Sierra Bride
Page 1
“I want to make you my mistress.”
There, he’d said it.
Kate’s head dropped a moment, and then she met his eyes. The anger was now replaced with a look of sorrow.
“You cannot buy me, Mr. Pickett.”
In the past Sam’s persistence had served him well. In his mind, this was no different. He wanted her. It was only left for them to strike a bargain.
“I need you, Kate. Lady as pretty as you could be a real help to me wrangling up investors for the railroad. Miners love a pretty girl. You’d keep their interest while we sell stock.”
“And share your bed.”
Sam smiled, letting his grasp soften as he drew his hand away in a long caress.
He leaned in to whisper in her ear. “We’d be good together, you and I. I can feel it.”
Sierra Bride
Harlequin® Historical
Praise for Jenna Kernan’s Books
Outlaw Bride
“Kernan creates an engaging and fascinating story.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
High Plains Bride
“Those who enjoy Westerns or tales of lovers reunited will not want to miss this book. It has found a place on my keeper shelf and I know I will be reading it again.”
—All About Romance
The Trapper
“Kernan’s engaging characters and a colorful backdrop…make this classic western romance something special.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
Turner’s Woman
“Makes for tip-top reading.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
Winter Woman
“Presents a fascinating portrait of the early days of the West and the extraordinary men and woman who traveled and settled in the area…Kernan has a knack for writing a solid western with likable characters.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
“Winter Woman is an exciting, no holds barred story with unforgettable characters. Ms. Kernan’s first novel is a winner!”
—Rendezvous
“With this strong debut, Jenna Kernan puts her name on the list of writers to watch for and Winter Woman may just be the start of a long career.”
—The Romance Reader
JENNA KERNAN
Sierra Bride
This book is dedicated to my husband, Jim,
with much love and a grateful heart.
Available from Harlequin® Historical and JENNA KERNAN
Winter Woman #671
Turner’s Woman #746
The Trapper #768
Wed Under Western Skies #799
“His Brother’s Bride”
High Plains Bride #847
Outlaw Bride #883
Sierra Bride #956
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Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
Chapter One
Sacramento, 1862
T he only difference between the women on the street corners and Kate Wells was that she only had to sell herself to one man.
His passing was a mixed blessing. Despite the scandal and her resulting fall from grace, Kate did regain her freedom as a result of his murder. And she much preferred her current work to the duty she had to perform in the marriage bed. Both kept her up at night, but she didn’t feel the need to wash after working in the milliner’s shop.
Tonight she had a full moon to guide her as she walked home along the American River.
Unfortunately, the moonlight and the lanterns from the riverboat also served to illuminate things that were best shrouded in darkness. The wide street was not as deserted as it should be at this time of night. Saturdays were always this way, men with money in their pockets and mischief on their minds.
Kate slipped a hand into her bag. As she hurried on, she groped about for the only useful gift her husband ever gave her. At last her fingers gripped the cold, pearled handle of the Derringer. She hunched around the weapon as if she guarded it instead of the other way around. Her shoulders ached from her labors. There weren’t enough hours in the day to earn a living. Between the boardinghouse and the milliner’s, she worked sixteen hours a day and was still falling behind.
She glanced at the three women on the corner. Their bare shoulders and seductive postures advertised their business, and she wondered what they made in an hour.
One woman gripped the elbow of a scrawny man as she met Kate’s gaze. It was like looking in a mirror. The confident pose, the false smile—Kate saw past all that and focused on the desperation glittering in the woman’s eyes. She recognized the despair and it frightened her down to her bones.
Kate wasn’t that hopeless yet, but it was a near thing, a nightly battle with the invisible line of respectability. Thus far she was only the widow of a thief. There were
worse things.
Her gaze fixed on the crates just inside the alley. Steady gasping interspersed with grunts left little doubt as to what occurred just beyond her sight. She hugged her shawl tighter and hastened on. Her husband had made such noises when he pushed himself inside her. She squeezed her eyes shut fighting to bury the memory.
As she approached the next alley, she heard a different sort of sound. Something crashing and then cries of glee.
“That’s got him!” someone shouted.
She glanced between the buildings and drew up short at the scene. Two men and a woman were rifling through the pockets of a large man who struggled to rise from the packed earth.
Kate’s first impulse was to scream for help, which she did with gusto. This caused two burly men to stop offloading the steamer and to turn their heads in her direction. They came at a run. With this backup she charged into the alley herself. The villains looked so startled they simply stared.
The young woman held a black leather billfold.
Kate showed her pistol, thrusting her arm out before her like a sword. “Drop that right now!”
The woman didn’t, but instead turned and fled down the back end of the alley and out of sight.
The men held their ground.
“What are you going to do with that, deary?” said one man taking a step forward.
“Stop or I will shoot you.”
He didn’t. She did.
The sound of the gun report was amplified by the narrow space, echoing off the walls. Her attacker fell to the ground, clutching his thigh. His partner lunged at her, slapping her weapon away and seizing her wrist. His fist cocked back. Kate had time only to close her eyes and brace for the blow, which she heard but did not feel.
Opening her eyes, she found the man she had defended now standing beside her with the thief lying at his feet. She stared in wonder at this man who had knocked his attacker unconscious with a single blow.
He drew his pistol then and aimed just as the two dockworkers arrived.
“Saw it! Saw the whole thing!” one shouted.
“Get that one,” shouted the other. Kate turned to see the wounded man hopping around the corner as the two deliverymen charged past her after the fleeing man, taking their lantern with them.
Kate found herself alone in the alley with the man she had tried to rescue, and his unconscious attacker. The only light came from the lanterns on the steamers behind him so she could not see his face. But he was tall and broad with light brown hair. He wore the clothing of a laborer, a dark work shirt of some heavy weave and denim jeans. Over the lot he wore a long duster, as if he had ridden in on horseback. Had he come here with the woman?
Kate felt trapped as she faced him. He nudged the fallen man with his boot. The thief showed no flicker of movement, beyond the rise and fall of his breathing, so her companion holstered his sidearm and took a step in her direction. He swayed as if drunk, but she smelled no whiskey. He stooped and retrieved her silver, double-shot pistol. When he straightened, he had one hand pressed to his head and the other about her gun. He offered her the pistol in an open palm.
“Thank you, miss.”
She plucked her derringer from him and was stuffing it into her bag when his hand fell heavily on her shoulder. She screamed and then realized that he was not attacking her, but rather falling.
Kate managed only to guide his fall while she crumpled beneath him. As he lay half-across her lap, she stared at his attacker’s boots, noting the tacks of one heel showed through the worn leather. She adjusted her position so his head rested on top of her thighs. It was in the process of moving him that she discovered a lump on the back of his head the size of a darning egg.
She prayed he had not split open his skull as she searched for any sign of blood, but found none. She pushed his thick hair back from his pale face. “It’s all right now. I’ll take care of you.”
His eyes fluttered open and he stared up at her with childlike wonder.
He blinked. In the dim-filtered light, she first noticed his neatly trimmed side-whiskers, slightly darker than the hair on his head. He wore no beard, which allowed her to admire the clean sweep of his strong jaw and the fullness of his bottom lip. It was parted slightly as he drew long breaths. His thick, high brows lifted above gentle eyes and a broad straight nose. All in all, he was an exceedingly handsome fellow. His stare did something to her, making her skin tingle. It was a feeling long forgotten, the feeling of a girl attracted to a boy without knowing the heartache that would bring. Yes, this one was handsome and that made him dangerous. She straightened her spine and chided herself. She, of all people, should know better.
He whispered something, but she could not make it out, so she lowered her ear closer to his lips.
She listened, but still could not understand. She hovered over him, inches from his lips.
“Lie still now until help arrives.” She hoped it would arrive and glanced in the direction that the two dockworkers had vanished.
He lifted a hand and threaded his fingers in her hair like a lover and drew her down toward him, kissing her on the lips.
She was so startled she could not think and then it was too late to think. His mouth slanted over hers, coaxing and stirring. Her stomach fluttered at this tantalizing moment of forbidden excitement.
The sound of the rapid strike of boot heels brought her to her senses and she drew back. His eyes drifted closed, but now a devilish smile curled his lips.
She stared down in mute horror at what had just happened, and then Kate blinked up at the swinging lantern held by one of the men who had come to her aid.
He stooped before the thief. “Still breathing.” He glanced up at her. “How’s yours?”
She stared down at his reclining body and the bulge evident in his britches and flushed hotly. Had the man not seen her kiss him? She cleared her throat. “He’s swelling, his head, I mean—his head is swelling, from the blow.” Trying to recover from her blunder, she pointed at the lump. “Just there.”
The man squatted. His large hands groped the unconscious man’s scalp. He raised his eyebrows and she knew he had found it. He gave a low whistle.
“That’s a beaut.”
“Where is your partner?”
“Brother,” he corrected. “With the one you clipped. Dragging him back, but I wanted to be sure you was all right.”
Kate smiled her gratitude. “Thank you for coming when I called.”
He shrugged. “Lady in need.” Then he looked at her, really looked, from her bonnet to the hem of her gown. “Why you out so late, miss? If you don’t mind my asking—this is no place for a lady.”
“I work for a milliner, extra hours, extra pay.”
He nodded, wiping his big hands on his trousers. “I’m doing much the same myself, except the milliner part.”
They shared a smile. It faded and died leaving a long uncomfortable silence.
“Should I go for help? Call the authorities?” he asked.
“Yes, I think so.”
He turned to the would-be thief who still lay sprawled on the ground. “He don’t look good.” He stooped before the man. “Jaw’s busted. Breathing though.”
He hauled the man to his feet and tossed him over his shoulder with an ease Kate found frightening.
“You’ll be all right?”
“Yes, of course.”
Still he lingered, looking back up the alley perhaps for his brother before glancing back at her.
Kate smiled and patted her reticule. “Still have a shot left.”
The man nodded his approval and lowered the lantern, leaving them in a pool of light. “My brother’ll be along directly.”
“I shall keep watch for him.”
He strode off, moving quickly for one of such girth. The unconscious man flopped like a dead carcass on his back.
The fellow resting on her lap stirred and she returned her attention to him in time to see his eyes open. He stared up at her with beautiful pale brown
eyes, as warm and inviting as sunlight through amber glass.
“Welcome back,” she murmured, flushing as she wondered if he would recall the kiss.
He tried to sit, flinched and then fell back panting and pale.
“My head is splitting. What happened?” He spoke without opening his eyes. “I heard a woman scream.”
“That was me.”
He cast a sidelong look at her. “No, miss. Not you. I’d sure remember that pretty face.”
“Who, then?”
“Dunno. She didn’t say…” He flushed. “We got out here and two men grabbed her. They were…” His words fell off as he glanced at Kate.
“Go on,” said Kate, trying to appear unruffled but feeling her face grow quite hot.
“I got her clear of them and—that’s the last thing I remember.”
“Perhaps she was the one who struck you.” Unable to help herself, Kate stroked his forehead.
“Thanks for taking care of me, ma’am.”
“I think you rescued me.”
His eyes widened. “Did I?”
“You struck that other man after he attacked me. Don’t you recall?”
He shook his head in dismay, then winced at the movement. She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze and immediately regretted it. Her touch revealed just how solid and masculine he was beneath that overlarge coat. She drew back her hand and his smile faded.
“They’re going for help.” She stared, admiring his fathomless eyes. “Just rest now.”
“Wouldn’t move on a bet,” he said, relaxing back into her lap.
“Are you dizzy?” she asked pushing his hair from his forehead and checking his eyes. They were clear and bright, with creases at the corners quite free of the tan that covered his face. This man spent his time out of doors.