The Lady Who Drew Me In

by Thomasine Rappold

She’d be damned if she’d allow her new husband to make a fool of her during their very first public appearance. What the devil did he think he was doing? She shot from her chair, excused herself to Tessa and the other woman at the table, then made her way to the edge of the room.

  She nodded curtly to acquaintances she passed on her mission to seek out Jackson and Hannah, wherever they hid, her anger growing more intense with every step she took. A pair of wide doors was propped open to cool the crowded room.

  Clasping her hands into fists, she headed toward the doors and prepared for the worst. She swallowed against the sick feeling in her stomach as she slipped outside onto the shadowy veranda overlooking the lake. The damp air felt good on her face but did little to cool the heat flooding her veins. Two men stood to her right, smoking cigars. She passed them as she strolled alongside the railing toward the stairs, which led to the patio below.

  Through the distant sounds spilling from inside the hotel, she could hear Jackson’s voice. She walked slowly, peering around. She craned her neck over the railing and saw the shadows of two partially exposed figures on the patio beneath her. Their voices carried on the silence around them.

  Jackson and Dannion. Her chest swelled with relief. Jackson had merely stepped out for a smoke. She hadn’t noticed Dannion’s absence in her haste to believe Jackson was up to no good, and she felt guilty for her hasty assumption.

  With a calming breath, she turned to duck away before they spotted her, but Jackson’s icy words froze her in place.

  “I can’t do it,” he said. “Nosy neighbors, bridge parties, rabid geese.” He shook his head. “It’s too much.”

  “You’re in the country, Jax. It comes with the territory,” Dannion said. “Misty Lake is a close-knit community. You’re married now and—”

  “Damn it, Dannion, I made a mistake.”

  Daisy’s heart pounded through the sudden silence.

  “This marriage was a mistake,” Jackson said. “I can’t do it. I don’t want to do it.” He tossed his cigar, and sparks burst on the lawn. “I had plans to be in St. Louis come autumn, not cavorting in some pumpkin patch. Marriage ruined everything.”

  “Where have I heard that before?”

  “Don’t.” Jackson’s anger was clear. “Our mother has nothing to do with this.”

  “She has everything to do with this, and you know it.”

  Jackson didn’t reply.

  “You have a wife now, Jax. Forget about St. Louis and make the best of it.”

  Daisy backed toward the doorway and slipped inside undetected. Her stomach turned. She knew nothing about Jackson’s mother, and at the moment, she didn’t care. Her infatuation with Jackson, with the man he was in their bed, had fooled her into hoping he could change. That he might want to change. A tingle of tears stirred in her eyes. Jackson’s regret stung more than it ought, more than she’d thought possible given her past.

  Years of rejection hadn’t inured her from the wrenching disappointment consuming her now. She should have known better. She had caged Jackson, just as she had been caged. His blunt admission that their marriage was a mistake ached through her core as the reason for her reaction became painfully clear.

  He was right.

  * * * *

  Daisy was unusually quiet the next morning at breakfast. Jackson watched as she stared down at her plate, mindlessly poking and pushing at the eggs with her fork.

  “Too much wine last night?”

  She glanced up as though suddenly realizing he was there. “I’m fine. A bit tired is all.”

  He wasn’t surprised. By the time they’d returned home from the Misty Lake Hotel, it was well past midnight. He’d kept her awake for hours after that, not that she’d complained. In fact, she’d seemed more eager than ever. As much as he prided himself on his skill in that department, he’d had to credit her amplified enthusiasm to her fondness for wine.

  She’d amazed him with her fervor, even more so than usual. She’d indulged her passion like a woman devouring her last meal, and the mere memories of it now were making him hard.

  Unable to sleep, he’d tossed and turned, Dannion’s words ringing in his ears. As angry as he’d been when he’d heard it, the advice his brother had crammed down his throat had become easier to swallow. The appealing sight of Daisy sleeping at his side, the sweet scent of her, had diverted any search for alternatives.

  Making the best of their marriage was his only choice, though he’d wrestled against the truth of it for hours. By the time darkness had succumbed to the morning sun, he’d surrendered too. After the Morgan case was solved, perhaps he and Daisy could visit St. Louis. She might enjoy such an adventure. Her ability would prove interesting at the card table, and he smiled at the thought of the mischief they could cause.

  Daisy gave a final poke at her eggs, then dropped her fork to her plate. “Since I now have a husband to manage my inheritance, am I correct to assume I can access my funds?”

  He shrugged. “It’s your money, Daisy. You can have it whenever you want.”

  She nodded, looking relieved.

  “You’re going forward with the day home?”

  “Eventually,” she said. She narrowed her eyes. “No objections, I hope?”

  He eased back in his chair, studying her closely. “None.” The skepticism in her eyes took him aback. Did she want his assurance in writing? He supposed he couldn’t blame her lack of trust. After the demeaning limitations Lansing had placed on her inheritance, and the underhanded maneuvers his attorneys had made to enforce them, she had a right to be skeptical about finally having access to what was legally hers and the freedom to move ahead with her plans. “You made it clear from the start how determined you are on the project.” He smiled. “I know better than to get in the way when you set your mind to something.”

  She withheld the smile he expected as she sipped her coffee. “Good.” She set down her cup, her weary eyes fixing on his. “Over the past few days, I’ve been thinking about some things.”

  “No doubt,” he said with a teasing grin.

  “While I appreciate the sacrifices you’ve made by marrying me, I can’t help thinking about the reaction your defense of Randal Morgan will garner from people here in Misty Lake.”

  The serious conversation was deflating his mood. “You’re not suggesting I quit?”

  “No, of course not.” She took a deep breath. “But community support for the day home is crucial, and any resistance to your cause may hinder mine.”

  “That’s possible.”

  “I’ve decided to postpone my endeavor until you’ve cleared Morgan’s name. After which, I’ll proceed with my original plans, and you can do the same.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I have access to my money now, Jackson. You did the honorable thing by marrying me, but surely, you had some plans of your own before—”

  “Have you been talking to Dannion?”

  “What has Dannion to do with this?”

  “Nothing,” he said, closing his mouth.

  “As I was saying, we did what was necessary at the time, but since returning home, I’ve realized that I don’t want a husband any more than you want a wife.”

  He summoned his voice through the clench in his chest. “Is that so?”

  “Yes.” She fidgeted in her seat. “But I have devised a solution that will make this marriage tolerable for us both.”

  He sat speechless as he absorbed her words.

  “Before we were interrupted by the Wymans at the lake, you mentioned going back to St. Louis.”

  “And?”

  “And here’s my solution.” She fluffed at her skirts. “If you agree to stay here in Misty Lake, as my husband, for the entire summer, you can pursue your plans in St. Louis come autumn.”

  “Daisy, what the hell—”

  “I’m not finished.” Her blue eyes flashed with the same warning they’d held back in Troy, when she’d dem
anded he marry her. He’d underestimated the desperate young widow that night—but there was no underestimating the determined woman sitting before him now.

  Daisy straightened her spine. “I’ll remain here in Misty Lake, and we’ll remain married, in name only. You will have total freedom, in every sense of the word, if you agree to one condition.” She lifted her chin. “You must give me a child.”

  Chapter 10

  Jackson gaped. “A child?”

  “I want a child, Jackson. More than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

  He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “So what you’re saying is that if I give you a child—”

  “You can have your life back.”

  He sat, awed, absorbing her words. Just last night, he’d wanted nothing more. And here she was, offering escape on a silver platter. Still, he couldn’t help feeling deluded. A spike of anger flared through him. Daisy Gallway was a cunning woman.

  “Our marriage continues to serve you well.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “You’ll have everything you want. Your reputation, your money, your day home, and a child.”

  Her affronted expression actually looked genuine, but she wasn’t fooling him again.

  “Things couldn’t have worked out any neater had you planned them that way,” he said.

  “Are you suggesting I planned this marriage?”

  “You may not have planned it, but you’ve maneuvered your way around it remarkably well.” He leaned forward, facing her challenge head-on. “You saw another opportunity to get what you wanted, and you took it.”

  She shot to her feet. “I took nothing!” Her eyes were blue fire. “And I certainly didn’t want this!” She waved her hands between them.

  “Then why—”

  “I heard you last night, Jackson!”

  He stared, speechless.

  “I heard what you told Dannion. I was there.” Her chest heaved, but the anger in her shaky voice didn’t cover the pain in her eyes. She took a deep breath, collecting herself as she dropped to her seat. “I was upstairs on the veranda, and I heard every word.”

  It all made sense to him now. Her abrupt desire to end their marriage—to be rid of him. His gut clenched with thoughts of what she’d overheard. He’d ranted to Dannion in frustration and anger, but he’d never intended to hurt Daisy. “I didn’t mean it.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  He couldn’t lie to her. He was shameless to the core, and as absurd as it seemed, while he was certainly capable of getting her pregnant, then abandoning her, he could not lie to her. “All right, I did mean it. But I’m willing to try. I can adapt to—”

  “I don’t want you to adapt to being with me. I’ve lived my entire life with people who did not want me.” She lifted her chin. “I refuse to do it any longer.”

  Her expression filled with the shadows of her past—years of abandonment and neglect, paying for the sins of others. She’d endured too much to be hurt again. His throat tightened amid his faltering argument. “You might have considered all this before the wedding.”

  “Before the wedding, I had hope.”

  The words stabbed through him like a knife, but it was the sorrow in her voice that cut his insides to shreds.

  She took another deep breath. “You can’t tell me this doesn’t come as a relief. Think about it sensibly. You have no urge to settle down, especially in the country, and I have no intention of leaving Misty Lake. There’s no reason we can’t both have what we want. Is there?”

  The apprehension in her question confused him. Was he expected to argue or agree? At the moment, he could do neither. A part of him did feel relieved. But a part of him… “And the child?”

  “You can visit.” She shrugged. “Since neither of us wishes to be married, it makes sense we stay married to each other.”

  “There’s some logic in that, I suppose.”

  She nodded. “When the time comes, you can go to St. Louis on an extended trip that eventually becomes permanent. I’ll make the excuses for your absence here. I’ll explain to Dannion that the separation was my idea. That I wanted you to leave.”

  He listened in silence. She had it all figured out.

  “Once you clear Mr. Morgan’s name, you’ll be free to move on.”

  Free to move on. The words should elate him. Protect and cherish your freedom, no matter the cost. He’d lived by his mother’s mantra; he’d been raised by it. He’d aspired to nothing else.

  Daisy had grown up an orphan, devalued. And he with a doting mother who’d favored him with a false sense of worth. Bitter disappointment consumed him. Marrying Daisy had been the only selfless thing he’d ever done. But in her solid reasoning, it was clear she understood what he’d known all along. He could never make her happy. Eventually, he’d do something to hurt her; hell, he already had. The admission reignited his anger, and he clenched his jaw to bridle it back. “You’re right.”

  She lowered her gaze. “I know.”

  “We’ll live as man and wife until the end of the summer or until you conceive, and then I’ll be on my way. I will handle any necessary explanations to my brother before I go.” He stood. “In the meantime, this arrangement we’ve made stays private.” He pointed a finger. “We tell no one.”

  “Of course not.”

  He pushed in his chair. “I’m going to Barston this morning to check on Andy and Mrs. Rhodes.”

  “Am I welcome to join you?” The faint tremor in her voice tugged at something beneath his anger. The sudden vulnerability in her eyes almost made him forget just how fiercely strong she really was. Independence was as close to freedom as a woman could get, and Daisy had claimed hers today.

  “Jackson?”

  His thoughts shifted to the matter at hand. Daisy’s concern for Andy could not be denied, and Jackson needed her help. The sooner this case was resolved, the sooner he could recover his life.

  “Make yourself ready.”

  * * * *

  Daisy closed the door behind her, wiping the tears that had formed on her way to their room. She’d done the right thing by releasing Jackson from their marriage. She knew it in her heart. Still, she could have sworn that she’d hurt him, somehow. The thought was ridiculous. She’d heard his true feelings last night, and only because she’d confronted him had he tried to recant.

  She hadn’t planned on telling him what she’d overheard, but he’d been so adamant in his accusations that she’d connived him into marriage that he’d left her no choice. Did he really think she was capable of such a dirty deed as to snare a second husband to gain access to her former husband’s money?

  As desperate as she was at the time, she was surprised she hadn’t resorted to it. Jackson was a lawyer, though, and she supposed it was only natural for a lawyer’s mind to suspect such schemes.

  She hadn’t realized until last night on the veranda how deeply she’d hoped Jackson might come around to their situation. That over time he might grow to care for her. Many men sowed wild oats, then settled down with women they cared for. That was the difference between those men and Jackson. Jackson cared for no one but himself.

  At least neither of them was sailing under false colors now. They both knew where they stood. She dressed quickly, confident in the arrangement they’d struck. She would go with Jackson to Barston today, and she’d help him prove Mr. Morgan’s innocence in any way she could.

  They would live together as a married couple for the summer, but there would be no surprises come autumn. And no expectations in the meantime, no pointless hope things might change with the season.

  With any luck, Jackson’s parting gift to her would be a child of her own. Her desire for a child may have cost her first husband his life, but Jackson Gallway would be luckier. He’d have his life and the freedom to live it the way he wanted—with miles between him and the chains that would bind him.

  And Daisy’s heart would remain intact.

  C
hapter 11

  “We’ll take the main road to Barston,” Jackson said as he helped Daisy board the wagon. Her eyes met his, and he stepped back in time to the fateful trip that had prompted their marriage. “I want to get a feel for the layout of the village and the route Morgan traveled the day of the murder,” he said to prod through the awkward moment.

  He hopped up to join her, then situated himself on the bench. As always, the scent of her nearness filled his senses to overflowing. Desire, lust, denial—a maelstrom of conflicting emotions that frustrated the hell out him. The only constant in her presence was his total state of confusion and arousal.

  Oblivious to his dilemma, Daisy focused on her bonnet, adjusting the wide brim against the sun. “Do you know what stops Mr. Morgan made during his travels that afternoon?”

  “Yes. I made him retrace his every step, and I recorded each stop, including everyone he saw or spoke to along the way.” He shrugged. “He peddled his wares in Barston only twice before, so he wasn’t that familiar with the village or the people.”

  “That certainly doesn’t help matters,” Daisy said. “Have you any idea how many other salesmen passed through town that day?”

  “Not yet. I’m guessing one at least.” He turned to face her. “You brought your sketch pad?”

  She nodded.

  “Do you think you could sketch another likeness of the man Andy saw?”

  “Yes, of course.” The sparkle of pride in her eyes was well deserved. He’d seen for himself the scope of her talent.

  She reached under the seat for her case of sketching supplies and started drawing. Even the bounce of the wagon didn’t hamper her determination as she worked. She bit her lower lip, her face set in concentration. Wisps of blond hair blew beneath her bonnet, fluttering against her slender neck. He admired her profile, struck by her simple beauty as though regarding some masterpiece displayed in a museum.

  Shaking his head, he returned his focus to driving. He blamed his escalating attraction to Daisy on her decision to hand him the mitten. Rejection engendered strange responses. It was human nature to crave something denied. Or in this case, something soon to be denied. Jackson had always relished the challenge of the hunt, and his limited time with Daisy spurred a need to get all that he could. And why not? She’d given him license, free and clear, for the next three months, anyway. He may as well enjoy it.