LaceysWay

by Madeline Baker

  Matt sat at a table in a darkened corner of the saloon, his back to the wall, a bottle of rye whiskey in his left hand, a shot glass in his right.

  Five weeks had passed since Lacey had moved in with J.J. Tucker. Matt had seen her several times, always from a distance, of course. Each time she had been with J.J., smiling up at him, hanging on his every word. And dressed to the teeth. J.J. had obviously spent a fortune on his whore, buying her expensive gowns of silk and satin and velvet. The first time Matt had seen the two of them together, he had drunk himself into oblivion. Now he spent his days at the Red Ace, drinking heavily in an effort to blot her image from his mind, but to no avail. He had only to close his eyes and she was there.

  He tossed off another drink, his eyes dark as he thought of Lacey carrying J.J.’s child, sleeping in J.J.’s bed, returning J.J.’s caresses. It was almost more than he could bear.

  One good thing had happened in the last five weeks, he mused. Toby Pitman had been found dead, ambushed on the trail between Leadville and Salt Creek.

  Matt laughed softly. Pitman was dead, shot in the back by an unknown assailant, and Matt had a perfect alibi. They couldn’t pin this one on him, he mused. No sir. He had been in jail at the time. There had been an inquest. Raoul Gonzalez and Lige Tanner had testified that Toby Pitman had killed Billy Henderson. Both men had been fined heavily for perjury, and then had disappeared. Gonzalez had been found dead a few days later.

  Matt frowned. Pitman was dead. Why? Because he had killed the sheriff’s son, or because he had been covering up for the real killer? And where was Tanner?

  He swore under his breath. It was no longer any concern of his. He was free and that was all that mattered, except for Lacey. He couldn’t put her out of his mind.

  He had started to leave town a dozen times in the last few weeks, but he never got any farther than the end of Main Street before he turned back. He couldn’t leave, couldn’t leave her. He cursed the day he had met her, cursed himself for wanting her, for needing her. And yes, dammit, for loving her in spite of everything.

  He stood abruptly, his chair clattering loudly as it slammed against the wall. He took a last drink, slammed the bottle down on the table, and grabbed his hat. Jamming it on his head, he stalked out of the saloon, and bumped into Lacey head-on.

  For a moment they stared at each other. She looked stunningly beautiful, he thought bitterly. Her dress was of dark blue silk. Black kid slippers hugged her feet. A diamond-studded comb glittered in her hair.

  Lacey gazed at Matt, her eyes drinking in the sight of him as though she were dying of thirst and he her only hope of salvation. His very nearness made her heart skip a beat.

  “Excuse me, Miss Montana,” Matt said, his voice dripping with disdain. His eyes dropped to her softly rounded belly before returning to her face.

  “Matt.”

  He gestured at the packages in her hand. “Been out spending old J.J.’s money, I see,” he sneered. “Or are you spending what he pays you to be his whore?”

  His words were like a slap in the face. “It’s none of your concern,” she replied coolly. “Good day.”

  “Good day,” he mimicked. “Is that all you’ve got to say to me?”

  “What else is there?”

  “What else, indeed,” he rasped, and, grabbing her arm, practically dragged her down the street.

  “Matt, please.”

  “Shut up,” he hissed. “Just shut the hell up!” His fingers dug into her arm as he pulled her along, not caring that he was hurting her, not caring that heads turned to stare as they passed by. Not caring about anything but the anger coursing through him like slow poison.

  Lacey had to run to keep up with him, and all the while the touch of his hand on her arm was searing her flesh, making her heart beat fast and her pulse race with yearning. It was only when they were out of town and very much alone that he slowed, pulling her into the privacy of a thick clump of trees.

  “Why, Lacey?” he demanded, his voice sharp and angry.

  She stared at Matt, unable to think of a plausible lie, unable to think at all when he was so near. For weeks she had dreamed of him, yearned for him, and now he was here, so near she could smell the heady, masculine scent of him.

  “Why, dammit!”

  “I don’t have to explain anything to you,” Lacey retorted. She had forgotten how tall he was, how broad, how devilishly handsome. He was wearing black pants and a dark gray shirt and he looked rugged and oh, so desirable. His eyes, dark and angry, were staring into her own as if he might find the answer there. His hair, though still long, had been neatly trimmed. He towered over her, exuding strength and masculinity, and her whole body cried out for his touch. She longed to tell him that the child she carried was his, that she hated J.J. Tucker, that the only reason she had agreed to be J.J.’s mistress was to spare Matt a life behind bars. Almost, she blurted out the whole ugly story, but J.J.’s threat held her silent.

  “The hell you don’t.”

  “I got tired of being poor,” she lied. She lifted her chin and met his accusing stare. “J.J. can give me anything I want.”

  “Can he give you this?” Matt rasped, and before she quite knew what was happening, she was in his arms.

  The packages tumbled from her hand as his mouth slanted over hers, his lips hard, his kiss brutal, and she gloried in it, sighing with pleasure as his hand moved to her back to draw her closer. His body was taut, his desire evident, and her body reacted to his with a mind of its own, wanting to be closer. She lifted her hand to his chest and unfastened his shirt, her fingers moving restlessly over his hard-muscled chest, her fingers weaving in and out of the mat of curly black hair. She pressed her body to his, feeling his heat through the layers of her skirt and petticoats. Matt groaned low in his throat as her questing hand traveled over his chest, gradually moving lower, lower, until it was at his waist. Her mere touch was enough to drive him wild and he kissed her again, harder, longer, wanting to brand her mouth with his own. He lifted a hand to her breast, quietly cursing the layers of cloth that barred his hand from her flesh.

  He drew back to gaze into her face. Her eyes were smoky with desire, her lips swollen from the force of his kisses. She didn’t protest when he slowly lowered her to the ground and deftly removed her clothing, and then his own.

  “Lacey.” Matt groaned her name as the last obstacle between them was flung aside. She was here, her eyes glazed with passion, her voice husky with longing as she murmured his name. She was here, she was his, only his.

  Their bodies came together in a rush. Lacey was on fire for him, eager for his touch, with no thought in her mind except to love and be loved. She shivered with ecstasy as he became a part of her, and nothing else mattered then, not the past, not the future, only the glorious present, and his mouth on hers…

  Matt let out a long breath as reality returned. He sat up slowly. He had never meant to make love to her, but just being near her had flooded his senses with desire, with memories of the days and nights they had shared before J.J. entered the picture. J.J. Matt’s eyes narrowed as he glanced at Lacey’s softly rounded belly, and all the tenderness he had felt for her only moments before was smothered beneath the weight of his jealousy.

  “Matt, what is it?”

  He stood up and reached for his pants. “Get dressed.”

  She flinched at the tone of his voice, the disdain in his eyes. What had happened? One minute he was making love to her as if he would never let her go, and the next he was looking at her as if she were beneath contempt. And then she saw him look at her stomach and glance quickly away. So that was it. He hadn’t cared she was pregnant a moment ago, but now he was angry and jealous because he thought she had slept with J.J., that she carried Tucker’s child.

  Furious and hurt, she scrambled to her feet and pulled on her clothes. Damn him! Why couldn’t he see that she despised J.J. Tucker? Why was he so quick to think the worst of her?

  How could he have professed to love her, to b
elieve she had loved him, and still think she would let J.J. or any other man touch her?

  “You cad!” she hissed. “I never want to see you again.”

  Before he could form a reply, she had scooped up her packages and was walking away from him, her head high, her back rigid with outrage.

  He did not follow her.

  Some perverse quirk of nature took him to the Black Horse Saloon that night. He shot Tucker a wry grin as he settled into a chair and tossed a handful of greenbacks on the green-baize table top. He won over a hundred dollars on the first three hands.

  Tucker sauntered over to the table as Matt raked in another pot. “Take a break, Max,” he said, tapping the dealer on the shoulder. “I think I’ll sit in awhile.”

  The man called Max left the table and Tucker slid into his chair. He opened a fresh deck, shuffled the cards, and passed them to Matt. “Cut?”

  Matt cut the cards and Tucker dealt three hands, one to Matt, one to the other man at the table, and one for himself.

  Matt’s face remained impassive as he looked at his cards: a pair of aces, a pair of queens, and the three of clubs. He tossed the three face-down on the table. “Just one,” he said softly.

  Tucker’s face didn’t change expression as he slid a four of hearts off the bottom and gave it to Drago. The other man took three cards. J.J. took one.

  Matt quirked an eyebrow at Tucker as he slid the four into his hand but said nothing.

  Tucker won the hand with a full house. “Why don’t you go back to the Red Ace, Drago?” he suggested quietly. “I think your luck’s changed.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with my luck,” Matt retorted calmly. “I’ll deal the next hand.”

  J.J.’s gaze shifted to the other man at the table. “Why don’t you try another game, Harry? This one’s closed for the night.”

  “I think I’ll try the Red Ace,” Harry muttered, and, sweeping his winnings into his hat, he left the table.

  J.J. leaned forward, his green eyes narrowed ominously. “Why are you still in town, Drago? There’s nothing for you here now. Nothing.”

  “There’s nothing for me anywhere else, either,” Matt answered calmly. “Besides, I think your sister likes me.”

  “You leave Susanne alone,” Tucker snapped. “She’s too good for the likes of you.”

  Matt shrugged. “Maybe. And maybe I’ll ask her to marry me, and then we’ll all be just one big happy family.”

  “I’ll see you dead first.”

  “Don’t threaten me, J.J. You might have been able to bushwhack Pitman, but you’ll never get a shot at my back. And I don’t think you’ve got the guts to face me like a man.”

  The jibe about Pitman was a shot in the dark, but it hit home. Tucker’s eyes widened for just an instant and his face went suddenly white, as though he had received an unexpected blow. And then his expression was bland again, his eyes opaque.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” J.J. said smoothly.

  Matt grunted softly. “It was you all along. You had Pitman kill Billy Henderson, and when you didn’t need Toby anymore, you killed him, too. Why?”

  Tucker stood up, his hands clenched at his sides. “Don’t come in here again.”

  Matt rose to his feet, his hand hovering near the gun holstered on his right hip. “You’re scared, J.J. I can see it in your eyes. And when I find out what you’re scared of, I’ll know why Billy died.”

  “Get out.”

  “I’m going,” Matt said. He backed slowly toward the door, his eyes never leaving Tucker’s face until he was outside.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lacey stared at the note in her hand. It was written in Matt’s bold scrawl.

  “Good luck, honey,” it read. “I hope you get everything you deserve.”

  She pressed the paper to her breast, feeling as though her heart would break. Matt had left town. He would always believe she had betrayed him, that her child had been fathered by Tucker. And yet, perhaps it was for the best. It had been hard, knowing that Matt was nearby, never knowing when she might run into him. How long could she pretend she didn’t love him anymore? How long before she blurted out the truth, endangering not only Matt’s life, but her child’s as well?

  Carefully she folded the note and placed it in her drawer underneath her stockings. She never looked at it again.

  Tucker could not hide his relief when he learned that Matt had left town. His eyes, as green as the sea, glinted with triumph when he looked at Lacey. She was his now, all his. When the child was born, he would make her his in fact as well as in name. And perhaps, if he played his cards right, he could find a way to rid himself of the child as well. Billy was dead and Pitman was dead, and his secret had died with them. Gonzalez had been disposed of, too, and Tanner would never have the guts to reveal what little he knew.

  Tucker lit a cigar, filled with a sense of satisfaction. Next year he would sell the Black Horse and begin to cultivate a more refined demeanor. He would buy a respectable business, attend church, donate to the local charities. He would become a respected citizen, and Lacey would be his wedge into society. Once he got her pregnant, she would have to marry him. She was lovely, well-educated, obviously well-bred. No telling how far he could go with her at his side. Mayor, perhaps, then governor. With enough money and the right connections, there would be no stopping him.

  Susanne refused to believe that Matt had left town without telling her goodbye. She went to his hotel room, and only then did she believe that he was gone.

  With a wordless cry of despair, she sat down on the edge of his bed and wept. Not since Billy had she cared about another human being. She had grieved for Billy for over a year, certain her life was over, and then Matt had come into her life, and she had realized that she could love again. She had known, deep in her heart, that Matt loved Lacey, that he would never be hers, but she had hoped and dreamed and she had found a new reason to live.

  And now he was gone, and it was as though he had never existed. Lacey had moved in with J.J. and Matt had left town.

  Susanne stared blankly at the hard wood floor. She had not dared question J.J. about the sudden turn of events, nor did she possess the nerve to ask Lacey why she had decided to become J.J.’s mistress.

  She kept to her room for the next several days, and gradually she realized she had never been in love with Matt Drago, though she had been attracted to him. It was just that he was the first person she had let herself care about, the first man she had been close to, besides J.J., in over a year.

  For Lacey, the days and nights passed slowly after Matt left town. She spent most of her time in the house, decorating a room for her baby, which would be born in the spring. She had the room painted a soft yellow and hung fluffy white curtains at the window. She ordered the most expensive crib she could find from a mail order catalog, as well as a high chair and a perambulator. She had money now, as much as she wanted, and she spent it freely. If J.J. wanted her to be his mistress, he could pay for it. She spent hours sewing baby clothes and quilts, making far more garments than one child could ever hope to wear simply because it gave her something to do. Matt was gone, but she still had his child to live for.

  She spent a good deal of time with Susanne. They went shopping together, buying whatever caught their fancy. Susanne bought a whole new wardrobe, dresses and hats and shoes, lacy parasols, delicate undergarments, silk stockings. They talked about what fun it would be to have a baby in the house, and bought toys and dolls and a wooden rocking horse.

  Gradually Susanne began spending less time at home, and when she was there she wore a dreamy expression and often did not hear what was being said. Eventually she admitted that she was head-over-heels in love with Robert Morrison, the new owner of the Salt Creek Gazette. Susanne thought he was wonderful, and when Lacey met him, she could understand why. Robert was thoughtful, attentive, and polite. He had a delightful sense of humor, a winning smile, and a strong sense of right and wrong. And it was obvious th
at he adored Susanne.

  No one was surprised when they announced their engagement. J.J. promised to give Susanne the biggest wedding the town had ever seen, and they began to make plans immediately though the wedding would not take place until the first of March.

  Lacey could not help envying Susanne’s happiness. J.J.’s sister was radiant. She laughed easily, sang as she went about the house, had a kind word for everyone. She attributed Lacey’s growing irritability to her pregnancy and was constantly admonishing J.J. to be kinder and more tolerant of Lacey’s moods, never realizing that J.J. was the cause of Lacey’s misery.

  On the surface, J.J. was the soul of concern. He never raised his voice, never complained if dinner was late or the house untidy. He was constantly bringing Lacey gifts of clothing and jewelry, indulged her every whim, praised her beauty.

  Only when they were alone did he let himself say what he was really thinking. And then he accused her of being a two-faced whore, of moving in with him just to save Drago’s hide. Lacey was confused by his anger. Of course that was why she had moved in with him. What other reason could there have been?

  And always he reminded her that she had promised to be his once the baby was born. “I’ll make you forget Drago,” he vowed, his fingers digging painfully into her arms, his eyes boring into her own. “You’ll forget you ever knew him.”

  She was glad when winter came. The dark clouds and storm-darkened skies suited her mood perfectly. She spent her days sitting in the nursery, rocking gently, her hand on her swollen belly, her eyes staring out the window. It was her favorite room in the house. Her child would grow up in this room. Her child. Matt’s child. She hoped for a boy with thick black hair and midnight blue eyes.

  Rocking back and forth, she watched the lightning rend the blackened skies and she wondered where Matt had gone. Did he ever think of her? Had he found someone else to love?

  She heard the clock downstairs chime the hour, and then she heard the front door open and knew that J.J. was home. She felt her muscles tense as she heard him climb the stairs, and then he was standing in the doorway, his green eyes glinting like shards of glass, his mouth turned down in a cruel, mocking smile.