The Lawman Claims His Bride

by Renee Ryan

  Logan’s handsome face twisted in concern. “Your ankle must be throbbing by now.”

  It was, but Megan could bear the pain a little while longer. The moment Logan reached out to her, as she knew he would, she dipped out from under his hand before he could get a good grip on her arm.

  Trying not to grimace at him, she took a step then winced when her ankle landed at an awkward angle.

  Without preamble, Logan scooped her into his arms and headed toward the sofa. “I don’t understand why you’re fighting me on this. I only want to take care of you.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, but his mother spoke first. “Logan, you’re suffocating your wife.”

  He drew in an offended breath. “Shane, her doctor, told me to keep her off her feet as much as possible. He said—”

  Megan touched his lips, effectively cutting off the rest of his words. “My ankle is fine. I moved too quickly, that’s all.”

  Cradling her against him a moment longer, he set her on the sofa and then sat down beside her. “It’s just that I can’t bear to have anything else happen to you.” His eyes held that familiar look of worry, but there was something else in them, as well. An intensity that sent a shiver through her.

  Sighing, Megan lowered her gaze to her hands, hands that were shaking. Again. She was growing quite tired of this odd, almost fearful reaction to her husband. She knew—knew—he would never hurt her, not even in the most intimate moments of their marriage. But every once in a while when the light caught his face at just the right angle, something in her pulled back from him.

  “I would never harm you,” he said quietly, as if he could read her thoughts. She didn’t want to be afraid of her husband. But sometimes he was just too big, too close, too intense. And yet, her reaction to him made no sense. This was Logan. Logan.

  Swallowing down her ridiculous fear, she lifted her hand to his face. He caught it and placed a light kiss on her palm.

  This time, fear had nothing to do with the shiver sliding down her spine.

  Enthralled by the pleasant sensation, Megan leaned a bit closer to her husband. His blue eyes were so compelling, so beautiful. She ran her fingertip along his jaw. His day-old stubble was rough under her touch.

  He leaned forward, his lips nearly touching hers.

  Megan shut her eyes and sighed.

  He brushed a strand of hair off her forehead and she trembled under his tender touch.

  “Are you cold?” he asked.

  Megan shook her head, but she couldn’t stop the heat rising in her cheeks. “I’ll be fine with your mother.” She smiled up at him, hoping to alleviate his worry even if she’d rather he stay. “Just fine.”

  After another round of arguing, cajoling and promises of dire consequences if Megan was not kept off her feet, Logan exited the room.

  Once he was gone, Mrs. Mitchell let out an amused breath of air. “I didn’t think that boy would ever leave.”

  “He’s worried about me,” Megan said.

  “Well, that certainly needed clearing up,” she said with a quick burst of laughter.

  Megan couldn’t help enjoying her mother-in-law’s reaction.

  After a moment of smiling at one another, a comfortable silence descended. Megan studied her new mother-in-law beneath lowered lashes. This was a woman comfortable in her own skin.

  Would she ever have that sort of confidence, that internal acceptance of who she was deep at the core? Megan sensed she could learn a lot from this woman.

  At that happy thought, a wave of guilt crested. “I’m sorry you weren’t able to attend the wedding,” Megan said. “Under the circumstances there wasn’t time to plan anything formal.”

  Smoothing a wrinkle from her apron, Mrs. Mitchell lowered herself onto the sofa next to Megan. “Am I to assume my son got a little, shall we say…ahead of himself?”

  Megan frowned at the oddly worded question. Her instinct was to change the subject immediately, but curiosity got the best of her. “Ahead of himself, how?”

  She took Megan’s hands and squeezed gently. “Are you with child, Megan?”

  “No.” She visibly shrank from the blunt question. “I’m not my mother’s daughter.”

  “Oh, dear, I didn’t mean it that way.” She smiled kindly, so kindly that it took an effort of will for Megan to hold her gaze. “It’s simply obvious how much my son loves you.”

  “But we haven’t… Logan would never…that is, he and I haven’t…” She lowered her gaze in complete and utter embarrassment. “Of course I’m not with child. We had to get married quickly because we—” She cut off her own words. How did she explain the circumstances of their hurried wedding?

  Mrs. Mitchell simply stared at her, waiting for the rest.

  “There was nothing scandalous about our sudden nuptials.” Words tumbled out of her mouth in a garbled rush. “Well, yes, maybe there was, but not in the way you would think. When Logan came home he found me in, that is, I was in… Oh, bother, it’s complicated.”

  “With Logan, it usually is.”

  “Oh?” When it came to her husband, Megan had always thought matters were blessedly straightforward.

  “Oh, my, yes.” Rather than expanding, Mrs. Mitchell rose. “Now, come. Let’s get you settled in a room upstairs, then you can tell me the story behind your hasty marriage to my son.”

  Megan hobbled up the stairs behind her mother-in-law. There was only time for impressions along the way. The sturdy railing made from knotted pine, the long hallway that came to a T and then split into two identical corridors.

  Turning down the left hallway, Mrs. Mitchell stopped at the first room on the right. Megan entered ahead of her and was immediately struck by the scent of pine and woodsy spice she’d always associated with her husband.

  “This was Logan’s room as a boy.”

  Smiling, Megan poked around the room. The decor had a decidedly masculine, albeit comfortable, feel. There were two large chairs with matching ottomans, a sturdy chest of drawers and an oversized, cozy-looking bed.

  Wanting to surrender to her exhaustion, Megan stared at the fluffy mattress with longing. Much to her horror, tears welled in her eyes.

  The last two days had been filled with too much emotion to sort through all at once. Although she was excited to begin her new life with Logan, although she already adored his family, everything was all…so…new. And overwhelming.

  A sob slipped past her lips and the tears she’d held on to for days escaped at last.

  Without commenting on her sudden breakdown, Mrs. Mitchell handed Megan a handkerchief she dug out of her apron.

  “I’m sorry.” Megan dabbed at her eyes. “I don’t usually cry like this. I don’t usually cry at all.”

  The older woman guided her to the edge of the bed and urged her to sit. “Then it’s high time you did.”

  Megan sank onto the mattress. The blessed softness called to her and she had to fight to stay upright.

  “We all need a good cry every now and again,” her mother-in-law announced.

  Cocooned in the woman’s soft smile, Megan sniffled. “That’s what my friend Bella said.”

  “Your friend sounds like a very wise woman.”

  “Oh, she is.” Thinking of Bella brought on another batch of tears. Embarrassed at her loss of control, Megan buried her face in her hands. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  Joining her on the edge of the bed, Mrs. Mitchell tugged her into a motherly hug. “You’re exhausted. You’ve left everything and everyone you know. You’re in a strange, new world.”

  “I’m supposed to be happy,” Megan said. “I just married the best man I know, a man I love with all my heart. And I’m truly glad to be here with his family.”

  “We’re happy to have you here.”

  Megan pulled back and wiped at her cheeks. “How much do you know about me?”

  “I know Logan loves you. That’s enough for me.”

  Logan must have skimmed over the details of Megan�
�s past. “Do you know the circumstances of my birth? That I have no idea who my father is?”

  “Logan told us all about your childhood, including why and how you ended up at an orphanage like Charity House.” There was compassion in the woman’s tone and no matter how hard Megan looked into her mother-in-law’s eyes she couldn’t find a hint of condemnation staring back at her.

  She had to make sure Mrs. Mitchell truly knew everything about her. She wouldn’t start her marriage with secrets. “Did Logan tell you that once my mother’s stage career ended she went to work in a brothel?”

  “Your mother loved you enough to send you to a Christian orphanage where you were able to break free of her sinful lifestyle.” She touched Megan’s arm. “Given the circumstances of your childhood, I predict you understand God’s grace better than most.”

  Too choked to speak, Megan slowly nodded. Thanks to the godly people at Charity House, she’d learned that the Lord loved even the unlovable, including women like Jane Goodwin. The very arms that defeated death on the cross were open to all, including sinners, including a woman of questionable virtue, including her daughter.

  “I won’t deny that your mother made many bad choices,” Mrs. Mitchell said. “But her decision to send you to Charity House ultimately led you to Logan. That’s what I call providence. God’s providence.”

  Fresh tears filled Megan’s eyes. Jane Goodwin had given her life and had done the best she could with her limited resources. But in a matter of minutes, Mrs. Mitchell had become something more to Megan, more than Jane had ever been. She’d become a mother.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Logan hooked the heel of his boot on the corral’s bottom rail, leaned his elbows on the top and then looked out over the mountains. He rolled his shoulders, hoping to ease the multitude of knots. He’d forgotten what it felt like to put in a long day of hard labor on the ranch. Although every muscle in his body ached, he hadn’t felt this satisfied in years. Now all he wanted was a decent meal and time alone with his wife.

  His sweet, beautiful Megan.

  He hadn’t wanted to leave her this morning. Just thinking about what Kincaid had done to her, what he’d tried to do to her still made Logan’s gut churn with rage. Surely that explained why he’d been on edge all day. Why his instincts were on high alert even at this late hour.

  The bulk of his uneasiness should be gone by now. Yet a sense of foreboding rode him hard, as if danger lurked just out of reach—waiting for the right moment to strike.

  Unhappy with the direction of his thoughts, Logan waited until his brothers trooped inside the house before turning his attention to the north range. His gut told him something was out there. Or rather, someone.

  Before he could decide whether he should investigate his suspicions or shrug them off as a result of exhaustion, his father joined him at the railing. “It’s a real blessing to have you home, son.”

  Logan sensed a grim seriousness beneath the words, but he couldn’t pinpoint the source. “We had a good day,” he said carefully.

  “We did.” His father dipped his bandanna in the water trough next to him and began scrubbing the trail dust off his face and neck. “More challenging than most.”

  Logan conceded the point with a short nod. Several of the newborn calves had been hidden in thick, gnarled underbrush. The cow dogs had been undaunted, rooting out the most stubborn with ruthless, well-honed precision. “Sally Mae and Jake are worth their weight in gold.”

  Smiling, his father continued rubbing the dirt off his neck. “That they are.”

  As silence fell between them, Logan took in the view with another sweeping glance. The ranch was bathed in the soft, golden glow of late afternoon. He loved the Flying M, and the simple, uncomplicated life that came from working the land.

  It was during quiet moments like these that Logan regretted ever leaving home. His fight with Hunter had been the catalyst. Logan had needed to prove he wasn’t like his gunslinger brother, that he was an agent for good rather than evil. In the end, the life of a lawman had fit him well. Or so he’d thought.

  But now, after the events of the last two days, Logan wondered if he was only fooling himself. Maybe he wasn’t as in control as he’d always believed. Maybe he wasn’t the good devoted Christian taking the righteous path to which he’d been called. He knew—knew beyond a shadow of a doubt—that if he’d come across Kincaid hurting Megan, he would have done whatever necessary to save her.

  Including killing the blackguard.

  What sort of man did that make him? Good? Evil? Something in between?

  A sudden urge to see his wife overtook all other desires. He needed to hold her and make sure she was safe.

  He turned toward the house.

  “Logan, wait.” His father set a hand on his shoulder.

  Impatience speared through him. He wanted to shrug off the viselike grip but held steady. “I have to check on Megan.”

  “I know you’re worried about your wife. We all are.” His father dropped his hand and held Logan in place with nothing more than a firm look, a look that said he had something important to say. Something Logan wasn’t going to like. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, about what happened to Megan in that brothel two nights ago.”

  Logan’s chest tightened at the change in his father’s tone. “Are you worried I’ve brought the danger with us? That I’ve put the family at risk?”

  “No.” His father flicked his hand in dismissal. “No. That’s not what’s bothering me.”

  “But what if I did?” His gaze automatically shot toward the north range. Apprehension gnawed at him with the tenacity of little rat teeth.

  “There’s no use worrying over what might or might not happen in the future,” he said in his matter-of-fact tone Logan knew well. “If someone comes to hurt your wife, or tries to threaten our family, then we’ll deal with it in the same way we always do, as a united front.”

  Logan nodded, wondering why he didn’t feel more reassured. Maybe because he couldn’t stop thinking about Megan and the terror she must have experienced when Kincaid pulled his knife.

  Lord, give me the strength to protect her and keep her safe.

  “Like I was saying—” Cyrus rubbed his chin between his thumb and forefinger “—something doesn’t add up about what you said happened that night.”

  A lot of things didn’t add up. “Where are you headed with this, Pa?”

  “I don’t believe the woman I met this morning, the one who was determined to walk on her own steam despite her injury would have lost her memory just because she witnessed a murder.”

  “Murder is never easy to see,” he said. “Especially for someone like Megan. She’s been sheltered most of her life.”

  “You underestimate her. She’s stronger than you think.”

  Under normal circumstances Logan would agree. Megan was a strong woman, and more capable than most. But she’d been brutally attacked by a bad man with evil intent in his heart. No woman, no matter how strong, could walk away unscathed from such an experience. “She was traumatized,” he said through a tight jaw.

  “I’m not denying that what happened to her was a travesty. But what if something else caused her to forget the events of that night, something far worse than witnessing the murder of her attacker?”

  Logan lowered his gaze, praying his father was wrong. But he couldn’t ignore the thumping of his heart, or the dread sweeping through him. Had Kincaid done something horrible to Megan, something so terrible that her mind refused to accept the truth?

  His stomach roiled at the terrible possibilities that came to mind, things too awful to speak aloud. Shane had confirmed that Megan was still innocent. Could he have been wrong?

  Logan banished the thought.

  “What if your wife knew the identity of the man who killed her attacker? What if that’s why she can’t remember the events of that night?”

  The question took Logan aback. “You think Megan lost her memory because she knew
the man who killed Kincaid?”

  His father nodded.

  “But why?”

  “Why else?” Cyrus pushed away from the rail. “To protect him.”

  Still reeling from his father’s theory behind Megan’s memory loss, Logan went in search of his wife. He found her in his old room, asleep in one of the chairs. Her legs were stretched out on the ottoman while she hugged her sketchbook tightly against her. The ring he’d put on her finger the day before looked as though it belonged there, as though it had been there for years—a symbol as solid as his love for her.

  She looked peaceful in sleep, tranquil even, and yet Logan couldn’t shake his uneasiness. He’d thought bringing her to the Flying M would alleviate his worries. Now his father’s suggestion had added additional confusion to an already uncertain situation.

  Letting out a slow breath of air, Logan moved closer to the chair, careful not to wake his bride. The setting sun spread fingers of pink-tinted light across her face, making her features appear soft and radiant. She was so lovely, so beautiful. It took an ironclad will to keep from touching her.

  For years, Logan had prayed for the day he could make Megan his wife. Marriage was where the two of them would become one, where their own family would begin. But she was still fragile from her ordeal. He must be careful with her.

  He brushed a lock of hair off her face. His hand shook from the control it took to keep his touch light. He ached for Megan, had always ached for her, from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her.

  But he found it hard to enjoy watching her now. His father’s words played through his head, taunting him. He had to consider the possibility that she knew the man who’d killed her attacker.

  If Megan knew the man, that meant Logan probably did, as well.

  Mattie Silks had warned him he wouldn’t like what he found if he persisted with his investigation. What had the madam been hiding from him?

  As soon as the question formed in his mind, Marc Dupree’s words came back to him. I consider her my daughter. I would do anything, anything to protect her.