“Then I shall read it aloud.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.” She unfolded the paper and squinted at it.
“‘My dearest daughter. Please forgive me for adhering to your wishes and leaving you behind. It was by far the hardest task I have had to do. Cherie, you are too stubborn by far but you are strong. Much stronger than your sisters know. Monsieur Callahan gave me his word he will take care of you. I had no choice but to trust him. He has agreed to a false marriage to protect you from those that would judge you. It was also not an easy decision to make. We will await you next summer. Please send word through Francesca when you are well. J’taime, Maman.’”
Jo folded the letter and tucked it in her lap, swallowing hard enough for him to hear it. He wanted to hold her, rub her back and tell her it would be all right. However, he didn’t and he wouldn’t. Regardless of what the fort citizens believed, they were not married. She was not his.
A tiny voice inside whispered, But you want her to be.
He told that voice to shut up. He cleared his throat. “Drummond has been coming by regular and collecting money.”
“To pay for the cabin?” She had already seen Drummond collecting that rent.
“For water, for food, for the cabin, for soap to wash clothes, for a tub to wash them in, for a chamber pot, for the goddamn sun that shines on us.” He gestured to the tiny room. “You’d think we were living in a palace for the amount of money we’ve paid.”
“We haven’t paid anything. You did. I have no money, Declan.” She always seemed to see right through him. “This is another debt I need to repay.”
“You don’t owe me a thing. I had the money, so I paid. We aren’t allowed to leave the cabin because of the damn quarantine sign, but they can bleed us dry while we’re here.” He didn’t like being confined and, worse, being bamboozled by a man like Drummond, who pretended to be a good person. He was a snake in a man’s skin.
“Perhaps now that I’m on the mend we can travel to my sister’s. How far are we from John’s ranch?” She was logical, always so damn logical.
“I don’t have a fucking clue.” He shot to his feet and went to stir the soup, waiting for her censure.
“Then we will find our way there. We can find a way to earn enough money to rent a wagon for my things.” She seemed to be warming to the idea. “It should only take a week or two, I think, long before the snow flies.”
Declan didn’t answer, his throat tight with the damn emotions he didn’t want. She made it sound as though their marriage would continue, as though it wasn’t a pretend union, a joke, an aberration. Trapped with a man who couldn’t even write his own name or make choices like she would. He was not a good man, no matter what her optimism told her.
“I promised your parents to keep you alive and make sure you made it to Oregon next year. If you want to go to your sister’s, then that’s what we’ll do.” He didn’t want to talk any more about their future. It was hers, not his.
“I must find a way to pay you back. Perhaps we can sell some of my things—”
“No.” He almost shouted the word, making her jump. “I have money, enough for a wagon and whatever you need.”
She looked at him long and hard, studying him with those too-intelligent brown eyes. “You are not being entirely truthful with me.”
“I have money, lass, don’t fret about that.” He didn’t like the way she challenged him. There were very few women who spoke up or took a stance. It shouldn’t surprise him Josephine Chastain did—she had from the moment they’d met. And so had her sister, Francesca. He had been right about the family—they were all cracked.
“I was not referring to your claims of wealth. Honestly, that is the least of my concerns.” She narrowed her gaze. “I was referring to our supposed marriage and your sudden loss of facial hair. I do not believe I have all the facts from you.”
Damn woman.
“Why did you really shave your beard? Was there a truly a rash?” Her soft question hit harder than a punch to the gut.
“I was afraid you’d ask me that.” This would be even harder than he thought.
“It is a rather noticeable change. I certainly noticed immediately.” She looked at him with those owlish eyes.
He sighed and sat back down in the rocking chair. “There was a rash, but it was more than that. My past caught up to me, at least a little.”
She leaned forward. “What about your past?”
Now was the time to tell her everything and let her make her own decisions about him. He had no excuses for his life, and he was who he was.
“I came to this country with my parents when I was a lad. Da was a drunk, a wastrel who fell in with some bad people after we got to New York. Ma was a midwife and she found a place, helping people as she’d always done. When I was nine, she died.” His tone was flat, unwilling to dredge up the old emotions he had managed to snuff out. “From then on it was me and my da. We didn’t get along so well. I started running with another crowd, a gang called the Five Pointers. I did what I was told, working my way up the chain until I was working for Oliver Peck.”
Jo’s lip curled. “He was not a good person.”
“Neither am I, lass. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I stole, beat, scared and scraped my way through the sewers of New York to get where I did. Peck was the man in power and I was his dog.” The words were torn from him, full of the darkness that lurked inside him.
She scooted closer to the edge of the cot. “Your path is what you make of it, Declan.”
“Oh, I know that better than most. My path has always been in the shadows and stayed there until now. A man named Parker stopped by soon after the sham wedding. He said he was the law at the fort and he was checking on us. Looked at me sideways and asked plenty of questions about me. Not you, just me. I had a suspicion someone had sent my description west after Peck’s men found a way back to civilization. Parker said he didn’t want trouble from trash and he’d be watching me.” Declan grimaced at the memory of the self-important little man. “I used a knife to take off my beard after he left. I cut my hair short too. Anything to make me look like someone else, but I can’t change my size or my face.”
She listened to it all, her expression calm and curious. He expected her to condemn him for who he was and what he’d done. Possibly even tell Parker he’d murdered and buried Peck out in the prairie. Declan was guilty, there was no question of that.
“Has Mr. Parker returned since then?”
Declan grimaced. “Every couple of days. He never comes inside, but I swear the man thinks I’m holding you hostage.”
She snorted. “That is ridiculous. Anyone could see you are keeping your promise to my parents to take care of me. As far as they are concerned, you are my husband.”
He wanted to tell her she was wrong. He wasn’t there to keep a promise to the Chastains. His reasons had to do with a bespectacled woman who hadn’t done anything but exist, a smart, courageous woman he found himself not quite married to. The fates were having fun with Declan Callahan.
“It doesn’t matter what I say, lass. He has already made up his mind. I’ve done nothing but ‘Yes, sir’ the man every time he shows his face.” It galled Declan to keep pretending to be something he wasn’t to Parker. The self-proclaimed man of the law enjoyed lording over people. Declan certainly knew the type, had wanted to break away from their power all his life. Yet he couldn’t. Not now, with Jo counting on him.
No. Declan had to swallow his pride and keep his hands at his sides. One day he could let loose the beast inside him that prowled and snarled. Now he kept a leash on that animal, but it got harder each time he saw Parker or Drummond.
“The two of them keep us trapped in his cabin, milking us dry, pushing me every goddamn time they show their faces.” He was almost growling.
“Then we need to leave as soon as possible.” She rose to her feet as though she was prepared to pack up and sashay out the door.
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“Lass, we can’t leave until Drummond clears the quarantine.” He needed her to understand they were trapped.
“Why does he have that power?” She frowned.
“He’s the local doc even if he’s only a medic. People listen to him. The folks walk around the building as if we were a leper colony. They don’t come by. There are no ladies welcoming us with pies or bread. We’re at Drummond’s mercy.”
She finally seemed to understand, as her face fell and she sat down heavily. “Oh my.”
“Now we can pretend to be a happily married couple, get you all cleaned up and keep telling Drummond and Parker what they want to hear. We’ll be lucky to leave with the clothes on our backs. I think these two are milking people as they come through. We’re in the middle of nowhere. They can do whatever they like.” He had to swallow back the anger that threatened again.
“I can pretend.” She nodded. “I am fairly certain I do need to bathe.”
“And eat. You need to eat first.” He went to the stove and checked on the soup. “You’re nothing but skin and bones, lass. You couldn’t walk to the door and back right now.”
She looked annoyed by his statement, but she didn’t argue with him because he was right. “Very well. I will eat and bathe and get stronger so we can leave this prison.” She paused and glanced down at her hands. “I apologize for my mother’s actions and for putting you in this position. If I had not gotten sick, you would have your job with Mr. Avery and not be trapped.”
He poured the soup into the tin dish and told himself not to react too strongly to her apology. “You don’t need to apologize to me, lass. Ever. I am a man grown, with my own mind. I make my own decisions and I chose this.” He took the steaming concoction to her and held it when she reached for it.
“I believe I can feed myself.” Her voice had flipped to prim and proper, and he knew she was annoyed.
“Then feed yourself. Let me hold the hot dish. Don’t forget how weak you are. You don’t need a burn too. Not if you plan on busting out of here.” He managed a small grin.
She nodded after a brief hesitation. “I accept your logic and I appreciate your concern, although I believe it is misplaced.”
He was surprised to see she didn’t stick her nose in the air, but she did sniff. After three weeks of seeing her at her very worst, he was entirely too happy to see her well enough to be annoyed with him. That meant she was feeling better and that did more to calm his beast than anything else. If they were lucky, they might leave the fort in one piece and together. Getting her strong and clean was the first step.
Then he could sort out his feelings and find a way to release her from this ridiculous false marriage she didn’t even consent to. Declan wouldn’t allow her to stay at his side. Jo deserved much better than an Irishman with a dark past and an even darker heart.
After eating far less than he wanted her to, Jo was exhausted. But now that she was aware of just how filthy she was, she had to get clean. If she kept scratching her head, she might not have any hair or scalp left. Declan requested she nap, but Jo could not possibly sleep yet.
“Please use whatever water you have left and heat it. I will sell a few of my—”
“I’ve already told you I ain’t letting you sell anything.” Declan scowled as he poured water from a pitcher into a tin bucket. “I got money.”
“Did my mother leave soap?” She hoped they didn’t have to buy any.
“There’s some that smells flowery in the sack on top of your trunk.” He pointed a wet finger at the corner. “I’ll get it for you.”
Surprised, Jo waited while he rummaged around, coming up with the soap. He slapped the bar in her hand and returned to the small stove. She sniffed the soap, then had to close her eyes against the flood of memories. Her mother started buying the soap when Jo turned twelve. Each year on her birthday, she received a fresh bar. Jo treasured that bar, using it sparingly to make it last until the next birthday.
A lump formed in her throat. She missed her family, but now she had someone else she could call family. Declan might not ever buy her lavender soap, but he had done a great deal else, including save her life. She would savor this bar of soap, and hold the memory close to her heart.
“Uh, I’ve been washing up with the basin.” Declan interrupted her thoughts. “There’s no tub in here, lass. You can use the bucket and I can rinse off your hair into the other one.”
Jo froze at the idea of taking a bath, or rather washing up, in this tiny cabin. Alone. With Declan. She felt lightheaded at the thought.
“That sounds quite awkward.” She was unhappy at the waver in her voice. Shoving her glasses back up her nose, she focused on his size as compared to the amount of space in the building. How could she possibly do it?
“You can wash yourself. I’ll stand outside the door, sign be damned. When you’re ready to wash your hair, call me in and we’ll do what we need to.” He’d proven to her again he was a gentleman.
“You do not have to leave. Just, uh, turn your back.” She knew it was foolish to be unwilling to disrobe in front of him. He had, after all, been taking care of her for three weeks. Declan had most assuredly seen every inch of her. A shiver ran down her spine at the thought.
He looked doubtful. “Are you sure?”
She shrugged with a casualness she didn’t feel. “It is not as though we are strangers.”
“I’m still a stranger to you, lass, no matter if we are supposed to be married. I’ll just—”
“No. Do not be ridiculous.” She got to her feet and set the soap on the bed beside her. “If you would please mix the hot and cold water in the second bucket, I will wash myself.”
Jo wasn’t about to tell him her knees were shaking or her stomach was performing somersaults. Neither of which was caused by her sickness. Oh no, it was most assuredly the thought of being naked and wet a few feet from Declan.
Sweet heavens. Was she ready for that?
No matter if she was or not, he had already poured the water mixture for her and set the bucket down at her feet. He handed her a washrag, his fingers grazing her wrist, and she shivered at the contact. His eyes widened and his nostrils flared, as though he scented her semi-aroused state.
She kept her face composed while her body screamed at her to snatch the man up and kiss him. “Please turn your back, if you would.”
There was a pregnant pause broken only by the frantic fluttering of her heart. A scrape of his boots and then the chair told her he had done as she bade. She unbuttoned her dress with shaking fingers, then stepped out of it. The chemise and pantalettes followed. Jo had never felt freer or more scared in her life.
She was naked. Naked less than five feet from a man. This was a moment she hadn’t expected to occur in her lifetime. Now she found it tasted decadent and quite luscious. A female creature inside her, one ruled by her impulses, awoke and stretched her muscles. Jo quaked at the sensation of having a new side to herself take control. Frightening, but exciting. Naughty.
Her body warmed to the idea of being a woman, one capable of arousing lust in a man. She wanted it, she needed it, she craved it. This new Jo, she would make it happen. They were supposed to be married, after all. He was her faux husband.
Emboldened by her newfound wanton self, Jo began to wash. She dipped the washrag in the water and squeezed it, then ran the soap across the cloth. With a smile she might not have recognized in the mirror, she ran the cloth down her arms.
“What do you like to do for fun, Declan?” The question popped out and she could not possibly stuff the words back in her mouth.
“Fun?” He choked on the word. “I, uh, guess I like to play dice.”
She stopped, the water dripping softly onto the floor in a pitter-patter. “Dice? I don’t know how to play. If we find some, could you teach me?”
He shifted in the chair behind her, and she smiled. Oh, this was great fun. Jo patted the new Jo on the back for her cleverness. As she slid the cloth down her torso, payin
g special attention to her erect nipples, he cleared his throat three times before he spoke again.
“Dice isn’t a game for ladies.” His voice timbre had grown husky. She liked the sound of it, a lot.
“I am not a lady, Declan. I am your wife.” Saying it aloud wasn’t nearly as hard as she’d thought. The words were false but rang true. She wrung the washrag out and put fresh soap on the cloth before she started in on her lower half. As she rested one foot on the cot, the cool cabin air hit her heated core. Her vagina was wet from more than the bathwater. After her mother’s lessons on copulation, she knew what it meant.
The new Jo smiled.
“Not really, lass. We’re not truly married. It’s not real.” His words were more awkward than she’d ever heard from him.
She washed her way down another leg. “The details are not important. We are married in the eyes of Fort John. Married couples share and participate in activities together. Why not dice?”
“Dice is gambling, something regular folks frown upon.” He shifted again and she resisted, barely, the urge to look to see what he was doing in that chair.
“I am not regular folk and I do not believe you are either. Besides, what we do in the privacy of our, er, home concerns no one but us.” She wanted to learn something illegal like playing dice. Jo had spent her life doing what was expected. For once, she wanted to do something unexpected.
“I don’t want to get into any more trouble here. It’s just you and me, Jo. No one is gonna care if we’re being private or not. Folks don’t want us here.” He blew out an exasperated sounding breath. “Now drop the idea of playing dice. It’s not gonna happen.”
She narrowed her gaze. “I do not take kindly to being told what to do by anyone. If you will not teach me dice, then I will find someone who will.”
“Dammit, Jo, don’t be so foolish.” His anger was a welcome change.
“I can be what I want to be.” She threw the washrag into the bucket, splashing water on her feet. “And do not ever call me foolish.”
He rose to his feet with a growl and faced her. His expression changed instantly from anger to disbelief and something akin to wonder. Arousal mixed with fear flooded her, and she rethought her earlier notion that she was wet. Oh no, she wasn’t before, but she was now.
The Prospect: The Malloy Family, Book 10 Page 6
