The Lawman's Bride (Harlequin Historical Series)

by Cheryl St. John

Ellie smiled. “She is. She doesn’t know I’m her mother, but I visit her every so often. It’s a sad-sweet joy to know her. Her parents are wonderful people. I did the right thing.”

  “What about…?” She couldn’t bring herself to ask.

  “The man who fathered her was killed.”

  Sophie accepted that information with a nod.

  “Benjamin did it. The man tried to abduct me.”

  Sophie couldn’t hold back a little gasp. Ellie and her family seemed so happy and normal, it was nearly impossible to believe the things Ellie had just shared with her. What courage the woman possessed! What an enormous amount of love it had taken to heal.

  All the fear and rejection and regret she’d stifled for a lifetime boiled over the surface of Sophie’s emotional reservoir, and her throat ached with silent sobs.

  “Let it out, Sophie,” Ellie told her. “It’s okay to feel the hurt and the pain. It’s okay to hate whoever did this to you. It was wrong and you deserved to be taken care of and loved.”

  Sophie nodded. “I—it was wrong, wasn’t it?”

  “That’s what Caleb always told me.”

  “And you finally believed him?”

  “I did. Just like you will. You’ll believe you are a good person. A person worthy of love.”

  Sobs took over and Sophie’s whole body quaked from the force of them. Tears poured from her eyes, and her shoulders shook. Ellie just held her, comfortingly rocking the swing back and forth in a gentle soothing rhythm.

  Sophie cried until her throat hurt, until her eyes burned and she was emotionally exhausted. Her breaths became shudders, but eventually the tears subsided and she collected herself. The hem of her dress was soaked from holding it to her face.

  “I’ll bet it’s been a long time since you did that.”

  Sophie wiped her nose. “Never.” She sat up and looked at the other woman’s kind face. “Thank you. For your honesty. For knowing I needed to hear those things.”

  “I just wanted you to know you could talk to me,” Ellie said, her voice soft.

  So Sophie told Ellie about her childhood. She revealed the things that brought her the most shame and regret. And she told her about Amanda…and about Clay.

  “I’ve never loved anyone before,” she said. “I don’t want him hurt, but I’m afraid it’s too late. How can he love me after all I’ve done? After the lies I’ve told—even to him?”

  “Love doesn’t keep count of offenses,” Ellie told her. “Love is bigger than mistakes, bigger than our pasts. That’s what Caleb taught me. You can believe it, too.”

  Ellie rubbed Sophie’s shoulder. “The marshal is a good man. He’ll know the right thing to do. The best thing for everyone. Have a little trust in him.”

  “All right,” she said with a nod. “I love him, Ellie. The only reason I’m afraid of going to jail is because I’ll lose him.”

  “You’re very brave. I’m going to believe that this is all going to work out for the best.”

  Sophie looked at the young wife and mother beside her. “I think I knew all along that you were someone I could talk to. The girls at the dormitory are kind and caring, but I’m so different from them, sometimes I’m surprised we even speak the same language.”

  “I felt the same way,” Ellie told her. “Like an imposter.”

  Sophie shrugged. “I’ve always been an imposter, so I’ve never known anything else.”

  “I used a made-up name, too.”

  At that Sophie started to laugh. She threw back her head and let the laughter roll over her and from her.

  Ellie joined in, and they laughed until they cried, then they laughed again.

  Finally Sophie wiped her eyes on her already soaked skirt. “You don’t know how much I needed this.”

  “I think I can guess. Want to come in for a cold drink now? I made lemonade earlier.”

  Caleb had put the children to bed. Benjamin sat at the kitchen table with a book. Sophie remembered what Ellie had told her, and her heart went out to the young man and this family.

  Caleb joined them for a glass of lemonade, and then he insisted that Benjamin walk with her to the hotel.

  “Your sister is a very special person,” Sophie said to him.

  He nodded. “She’s the only mother Flynn ever knew. She was more of a mother to me than the woman who birthed us.”

  “How do you handle that, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  He shrugged. “I dunno. Mostly I don’t think about it. I think about the people who care about me.”

  “You’re a wise young man. And you want to be a veterinarian.”

  “Yup.”

  “You’ll be good at it.”

  “Here’s your hotel, Miss Hollis.”

  “Thank you for accompanying me. Good night.”

  He turned and ran back the way they’d come.

  Sophie watched him go, then entered the lobby and climbed the stairs to her floor. The unknown was still disturbing, as was the fear of losing Clay. But she had the satisfaction of knowing she’d done things right. Finally.

  If she had to go turn herself in tomorrow, she’d always know he’d cared for her. There simply was no way things could have been different for them. She was who she was. She’d lived the experiences she had through no choice of her own—and made the best of it.

  A pitcher of water stood outside the door. She carried it in, lit one of the lamps and undressed. Brushing out her hair, she made a point of noticing her roots where her hair was growing in a lighter brown. No need to touch up those again.

  Sophie wet a cloth and raised it to her face. A movement in the mirror caught her eye, and her heart stopped. Dropping the cloth with a splat on the wood floor, she turned.

  Garrett moved forward from the shadowy corner, and his gaze raked over her. “Some things haven’t changed, Gabriella.”

  Sophie grabbed her wrapper from the screen where she’d hung it and pulled in on. “Nothing about our agreement allows you to be in my room,” she told him.

  “Couldn’t have anyone seeing us together without you in disguise, so I stopped by.”

  “Picked the lock, you mean.”

  He grinned. “I’m still the best.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I noticed you cutting all your ties, and I wanted to warn you not to be obvious or make a spectacle of yourself. The less attention you draw the better.”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore what people think of me,” she told him. “Once we pull off this job, they’ll never see me again.”

  “You should have kept your disguise at the Arcade.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’ve never had to wait tables or be polite to every person who comes through the door.”

  He moved closer, and Sophie’s heartbeat accelerated.

  “I’m no longer a naive young girl,” she told him. “I’ve joined you in this scheme of yours and I will work the craft as you taught me, but I make the decisions about who shares my bed.”

  A scowl creased his forehead, and he pierced her with a contemptuous look. “Don’t think too highly of yourself and your ability to make that choice just yet.” He moved forward, grabbed the front of her wrapper and jerked her up to face him.

  She turned her head so that his nose grazed her cheek.

  “You conceited, ungrateful little bitch. What do you think you’d be without me? I made you into a woman men lose their heads over. I gave you your abilities and talents. You don’t tell me who makes decisions, or have you forgotten the punishment for displeasing me?”

  With a determination and courage she hadn’t known she possessed, she yanked her clothing away from his grip and faced him with a fierce glare. “I haven’t forgotten your abuse for a moment, not for a second. But I’ve put it behind me and washed myself of the taint.”

  Garrett’s expression revealed his shock and anger.

  “I’m old enough now,” she said, “wise enough to know there are worse things than being coerced or manipulat
ed, and one of them is the loss of respect. Not respecting myself. I’ll scream and fight or I’ll jump out that window before I’ll ever submit my body to you again.”

  He straightened his shirt and tie. “Think more about that, Gabriella. Consider other people who might have more to lose in all this than you.”

  Clay. Amanda. She’d already considered. “You said you’d leave them alone if I went along with your job. If you want to trust me to do what you ask, don’t go back on your word now.”

  “We’re not finished,” he told her. “Not nearly finished. Once we’ve moved on and you don’t have your friends and your marshal, you’ll see things my way.”

  Sophie’d said enough. She held back anything more she might have spewn at him and asked, “How much longer will it be?”

  “Any time. He’s ready. Be prepared.” He took a few steps toward the door and pointed to a liquor bottle she hadn’t noticed sitting behind the door. “He likes brandy…and blondes.”

  Sophie’s heart hammered long after he’d left and she’d locked the door. She leaned against it, thinking what tissue-thin protection a locked door was.

  Finally, she moved. Noticing the wet rag on the floor, she picked it up and rinsed it out. Her skin was hot and clammy, so she washed before donning her nightclothes, then extinguished the lamp.

  She sat before the window and concentrated on thinking about her meeting with Ellie. Garrett had stolen much of the relief she’d felt, but she wasn’t as lonely as she’d been before.

  As bad as all this was right now, Ellie had survived worse. She remembered Ellie’s advise and made up her mind to trust Clay no matter what.

  She had nothing to lose.

  A knock startled her. Jumping at the sound was foolish. Anyone who meant her harm wouldn’t knock. Garrett certainly wouldn’t bother. She padded to the door in the dark. “Who is it?”

  “Me.” His voice.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Her heart slammed against her ribs with joy at hearing Clay. She opened the door and ushered him inside. “You came.”

  She stepped to the bureau and relit the oil lamp, then another on the writing desk. He looked so good, so tall and handsome, his skin burnished from the sun, his thick dark hair unruly as though he’d run all the way in the wind. He smelled like fresh air and safety. She wanted to run to him, press herself against him and never let go. But she didn’t.

  “The posters came today,” he said.

  She studied his expression. And waited.

  Seeing her took away Clay’s breath as it always did. She looked like the same woman he’d fallen in love with, maybe even softer and more lovely in her green satin wrapper and bare feet. Her dark hair was spread over her shoulders in shining waves. Was she the same woman he thought he’d known? Was she who she said she was?

  “I think your plan will work. I’ll let the others know and have the men at the ready.”

  Sophie rushed forward and flung herself against him. “Oh, thank you, Clay!”

  He was so surprised, he didn’t make a move to respond, and she drew away as though she’d been struck. She backed into the center of the room. “I’m sorry. I don’t have any right to do that.”

  Her eyes expressed such uncertainty and fear, he could barely stand to look. He took a long forward stride to reach her and pulled her into his arms. She didn’t let herself relax against him.

  “I don’t know what’s gonna happen, Sophie,” he told her. “I had hoped—well, it don’t matter what I’d hoped.”

  Sophie took a step back and looked up at him. “It matters to me what you hoped. Tell me.”

  Before he’d heard the rest of her story he’d hoped that she’d decide she wanted to marry him. He’d even voiced it, but she hadn’t responded. “I had a pipe dream that we could start a family.”

  The first real emotion he’d ever seen displayed crossed her features. Regret filled her lovely dark eyes. “He stole my life, Clay. He’s the reason I can’t have friends or a husband or a family. I’ve never been free, and now I’m going to jail.”

  The disappointment and hurt in her tone sounded real. She didn’t seem afraid, just…sorry. “Garrett’s gonna pay,” he assured her. “He’s gonna hang for that killin’.”

  He thought he saw relief cross her features.

  “He couldn’t steal my love or my dreams,” she said.

  He ached to hold her. To believe in her.

  “Amanda is leaving in the morning to visit her family for a while,” she told him.

  “Good.”

  “Telling the truth spared her, didn’t it?” she asked.

  “You spared her.”

  “You think less of me now, don’t you?” she asked.

  “Not less. It’s just…I thought I knew you, but I didn’t. You’re not the person I thought you were.”

  “Yes, yes I am,” she argued in a quivering voice. “I’m the same Sophia who went riding with you and shared a picnic lunch. I’m—” her words caught, but she finished “—I’m the same woman who smoked cigars in your bed.”

  Her mention of that day hurt like a surprise punch to the gut. That had been one of the best days of his life. Hers, too, he’d thought. “You’ve closed up.”

  She shook her head. “I tried to barricade myself from having feelings again, but it didn’t work. It’s just…” She crossed her hands on her breast. “I thought I had so much to lose. Freedom. Self-respect. You. None of them were ever mine anyway.”

  Maybe she truly had risked everything to tell the truth. What purpose would a lie serve now? He’d been as angry with himself as he’d been with her. He’d felt like a chump, falling for her while she’d been lying to him. “Thinkin’ over your options in all this, I see how you thought you had no choice but to do things the way you did. You went out of your way to avoid the law. To avoid me.”

  “I’m sorry you got pulled in, but I’m not sorry about a single minute I spent with you,” she told him. “Not a minute. I lied about my past, Clay, but I never lied about the way I feel about you. It wasn’t fair to let either one of us think there was a chance for anything more, but the woman you were with that day was me. The real me.”

  He stepped forward to wrap his arms around her.

  This time she folded into his embrace and laid her head against his chest. She was small and soft and the wonderful scent he couldn’t forget filled his head.

  As though she’d just thought of something, she looked up. “You didn’t let anyone know you were coming here tonight, did you?”

  He shook his head. “Don’t want Garrett to know what we’re up to.”

  “And you can’t let anyone see you coming here or let them know you’re more than the city marshal to me.” Her eyes were a deep dark umber in the lamplight.

  Her words restored his hope. “Am I?”

  “You’re the only good thing that’s ever happened to me,” she told him. “You’re what I never even let myself dream about or imagine. But you and I can’t happen. You’ll meet a woman who deserves you.”

  The thought was absurd. “Do you really think I’d want anyone else now?”

  “Time makes a difference,” she assured him. “Once I’m gone you’ll find someone to make you a good wife.”

  She believed she was going to jail, and he couldn’t tell her differently. “I can’t think past what we have to do,” he told her. “Can’t see past the woman in front of me. All I want to consider is you in my arms right now.”

  Sophia rested her head against his chin. She didn’t want to think past this moment either. At least not yet. She had so few good memories to take with her. Selfishly she wanted more. Enough to fill her heart for all the cold lonely hours that would be hers soon enough.

  “I have some first-rate cigars,” she told him. “I’d be glad to share.”

  “Hold that idea,” he told her.

  He stepped away and twisted the key in the lock, then unbuckled his holster and hung the guns on the back of the door.

>   Sophie waited expectantly.

  He took off his boots and moved toward her. “What is this?” he asked, untying the ribbons over her breast.

  “My nightwear.”

  “Mighty fancy nightwear for a Harvey Girl.”

  “No uniforms at bedtime,” she informed him with a smile.

  He spread the front apart and let it fall down her arms. Sophie tossed the wrapper on the foot of the bed.

  He fingered the satin edging above her breasts.

  Her skin tingled everywhere he touched her.

  Clay glanced toward the bowl on the washstand.

  “Go ahead,” she offered. “It’s cold by now though.”

  He unbuttoned his shirt. “I won’t notice.”

  She backed up to the bed and watched him wash, appreciating the smooth contours of his back, the play of muscle in his shoulders and arms. He was a pleasure to look at, pleasure to touch. Even the sound of his voice was a pleasure she wanted to engrave into her memory forever.

  She wanted him with her forever, too. The thought that he might forget her and assign his affections to an other woman was almost more than she could endure. He was hers. Hers for tonight. Hers for right now, anyway.

  And he would remember her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  She hurried to tug the curtains closed over the open window and turn down the wick on the nearest lamp before folding back the covers on the bed. Sophie removed her nightgown while he was still occupied with a towel. The summer air kissed her skin.

  Clay draped the towel over the brass holder, extinguished the lamp and turned. His expression would be in her memories for all time. He didn’t move, just studied her with hooded eyes. The breeze sucked the curtain out the open window and blew it back in.

  “Beautiful Sophia,” he said at last.

  Her heart ached with loss already. She took bittersweet pleasure in the way his gaze glided from her body to her face and hair. He was everything she wanted and nothing she deserved.

  He moved forward to capture her lips in a kiss of possession and purpose. She didn’t need to breathe again because he was her air. Her heart never had to beat again; he was the life force that sustained her. His kiss was her nourishment, his groan of desire a cleansing drink.