“That’s enough, Lucas. I just did my job,” Ida said, cutting his words of thanks short as she opened the screen door and motioned them both inside.
“Now, the pair of you come eat supper. This girl has cooked for three hours to make you a good meal, Luc, and you’d better appreciate it.”
“I intend to, as soon as I put my horse in the barn. I’ll be in in a few minutes. And then I expect to hear the whole story.”
SHE DIDN’T LOOK any the worse for wear, he decided, feeling older than his years, limping as his bad leg cramped beneath him. He recalled Jennifer’s erect stance, her quick replies. But if that man had left a mark on her, if she wore bruises, he’d hightail it into town and thrash him within an inch of his life.
Your wife didn’t leave no doubt in anybody’s mind, Luc, his informant had said. She told the whole bunch of us that she loves you. Harv Painter’s face was red as he’d repeated the words Jennifer had said, and Lucas repeated them over again now as he unsaddled his horse and led the gelding into the barn.
She told the whole bunch of us that she loves you. He’d have given ten years of his life to hear her say it himself, he thought. Still would. But only if she meant it. If she’d said it to scare off the man named Kyle, if she had only used the man she’d married as a shield, that would be all right, too. He’d be dadblamed if he wouldn’t hold her to it, though. She’d made a statement and she’d better back it up with actions.
Supper was tasty, but Jennifer ate little. Her sleeves were long, buttoned primly at her wrists, and he wondered for a moment why she’d chosen to wear so warm a dress this afternoon. For he knew she’d taken a bath and donned clean clothing before his arrival. The tub was still upside-down on the porch, two towels and a washcloth hanging from the line, and the woman’s face was shiny, her hair lustrous and loose down her back.
He’d bet a bundle that she smelled fresh, like the apple-blossom-scented soap she used, and again he wondered at the dress she’d chosen to wear.
HE FOUND OUT AT BEDTIME what was hidden beneath her sleeves. “Take off your gown,” he said, standing in front of her like an avenging angel. Although he didn’t feel angelic right now, he knew his stance was that of a man ready to do battle.
“No. You know I’m not going to stand here in front of you and drop this gown on the floor. You’re out of your mind, Lucas.”
“Pretty sassy for a little girl, ain’t you?” His grammar left a lot to be desired, but he had a need to stun her with actions and words.
“I’m not little, and I’ve been called worse than sassy in my life,” she told him.
“Well, close your mouth and unbutton that nightgown.” He left her no out, waiting till the count of five before he lifted his hands to her bodice, setting the first two buttons free before she could move.
“Don’t do that.” She jerked from his grasp and he turned her, his hands gentle but firm, as if he would not leave his mark on her. For indeed, he had no intention of hurting her. He feared she’d already felt pain at a man’s hand today, and he would not add to it.
“I want to see your body, Jennifer. I want to see what he did to you.”
“I only have a bruise on my arm. Just where he grabbed me.”
“Let me see.” He would not be swayed. If a simple bruise was all she had to offer him, he’d be thankful, but his better sense told him it was more than that.
She undid the front of her gown and slid one arm from the sleeve, baring her shoulder and the upper slope of her breast. She pulled the gown up to cover her as if she realized her degree of nudity. He smiled.
“I’ve seen that much and more already. You have no reason to be shy with me. I’m your husband.” And then he caught sight of finger marks on her upper arm. In two separate places, as if the brute had grasped her and then released his hold only to grip her again, digging his fingertips into her soft flesh.
“The other arm, Jennifer.” His tone was guttural and filled with a surging anger.
She obeyed, probably thinking there was no use in arguing. If she feared him, a man who intended her no harm, how much greater must have been her fright when faced with a man who cared little for the bruising he inflicted.
She held the gown against her breast, allowing him to inspect her skin, unflinching as he touched the purpling welts. His eyes darkened with the fury of a man helpless in the face of pain.
“I’m all right, Lucas. It doesn’t hurt, and Ida put witch hazel on me. I won’t have any marks left after a week or so.”
“That’s a week or so too long, as far as I’m concerned.” He lifted her sleeves, making it convenient for her to shove her arms back into them. Then, as if it were a task he must do as penance, he buttoned her gown again and lifted his hands to frame her face. “I’m sorry, sorrier than you’ll ever know. I gave that brute the chance to hurt you. I should have been with you, Jennifer. All the gold in that mine isn’t worth one bruise on your body.”
“You’d better watch your step, Mr. O’Reilly. I’ll begin to think you like me.” Her gaze was filled with him, the presence of the man, his mouth, eyes, the dark hair that lay in disarray on his head, the broad chest where she’d been comforted more than once. And she realized that her words might seem to him a demand for his caring. It wasn’t what she wanted, and yet—perhaps it was. She yearned for his caring.
To know that he felt some degree of affection would sit well right now, she decided.
“I do like you.” He spoke without hesitation, the words firm, as if he had no reason to search for a reply. “Probably more than is wise, Jennifer.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” The words were a puzzle and she felt unable to solve it.
“I hadn’t thought to really like my wife, when I sent for a woman. I hadn’t realized I could care for a female like you, an easterner, a woman who sought out a husband through an agency. I’d expected a different sort than the girl who arrived here.”
“You were disappointed, I know. But I didn’t set out to deceive you, Lucas. The man at the agency—”
He held up a hand to halt her. “I know. I know. He made up the description of your household skills out of whole cloth. The only thing he said that was the unvarnished truth was that you were a woman of quality, more attractive than most. I guess he figured that would make up for your faults.”
She felt perplexed for a moment. “I don’t remember that in the letter I saw.”
“It was in mine. Would you like to see it?”
She shook her head. “No. I believe you.” And then her mind seized on his words. “What do you mean, my faults? What faults?”
His brow twitched, a prelude to laughter, she’d learned. He did not disappoint her, for his chuckle was rich and bold. “You have a temper, Mrs. O’Reilly, and a sassy mouth. A mind of your own—” He stopped for a moment, counting his fingers as he enumerated the items he’d listed. His brow furrowed just a bit as his voice softened and his face turned sober, as if his joking were set aside.
And yet, how much of it was joking, she wasn’t certain. He’d listed her faults accurately, so she added her own contributions to the list. “I can’t cook, don’t know how to make bread or milk a cow. And worst of all, I’m not much of a wife where it seems to count the most.”
“You’re my wife, and that’s what counts,” he told her. “I’ll decide how inept you are when it comes to our private life together. And trust me, sweetheart, I have no complaints yet.”
“You haven’t? I thought—” Perhaps it was better if she didn’t think too much about their private life. “I thought you were disappointed in me.”
He threw his head back and laughed, not a chuckle, but a full-bodied snort of laughter that began in his belly and rose upward, erupting in a sound that could not be anything but pure enjoyment.
“You told half the town today that you love me, that you had no intention of looking at another man, no matter what he had to offer. Did I quote that right?” His hands rested on his hips now as
he faced her and she felt foolish, as if she’d sealed her fate with the size of her mouth.
“Kind of,” she said finally. “It’s a pretty loose quotation, but you have the gist of it.”
“You love me? Right?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Did you mean it?”
“Maybe comparatively speaking, when I thought about feeling anything for Kyle, and then considered you.”
“Now what the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t curse, please. I don’t like to hear it.”
“You’ll hear worse than that if you compare me to that bastard again. I’ve damn well treated you nicely, and now you act like you had a hard time choosing between me and some dude from New York, who wasn’t worth a minute of your attention.”
She was stunned at his accusation. “I didn’t say that. I never even thought it. Not for a minute.” She felt battered by his words, insignificant in front of him, and stepped back lest he touch her again. The bed was directly behind her and she sat down on the feather tick.
“Jennifer.” He reached for her, his frown intense, as if he feared she were hurt. With a total lack of finesse, he lifted her into his arms and held her. Finesse wasn’t the most important thing in the world, she thought as she felt his solid, lean strength holding her against him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.
“I’m all right. I just lost my balance.” She winced as her arms ached from his handling and he set her aside.
“Now what did I do? Hurt you again?” His eyes were sharp, focusing on her body first, then sweeping up to her arms. “I grabbed you, didn’t I?”
She leaned on him again and, to his credit, he wrapped his arms around her, steering clear of her bruises. “Just hold me tight, will you, Lucas?” Aware that she hovered on the edge of tears, she inhaled, lest she dampen his shirt again. Crying seemed to be a habit of hers, one she refused to use to her advantage.
“I’ll hold you all night.” The words were solemn, almost a vow, and she accepted them as such.
“Thank you. I think I need to know you’re here. I missed you while you were gone.”
“I’m going into town in the morning to find that New Yorker, Jennifer. I hope you won’t be angry if I mop the floor with him.”
“He has the baby with him.” Her remembrance of Kyle’s words struck her. “Be careful he doesn’t hurt her.”
“The baby? Your neice?” He leaned past her to pull the quilt and sheet back, then fluffed her pillow. “He won’t hurt her. I’ll see to it, sweetheart. Now, will you crawl into bed?”
She obeyed, not about to argue with him, unable to think of anything else but curling up in his arms. She watched as he undressed, turning her head aside as he reached his smallclothes, and then felt the bed sink beneath his weight. He pulled her into his arms and she went willingly. “Put your head on my shoulder,” he said, coaxing her with soft tones. “I want to kiss you, Jennifer. Is that all right?”
“You’ve never asked before,” she reminded him. “But I don’t mind. Truly, I don’t.”
“I’m done with pouncing on you, honey. From now on I’m going to behave myself and bide my time. If you think enough of me to tell the whole town you love me, then I’m willing to wait till you’re ready to be my wife.”
“It wasn’t the whole town, only that row of old gentlemen who sit on the benches in front of the stores, and half a dozen ladies who came out of the general store to listen to all the fuss.”
“That row of old gentlemen are the biggest bunch of gossips you’ve ever laid eyes on, Jen. By now, everyone in town knows what you said, and the ladies are all aflutter with the story. And the men are envying me, every last one of them, except maybe the preacher, who seems pretty well smitten with his own wife.”
She turned her face into his chest and giggled. There was no other word for it. And she hadn’t giggled like a child for more years than she could remember. “I didn’t say I was smitten.” The words apparently amused him, for he laughed again and then squeezed her.
“I know what you said, and I can’t tell you how pleased I was to hear it.”
She tilted her head back and looked up at him. “Really? You were pleased?”
“You have no idea. Now,” he said, smothering a yawn, “tuck yourself right back here and snuggle up.”
She did, willing to obey, not considering for a moment that his tone was overbearing, that his arms held her as if he took possession of her very self. For tonight she was willing to be his possession, his wife.
And the truth of the matter was, she did love him, more than she’d ever thought possible. It just might not be wise to repeat that again, though. He was arrogant enough as it was. No sense in giving him anything else to gloat over.
CHAPTER EIGHT
LUCAS HEADED FOR TOWN early in the morning, after breakfasting on a cup of coffee and a piece of bread. “I won’t be long. Just want to look around to see if your brother-in-law had the good sense to leave on the morning train.”
“If he did, he took the baby with him,” Jennifer said sadly. “I’d hoped to see her.”
“How old is she?” Mrs. Bronson apparently had an interest in the child, too.
“Almost a year old. She was the image of her mama. even when she was born. I’d like to know what kind of care she’s getting from Kyle, given his slapdash methods of fathering during those first few months. I kept track of her as best I could, talking to his neighbors and such. Right up till I left to come here.”
Lucas bent to kiss Jennifer’s cheek. “I’ll find out. One way or another.”
He made good time, his horse fresh and ready for a run. The morning train was pulling in from the west as he reached the station and his quick scan of the platform gave no evidence of a stranger waiting to climb aboard.
“Damn fool must have stuck around.” Lucas felt a surge of pleasure as he considered the confrontation that might occur in the next little while. The hotel was his next stop and the desk clerk waved a hand in welcome.
“You got a stranger here?” Lucas was tempted to turn the book around to look at the names written there, himself, but thought better of it.
“Man came in yesterday, totin’ a young’un and causin’ trouble in town, I hear. I suspect you’re here to talk to him, Luc. But do your talkin’ outside, if you please. I just paid a pretty penny to fix this lobby up. All new furniture and a nice new carpet. I’m not lookin’ to have it bloodied up once you get your hands on that fella.”
“Where is he?” His blood pumped through his veins as Lucas recalled the vivid bruising on Jennifer’s arms. Anger was a harsh companion and he’d shared company with it all through the night. Now, just thinking of his wife and her fragile, feminine body being the target of some scallawag’s cruelty made him shudder with anticipation.
He wanted nothing more than to satisfy his thirst for revenge by planting his fists in the culprit’s face. “Where is he?” he repeated, his voice rough.
“In the dining room. Sitting all by himself. Don’t know what he done with the little girl, but he’s alone, eatin’ his breakfast.” The clerk’s face held a degree of disgust. “I didn’t hear her cryin’ or makin’ any fuss when I went up and listened at his door. Maybe she’s sleepin’.”
Lucas nodded and turned away, intent on gaining the threshold of the restaurant. Seated at a number of tables, hotel guests and townsfolk in search of a good breakfast, ate in an almost silent ritual. The sheriff sat alone near the window and Lucas wondered for a moment how that gentleman would respond to his plan of action.
And then it didn’t matter, for he caught sight of the only stranger in the room, a dapper man with his hair carefully combed, his suit pressed and his shirt pristine. A sight to behold, Lucas thought sourly. He’d change that in a hurry.
With one hand he lifted the man from his seat, even as he spoke the hateful name out loud. “Your name Kyle?” Eyes bulging, the man nodded, and Lucas lifted him to his toes and headed for the doo
r.
“Here now, Luc. What you up to?” The sheriff erupted from his chair and crossed the dining room, his hand on his gun.
“This son of a pup insulted my wife and left bruises on her.” His words were an accusation in themselves and the sheriff paused, as if he considered the reason for Luc’s actions.
“I can’t let you go killing the man, Luc,” he said. “No matter how mad you are. And bein’ the mayor don’t make a difference, either. That’s cold-blooded murder. You came in here with criminal intent. And I can’t allow mayhem in this town, no matter how much the fella deserves it.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Kyle managed to squeak just before Lucas dragged him to the doorway and across the lobby. Lucas pushed the wide doors open and the man found himself on the sidewalk, Lucas hands holding him upright.
“You hurt my wife.” The words were accusation enough, apparently, for Kyle blanched and shuddered.
“She belongs to me,” he said in a confident tone that was likely false.
“Well, I’ve got news for you, fella. I’m the one who married her and it’s my house she’s living in, and my bed she’s sleeping in, so I’d say you don’t have any chance at her.”
“She’s from New York. She belongs in the city.”
“She belongs right here. With me.” And with that, Lucas released Kyle from his grasp, only to swing his right arm in a wide sweep, catching Kyle’s jaw with a crushing blow. The man hit the sidewalk and groaned.
Lucas gave him only a moment to catch his breath, then lifted him by the front of his not-so-pristine shirt and slammed his other fist into the man’s nose. Blood spurted and Lucas stepped back out of the way, unwilling to wear mute evidence of his attack.
And yet he was not finished with him. His long fingers clenched the shirt collar, dislodging Kyle’s tie and almost throttling the man. “Head back to New York if you know what’s good for you,” Luc said and, with a mighty blow that sent Kyle flying into the street, he finished his duty.
He turned to face the sheriff, that man having followed him out of the hotel. “You want to arrest me, Joshua, you just go right ahead. Remember one thing, though. If Jennifer was your wife, you’d have done the same thing.”
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