“Oh, for heavens sake,” she said with exasperation. “Put it away, Marshal. I’m unarmed.”
Jedidiah Brown lowered the weapon and scanned her figure with male appreciation. “Well, Miss Calhoun, I wouldn’t exactly say that.”
Despite herself, Susannah felt a flutter in the vicinity of her heart. She took refuge in anger. “You dare to flirt with me? You are an impossible man.”
“So I’ve been told.” The marshal went over to the bed and slipped the weapon back under his pillow, then turned and regarded Susannah with interest. “Now, Miss Calhoun, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“I’ve come to have a word with you about your incredible lack of manners, Marshal Brown.”
“Is that so? My mama would be right disappointed.”
“Don’t you dare joke about this,” Susannah snapped. “What possessed you to upset my sister at her wedding?”
Jedidiah frowned. “Mrs. Donovan is upset? Why?”
“Don’t play games with me, Marshal. Better men than you have tried.”
“Really?” His eyes took on a bold gleam that made her want to take a step back. But she would die before she moved an inch. “I’ll have to try harder then.”
Susannah let out an exasperated sigh. “I want my sister to be happy. But you and your innuendoes about Donovan upset her, and at her wedding, no less!”
“You don’t say.” His expression grew shuttered. “I do apologize. I wasn’t aware that my observations had caused the lady distress.”
She sent him a glare that had been known to freeze men where they stood. “Any woman would be distressed if a stranger started hinting that he knew secrets about her new husband at her wedding!”
“You have my word that I will apologize to your sister at the first opportunity,” the marshal said smoothly. “Now that you’ve said what you’ve come to say, shall I show you out?”
She managed to look down her nose at him, though he was a head taller. “I’m surprised. I had expected this discussion to be more…stimulating.”
“You mean you expected an argument. Sorry to disappoint you.”
“Marshal, it seems that you are destined to disappoint me.”
“Oh?” He moved so swiftly that she missed it just by blinking. Suddenly he was there, taking her chin in his hand. “Stick around for a few more minutes, Miss Calhoun, and things will definitely get ‘stimulating’.”
She hated the way her pulse sped up. “You, sir, are an ill-bred lout.”
He caressed her lips with his thumb. “You’ve got a tongue like a razor blade.”
She narrowed her eyes. “And you’ve got the intellect of a blade of grass. Now release me at once.”
“Of course.” His hand dropped to his side, but an arrested expression appeared in his eyes. “A blade of grass, you say?”
“That’s what I said,” she sniffed.
“Just what are you trying to tell me?” he murmured.
She rolled her eyes. “I thought it was obvious. You truly are a difficult man.”
“Only to my enemies, Miss Calhoun.” As if he had all the time in the world, he lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm, his sherry-colored gaze holding her captive for a long, breathless moment. “Now, did you really come here about your sister, or did you come to me for another reason?”
She stiffened even as her pulse sped like a runaway train. “Marshal Brown, I came here solely on my sister’s behalf. Perhaps I should speak more slowly so that you can understand.”
“I understand what you’re saying. Now let’s see what you’re not saying.” He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers in a slow, easy kiss that she could have broken without effort. Yet she didn’t move, trapped in the spell of his mouth on hers. When he pulled back and looked at her, she had the feeling that he’d been places she’d allowed no other man, seen things that she didn’t want anyone else to see.
He licked his lips as if still savoring the taste of her. “It’s a crying shame I can’t stick around these parts and see where this is going.”
She jerked back the hand he still held. “This is not going anywhere. And I, for one, will be most happy to see the back of you.”
He laughed. “I’d like to see all of you, princess…But my duties take me all over the territory, and I can’t afford to be tied down.”
“You presume too much, Marshal.” Her cheeks burning, she scalded him with a look of contempt. “I merely came here to deliver a message.”
“I know why you came here, princess. Probably better than you do.”
She clenched her fingers, tempted to slap the amusement from his face. Glancing at her fisted hands, he raised one tawny brow, and his eyes hardened to chips of ice.
“I wouldn’t,” he warned.
For a moment she was tempted to ignore his advice. But something about his battle-ready stance made her back off. Eyeing him as if he were a particularly nasty bug, she said regally, “Since your manners show no signs of improvement, I have nothing more to say to you. Good day, Marshal.”
“Allow me to escort you to the door.” He took her arm, all but dragging her along.
“Marshal—” Unused to being dominated, Susannah dug in her heels simply out of principle. As much as she wanted to leave the irritating man’s company, she would do so when she desired to and not a moment before.
“Give my regards to your mother and sister.” He jerked open the door.
Susannah braced herself in the doorway, using her parasol to prop open the door when he would have shoved her through it. “Marshal Brown, never in my life have I—”
“I’m astonished to hear that, princess.” His lips quirked in a roguish grin. “I would have presumed that a woman of your looks and temperament would have by now.”
She gasped as his innuendo sank in, but before she could respond, he pulled the parasol from her hand and flung it through the door. “Are you mad?” she exclaimed. “That parasol comes all the way from Paris!”
He shoved his face close to hers. “You want to argue about it? Or maybe you’re not so anxious to leave after all?”
Her breathing hitched as she realized that his lips were mere inches from hers. “Don’t you dare kiss me again,” she whispered.
He looked at her mouth and seemed to be considering her words. Susannah’s blood thundered in her ears. There was nothing in the world she wanted more than for him to kiss her again. And nothing in the world she feared more.
Her body started to tremble as the tension grew. She moistened her lips and glanced at his mouth. Would he kiss her again?
Suddenly he straightened and gave her a charming smile.
“I never disappoint a lady.”
Yanking her away from the doorframe, he shoved her into the hall, then swatted her on the bottom for emphasis. Slamming the door, he leaned back against it, disregarding her screech of outrage from the other side. Flirtations aside, Susannah had managed to convey her message successfully.
“Blade,” he said with a slow grin. “I’ll be damned.”
Chapter Seventeen
Monday morning, Sarah set the type for the newest edition of the Burr Chronicle. She hummed as she worked, more content than she had been in a very long time. She had left the door standing open to enjoy the sweet June breeze, and only moments before, she had seen Emmaline and Juliana hurry by. She had thought it was odd that they didn’t stop in, as was their usual habit, but then she realized why they hadn’t.
They had nothing to gossip about.
She was a happily married woman now, and that had restored the respectability she lost three years earlier. Or had it been her husband who had done that? Either way, the Tremont sisters no longer had the ammunition to keep firing their nasty barbs. It was a welcome change.
The sound of booted footsteps made her look up from her work as a thrill shot through her. But her heart slowed as she realized that it was Marshal Brown who had come to see her, not Jack.
“Good afternoo
n, Mrs. Donovan,” the marshal said, removing his hat. “I wonder if I might have a moment of your time.”
“Of course, Marshal.” Sarah put down the type and picked up a rag, wiping the smudges of ink from her fingers. “What can I do for you today?”
“Well, first of all, I’d like to remind you to call me Jedidiah. And secondly, I’d be obliged if you’d put a notice about Petrie in your paper. I want all the folks in the area to be warned about him.”
“Already done, Jedidiah. I wrote the article myself.”
“Well, then.” The lawman hesitated. “Mind if I close the door, ma’am?”
Intrigued, Sarah shrugged. “Go ahead.”
The marshal went to the door and glanced outside before firmly shutting it. Then he came back to Sarah.
She frowned at his odd behavior. “Jedidiah, whatever is going on?”
“I just wanted to have a few words with you, Mrs. Donovan, to let you know how sorry I am about what happened on your wedding day.”
Sarah sat on the edge of her desk, dread knotting in the pit of her stomach. “What about my wedding day?”
The marshal fingered the brim of his hat. “I understand that I upset you, ma’am, and I’d like to apologize. I imagine that your husband doesn’t want it to get around that he used to be a bounty hunter. People tend to react funny to that sort of thing.”
Stunned, she replied. “Yes. Yes, they do.” A bounty hunter? Jack?
The marshal slipped his hat back on and sent her a grin. “But at least you can rest easy about Petrie, ma’am. I can’t see him coming up against Blade and winning.”
“I guess so,” she murmured. Her mind didn’t seem to want to absorb what she was being told. Had the marshal actually said that her husband was the bounty hunter known as Blade? Or had she misunderstood?
Something must have shown on her face, because the marshal’s expression turned to one of concern. “But don’t worry, Mrs. Donovan,” he soothed, “your secret is safe with me. After all, it’s not as if Blade is a wanted man or anything. He always worked within the boundaries of the law.”
He kept talking about Blade as if she knew the notorious tracker personally—and that could only mean one thing. She squeezed her eyes closed as if she could shut away the truth. Somehow she, Sarah Calhoun, had married the most ruthless bounty hunter ever to ride the trail. For one wild moment she hoped it was a mistake. But the marshal kept talking, confirming her worst fears with every word.
“So anyway, Mrs. Donovan, I thought I’d just stop by and put your mind at rest. No one will ever know from me that Jack Donovan was once Blade.”
Put her mind at rest? Dear Lord, the man had just uprooted the very foundations of her marriage! But she couldn’t let him know how he had shocked her. No one could know. This was between her and Jack.
She forced a smile to her lips. “That’s very reassuring. Thank you for coming by, Jedidiah,” she said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work.”
“Certainly, ma’am.” Jedidiah Brown put on his hat and went to the door to flip open the locks. “Good day now.”
“Good day.” When the door had closed behind the lawman, Sarah got up and locked it again. Then she slowly returned to her desk and sank into the chair.
Jack Donovan was Blade. He was a man who had lived by the gun, walking barely on the right side of the law. A hired tracker. A man who hunted other men for profit.
A killer.
She had always known there was something dark about Jack, but never had she expected this.
Clenching her hands tightly in her lap, she concentrated on breathing steadily. Part of her was confused and disbelieving. Another part of her wanted to weep.
And part of her was furiously, painfully hurt.
Why hadn’t he told her? He knew how she felt about violence—she had told him herself. And she had confided in him—confessed her whole past, sins and all, on the night they first made love at Miller’s Pond.
But he hadn’t revealed one single thing to her.
The more she thought about it, the more infuriated she became. She had agonized through every word of that confession, certain that he would withdraw his marriage proposal once he knew the truth. She had bared her soul to the man to whom she had given her heart, only to find that her husband had hidden critical information about himself from her.
And now she was married to the kind of man she despised, one who had killed for profit and thrived on violence.
How many men had he killed? And how had he killed them? Did he care whether the criminal he pursued was guilty, or did he just care about getting paid for the job?
Just who was Jack Donovan? The tender man she had come to love? Or a ruthless killer?
Clearly he wanted to start anew, but a man didn’t put that part of himself away, never to return. At the very least, a man who lived by violence would have made many enemies. How long would it take for one of those enemies to track him down and perhaps kill him? They had been married only two weeks, and already Jedidiah Brown, a perfect stranger, had discovered Jack’s secret.
She took her reticule from the drawer and headed for the door. Only one person could answer all her questions, and that was Jack himself.
Jack knew there was trouble when he saw Senseless galloping up the drive as if pursued by a swarm of angry bees. He broke off his conversation with Matt and strode up to the house, reaching the front steps just as Sarah slid off the horse.
“Sweetheart, is there something wrong?” He reached for her arm, but she dodged his touch.
“In the house. Now.” Blue eyes glittering with fury, she turned her back on him and stomped up the steps.
Donovan stared after her for a moment, then signaled to one of the ranch hands. The man came and took the horse’s reins, and Donovan slowly entered the house.
Sarah wasn’t in the parlor or the kitchen. He was just about to call out to her when he heard footsteps overhead. Heading for the stairs, he winced as other sounds reached his ears—slamming, banging, muttering.
His wife was in one hell of a temper about something.
He found her in the bedroom, pawing through the wardrobe. A pile of her clothes was heaped on the bed, and an empty trunk stood open in the middle of the floor. A twinge of alarm crept over him.
“Sarah?”
She whirled to face him, a pale pink gown clutched in her hands. “I’m leaving you,” she said, then flung the garment on the bed with the others.
“Leaving? What are you talking about?” He came over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”
“Don’t touch me.” She shrugged him off and sent a glare over her shoulder that made him step back a pace. “I may not like guns, Jack Donovan, but I certainly know how to use one—and I will if you lay your hands on me again.”
Her words sparked his own temper. “Don’t threaten me, Sarah.”
“You don’t scare me, Jack,” she scoffed, turning to pile some shirtwaists on the bed. “What are you going to do? Kill me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped. “Now tell me what’s going on.”
“I told you. I’m leaving you.”
“Why, damn it?” he roared. “What the hell have I done?”
She paused and gave him a level, pain-filled look. “It’s what you haven’t done, Jack…if that’s even your real name.”
“What?” Fear streaked through him. She meant it—she was leaving. He grabbed her before she could take another garment from the wardrobe, tightening his grip as she struggled. “What did you mean by that?”
She twisted in his grasp, trying to peel his fingers from her arms. “You know exactly what I mean, Blade.”
Stunned, he stared at her. His grip loosened unconsciously, and she broke away from him, rubbing at her upper arms. “What did you call me?”
“Don’t insult me by pretending ignorance,” she sneered. “You know exactly what I called you. And why.”
; He sighed with resignation. “Yes, I do know.”
“What’s this? A confession?” With a brittle smile, she went to the bureau and yanked open the top drawer. “You’re a little late, Jack.”
“How did you find out?”
“Oh, I have my ways.” She dumped a handful of stockings on the bed. “You might have told me yourself.”
“I didn’t see that it mattered.”
She spun to face him. “How can you say that? I told you everything about me—everything—before we got married. Didn’t it occur to you to do the same?”
“Sassy girl, listen to me—”
“Don’t you ‘sassy girl’ me,” she snapped. “I bared my soul before I ever said yes to your proposal, because it was important to me to clear the air before we got married.”
“I told you straight out when we first met that I wasn’t going to talk about my past, Sarah.”
“I’m your wife!” she shouted. “I have a right to know.”
He clenched his jaw to keep back the stinging words that rose in response to her outburst. “You said you would leave it alone, Sarah. You said that you weren’t going to dig into my past anymore. Was that a lie?”
“I have never lied to you, Jack Donovan. Never.”
“Then how did you find out?”
“None of your business.” She scooped a bunch of clothes off the bed and dropped them in the trunk. When she turned back for more, he was there, blocking the way.
“It is my business, sweetheart,” he said with soft menace. “Now I suggest you tell me how you found out.”
She looked at him with a hint of fear in her eyes, and he wished he could call the words back. “The marshal told me,” she said quietly. “And when he leaves town, he had better leave unharmed, Jack. Now please get out of my way.”
He stepped aside without another word and watched her as she jammed two dresses in a leather satchel, then squeezed the rest of her clothes in the trunk. She slammed the lid shut, ignoring the lacy sleeve of a nightdress that hung out, and flipped the fastenings closed.
Donovan stared at that strip of ivory lace and remembered how surprised and delighted she had been when he had presented her with a new wardrobe as a wedding gift. How he had enjoyed picking out the clothes for her. How she had shyly worn the ivory nightgown on their wedding night, and how he had taken great pleasure in removing the garment an inch at a time.
Donovan's Bed: The Calhoun Sisters, Book 1 Page 21
