by Jeanne Allan
“We’ll go over to the café and get a cup of coffee. If we come back in an hour, will the papers be ready?” At Prudence’s nod, he said, “The wedding can wait until then. We’ll sign here before we sign at the courthouse. We’ll be back in one hour.”
One hour. In one hour she intended to marry this man who’d come to steal her ranch from her. In one hour. Panic burst inside her. Jake held out his hand. Without thinking, she put her hand in his. Warmth and courage poured through her body.
“For Crissie,” Jake said quietly.
“For Crissie,” Gwen agreed and stood. Suddenly, inexplicably, she wanted to laugh, to sing, to dance. The wedding was for Crissie.
The wedding night was for Gwen. The wedding night. Her steps slowed. She was stark, raving mad. She couldn’t marry a complete stranger. Not even to give Crissie a home.
Jake opened the office door. Crissie ran over and jumped into his arms. Gwen smiled at them, then dispensed wobbly smiles at everyone sitting in the law office’s reception room. Surely all brides smiled on their wedding day.
“Second thoughts?” Jake looked at her over the top of his wineglass.
“No.” Tom, Doris, and Crissie had eaten earlier, and Crissie slept soundly upstairs. “Yes. I don’t know.” Gwen picked at the angel food cake which had followed the fancy chicken dinner. “I told Doris not to go to any trouble, but she insisted we have some kind of private bridal dinner. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind.”
“I tried to explain our marriage isn’t quite what she thinks.”
“What does she think?”
Gwen thought of Doris’s teasing comments about sleeping with a stud like Jake and veered off in another direction. “Thank you for the flowers.” Jake had surprised her with a huge bouquet of sunflowers he’d picked before they’d gone to town.
“Every bride should have flowers. Store-bought would have been better, but I wasn’t sure I’d have a chance to buy any.”
“I like sunflowers.”
“I know you do.” He half smiled. “I’ve seen you talking to them.”
“They went beautifully with my dress.” Gwen smoothed down the forties’ style dress with its heart-shaped neckline. “I guess long, white wedding dresses with sweeping trains weren’t as common in those days.” Blue and lavender flowers dotted the ivory-colored satiny rayon fabric. “I wouldn’t have known this was Sara Winthrop’s wedding dress if I hadn’t seen the note pinned to it.” She couldn’t stop babbling. “Sara was probably being practical. It’s street-length so she could have worn it to church and stuff. That’s probably why it has sleeves. For church.” She grabbed her wine and drank, forcibly shutting off the mindless flow of words.
Jake leaned back in his chair. “I’m glad you left it on. I’ve never seen you in a dress.” His mouth twitched. “I figured the sunflowers would look okay with blue jeans.”
Gwen choked on her wine. “Did you really think I’d wear jeans?”
“Honey, I didn’t even know if you’d show up,” he drawled.
She drew a pattern with her fingernail on the white damask tablecloth Doris had unearthed. “I said I would.”
“Women say a lot of things.”
“That sounds very cynical. And chauvinistic.” She slid a glance off him. “Have you had so much experience with women?”
“Enough.”
The crisp answer told her everything. And nothing. A woman, maybe more than one, had hurt him. Marrying him to save the ranch didn’t give her the right to probe old wounds. “Did she hurt you badly?”
“Who?”
“The woman who made you so cynical.”
He squinted up at the chandelier hanging over the table. “No,” he said slowly, “she didn’t hurt me. She lied and she cheated on me by sleeping with my brother.” At Gwen’s tiny gasp, he looked directly at her. “But she didn’t hurt me.”
“Were you in love with her?”
“I’d planned to marry her.”
“Did your brother know that?” At his nod, she said, “I can’t imagine my brother hurting me like that.”
“I told you. It didn’t hurt.” Jake shrugged. “She drew men to her like bears to honey. My brother was a charming, reckless, lighthearted kid. Handsome with an engaging grin and an easy way of talking to women. He collected pretty women the way Crissie picks up pretty rocks. I never should have introduced them.”
“Of course you’d introduce your fiancée to your brother.” She hesitated. “You said she slept with him. How did you find out?”
“She told me.”
Gwen was torn between astonishment and outrage. “You’ve got to be kidding. That’s really rotten. Was she trying to make you jealous?”
“Is that what you would do?”
“I don’t play those kinds of games.”
“Oddly enough, I don’t think she did, either. She came to me for sympathy when he abandoned her. She told me then they’d slept together because she wanted me to make him come back to her.”
“You didn’t, did you?”
“I tried. He laughed at me.”
“You must have hated him.” At his blank look, she elaborated. “You blame her, but it takes two. Your brother stole your fiancée from you. He betrayed your trust.”
“I didn’t hate him.”
“You said your brother died,” Gwen said slowly. “Did you consider getting back together with her?”
“No.”
The clipped answer spoke volumes. Jake still cared for the woman. “Maybe you should have,” Gwen said hesitantly. “Maybe the thing with your brother was nothing more than a momentary aberration. Maybe you could make a go of it this time.”
“She’s dead,” Jake said flatly.
Gwen fought an illogical urge to hold Jake to her breast and comfort him. Illogical and ridiculous. She’d never met a man as self-assured and less likely to need comforting as Jake Stoner. “I’m sorry. How terrible for you.”
“Don’t make it into a tragic love story,” he said coolly. “I didn’t love her and she didn’t love me.”
“You must have loved each other.”
“Why must we have?”
“Well, because. You were going to be married.”
Jake took a sip of his wine, his gaze never leaving Gwen’s face. “You and I are married.”
And what did that mean? Gwen wasn’t ready to ask the question out loud. She pushed back her chair. “Doris is probably waiting for us to leave the dining room so she can clear up the dishes. I think I’ll run up and see if Crissie is sleeping okay.” She fled without waiting for Jake’s response.
Upstairs she peeked in Crissie’s room, knowing full well the little girl was sound asleep, or she would have been downstairs. Then Gwen went into the bathroom and washed her face and brushed her teeth.
Back in the hall, she stood irresolute. Jake had said nothing to indicate where he intended to spend the night. Why hadn’t she stipulated something be put in the prenuptial agreement pertaining to marital relations? “The groom must attend the bride on their wedding night and so many nights a week thereafter.”
Because she and Jake didn’t have that kind of marriage. A marriage of convenience they used to call them. The bride had something the groom wanted and vice versa. Gwen went into her bedroom and quietly closed the door, leaning back against the paneled wood.
There were three large bedrooms and an enormous bathroom upstairs in the main house. Gwen slept in Sara Winthrop’s bedroom. Bert had sheepishly admitted his snoring had meant separate bedrooms from early on in his marriage. Along with that he’d made it clear separate bedrooms hadn’t meant estrangement. Gwen had a feeling the couple had practically worn a path between their bedrooms. Doris slept downstairs in her own apartment in the house’s log addition. Crissie slept in what Bert had called the spare bedroom.
That left Bert’s room empty for Jake.
If he wanted it.
Standing at the door, Gwen attempted to see her room
through Jake’s eyes. Sara’s pale green wallpaper with huge white cabbage roses still covered the walls. Gwen had added the white gauzy curtains over the old wooden window blinds. The peach and cream Dhurrie rugs from India, she’d bought at a bazaar in Germany when her family had been stationed there. Childhood photos taken around the world of her mom and dad and Dan were scattered over one wall. She’d bought the southwestern picture because the mesa it depicted looked so much like the one she could see from her bedroom window. The framed print hung above the elaborate old brass bed which was covered with a green and peach quilt sewn by one of Gwen’s ancestors at the turn of the century.
The last wall Gwen called her family-tree wall. Her parents and grandparents and great-grandparents, at various ages, stared from old-fashioned frames. Alongside them hung enlargements of pictures she’d found in Bert’s family album. She’d been disappointed no one had labeled the photographs, but she’d attempted to identify them by their clothing. Sara she knew. Not only had Gwen seen Sara’s picture all over the house when she’d visited Bert, but he’d spoken so frequently about his wife, Gwen felt she knew Sara and would have liked her very much. Sometimes she talked to Sara, told her her worries, and her dreams. Gwen looked along down the wall. The woman she thought was Bert’s mother had a kind face.
Gwen’s gaze went to the third woman, the woman she felt sure was Bert’s grandmother. Maybe it was the limitations of early photography, but there was something unlikable about the subject. The woman, in her early twenties, was definitely a beauty with dark-colored curls cascading to her shoulders. Gwen thought the woman’s eyes looked hard and greedy and her mouth petulant and discontented. It felt disloyal to Bert, or Gwen would have taken the picture down.
The woman’s gaze seemed to mock Gwen. This woman would make sure her husband attended her in her bedchamber. She’d be coy, demure and ladylike, but she’d get exactly what she wanted.
Gwen’s breath caught. What she wanted. The truth had stared her in the face from the moment Jake popped the astonishing question. She wanted Jake Stoner in her bed. She wanted him touching her, caressing her, kissing her.
Loving her.
Love. Such a silly word. Such a powerful word. She loved the view out her bedroom windows. She loved sunflowers. She loved the dress she wore. She loved Crissie.
She loved Jake Stoner.
There. She admitted it. He was tall, he was good-looking, he excited her, but it was more than that. Little things. The way he smiled. One way at her, another at Crissie. His patience. With Crissie, with the horses. The way he made Gwen feel safe and secure.
Okay, he was bossy. And arrogant. Thought he knew better than her. She thought about that. Mostly he overruled her when it came to ranch stuff. Unlike some men who had to disagree with anything a woman said or suggested.
Ever since he’d moved to the ranch, she’d found herself watching for him, listening for his whistle, thinking of excuses to spend time with him. She wanted to know everything about him. There was so much she didn’t know. What little information he had disclosed, she’d practically dragged out of him. He’d never be a person who blurted out his every thought or feeling.
She had no idea how he felt about her.
She had no idea if he planned to treat this marriage as a real marriage. She’d never asked the question. What if he gave the wrong answer?
What was the right answer?
She had no idea if he planned to come to her room tonight.
Gwen abandoned her post and walked slowly to her closet. He wouldn’t come. She slipped out of her shoes and unfastened her bridal dress. He’d think they’d married too soon, too fast. She hung her silk slip on the hanger with the dress and removed her panty hose. He’d only married her to secure the ranch for her.
Pulling a hanger from the back of her closet, she considered what Jake expected to gain from their marriage. He’d given facile answers when she’d asked him. Answers like he wanted to repay her kindness in hiring him. She tossed her underwear on the chair. He said he wanted to settle once and for all any question of him trying to steal the ranch. He said he wanted to secure Crissie’s future. The tube of cool green silk slid smoothly over her skin. Viewed with detachment, she wasn’t sure his reasons added up. Addition had always been one of her major skills.
Gwen moved to the nearest window. The sun had set, but dusk lingered while a half-moon played peek-a-boo with lacy clouds. She tried to recall the saying connecting sunshine with happy brides. It hadn’t rained today. From here she could see Doris’s darkened quarters. The lights turning on would signal Doris had gone to her rooms for the night.
Waiting gave Gwen too much time to think. What if Jake retired for the night over at the stone house? The green nightgown displayed too much skin. Did she have the nerve to phone him, summoning him to her bed? Her breasts were too small. Men liked large-breasted women. What excuse could she possibly give to bring him back to the main house? Black would have been a better color. She didn’t own a black nightgown. Black looked hideous on her.
Her jumbled thoughts drove her crazy. No light showed yet at Doris’s window. This was ridiculous. Lurking like a reluctant cat burglar. Inventing more things to worry about. She needed distraction.
Padding barefoot across the room to her bed, Gwen snapped on the bedside lamp. She would read one of the journals written by the women in Bert’s family. Losing herself in another woman’s life would pass the time and settle her nerves.
Then she would go downstairs.
And seduce her new husband.
CHAPTER TEN
JAKE propped a shoulder against the stone porch pillar of the big house. The sound of clinking dishes came through the screen door. He hoped Doris worked fast Times like this a man needed a good cigarillo, but he no longer smoked. Not that a long, skinny cigar kept a man from thinking.
And it wasn’t a cigarillo he craved.
Gwen hadn’t come back downstairs, which didn’t surprise him. He smiled wryly in the deep dusk. Not much Gwen did surprised him anymore. Jake figured she assayed pure gold. Women like her settled this country. Came into the wilderness and made homes, raised children. Gwen was one little lady who was full of sand. She had bottom.
He shifted his weight. Having bottom used to mean a person had staying power. Gwen had that all right, but another kind of bottom came to mind. A nice, rounded one which fit perfectly into his big hands. He purely loved watching her bend over to pick up Crissie or smell a flower. She had a few other interesting parts he looked forward to fitting his hands around, too.
An early star appeared in the sky. Jake scowled at the small point of light. He had the same uneasy feeling a man on the dodge had. That the law was closing in on him. Only in Jake’s case, the man, or whatever he was, on his tail was Michaels. Jake wished he had some kind of bargaining power to force Michaels to let him stay here awhile.
Desire wasn’t the only thing gnawing on him. His own foolishness riled him. Why had he gone and married Gwen right away? He should have bedded her first, promising her marriage. Eventually. A man could spend a lot of nights in a woman’s bed before eventually came around. Nights getting to know everything there was to know about Gwen. He reminded himself she was a woman. He’d have tired of her soon enough. Then they could have wed. And Michaels could take Jake away.
Somewhere out on the prairie a coyote threw his mocking song into the sky. Another coyote answered, then another. Men had tried to wipe out coyotes in Jake’s day, yet there seemed to be more coyotes than ever. Always laughing at men for thinking they knew so much. For all Jake knew, the doglike critters were laughing at him.
He slid his left hand in his trouser pocket. If they knew his thoughts, they’d be laughing plenty. Course they’d be wrong about what they were laughing at. Sure he was acting like an anxious bridegroom. Hell, there was an attractive woman upstairs doing whatever it was women did to get ready for their wedding night.
Gwen didn’t need to do a thing.
At di
nner her hair had gleamed in the candlelight like gold. He’d appreciated the way the shiny dress had molded her curves. Below the sleeves, her bare arms looked as silky as the shimmering cloth. He’d been hard put not to leap over the table and press his mouth on that tantalizing spot where her dress dipped down in front. Remembering the shadowy vee and the way the candlelight caressed soft mounded flesh dried his mouth. She’d seen him staring at her and started breathing faster.
Jake adjusted his trousers and wished Doris would hurry up. Once upstairs, he didn’t plan to hurry. He figured he could count on Michaels giving him one night. He planned to use every minute from now until dawn. Maybe later. No one would expect a bride and groom to get up with the chickens. Doris would take care of Crissie.
He’d take care of Gwen. She’d been nervous all day. Reminded him of a skittish filly he’d once had. Jake had gentled the filly using nothing more than his hands. He’d gentle Gwen the same way.
The need for her tightened his muscles. He had one night to satisfy that need. And an eternity to remember it.
Except he didn’t. He wouldn’t.
He’d never remembered before. Each of his previous trips were erased from his memory as if they’d never existed. Nine trips, Michaels had said. Nine. He remembered nothing of them. Where he’d been. Who’d he’d met. What he’d done. No matter how deeply he searched his memory, they’d vanished without a trace. As if they’d never been.
Sorrow washed over him. A sorrow he couldn’t explain. He should be rejoicing. He’d done his job. He’d secured Gwen’s ranch for her. Peace was in his grasp. Maybe as soon as tomorrow. Michaels would come for him and together they’d cross the great divide. To peace. Never again to be betrayed. Never again to feel pain.
