spread through the pioneers, but no one knew exactly what was happening.

  Tired of looking at people’s backs, Frankie found a large rock and climbed atop, pulling her sisters up beside her. Now they could see Mr. Avery with John on one side, and Mr. Harvey and Veronica on the other. John’s expression was tightly controlled fury, a muscle ticked in his jaw and she swore she heard his teeth grind from fifteen feet away.

  He caught her eye and then glanced away. Frankie’s stomach did a flip and she pressed a hand to it. She knew right then she would never kiss John Malloy again.

  “Ladies and gents, I’m pleased to let y’all know we have a wedding in the works.” Buck wasn’t smiling as he spread the happy news. He gestured at Veronica and then at John with a weak wave. “John Malloy and Veronica Harvey are going to get hitched soon as we find a preacher along the way.”

  Frankie told her heart not to react, but the foolish organ did. It thumped hard enough to hurt. She didn’t harbor any notions of keeping him for her own, but she couldn’t help but remember she had kissed him not twelve hours earlier. How could he have kissed her and then proposed to Veronica Harvey in the same breath?

  Miss Harvey had already made her presence known to the rest of the pioneers. She had complained, quite loudly, about everything, every day, to everyone. Charlotte’s occasional grumblings paled in comparison to the rich man’s daughter.

  John chose her?

  Frankie’s pride smarted, just a pinch of course, at the man’s perfidy and his poor taste. She didn’t care that he was angry or looked unhappy. He had obviously done something that forced the marriage. It wasn’t her business and she shouldn’t feel a thing over John Malloy’s fate.

  Yet she did. Dammit.

  “I wonder what prompted this marriage,” Josephine mused from beside h
er. “She seems a little difficult to be married to.”

  “She was nice to me one day.” Isabelle shrugged. “But it is an odd match.”

  Frankie didn’t disagree. It was an odd match, but in the end, it didn’t concern her, did it? He made his choice and it was a wealthy woman. Who could blame him, really?

  “It will be the first marriage I’ve had in eight years of running the trail. And I couldn’t be happier for John.” Mr. Avery slapped John on the back, which was met with a stone-faced reaction.

  Mr. Harvey held up his hands. “Nobody has to panic. My new son-in-law will continue to work the wagon train until we reach Oregon.” He glanced at John, his eyes flashing. “He has to support his wife.”

  Veronica smiled, her teeth blinding white in the morning sun. She looked like the cat that swallowed the canary.

  Frankie climbed down from the rock, leaving her sisters behind. She simply could not look at Veronica or John any longer. The man was an oaf, one who threw her in the mud, who tempted her to throw caution aside and frolic in a creek, who reminded her, painfully, what it meant to be a woman. It was a reminder she didn’t want or need.

  John Malloy could enjoy his marriage to Veronica. They deserved each other. Frankie deserved much more. Anger and hurt drove her to get away from both of them as quickly as possible. If she were lucky, she wouldn’t see either of them. Frankie didn’t realize she was walking, nearly running, until her sister grabbed her arm.

  “Wait a moment.” Jo’s breath gusted past her. “I’ve got a stitch in my side.”

  Isabelle came fluttering up with her face flushed.

  Frankie looked at her younger sisters. “I apologize for leaving abruptly. I, uh, left Papa to finish with the oxen alone. It was my chore this morning.”

  Jo wiped stray hairs from her forehead. “Uh-huh. If that is the lie you wish to believe.”

  “What’s happening?” Isabelle frowned at both of them.

  “I am not lying.” Frankie fibbed to her sister about not lying. She’d do well to forget she even met John, or shot him, or kissed him.