Donovan's Bed: The Calhoun Sisters, Book 1

by Debra Mullins

  “I have no intention of hurting her.”

  “Good. Then you won’t mind answering a few questions—to put a sister’s mind at ease.”

  Donovan recognized the steel beneath the tone and respected it. Had Sarah been his sister, he would have done the same thing. “Ask away, Miss Calhoun.”

  “Please, call me Susannah.” With a sweet smile, she launched into an interrogation that would have made any military commander shudder.

  Standing by the punch bowl, Sarah smothered a smile as she watched her sister extract Donovan from the clutches of the Tremont sisters.

  The two seemed to be in deep conversation. She frowned, wondering how long it took to deliver a message. She tried to catch Susannah’s eye, but her sister appeared to be deliberately ignoring her. Sarah groaned, realizing that Suzie was probably questioning Donovan about his background.

  Between her mother’s efforts to throw Sarah at any likely bachelor and her sister’s determination to protect her, Sarah sometimes wished she were both an orphan and an only child.

  The next shift for the punch bowl arrived, and Sarah handed the ladle to the woman with relief. For a moment she was tempted to go rescue Jack from Susannah’s interrogation, but then she saw Mrs. Castor bearing down on her with determination. Beating a hasty retreat, Sarah set off for the newspaper office to wait for Jack.

  Going around back so that no one would see her, she unlocked the door to the office and stepped inside. Sinking into her desk chair, she shook her head. Only yesterday, the Ladies’ Auxiliary had done their best to ignore her existence. Today they seemed determined to include her in every one of the activities—because of something Jack had done.

  How had he done it? How had he managed to make a three-year old scandal disappear? And why had he done it? For her, or because he didn’t want her past to reflect on him once they were married?

  She wanted to believe him when he said he didn’t give credence to gossip. But she was so used to men disappointing her that she couldn’t help but wonder.

  Still, Jack Donovan seemed to be different from the other men she’d known. He had even offered her a chance at her dream of a family without forcing her to sacrifice her career. Not many men would make such a concession.

  Good Lord—she was in love with him.

  The truth of her own feelings scared her to death even as it buoyed her heart. Leaning back in her chair, she stared up at the ceiling. Why him? Why a man who brought out the carnal side of her that made her so uncomfortable? A man who confused her by rejecting her one minute and proposing to her the next?

  But love him she did. She loved his looks. His walk. That single dimple that creased his cheek when he smiled. She was fascinated by the many layers of the man inside, lured by his dreams and his secrets.

  Something happened when they were together. Something more than the physical attraction between them. It was as if Donovan saw through the polite mask she showed to the rest of the world to the real woman hiding within her. And something told her that she did the same thing with him. Between them there were no pretenses, no polite words that hid true feelings. The essence of each of them was laid bare before the other, without inhibition.

  So where was he?

  She rose from her chair and paced to the front window. Looking outside, she noticed for the first time that thick rain clouds had moved in. The swollen gray clouds cast early darkness over the town, heralding a coming storm. It looked like Founder’s Day was going to get rained out, though the dance tonight would simply be moved indoors.

  The thought of the dance reminded her of the first time Donovan had kissed her, at the spring dance in May. When he had told her that she wouldn’t suit him as a wife.

  Yet now the man she loved had asked her to marry him—so why was she hesitating? If it turned out they had made a mistake, they could work things out from there. She wasn’t about to give up the chance to be with the man she loved, despite her lingering feelings of uncertainty. Her decision was made; she would tell Jack Donovan that she would love to be his wife.

  If he ever arrived.

  A knock came at the front door of the office. Smiling, she unlocked it and swung it open. But it wasn’t Jack.

  The man on her doorstep had short dark hair, neatly trimmed beneath a wide-brimmed black hat. A thin, black mustache accented his handsome face. Ever the natty dresser, he wore fawn-colored trousers, a matching coat and a solid vest in a darker shade of brown, complete with pocket watch. On his feet were shiny black boots.

  And his eyes were steel-gray, merciless and cold as he pushed into the office, closed the door and pointed a Remington revolver at her heart.

  “Hello, Sarah,” he said with a nasty smile.

  “Luke,” she whispered.

  Then he raised his hand, and with a jolt of pain, everything went black.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sarah came to slowly, her head throbbing. For a moment she fought through the painful haze of confusion, until she remembered.

  Luke.

  She opened her eyes and found herself leaning against a large boulder at the side of the road. Luke knelt a few yards away, digging a stone from the hoof of a brown horse.

  She had to get away from him.

  Silently she climbed to her feet, never taking her eyes from him. Guiding herself with her hands, she edged around the rock. He continued to work on the horse, muttering under his breath.

  She might make it. A glance identified the terrain as a stretch of road not far from Miller’s Pond. Though she was sure it had taken them only thirty minutes or so to get out here on horseback, it would take a couple of hours to get back to town on foot. But she didn’t care. She would have gladly walked the path to hell barefoot as long as it meant getting away from Luke Petrie.

  Suddenly, Luke’s head came up, and he looked right at her. She froze. His gaze was flat and cold, like a rattler about to strike. He got to his feet with a shout.

  The woods, she thought with panic, taking off like a startled deer. If she could just get to the woods, she would be safe. She could hide.

  “Sarah!” He pounded after her in pursuit.

  She didn’t dare look back, her goal the copse of trees that promised sanctuary. Suddenly needles of pain exploded across her scalp as he grabbed her by her braid, yanking her to a halt.

  “Not so fast, darlin’,” he snarled.

  Bile rose in her throat as he whirled her around to face him, holding her with a strength that belied his slender build. She shoved against his chest, but she couldn’t budge him an inch.

  “You’re not going to leave before we have a chance to talk about old times, are you?” The slow drawl she had once found charming now only nauseated her.

  “I’d rather forget I ever knew you,” she snapped, seeing him clearly with the wisdom of maturity. Once she had considered him handsome, this former tutor from Savannah who had come west in search of adventure. Handsome, debonair and dazzling with wit and smooth Southern manners, a man well-versed in social graces.

  He was as different from Jack Donovan as night was from day. How had she ever considered herself in love with him? How could she have missed the selfishness in his eyes? The rot in his soul?

  “Forget you ever knew me?” He laughed in a way that sent chills down her spine. “I’ve come a long way to find you, Sarah Calhoun.”

  Fear shot through her, but she held his gaze steadily. “We have nothing to say to each other.”

  His expression twisted with cold menace. He pulled out his gun, holding it against her temple. “I beg to differ. You and I have unfinished business.”

  She wanted to argue with him, but his weapon made her hold her tongue.

  “You always were a smart one, Sarah.” Lowering the revolver, he dragged her to where the horse stood waiting, then crowded her back against the animal with his body. “Yes, indeed, you’ve always been smart. Not to mention a wildcat in bed, darlin’.”

  “Don’t call me that.” Her heart pou
nded. Fear froze her limbs as he nuzzled her hair.

  “I’ll call you anything I want, darlin’. And you’ll like it.” He jabbed the gun painfully into her side. “Won’t you?”

  She nodded because she had no choice, but her stomach churned with revulsion. With a thought of snatching the gun in mind, she slid her hand down her side.

  Like a snake striking, he grabbed her wrist. “What are you up to?”

  “My hands are sweaty,” she lied. “I was just wiping them off on my skirt.”

  “Excited?” Leering, he pressed a kiss to her palm. “You’re just about the hottest piece I ever took to bed, darlin’. I can’t wait to have a taste of you again.”

  She gave him a sickly smile. “Right here in the middle of the road?”

  He laughed. “Of course not! I’ve got a nice little hideout that’ll make a sweet love nest.” His expression grew cruelly serious. “You have something I want, Sarah. And I intend to collect.”

  He dropped her hand and stepped away from her to grab the horse’s fallen reins. As he reached for them, Sarah felt the gun move away from her side, and she grabbed her chance. She shoved him into the horse, then yanked her skirts to her knees and ran for her life.

  “Sarah!” he shouted, then bellowed several colorful curses. “Come back here, you bitch!”

  She sped for the trees.

  “Sarah!”

  Two gunshots sounded. Dirt exploded from the ground in front of her. She froze.

  “Come back here.” Though his tone was low, when she turned she saw that his gaze burned with fury. He pointed the revolver straight at her heart. “Come on, now.”

  Thunder rumbled as he grabbed her arm and pushed her toward the road. Clouds darkened the sky, and the thunder crashed louder, eliciting a nervous whinny from the horse. Luke shoved Sarah between the shoulder blades, sending her stumbling ahead of him.

  “Move along, darlin’. I don’t want to get caught in this storm.”

  “I’m going,” she snapped.

  “Easy, now,” he said in a low voice that made her skin crawl. “I sure would hate to shoot you before I’m done with you.”

  Lightning split the sky, followed by a roll of thunder. As they neared the road, Luke grabbed her arm and twisted it painfully behind her back, and she whimpered. The wind kicked up, whipping at her skirts and blowing strands of hair into her eyes.

  A fat drop of rain hit her cheek. Luke cursed ripely as the heavens opened up, and rain pounded the ground. He flipped the reins over the horse’s neck and jerked Sarah over to the animal’s side.

  “Up!” he snarled. Releasing her arm, he shoved her toward the saddle. What she saw in his eyes scared her down to her soul.

  He meant to kill her.

  She screamed and leaped at him, clawing at his eyes with her nails. He cursed, fell back and dropped the gun. While he rubbed furiously at the reddening scratches, she bolted.

  She fled down the road, not caring where she was going. The rain pounded down in torrents, turning the world to gray-toned shadows. She knew he was behind her; she could feel it. She thought she heard the thunder of hoofbeats, but the rumble of the storm made it impossible to tell.

  She zigzagged to throw him off track, but ended up getting herself all turned around. The driving rain obscured everything. What if she was heading toward him instead of away? She whirled, intending to bolt in the other direction. A shadowy figure on a horse loomed before her, and she screamed.

  “Sarah!”

  The rider slid off the horse. She darted to the right and kept on running across the field. The woods—somehow she had to find the woods. Wet brush slapped at her skirts, and she gulped air into her burning lungs, anticipating capture at any second.

  “Sarah!” Hands closed over her shoulders.

  She shrieked and whirled, clawing him once more with the only weapon she had—her bare hands. He grabbed her wrists with a strength she hadn’t expected and shook her, once.

  “Sarah, it’s me! It’s Donovan.”

  She kicked his shins before the words sank into her panicked mind.

  “Goddammit, woman!” he roared.

  “Jack?” Hardly able to hope, she looked up. He’d lost his hat, and the rain plastered his black hair against his head. Rivulets of water streamed over his cheekbones and trickled off his jaw. His dark eyes blazed at her as he clenched his teeth in pain.

  “Of course it’s me. What the heck were you doing, whacking my leg like that? Damn it!”

  “Oh, my God!” She threw her arms around him and clung. “It was Luke. He’s here someplace.”

  “I know. I saw him take you, and I followed.” Donovan grasped her upper arms. “Where is he?”

  “He had a gun! He had a gun, and he was going to—”

  “Easy, sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling her close.

  She accepted the comfort of his arms with relief. “Just hold me,” she whispered, shivering.

  “All right.” He stroked his hand over her sopping wet braid. “Where is he now?” he repeated.

  “I don’t know. I scratched his eyes and ran. I thought you were him.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  “I was so scared—”

  “I know you were.”

  She jerked away from him. “He might still be here! We have to get away!”

  “You’re right.” His mouth thinned, and the wildness of the wolf entered his eyes.

  Grabbing her hand, he led her at a run across the field and back to the road, the rain hammering down around them and thunder booming off the mountains. Lightning forked across the sky, but Sarah saw nothing but Donovan. And safety.

  They reached the road, which had turned into a quagmire of mud. Through the driving rain, they could see Senseless hitched to a bush, tossing his head nervously at the storm.

  “I don’t see him,” Sarah shouted over the howl of the wind. “Maybe he took off?”

  “I don’t want to take any chances.” Donovan unknotted the reins from the branch. “Let’s get you safe. Then I’ll deal with Petrie.”

  Thunder resounded above their heads, and lightning spiked across the sky to strike a tree somewhere in the woods. The resulting crack of a limb and the scent of smoke made Senseless roll his eyes and shriek. He reared up, jerking the reins from Donovan’s hand, then took off at a gallop down the road.

  “Senseless! Get back here!” Donovan whistled, but the horse disappeared into the pounding rain. “Damn you, horse!” Thwarted, he glanced around, his posture alert with tension. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  Sarah moved closer to Donovan, expecting Luke to pop out of the storm at any moment and shoot them on the spot. “There’s an old shed nearby, at Miller’s Pond. We can at least wait out the storm there.”

  “Good girl.” He reached beneath his coat and pulled out a wicked-looking knife, then took her hand. “Let’s go. If Petrie’s still around, I’ll take care of him.”

  Sarah glanced from the knife to his face. Her wolf was back, and the weapon he held with such confident skill seemed to be more a part of him than the gun strapped to his thigh. As she followed him into the woods, she was glad he was her protector. She had not the slightest doubt that Jack Donovan would make a very dangerous enemy.

  The shed was barely that, merely a space old man Miller had used to store his plow and other gardening tools. They stumbled into it, soaking wet. There were a couple of leaks in the roof, but for the most part it was dry, though dark. Donovan left the door standing open to take advantage of the fading light. It had been almost sunset when the storm had blown in.

  “Lucky they built this thing on a rise, otherwise we’d be up to our ankles in mud,” he said, poking through the shed. He discovered a wagon cover lying in the corner, and under it, a treasure. “I found a lamp. It looks like there’s a little oil left. And a tinderbox.”

  Sarah didn’t respond. He took the tinderbox and struck a flame, then lit the ancient lantern, setting it on the dirt floor. A soft glow
filled the shed, revealing weathered wood walls with spiders’ webs in the corners. Ancient tools hung from rusted nails, and a pile of what had once been blankets rotted in a dark corner.

  “Home sweet home,” he murmured, turning to Sarah with a smile.

  The smile faded as he looked at her. She stood trembling in her dripping clothes, her arms folded tightly around herself. Her eyes were wide with fear and misery.

  “Sarah?”

  “It’s all my fault,” she whispered. The despair in her voice tugged at him.

  “None of this is your fault, sweetheart,” he soothed.

  “Yes, it is. He came back for me. Someone else could die because of me.”

  “Sarah…” He touched her arm, but she lurched away from him.

  “You don’t understand!” Her expression twisted with pain and regret. “My father died because of me. Because I wouldn’t listen when he told me that Luke Petrie was no good. I was young and foolish; then he came along and made me feel special. Wanted. But he was just using me.” Her voice broke.

  Donovan approached her slowly, knowing only that he had to comfort her somehow. “Sarah, you’re drenched,” he said quietly. “You’re going to get sick if you don’t get out of those clothes.”

  “How could you ask me to marry you?” she tossed out, her face pale and her eyes fierce. “I have blood on my hands.”

  Something snapped inside him. “That’s bosh,” he snarled. He gripped her arms and stared into her eyes. The depth of pain he saw there made him hurt just as she was hurting. “He’s the killer, sassy girl, not you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  His blunt words seemed to reach her as the calming ones had not. She took a deep, shuddering breath. “He used me,” she repeated, her voice less shaky than before. “I used to…meet him…in the woods. I thought he loved me. But he used me to get information so he could rob the bank. My father sensed something was wrong and caught Luke in the act. And Luke killed him.”

  Donovan pulled her into his arms, holding her as if she could somehow absorb the anguish of the past. He had seen this before, during his days as a bounty hunter. He knew that she had been victimized, and that she had to say it, all of it, in order to begin healing. She had to face what had happened and accept it before she could move on with her life.