The Scoundrel's Bride

by Geralyn Dawson

  The group followed his stare. “Miss Brown is your dinner companion?” Eulalie Peabody questioned, a frown deepening the furrows in her brow.

  Something in her voice gave Zach pause. “Yes, ma’am. Miss Morality invited me to join her family this evening.”

  “I see.” Mrs. Peabody lifted her chin and studied him, her sharp, cornflower-blue eyes seeming to stare into his soul. If he’d had one, Zach realized it would have been in trouble.

  “William,” she said to the newspaperman, her gaze still locked with Zach’s. “You’ll check this boy’s story with the railroad office. If you’re able to confirm it, I’ll expect to read the particulars in the Clarion.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Peabody.” The editor accepted his commission with alacrity.

  Well, what the hell was this? The way it looked to Zach, the queen of Cottonwood Creek had tentatively offered him her patronage. But she’d done so only after circumstances had led her to believe he enjoyed the support of the Miracle Girl, Miss Morality Brown.

  Wasn’t that a damn coil. He didn’t have the preacher’s niece’s support. What he’d gotten was a knee in the groin.

  The widow addressed him directly. “Go along now, boy. Don’t keep that sweet little Miss Brown waiting.” As Zach turned to take his leave, he heard her mutter, “The boy even has the Marston teeth. Good teeth, that family.”

  Subconsciously running his tongue across his choppers, Zach made his way across the room toward Morality, his mind going to work on how to handle this new development even as he stopped now and again to answer a question concerning the railroad. When he drew near the throng around the reverend, he knew the precise moment Morality noticed his presence. Her spine went stiff as a bois d’arc fence post, and as he offered her a roguish grin, Zach acknowledged the obvious.

  He’d have to win her over. Morality Brown was the key. If he could truly gain her support, then his swindle was bound to run like clockwork. So, how best to go about securing her favor?

  He could appeal to Morality’s larcenous side, make a deal with her by cutting her into the cash. He hated to do that, however. One of the first lessons he’d learned on the swindle circuit was to keep the number of players in a scheme to a minimum. Besides, he’d need to check with Jess before wringing in a partner, no matter how beautiful that partner proved to be. Plus, he wouldn’t trust ol’ Reverend Reiver as far as he could throw him. The less that man knew about Zach’s true intentions, the better.

  There was, however, another possibility. One that appealed to Zach in a basic way. His gaze took a lazy trip across the Miracle Girl’s form, and a red flush climbed her cheeks in answer to the intensity of his stare. Yes, he thought, slowly nodding his head.

  He could seduce Morality.

  It was the obvious course of action. After all, who wouldn’t trust the man who was the object of the Miracle Girl’s affections? Seduction sounded much more entertaining than taking her as a financial partner, and by taking care of business in this manner, he wouldn’t have to worry Jess with a change in plans.

  Yes, seduction would serve his needs quite well. Literally, he thought with a grin.

  And it wasn’t as if he’d be taking unfair advantage of an innocent. Morality Brown and her damn morning-glory seeds were guilty as sin. That was one more reason this would be a good choice. Maybe if she were smitten with him, he’d find it easier to somehow get rid of those miracle loaves.

  Zach drew a deep breath. That was it, then. He’d made his decision. The Burkett Bastard would court Morality— on the front steps of the courthouse, if that’s what it took, he’d make her fall for him, thereby gaining the acceptance and the trust of the citizens of Cottonwood Creek.

  After that he’d get their money.

  His gaze trailed over the expanse of Morality’s calico-covered bosom, and he shook his head, stifling a smile. The sacrifices a man must make for the cause!

  While Harrison conversed with a pair of apparently enamored middle-aged ladies, Zach approached the preacher’s niece, greeting her formally by bowing over her hand. He’d begin his seduction with a little dose of wicked. Morality Brown seemed to respond to that in a man.

  “Allow me to thank you once again for inviting me to join your family in your repast,” he said. Then, when her eyes flashed with defiance, he added for her ears alone, “Behave yourself, angel. Remember we’re in public.”

  She snatched her hand away as quickly as possible. “Mr. Burkett, I’m surprised to see you. I was under the impression you’d declined my invitation.”

  “Wishful thinking?” he goaded softly. Louder, he continued. “No, no, of course not. I’ve been looking forward to that chicken you promised me.”

  Morality gestured toward a long, food-laden table and the basket she’d carried through the door. “Have a gizzard, Mr. Burkett. Be my guest.”

  “Actually,” he drawled, “I was hoping for a leg. Maybe even a breast.”

  Emerald eyes gleamed dangerously. “I know for a fact there’s a liver just waiting to be skewered.”

  “No, thanks, Miss Morality. I wouldn’t dream of denying you the pleasure. I’ve the feeling you have a certain tenderness for organ meat.”

  It took her a moment to make the connection, and Zach wanted to laugh at the shock that widened her eyes. Before she could recover and shoot her next conversational arrow, Harrison finished his talk with the ladies and turned to Zach. “Hello, Burkett. I’m glad you could join us. I’d hoped to hear a bit more about this railroad of yours.”

  Zach made sure everyone around him heard his reply by saying in a tone that carried, “The railroad isn’t exactly mine, Reverend Harrison, although I have purchased a good amount of stock with my personal funds. The East Texas spur of the Texas Southern will be owned by its stockholders, of whom I hope to be only one among many.”

  “I see.” Harrison nodded. “What if—” He was interrupted by a churchwoman who asked him to lead the gathering in saying grace.

  Zach made note of Morality’s skeptical glance as he bowed his head and participated in the prayer. Obviously, his performance at the revival hadn’t sold this woman on the depths of his religious beliefs. He wondered if her attitude was the result of a weakness in his presentation at the podium or the strength of his kiss at the cabin.

  It was all Zach could do not to laugh aloud.

  As guest of honor, Harrison was first through the supper line, Morality following directly behind him. Zach slid in between her and Patrick Callahan as she reached for a plate from a stack at the near end of the table.

  Morality took a small slice of ham and dainty portions of three different vegetables. Zach, more than one of his appetites revived by his proximity to and plans for the lady, loaded his plate. He made a great show of forking through Morality’s chicken basket in search of a succulent piece.

  Patrick nudged his side and whispered, “Careful there, Mr. Burkett. Morality fried that up while she was borrowin’ Miz Marston’s kitchen to bake the miracle loaves. Her chicken ain’t much better than her bread.”

  Zach leaned over and spoke from the corner of his mouth. “What about desserts? I noticed she carried pecan pie as she came in.”

  “Pie’s all right,” Patrick replied, adding a second spoonful of beans to his already overflowing plate. “She was too busy with the bread and chicken to bake dessert. Bought it on the sly at the hotel.”

  Zach cut an extra big piece of pie.

  Morality sat at her uncle’s left hand and Zach appropriated the seat beside her. Patrick grabbed a chair across the table from Zach. Nobody took the seat next to the Burkett Bastard.

  Person after person approached the Miracle Girl during the meal, many of them asking awe-inspired questions about her phenomenal religious experience. Watching them, Zach knew his strategy was right on target. Being the object of Morality Brown’s affections would advance his plan most nicely.

  Now all he had to do was to win her over.

  He looked forward to the challenge, wel
l aware he had a hill to climb. Had he known this morning what he knew now, he’d have done things a mite differently. For one thing, he wouldn’t have kissed her, not the second time anyway. And he damn sure wouldn’t have told her he’d lied. As incongruous as it seemed, Miss Morality apparently had a real burr in her saddle about lying. It was something Zach could hardly figure. Why would a woman who turns a scam for a living get her ribbons in a knot over something as minor as a lie?

  Well, it was too late to be worrying about that now. He’d simply have to work a little harder. Zach didn’t doubt for a moment he couldn’t accomplish his specified task. He was on the right track with the teasing; he felt it in his bones. He’d keep that up.

  Besides, he thought, eyeing the perky little nose she so often wrinkled in disdain, he enjoyed it himself. Baiting Morality had been the most fun he’d had since cheating that riverboat gambler out of his suit.

  Glancing up from buttering a slice of cornbread, Zach caught Morality looking at him. He winked and she blushed. Biting into his bread, he considered the idea that seducing her might be rather easy after all. She had responded to his kiss. And he couldn’t discount that hellcat hair. He’d bet the reverend’s last gold piece Morality Brown hid a passionate nature beneath all that piety. Look at how she’d attacked him. Look at how she’d argued with the boy.

  The boy. Zach gazed across the table toward Patrick, who was busily stuffing his face. Unless she had him more fooled than he had thought, Morality truly cared for the youngster. Patrick offered a path to the Miracle Girl’s heart—charm the child, charm the mother. He’d use those feelings she had for the boy.

  Besides, Zach kind of liked the kid himself.

  “So, Patrick,” Zach said, lifting a chicken leg to his mouth. “I heard the smithy say you’d been keeping a close eye on the horses at his livery. You like horses a lot?”

  “Yep.” Patrick swallowed a mouthful of sweet-potato pie and continued. “I like all sorts of animals.”

  “You got a pet?”

  “Nah. I used to. A collie.” A faraway look drifted over his face as he added, “Called her Pete.”

  “Pete?” Zach lifted a brow.

  Patrick laughed sheepishly. “Got her before I learned to tell a boy dog from a girl dog.”

  Zach took a thoughtful bite of chicken, forcing himself not to grimace at the taste. The kid was right. Morality must have been in the miracle line when God was handing out kitchen skills. She’d damn well missed her share. “What happened to Ol’ Pete?”

  Patrick dipped his chin and concentrated on his okra. “I’m not sure. I had to leave her behind when I hooked up with Reverend Harrison.”

  Aware of Morality’s attention, Zach turned to her, asking the question with his eyes. She looked almost as miserable as Patrick. “It’s too difficult to travel with a dog,” she explained.

  The notion came to him like divine inspiration. “There’s a dog with a litter of pups in my barn. I reckon I can’t give you one, but you’re welcome to come out and play with ‘em.

  “Really?” Patrick turned soulful, hopeful eyes toward Morality. “Oh, please, Morality, do you think I could?”

  Score one for me, Zach thought as Morality showed him her angel’s smile while she answered, “I imagine so.”

  Then, Harrison spoke her name and drew her into a conversation with a local attorney, Samuel Rankin. Zach remembered the day he’d come near to drowning a younger Sam in a horse trough for calling Sarah Burkett a whore. Watching him smile silkily at Morality, Zach entertained the notion of repeating the act in the punch bowl across the room.

  Talk at the table turned to the healings that had occurred that evening. Morality’s eyes and voice both began to sparkle as she displayed the zeal of a true believer. The woman should be on stage, Zach thought, his appetite disappearing.

  “Isn’t my uncle wonderful?” Morality said, beaming at Sam Rankin.

  “I almost fell out of my chair when I saw Lilly Mae Harris stand up,” Sam replied. “Her rheumatism has prevented her from walking for nearly three years now. I’ve never seen such miracles as you performed tonight, Reverend Harrison.”

  “Praise God.” Harrison nodded, accepting the tribute as his due. “We did enjoy a successful night. Our prayers must have soared right to the Lord’s ears.”

  Zach scowled at his boiled squash and muttered beneath his breath, “Something took to flying, all right. Those poor folks were higher than the top of an East Texas pine.”

  Morality’s gaze shifted toward him, and he met it with a belligerent one of his own. Had she heard him? At that moment, he didn’t really care. Listening to Harrison had him riled, and if not for his own scam, he’d stand up and denounce the sharper here and now.

  There was an edge to Morality’s voice as she asked, “Mr. Burkett? You had something you wished to say?”

  He chewed his food much longer than necessary before he answered. “This squash would’ve been a mite better with a pinch of sugar added.”

  She dismissed him with a look, turning back to Sam Rankin and saying, “I wish you could have seen the miracles my uncle performed in South Texas. One night he healed twenty-seven people!” She launched into an accounting of various bone breaks, croups, and cancers.

  The bite of pecan pie Zach stabbed with his fork might as well have been lemon, so sour did it taste. For the next five minutes he sat there listening to the woman go on and on, one outlandish story after another. A few times Harrison joined in, pointing out the correlation between financial donations and the number of healings. By the finish of a tale involving two children and their rheumatic grandfather, Zach had listened to all he could stomach.

  “Miss Brown,” he said, deciding to begin his campaign here and now. “I’m afraid I’m filled to overflowing with your…chicken. I find I need to stretch my legs. Would you do me the honor of accompanying me on a walk around the courthouse?” Reading her refusal in her eyes, he quickly added, “It’s such a beautiful evening and I’d hate to miss an opportunity to learn more about your uncle’s ministry. I imagine I could speak with him, discuss the revelations I enjoyed this morning…?”

  Refusal transformed to certain retribution as she picked up on his threat. “Certainly, Mr. Burkett.”

  “Mr. Burkett,” Harrison interjected, a frown dimming his smile. “My niece is not allowed to take unchaperoned walks in the moonlight with gentlemen not of her family.”

  “I understand completely, Reverend Harrison.” Turning to Patrick, he said, “Come on, squirt. You need a walk to work down your supper and give yourself room for another slice of Miss Morality’s delicious pecan pie.”

  “I don’t think—” Harrison began.

  Morality interrupted, laying a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be fine, Reverend Uncle. We’ll take a short walk, that’s all.”

  Zach bowed like a gentleman and said politely, “After you, my lady.”

  She gave him a look of pure disdain, then swept regally from the room, Patrick at her heels, with Zach bringing up the rear. Once in the hallway, Zach grabbed Patrick’s shirt. “Whoa, there, son. I want to have a private word with Miss Morality. I’d like you to wait downstairs until I come get you.” When the boy started to protest, he added, “There’s five pups, and I’d appreciate your picking out some names for ‘em.”

  Positioning himself to block Morality’s view, Zach reached into his pocket and withdrew the deck of cards he’d saved for a time like this. His voice low, he added, “You can practice your dealing while you’re at it.”

  Patrick stared quizzically at the cards. “Where did you get these?”

  “Let’s say a bird told me where to find them.”

  “How…?” The boy’s eyes widened with recognition, and his lips formed a silent O. “The drunk?”

  Zach winked and turned to Morality. The storm clouds on her face accused him of making a tactical error with his blackmail, but he wasn’t overly worried. A thin line existed between anger and passion of a more enj
oyable sort. Zach had every intention of crossing that line tonight.

  Grabbing Morality’s arm, he guided her toward the stairway. She tried to pull from his grasp when he led her up the steps instead of down.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “I’ve a notion to watch the stars.”

  “You told my uncle we’d take a walk.”

  Zach opened his mouth to say “I lied,” but thought better of it. “We’ll do that after we watch the heavens. You ought to like that, Morality, isn’t heaven right up your alley? Besides, we have a few matters to discuss and I don’t want that evangelical outlaw finding us should he come looking.”

  “Evangelical outlaw? Why, Mr. Burkett!” She said his name like a curse. “How dare you talk that way about my uncle? Surely you realize your soul is at risk for speaking ill of a man of God.”

  “Forget it, angel,” he said, reaching the top floor of the courthouse. “I’ve got the goods on your ‘man of God.’ ”

  “What do you mean?” She planted her feet, trying unsuccessfully to halt their progress.

  Zach set his teeth against the words he wanted to say, knowing full well that seduction and accusation didn’t mix. At the door that led to the tower, her sudden rigidity caused him to pause.

  “I can’t do this. Please. Heights make me dizzy.”

  Right. That’s why the first time he’d seen her, she’d been climbing a tree. Zach tugged her on, annoyed at her resistance. “Heights, miracle bread, what’s the difference?” he groused. “You should be used to it.”

  The square clock tower was tall and narrow and divided into upper and lower sections by a wooden floor. A ladder provided access to the clockworks in the upper portion. Zach’s ultimate destination was the lower half, where four arched openings overlooked the flickering lights of Cottonwood Creek.

  The chill of the fresh night air obviously hadn’t helped to cool Morality’s temper. Keeping her eyes squeezed shut, she huffed and puffed, appearing to gather steam for another assault on his ears.

  Aware he’d unwisely allowed his tamper to direct his actions, Zach decided to launch an offensive of his own for the purpose of making up lost ground. He reached across the space separating them and laid his index finger against her lips. “Hush, now, angel,” he said in a low rumble. He slowly traced first her lower lip, then her upper, with his finger. “I want to make you dizzy, Morality. I want to make you melt. Forget about your uncle. Think of me. Think of you and me together.”