“Jeb,” Ellis said, “help Angel into the kitchen.”
The girl didn’t protest, which increased Constance’s fear. Ellis eased her onto the couch and sat himself, keeping one arm wrapped around her shoulders. “What’s happening here?” he asked.
The marshal gestured toward John Hempel. “You want to start?”
The lawyer leaned forward, picking up a stack of papers. “I have a letter here from a solicitor in Virginia. It says a land agent by the name of Byron Carmichael attempted to sell some property that didn’t belong to him.” John gave a brief glance toward Byron. “The solicitor, Mr. Parsons, has been in charge of the property since the original owners perished during the war, and was quite surprised when Mr. Carmichael claimed Constance Carmichael, neé Jennings, had died in England.”
Constance glanced toward Ellis, already befuddled. His eyes held an odd glimmer, looked almost shameful. “The property John is referring to used to be known as Royalton.”
Her heart threatened to choke her. “Royalton,” she whispered, “was the name of my father’s plantation.”
“I was going to tell you last night,” Ellis said. “But—”
“Tell me what?” she interrupted, fighting the shivers tickling her skin. “I don’t understand.”
Ellis gestured toward John Hempel.
“Ellis,” the man said, “contacted his brother Eli in the Carolinas, asking about your family’s plantation.” He held up a single piece of paper and glanced at Ellis. “This letter from Mr. Parsons arrived before Link dropped off the letter from your brother.” The lawyer addressed her again, “Mr. Parsons explains that after Mr. Carmichael approached him about the property, he traveled to England. What he discovered there was very disturbing. He followed your trail to New York, and eventually learned you left New York for Wyoming as a mail-order bride. Eli, Ellis’s brother, met with Mr. Parsons and confirmed that you, Constance Jennings, were living here—” he gestured with one hand “—at Heaven on Earth.” He then gathered up the entire stack of papers. “Mr. Parsons then sent this packet of legal documents to me, to act as your lawyer if you so choose.”
Constance didn’t realize she was shaking until the man held the papers toward her. “It’s all in here. For you to read,” John Hempel said.
She balled her hand into a fist, but the trembles wouldn’t ease. Ellis took the papers and laid them on her lap.
“She can’t be someone’s mail-order bride,” Byron said bitterly. “She’s already married.” He paused, waiting for her to look his way. “To me.”
Her shivers increased tenfold. Ellis’s hand, still gripping her shoulder, tightened.
“No, I don’t believe she is,” John Hempel answered. He pointed at the papers in her lap. “Mr. Parsons discovered you were already married to a woman he met with in New York.”
“That woman and I divorced,” Byron snapped.
“Do you have any proof?” John Hempel challenged.
“I don’t have to prove anything to you.” Byron struggled against the ropes binding him until Hank planted a heavy hand on his head.
“Yes, you do,” the marshal, a tall man with a thick black mustache, stated. Pushing off the fireplace, he stepped forward and touched the brim of his wide hat. “Hello, ma’am. My name’s Newton Adams. I’m the territory marshal.”
“Hello,” Constance managed beyond the lump sitting in her throat. Confusion still muddled her mind. The only thing she knew for sure was Ellis was beside her, sheltering her, and Angel was safe. Everything else was a thick whirlwind swarming inside her head.
The lawman nodded toward Ellis. “I’ve known Ellis for years, and when Mr. Carmichael visited me the other day, claiming Ellis was holding his wife hostage, I didn’t believe a word he said, but since I hadn’t been out to Heaven on Earth for a while, I decided to pay a visit.” His gaze went to Ellis. “It appears my timing couldn’t have been better.”
“Good to see you, Newton, it has been a while,” Ellis said.
After he gave Ellis a nod, the marshal looked back at her. “I’ve read everything in that packet of papers Mr. Hempel brought out. I’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”
She shook her head, and then nodded, not sure which was the correct response.
He waved a hand around the room. “Witnesses make my job easier. Is it all right if I ask you now, with everyone here?”
Her hand clutched Ellis’s knee, not wanting him to leave. He rubbed her shoulder, assuring he wouldn’t. “Yes, that’s fine,” she answered.
“The first few might sound silly, but bear with me.”
She nodded.
“Do you know that man in the rocking chair?”
“Yes, his name is Byron Carmichael,” she answered.
“Where did you first meet Mr. Carmichael?”
“In England, last December.”
“And who were you living with in England?”
His tone was kind and his questions simple, easy to answer, which eased the trepidation that had been making her stomach churn. “My elderly aunts, Julia and
Theresa Jennings.”
“What happened to them?”
“They took ill and died. Julia in December and Theresa
in January.” Their deaths still tugged at her heart. “It was quite shocking since they both had been very healthy.”
“What did you do after they died?” the marshal asked.
She bowed her head, not wanting to answer.
“You have nothing to be ashamed of, Constance,” Ellis whispered near her ear. “Nothing at all.”
She nodded, but the guilt in her chest didn’t lessen. “Byr— Mr. Carmichael asked me to marry him, and I did.”
“Did you travel to America with Mr. Carmichael?”
She shook her head.
“Why not?”
Anger found a way to break through, flared across her stomach. “Because he shot me.”
“Mr. Carmichael shot you?” Marshal Adams asked.
Byron spoke before she had a chance to. “That was an accident.”
“And I suppose it was an accident that you left her there to die in the alley while you jumped on a ship to New York.” The fury in Ellis’s voice showered the room, and his knee beneath her hand had turned as hard as cast iron.
“No comment, Mr. Carmichael?” Marshal Adams asked.
“I thought she was dead,” Byron said, with a dull stare that held no remorse.
“So you just set sail for America?” the marshal questioned. “No funeral for your new wife? No time of mourning or sorrow?”
Byron shrugged.
Constance’s fury rushed forward. “You sold everything. Stole everything they had.”
“That was a pittance compared to what you’re worth,” Byron returned.
The marshal stepped forward, blocking her view of Byron. Constance’s mind swirled again. Worth? Her gaze went to the papers. Royalton was still there?
“You got a place we can lock him up until I’m ready to leave, Ellis?” the marshal asked. “I’ve got all the proof I need.”
“I’ll take him to the bunkhouse, boss.” It was Hank that answered.
The papers on her lap grew blurry as tears welled in her eyes.
“You don’t have proof of anything,” Byron shouted.
“Miss Jennings positively identified you as the man who shot her,” Marshal Adams said. “Between that and all I read, you could swing from a rope.”
“It was her! She’s the one that brewed the tea for her aunts,” Byron yelled.
Constance couldn’t hold in the gasp that split her lips. Ellis tugged her against his side, growling, “Get him out of here, Hank.”
Byron’s bellows continued to echo through the house. “Miss Jennings,” the marshal said above the noise. “I’d like you to read those papers before I leave. Just in case you need to add or change something.”
“I’ll wait, too, until you’ve read them, Miss Jennings, if you don’t mind,�
�� John Hempel said. “I’d be happy to serve as your lawyer.”
Constance frowned, glancing at the thick packet Ellis was lifting off her lap. An eerie sensation overtook her as he helped her stand. “Come on, you can read these in the office.”
Ellis led her to the office and set her behind the desk. His insides were a jumbled mess of frustration and fear, yet the love they shared gave him hope she’d understand, even after reading the packet of papers.
Constance grasped his hand as it slipped off her shoulder. “Will you read them with me?”
The trepidation in her blue eyes had him leaning down and kissing her forehead. “If you want me to.”
She nodded. “I want you to.”
He cleared the corner of the desk and sat. “Go ahead,” he said. “You can hand me the pages as you finish them.”
An array of emotions threatened to rip him apart as he read. The urge to throttle Byron Carmichael for all the man had put her through ate at him more strongly as he moved from one page to the next. Then, as the report of Mr. Parsons’s findings ended and the legal paperwork of updating the property deeds for Royalton floated before his eyes, fear settled in his chest. Constance owned thousands of acres of land in Virginia. She had no need to stay in Wyoming.
As she handed him the last piece of paper, she stood and moved to the window. The profound emotions he felt for this woman left his eyes misty, and the thought she might no longer want to marry him made something akin to panic cloud his ability to read any more. It didn’t matter. The last sheet was a legal documentation of her worth. But she was priceless to him.
He moved to stand behind her, wanting badly to touch her, but at the same time afraid to. Constance pressed a hand to the glass, and his gaze went past it, to the headstone sitting amongst the glittering white snow.
It had only been by the grace of God that Constance hadn’t perished in that alley in England. Intense gratefulness had him grasping her upper arms and turning her about. The tears streaming down her cheeks made his throat thicken.
“He killed them,” she whimpered. “He killed those two sweet little old ladies.”
He tried to speak, but anything he could have thought to say would have gotten trapped in his throat.
“He poisoned them, and I—I let him.”
“No,” he said, gripping her arms firmer. “No you didn’t. You—”
“Yes, I did,” she insisted as she pressed the back of a hand to her lips. “I helped him brew the tea he brought for them.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” He pulled her to his chest, folding both arms around her shuddering shoulders. “You didn’t know. You were trying to help.”
She nodded, but her arms wrapped around his waist tightly as her sobs increased. He wished there was something more he could say, more he could do than simply hold her, but his mind couldn’t conjure up anything. Other than how much he loved her. He rocked her slowly, softly, and kissed the top of her head. And when she slumped against him, as if completely worn out, he tightened his hold.
It was a few moments, before he felt her spine stiffen and she lifted her face. Still holding her tightly with one arm, he used the other to wipe the last bits of moisture from her cheeks.
A shaky smile pulled at her lips, but quickly disappeared as she whispered, “Those papers didn’t mention the authorities in New York.”
“What authorities?”
“Byron’s wife said they were looking for me. That’s part of the reason I wrote to Ashton, I was afraid they would put me in jail.”
Hoping to ease her mind completely, he said, “I’m sure Parsons spoke to the authorities. If it’ll make you feel better, we’ll have Hempel contact them.”
“I was such a fool. I should have known Byron was up to no good. I should have questioned the tea. I should have read the papers I signed. I should—”
Ellis held her head still, and lowered his face to hers. “Shh,” he whispered against her lips. “Shh.”
Her hands spread across his back, kneading at the muscles that had been strained tight since Link had leaped into the wagon. Her lips moved beneath his then, sweetly, impishly.
He cupped the back of her neck and deepened the kiss. Her mouth opened for him, igniting the desire that hovered right beneath his skin, waiting for the simplest signal from her. He didn’t calm the stirring kisses until her hips were grinding harmoniously against his.
She shook her head as she pulled away. Breathing heavily, her breasts heaved against his chest. “You make me forget everything else.”
The shimmer in her eyes fertilized a full smile to form on his lips. “I’m glad.”
She grinned, and then with a deep sigh, leaned her head on his shoulder. “Byron’s an evil man, but I feel guilty he’ll die.”
His smile disappeared. Not able to fully agree with her guilt, he held his silence. He ran his hand down the length of her hair.
“All because he wanted a few acres of land,” she whispered.
He stepped back. “It’s more than a few acres, Constance.”
“I read that.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand why my aunts never told me they were paying taxes on Royalton all those years.”
“I can’t say for sure,” he said, “but maybe they didn’t want you to leave.” His mind caught, fearful she might think he had tried to dupe her. “I didn’t read Eli’s letter until after the holiday party, and once I got to Ashton’s, well, other things held my mind.” He knew that was only part of it. “Actually, I was afraid to tell you, just like with Ashton’s will. There’s this deep part of me that fears you leaving beyond everything else. I’ve never done anything like that before, purposely withheld information, yet I did it twice to you.”
She tilted her head, as if contemplating his words. Her lips parted as if she was about to say something, but closed again.
Afraid anything he might say would be wrong, he pulled his eyes away from the ones searching his face. His gaze landed on the window for a moment. “We can move to Virginia,” he said, bringing his gaze back to meet hers. “We can sell out, and move anytime you want. Anywhere you want.”
“Leave Heaven on Earth?” She shook her head sternly. “Not on your life, Ellis Clayton. This is where I want to live.”
“What about Royalton?”
She shrugged. “Maybe your brother can help us figure out what to do with it.” Her gaze caught and captured his. “Us,” she repeated. “Everything I have today, tomorrow or a hundred years from now, I want to share with you.” Running a finger over the center button of his shirt, she continued, “I don’t just want to be your wife, Ellis, I want to be your partner. I want us to be a couple that shares everything, including our love.” She waved a hand. “I don’t have a clue what to do with an acre of land, let alone thousands. I need you, Ellis. I need you.”
Relief left his body so swiftly he trembled. “I need you, too,” he whispered, filled with appreciation for the trust she had in him. “In every breath I take.”
“Every breath,” she whispered, brushing her lips against his. “That’s how I feel about you.” She kissed him sweetly as her fingers undid the top button of his shirt. “You told me last night never to doubt your love for me.” She undid another button. “And I won’t. Not ever. But only if you never doubt mine for you.”
Her fingers unfastening buttons had his blood heating up and her words had his heart overflowing. “Never,” he said. Yet needing to know, he asked, “So you forgive me?”
The grin on her face was endearing. “Yes, I forgive you. I was never angry over you not telling me. I understand the fear of being separated from you.” A tender blush rose on her cheeks. “I like knowing you don’t want me to leave.”
“Never.” He tugged her hips forward, pressing their bodies close. “Ever. Don’t doubt that, either.” Though he was extremely serious, he couldn’t help but teasingly run a hand over the peak of her left breast. Payback for the havoc her fingertips massaging his chest caused.
; “Never,” she said, running her tongue along his collarbone.
A groan rumbled up his throat as his swollen shaft jolted inside his britches. “Damn, you are a minx.” He cupped her behind, pressing his erection against her.
She giggled, swaying her hips invitingly. “And you love me.”
“Yes, I do.” Knowing he couldn’t keep this up much longer, he nibbled on her earlobe for a moment before saying, “Want to know something?”
“Yes,” she mumbled against the skin.
He suckled on the lobe one last time before saying, “Link is able to perform marriage ceremonies.”
She snapped her head up. An excited glow covered her face. “He is?”
“Yep. Reverend Stillman doesn’t make it around in the winter months, and ordained Link to perform the necessities in his absence.” Her gaze went to the desk, and he read her mind. “Whether Carmichael was married or not won’t matter once you sign that piece of paper John Hempel drew up. It makes your marriage to him null and void, and Newton’s here to notarize it.” If she needed more incentive, he gestured toward the fading light outside the window. “It looks like we’re in for plenty of overnight guests.” Grinding their still-merged hips, he finished by saying, “I really don’t want to be sneaking around my own house come midnight.”
“You don’t? I recall doing that once, and it was very fun.”
“Minx,” he growled. Her sweet laugh tickled his lips. Pulling back he teased, “But if that’s the way you want it.”
She grabbed the back of his head and kissed him until he thought he might burst. Only then did she release him to whisper, “Let’s go find Link.”
Epilogue
With shaky fingers, Constance fastened the top button of her dress and pulled at the material to make it lie flat.
“It’s fine.” Ellis brushed her hands aside and kissed the bare skin the low neckline of the summertime gown revealed.
“Stop.” She pushed his head aside and attempted to scoot off his lap as the front door slammed shut, but he held her tight. The heated, playful kissing they’d engaged in moments before still had her blood racing, and she tried to calm it by leaning her head against his.
Unclaimed Bride Page 24
