The Marriage Agreement

by Carolyn Davidson

  “I thought this whole thing was about keeping me out of jail,” she said shortly. Her chin jutted and she jerked her valise from the bed. It was heavy and she almost rued the gesture.

  “Give me that thing,” Morgan snarled. Long steps carried him across the room to where she stood.

  She released the bag into his hand. Indeed, she had no choice. Morgan on the warpath was a sight to behold. “You’re a bully,” she muttered, watching as he dropped the offending piece of luggage to the floor and then turned back to her.

  “I’ll be whatever it takes to keep you where you belong.” His eyes silvered as he spoke the words, as if the threat was fueled by the icy depths of his anger. From between dark lashes, he viewed her with an all encompassing survey. “If I have to, I’ll tie you to the bed, Lily. Don’t push me.”

  “Why do you want me?” The words were a cry from her heart, that throbbing bit of flesh that pumped blood through her veins and, at this moment, felt as though it were being torn asunder. “I’m no good for you. What Weston said was true. Every time you look at me, you’ll think of his hands on me. I couldn’t stand your disgust. One day you’d turn away from me, and I couldn’t bear that. It’s better that I leave now.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said harshly. “You’re my wife, Lily. I married you for better or for worse. This is the worse part, but it’s going to get better. We’re going to get past this and work things out. I won’t let you leave me.”

  “That man forced me into his bed, Morgan.” As if the words were torn from her, she cried them aloud, and tears flowed again as her memory traced the horror of her past. “He tossed me on the ground in the woods. I wore bruises from his hands clutching at me. He hurt me, Morgan, and I was too dumb to know what being with a man should be. Not until you paid five dollars for a night in my company did I realize that all men weren’t alike.”

  “I don’t want to hear what he did to you,” Morgan said, his jaw clenching. “I should have killed the bastard while I had the chance.”

  “And spend your life in jail for that worthless piece of humanity?” She shook her head in despair. “If you can’t stand to hear about this now, how can we ever get past it? This isn’t a happily-ever-after story, Gage Morgan. This is real life, and so long as you’re not willing to face up to what I am—”

  “Stop it!” His hands reached for her and his mouth stifled her words. His lips pressed against hers with a fiercely bruising pressure, as if by that means alone he would suppress the aching pain that overflowed in harsh words. Words that spelled out the reality of their relationship.

  “This is what you are, Lily. My wife, the woman I wanted so badly, I was willing to ignore all my own rules. The woman I’m willing to change my future to include.”

  She broke from his hold and her voice trembled as she accused him. “Your future? Ranching in Texas? A part of your life you never bothered to tell me about? I wasn’t even worthy enough to know where you came from, not fit, I suppose, to introduce to your family.”

  “Damn it, Lily. That’s not true. We’ve never truly talked about our families. You wouldn’t even tell me where your home is.” His hands were rough against her skin as he snatched her off balance and dragged her against himself again. The heat of his mouth against her flesh brought shivers to her skin, and he groaned at her response.

  His kisses were scattered over her face, the words he spoke muffled by the brush of flesh against flesh, visiting her brow, then her throat and all the tender places between. His breath blended with hers, his kiss one of desperation, as if he could hold her to himself with the force of his desire. And then they were on the bed and her clothing was stripped from her body, his hands rough as he dealt with buttons and tapes. She lay beneath him wearing only stockings and he knelt between her thighs, reaching to loosen his fly, allowing the burgeoning arousal to be free from its confinement.

  “I won’t let you go, Lily,” he said harshly. “I need you as I’ve never needed another person in my life.” He leaned over her and his mouth opened against her breast, his lips drawing the puckered crest into contact with his teeth and tongue. Lavishing that small bit of flesh with his tongue, he suckled her, drawing forth a cry she could not contain.

  His hands touched her breasts, long fingers encircling the round firmness, offering each equal attention. And as he rained kisses and caresses upon them, arousing touches that brought her to the brink of ecstasy, she closed her eyes. She would never again find someone like Morgan. No other man would ever take his place in her heart.

  He would not force this mating. That was a given, and she had no intention of denying either of them this time together. She lifted her face to him, seeking his lips. The invitation was explicit, and with a groan that spoke of agony and desperation, his mouth moved against hers.

  His full length covered her slender form, his weight alone holding her in place for his loving as, with long strokes of his tongue, he explored anew the soft tissues of her mouth. He thrust against the tender places there that brought pleasure to her, imitating the act he seemed driven to complete. And then he buried his face against her shoulder and spoke her name.

  “Lily.” It was a groan, drawn from the depths of his spirit, a simple plea for her understanding. “I wouldn’t ever hurt you, Lily. I’d never force you, no matter how badly I want you, or how angry I am,” he murmured. “Forgive me.”

  She reached for him once more, sliding her hands between their bodies, seeking that male part of him that even now sought entry to her warmth, and with ease, she guided him into position. Lifting her hips, she captured him—holding him fast within the narrow passage that seized and claimed the gift of his manhood. Her arms encircled him, lifting to his movement as she seduced him to her will, and in so doing found a quick, aching release.

  Her grip on him tightened as he spoke her name again and his flesh warmed her, moving against her with each stroke—searing her with the pleasure of male textures against her own softer, feminine body. She met his rhythm then, and moved as he bid her, until, with a spiraling tension that sought release, they found together the rare, soaring delight of lovers who are in one accord.

  “Are you singing tonight?” May asked. She caught up with Lily in the lobby, her gaze searching out the other woman’s face as if she looked for evidence of trouble. “What’s going on with you and Morgan? I heard you fussing earlier today, and I almost knocked at your door. Are you all right?”

  “We did fuss a bit,” Lily said, thinking how poorly that phrase described the altercation she’d shared with Morgan. The quarrel that had ended up with his loving her almost into oblivion, so long did he strive to bring her pleasure in every way possible. “It’s all right now, May. Morgan’s being a gentleman about this whole thing, but he’ll be better off with a woman he can take home to his family, without having to make explanations.”

  May guided her to a settee against the far wall of the lobby and drew her down to sit. “Do you really think he cares about what happened to you before you met?”

  “I know he does,” Lily said sadly, thinking of the words that still rang in her ears, remembering the stony countenance he’d offered as he spoke. I don’t want to hear what he did to you.

  “He can’t face what I became in order to survive,” she whispered, feeling once more the anger she’d thought deeply buried. Brought now to the surface as she recalled the day she’d left her home.

  “Stanley Weston had a torch in his hand and was ready to toss it through my mama’s parlor window. He would have burned River Bend to the ground that day. And then, as if he dangled a carrot in front of my nose, he turned to me and smiled. “Come away with me,” he said, “and I’ll leave your folks in one piece.” She drew a shuddering breath and her whisper was harsh. “God help me, I went with him, May.”

  “Ah, Lily.” May leaned over to clasp a trembling hand. “You did what you had to. That’s something we all have to live with. One time or another we make a decisi
on that comes back to haunt us, bringing regret when it doesn’t work out for the best. Morgan won’t hold that against you.”

  “He’ll never be able to forget it, though.”

  As though there were no response she could utter as assurance, May rose and drew Lily from her seat. “Let’s go have some supper before it’s time to change,” May said. “Where’s Morgan? Will he be coming down?”

  Lily shook her head. “No, he’s not here. There was business with the sheriff to be taken care of.”

  They walked through the dining area to a table in the corner. May picked up her napkin, glancing with a shake of her head at the mended spots and then placed it on her lap. The flourish of that piece of linen was a gesture guaranteed to gain attention, and the waitress came to them immediately.

  “What would you ladies like?” she asked nicely. “The special is fried chicken tonight.”

  “Sounds good to me,” May said and then with a quick glance at Lily, she added to the order. “Make that two chicken dinners.”

  “I don’t know how much I can eat,” Lily murmured. She lined up her silverware, spread her napkin in her lap and then looked up into May’s candid gaze. “The man who showed up in town this morning is the Yankee colonel who took me from home five years ago,” she said quietly. “Once he leaves town, I’ll be free to go,” Lily said.

  “And you think Morgan will let you?”

  “He says not,” Lily answered.

  “Then I wouldn’t count on leaving him behind, if I were you. He’s got it bad, Lily. I watched out the window and saw the fracas earlier. Morgan wouldn’t have knocked that fella’s block off in front of the sheriff’s office if he wasn’t up to taking care of you.” May paused and then smiled knowingly. “And then when he followed you back to the hotel I just made myself scarce. Thought I’d best leave well enough alone.”

  The waitress appeared, two cups and saucers in hand and placed them on the table, then poured coffee from an enameled pot. As she moved on, May bent toward Lily. “You’re wise to steer clear of that Weston fella. He’s a scoundrel if ever I heard of one. He’ll be out for your blood, Lily. I’d advise you to stick close to Morgan.”

  “It looks like Weston will be on the next northbound boat. Morgan is over with the sheriff right now, making sure that the threats the man made won’t follow me home.”

  Two steaming plates of food arrived, and both the women leaned back to allow the waitress access. Lily felt her stomach revolt as she eyed the meal before her. “I don’t know if I can eat this,” she said quietly, and then reached for May’s hand, clutching it in her own. “It’ll be better for Morgan if I leave.”

  May shook her head, dropping Lily’s hand to the table, then patting it as she might pacify a child. Picking up a chicken leg, she took a bite, savoring the flavor with a sound of enjoyment before she answered. She chose her words carefully, as if reluctant to interfere. “Don’t you think that’s Morgan’s choice to make?”

  “No, it’s mine. Morgan won’t walk away from me. He’s an honorable man, May. He’s promised to stand by me, and no matter how hard that pledge will be for him to fulfill, he’ll do it. I’m going to take it out of his hands.”

  “That’s up to you, I suppose,” May said with a dubious look. “He’ll follow you. And probably catch up with you,” May said matter-of-factly. “Then what’ll happen?”

  “I know a bit about staying out of sight,” Lily told her. “I won’t be traveling on the river. And that’s all I’m going to tell you. I don’t want you to have to lie to the man, and you better believe he’ll be grilling you for any little clue he can get.”

  “I just hope you know what you’re doing.” May settled down to eat and Lily tried to follow her example, aware that her body required food in order for her to sustain her strength for the days ahead.

  “Why don’t you unpack that bag?” Morgan asked her. Propped against the headboard, he watched as she sorted through her belongings for the nightgown he fully intended to remove as soon as she climbed into the bed with him.

  Damn. She was ignoring him, just fiddling around with her hair, brushing it until it seemed to breathe with a life of its own, clinging to her hands, and flying as it would around her head. She tamed it with long strokes of the brush, then loosely braided it for the night.

  “You know I like your hair down,” Morgan said softly, stifling the urge to go to her. He’d handled her roughly the last two times they’d met on this bed, not that he’d bruised her or caused her pain. But he hadn’t offered the choice of refusing him, not until he’d aroused her to a state of willingness, and for that he felt shame to have so used her. She’d clung to him, crying out softly, holding him and accepting the pleasure he brought to her. And now he resolved to make amends.

  “It’s messy in the morning when I leave it down.” She slid her brush back in the valise and folded her dress and petticoat with care, placing them on the chair. In the light of the single candle, she approached the bed and sat on the edge.

  She was a conundrum, he decided. He’d be willing to bet his bottom dollar that she’d found little joy with the men she’d known. As if she were an innocent, as though pleasure was a stranger to her, she’d clasped it to her and reveled in the delights they found together.

  He shrank from thoughts of those men, feeling a coward as he pushed the knowledge to the back of his mind, determined that it not come between them.

  Yet she was withdrawing from him, as if she built a wall between them, stone by stone, and he knew a surge of frustration at her willfulness, at her obvious turning away. With a sigh, she slipped her feet beneath the sheet and tugged it high across her breasts. Morgan looked down at her, watched as her eyes closed and a yawn was covered by slender fingers.

  “You’re tired?” he asked, rising to divest himself of his own clothing.

  “It’s been a long, hard day,” she murmured. “Yes, I’m tired.” Turning her back, she faced the other side of the bed and he grinned at her back.

  “Why don’t I rub your feet for you?” he offered, lying down beside her.

  “They’re all right,” she said quickly, and then stiffened in his arms as he drew her back against his chest.

  “Good night, Lily,” he whispered against the crown of her head. The scent of clean hair and freshly bathed woman rose to tempt him and he strove determinedly to set aside his need. Not that a man who’d been on a regular diet of loving for the past few weeks should have any needs left to speak of.

  This having a wife had spoiled him, he decided. And he couldn’t fault her if she chose to give him her back tonight. If only… He frowned as he considered her actions. The valise was still packed and Lily was edgy, a combination he found worrisome.

  His eyes closed as her breathing evened out and she became soft in his embrace. Wiggling a bit, she sighed, then leaned against him and his grip on her tightened. It was a sad state of affairs when a man found himself content with a little hugging and a stolen kiss or two, he thought with a grin.

  Come tomorrow, when the next northbound boat came by, the sheriff planned to usher Stanley Weston down to the dock and see to it he was on board. With the threat of exposure to his family, the man appeared to have accepted defeat. The sheriff was sending wires to all law enforcement agencies to take Yvonne Devereaux’s name from their list of wanted criminals, and the warrant had been torn into small pieces and burned into ashes.

  In a couple of days, Morgan decided, he’d gather up his wife and their belongings and be on his way to Louisiana. There would be a showdown somewhere along the way. For, without a doubt, Lily would rebel and protest his protective involvement with her, but he looked forward to it, almost certain she was becoming entangled in his web.

  He loved her. There was no getting around it. He loved her with a depth of emotion he hadn’t thought himself capable of. Only one other woman had drawn forth this sort of affection and she had been off-limits, another man’s wife. And even that well-remembered rare beauty and i
nnocence paled when compared with Lily’s vibrant features and the strength of character she’d exhibited over the past weeks.

  He should have told Lily today. Sometime during those moments when he’d loved her with every fiber of his being, he should have murmured the words in her ear. Now, even though she could not hear him, he whispered the vow against her silken hair.

  “I love you, Lily. I love you.” And wondered at the pleasure he’d gained from speaking those simple phrases aloud. Now, if she would only reciprocate. If somehow he could win her love in return, he would find a way to make her happy for the rest of her life.

  “What the hell is all this about?” Morgan held a crumpled piece of paper in his hand as he faced May through the open doorway of her room. “Where’s she gone, May? And don’t try to tell me you don’t know anything about it.”

  “She ran out on you, Morgan. It was her choice.” And then May’s tough facade cracked just a bit and Morgan saw regret touch her gaze. “She didn’t think you’d ever get beyond her past. She doesn’t figure she’s good enough for you. In fact, she said you wouldn’t be able to take her to meet your family, because it would involve explanations that she couldn’t stand.”

  “Hell, who cares about my family?” he said roughly. “Lily’s my wife. Nothing’s going to change that.” He ran long fingers through his hair and then clapped his hat back on. “Where’d she go, May? And don’t try to tell me you don’t know.”

  May’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. “It’s the truth, Morgan. She wouldn’t tell me anything. Said you’d be on me for answers and she didn’t want me to lie to you.”

  “How long ago did she leave?” Frustration tore at him, setting aside the relief he’d felt when Weston was put on the boat and the sheriff had announced the whole situation taken care of. Answering wires from Washington had assured Morgan that Lily was no longer wanted for any crime, given the fact that she had only defended herself.