Married by Mistake!

by Renee Roszel

  Jack knew she didn’t want to face him. She thought she’d humiliated herself. He gripped the leather steering wheel as though he wanted to strangle it. When she’d crashed into him in the shower earlier that night, he’d been so stunned he hadn’t known what to do. It was painfully clear that he’d done everything wrong. Big stud, Jack Gallagher—his brain had turned to mud. He’d wanted her so badly—wanted her to tell him she loved him. But when she backed away, obviously regretting her wantonness...

  Jack stifled a groan as another surge of lust twisted his gut. Dammit to hell! He’d had women chasing him all his life—climbing in through his bedroom windows, even stalking him. Why did the one woman in the world who could resist his charms be the one woman in the world he loved? What had he done that was so bad that he had to be punished this cruelly?

  Trying to concentrate on his driving, Jack maneuvered around a hairpin turn along the narrow road that undulated through the Ozark Mountains. At night, the route was treacherous, not well lit. And his mind was precariously divided. He wanted to pull to the side of the road, take her into his arms and tell her not to be upset. That he loved her, and he was so, so sorry for anything he’d done to cause her pain.

  It was clear now that Stadler had more of a hold on Lucy’s heart than she realized. And worse, Jack had less. Damn! Why had he insisted she think about the morning? Why hadn’t he simply grabbed the paradise she offered and then tried to survive with that one glorious memory for the rest of his life? Why had his damnable pride insisted that she admit she loved him-loved him the way he loved her? With all her soul.

  He cast her another pensive glance. “Lucy?” She jumped at the sound, but didn’t turn, so he went on solemnly, “Don’t do this to yourself—”

  “Let’s not talk about it,” she broke in, sounding desolate but adamant. “If you care at all about me, Jack, you’ll never mention it again.” The last word came out in a sob.

  He gritted his teeth on a curse.

  The rest of the drive home was made in stony silence.

  Lucy used her key when they arrived, since it was nearly one o’clock in the morning. Neither of them wanted to disturb Etissa—or answer any question about their sudden return.

  They went downstairs, neither speaking. Lucy was bent on escaping to her room. Jack sensed it, but he couldn’t let her go like that. “Luce?” That one, whispered word stilled her at her door. “Wait a second.”

  He watched her shoulders rise and knew she was gathering the courage to turn around. When she did, he tossed his suitcase on the couch and flicked the latches. Opening it, he pulled out a brown plastic sack and straightened. He started to speak, but faced with the bleakness in her blue eyes, he was struck dumb.

  His urge to take her into his arms swelled powerfully, and he moved toward her, but the step she took away from him was like having a bucket of ice water heaved in his face. He stopped a few paces away, not wanting her to feel threatened. With his bungling, he’d done enough emotional damage to her for one night. Holding out the package, he said, “I bought this for you.”

  She shifted her sad gaze from his face to the package, then back. She didn’t speak.

  He managed a melancholy half smile. “I noticed you didn’t buy yourself anything but that nutty hat. So I thought...”

  She didn’t respond, merely stared at him, her dispirited gaze touching his with reluctance.

  A surge of irritation raced through him. “Dammit, Lucy.” His tone was sharper than he’d meant it to be, and he could see its effect as tears formed in her eyes. She must be thinking he was ashamed of her weakness. Which wasn’t true at all. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he offered more gently.

  “Don’t be kind to me, Jack.” she warned, her lips thinning.

  “I’m not being kind,” he shot back, wishing with all that was left of his heart that she would stop looking at him that way. “I haven’t been kind about anything—”

  “Don’t!” She held up a warning hand. “I asked you! Please.”

  He clamped his jaws, hating the finality in her gaze. Furious with himself for a dream gone terribly awry, he ripped the plastic bag away, presenting her with a doll made from corn husks. An angel. He’d seen it and thought of her. with its bright, corn-silk hair and halo of braided golden ribbons. Such a delicate, pale figure, unpretentiously lovely, with dainty hands holding a golden star, the faceless head slightly bowed. Fragile corn-husk wings, like big loops on a bow, hovered airily at her back.

  “I saw her and I thought of you,” he murmured, knowing every word out of his mouth sounded lame, unworthy.

  She looked at the offering, and a tear slid down her cheek. Reaching out, she took it from him, then traced along its fine hair with one finger. She didn’t smile. Seconds ticked by, long, miserable seconds, as Jack watched another tear skim down her face to tremble on her chin. Finally, she met his gaze, startling him by thrusting the gift in his direction. “I’m not a little girl anymore, Jack. I don’t want...” He made it clear he wouldn’t take it back by shrugging his hands into his pockets. She swallowed hard. As another tear slid down her face, she dropped the angel at his feet and spun away.

  The door clicked shut between them, and though the sound was almost nonexistent, in his heart it felt like a nuclear blast. For a long time, he stood there, just staring, as his world crumbled. The woman he loved could no longer even accept inexpensive tokens from him. She was repelled by the idea that she’d wanted him—even momentarily.

  And she was his wife.

  He had a feeling that after tonight she wouldn’t want to go through with the pretense. Or what she thought was a pretense.

  What was he going to do? A savage grief overwhelmed him. How could he love her so desperately, and she not even...?

  He glared at the angel doll, laying facedown on the rag rug. Bile rose in his throat and pain tore at his heart. Unable to help himself, he bent to scoop it up, then turned away. Guilt pressed down on him from above and squeezed him from all sides until he could hardly breathe. He couldn’t believe what he’d done. All his strategies and deceit had injured Lucy. far from accomplishing what he’d hoped for. He was a damned bottom feeder with unmitigated conceit. How dare he actually marry the woman without her knowledge! He deserved Lucy’s contempt, and his body shuddered with that knowledge.

  He wanted to punch holes in the walls, yell bloody murder to the high heavens, run upstairs and kick Stadler’s pompous, suspicious ass around his room. He wanted to, wanted to...

  After gently placing the doll in his suitcase, he sank onto the couch, dropping his face into his hands. He knew what he really wanted to do. He wanted to walk though Lucy’s door, take her into his arms and make wild, magic love to her. He wanted to tell her how hopelessly he loved her, and he wanted to hear her scream out her love for him. To wake the whole state of Missouri. That’s what he wanted. In a perfect world, that’s what he would have done. And the state of Missouri would be waking up right now.

  Unfortunately, the world was far from perfect.

  So tonight—for the first time in his life—Jack Gallagher cried.

  Lucy sat curled on the couch, cuddling little Lucille Gloriana Lord. She tried not to think about Jack as she scanned the adorable face of her namesake. But the task proved impossible. He’d been gone most of the day. She didn’t know much about buying and selling property, but she still doubted that finalizing the land deal for Jack’s newest restaurant could be taking all this time.

  Little Glory, as the baby was called, gurgled, taking a firm grip on her aunt’s finger. A tentative smile lifted Lucy’s lips. But her thoughts immediately tumbled back to Jack. It was happening anyway—what she’d feared. He was ignoring her. He was ashamed for her—so appalled by her failed seduction in the shower that he could hardly stand to be around her. Her heart twisted. She might as well have gone ahead and jumped him bodily, forced the issue. Had sex. At least she would have had that one night to remember, to cling to.

  She blink
ed back tears. Jack was so honorable. Another bout of shame enveloped her, and her whole body flamed

  “Well, Stadler,” Elissa said, breaking through Lucy’s unhappy ramblings. “why did Sareena leave us? Did she finally get smart?”

  Lucy’s glance darted to Stadler, who was standing before the hearth, looking professorial in his tweed jacket, a pipe clenched between his teeth. He took it out to better glare at Elissa. “Her daddy’s birthday is Sunday, and he couldn’t stand the idea of his princess missing his day. I don’t blame him.” He took a puff on his pipe. “Besides, she wanted to start purchasing her trousseau.”

  “Trousseau?” Elissa appeared to fight a grin. “You can cut holes in jeans in Branson just as easily as in St. Louis.”

  “Shut up, Elissa,” Stadler said, an angry tic kicking to life in his jaw.

  The redhead looked up. “Well, pardon me for expressing an opinion.” She lifted the twin she held in her arms so the baby faced Stadler. “Now, Elissa Gillian dear, look at that tweedy man and remember him. When you become president, have him deported.”

  “Elissa!” Helen shook her head at her sister. “That’s not the sort of auntlike advice Damien and I had in mind when we named her after you.”

  Elissa placed the baby against her shoulder and began to pat gently. “Sorry,” she mumbled, but didn’t look very sepentant.

  “I should think you would be,” Stadler said, clamping his pipe between his teeth.

  Elissa pinned him with a scowl. “Tinsley, if you’re going to smoke that thing, go outside. I don’t want my little Elissa Gillian’s lungs to fill up with tar.”

  He made an irritated sound. “That cold front came in with a fury. It’s freezing outside.”

  She gave him an impatient look. “There’s this new invention. It’s called a coat. Now go. This is a no-smoking inn.”

  Once he was gone, Lucy heaved a sigh so overflowing with unhappiness she drew her sisters’ glances.

  “What’s the matter, honey?” Helen rose from the rug. “Tired of holding Glory?”

  Lucy smiled at her younger sister. “Of course not.” She cast a surreptitious glance at the parlor entrance. “I just wish he would leave!”

  “Don’t we all,” Elissa said morosely.

  Lucy shifted to look at the redhead. “Why can’t he accept my marriage to Jack at face value and leave me alone?”

  “Because he’s basically a deceitful snake and assumes everybody else is,” Elissa said.

  “And is he wrong?” Lucy cried. She felt like a snake, too—a lovesick one. She was helplessly in love with Jack, but she couldn’t tell him, couldn’t embarrass him any more than she already had.

  And, of course, there was Desiree. Silence stretched between the sisters: Lucy knew they were thinking the same thing. They’d behaved no better than Stadler, with the fake engagement and then, worst of all, the counterfeit marriage.

  Clearing her throat, Helen stepped up to Lucy. “Glory needs to be changed. I’ll take her up to Damien. It’s his turn, and I think he’s through writing his political column by now.” She turned to Elissa. “Can you bring Gilly in a little while? It’s time for her to go to bed, too.”

  Elissa kissed the infant’s fuzzy head. “I’ll think about it.” She grinned at Helen. “And thanks for naming this sweet darling after me.”

  Helen laughed, snuggling Glory to her breast. “After the raving mess you were during our little joke, I’m glad, too.” Helen giggled, turning away. “Remember, don’t keep Gilly up too long”

  On cue, the baby burped, and Elissa’s eyes went wide. “Oh, oh, I think Madam President just upchucked all over me.”

  Lucy tried hard to keep from grinning.

  Elissa stood, patting the baby’s back. “Now, young lady, is that any way to treat your mentor, your teacher, your political guru?” She hurried toward the door. “Helen, wait, your daughter wants you.”

  All of a sudden, the parlor was empty and still, but for the crackle of the fire. Lucy’s mood plummeted. Once the distraction of babies and sisters was gone, Jack’s solemn face loomed in her brain, wreaking havoc.

  Wanting to erase the stark vision, she vaulted up and began to pace. He’d told her this morning he was leaving on Monday. He had to spend a week in New York, then a couple of weeks in London.

  London. She stumbled to a stop before the hearth, planting her hands on the mantel to steady herself. As she stared into the fire, her mind scrambled to places she didn’t want to go. There was a tunnel under the English Channel now, and a person could travel so easily to Paris from London.

  Jack would see Desiree. He would make love to her. Lucy dug her fingers into the wood, not caring if she broke every single nail into jagged shards. She wouldn’t have believed she could hurt more than she already did, but the vision of Jack and his ladylove...

  She felt sick and battled down the image. It was Friday now. He’d told her that by the time he got back from London, then spent a few days in Chicago before returning to Branson with his architect, Stadler would be gone. She only had to continue the pretense through the weekend, really. Once he’d left for New York, it would be easier. Then, in a month, when he got back, they could end it.

  End it.

  She felt ice spread through her veins at the thought. He’d said it quietly, matter-of-factly. Then he’d left. He’d hardly looked at her. Or had it been she who had hardly looked at him? Did it even matter? The important thing was, they’d been so stiff with each other. So uneasy. She fought down a shudder. Oh, why had she been so weak? Why couldn’t she have the strength of character Jack had? Why had she made a gigantic fool of herself?

  She felt a tug on her arm and was swung into an embrace before she could react. It stunned her to realize that Stadler was kissing her hard on the mouth. His lips were cold, so it was clear he’d just come inside. Wide-eyed, she struggled from his grasp, backing away. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  He took her hand with his chilled one. In her utter shock, she didn’t have the presence of mind to yank away. “‘They dream in courtship,”’ he murmured, “‘but in wedlock wake.”’

  “What?” she cried, exasperated. “Stadler, I hate it when you quote Shakespeare. What do you want?”

  His brow creased and he drank in a sharp breath. “Lucy-pet, I know why you returned from your honeymoon early.”

  She eyed him with umbrage. “Oh, Stadler. You’re completely—”

  “You realized your mistake.” He took her other hand and now was holding them both firmly. “You and I were meant for each other and nothing either of us do will alter that.”

  “Stadler. don’t—”

  “I must speak of it, Lucy-pet,” he cut in, passion in his voice. “I realize now that it was a mistake to get engaged to Sareena. I thought her father could help me. She was a sweet, pliable woman, much like you in many ways.” He stopped, raised one of her hands to his lips and pressed a moist, cool kiss on her knuckles. “Our long separation made me forget the true rapture of our feelings for one another. I’ve decided I’m going to send Sareena a letter telling her our engagement is off.”

  She swallowed with distaste, the feel of his lips against her skin disgusting. “Too bad you can’t borrow mine to copy, but I threw it away,” she muttered.

  His glance lifted to meet hers, his eyes becoming slits. “Lucy-pet, sarcasm doesn’t become you.”

  She yanked from his hold, wheeling away. “Oh, Stadler, this is—”

  “I honestly believed that you and Gallagher were trying to deceive me, that the wedding was a fake. But after I checked out that Nate Broom person and discovered he was a real minister, I saw red. I suddenly knew the mistake I’d made.” He grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to face him. “I want you back, Lucy. Get your marriage annulled and run away with me. Say you will, my love, say yes.” His voice was high-pitched, pleading.

  Lucy blinked. She’d been in such turmoil she had only been half listening. But one statement caught in her battered consc
iousness and stuck.

  “...discovered he was a real minister...”

  “What...what did you say?” she whispered.

  His expression gained hope and he tugged her closer. “I said, say yes, my love. Tell me you’ll run away with me. Leave your husband. You know you only married him for revenge. I forgive you for that. I just want you back.”

  “You—you checked on Nate’s credentials?” Her voice was strained, hoarse.

  He squeezed her shoulders, looking contrite. “I wanted to be able to throw the truth in your faces once you returned, but when just this afternoon I received proof that he was the real thing, my life ended.”

  She was in shock. Though she tried to speak, no words came.

  “Run away with me, Lucy-pet. I promise I’ll make you happy.”

  She gaped at him, feeling as if a giant fist had caught her by the throat and cut off her oxygen. The Reverend Nate Broom was real? She was married to Jack? Why would any man marry a woman and not tell her about it? And what about Desiree? This couldn’t be true! But Stadler was an intelligent man, not likely to be wrong about something this important.

  She was bewildered. “I—I...Stadler, please, I need time to think.”

  Without waiting for his response, she rushed down the stairs to her basement room. After she slammed the door behind her, her thoughts turned to Jack.

  Her husband?

  Her husband!

  “Honorable, trustworthy Jack,” she muttered, murder blossoming in her heart.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  LATER that evening, Helen, Elissa, Damien, Stadler and a few of the inn’s guests congregated before the welcome fire in the parlor. The twins were fast asleep, though Damien carried a baby monitor on his belt just in case.

  The conversation was light, breezy and fun. Damien’s exciting years as a CNN correspondent held no end of interesting stories, and he was entertaining them with an amusing tale about a certain foreign diplomat and his mistress and how they were found out—on live television.