by Bold, Diana
She turned in the opposite direction, walking fast, hoping he’d get the message and leave her alone. But his heavy footsteps fell in place behind her, and she knew she wasn’t going to be so lucky.
“Where you goin’, sugar?”
She ignored him, hurrying her steps, but he grabbed her arm and spun her around. “I’m talkin’ to you, girl.”
Sarah swallowed, glancing down at his beefy hand. “Please. Let me go, Mr. Tucker.”
John laughed, exposing his rotten teeth. “Did Chandler get tired of you so soon? Damned shame you’d rather be that cripple’s whore than my wife, but you can bet I won’t make the mistake of extending that offer again.”
“Well, you needn’t worry,” Sarah exclaimed, her anger at his words outweighing her caution. “I’d rather starve than be your wife.”
“Why, you little—”
John’s words broke off, and Sarah lifted her startled gaze to find Luke looming behind her.
“Let her go.” Luke’s voice vibrated with fury. He stepped forward, putting himself between Sarah and the hulking blacksmith.
John released her with a vicious curse, and she stumbled away, rubbing her numb arm. Tears of pain and embarrassment pricked her eyes, and she blinked furiously, determined not to let anyone see how close she was to breaking.
“What the hell is going on?” Luke glanced at Sarah, and she shrugged, too embarrassed to repeat the words John and the other townspeople had thrown at her. Whore. Prostitute. Heat crept into her cheeks and she looked away.
John laughed and held up his hands. “My mistake, Chandler. I didn’t know you still wanted her. I was just offering my services, in case she was in need of a new protector.”
“The lady doesn’t need any protection from you. Not now, not ever.”
John gave Sarah one last seething glare and then turned away.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Luke turned to look at her, his handsome face dark with concern. “Did he hurt you?”
She shook her head, too ashamed to look him in the eye. “He thinks I’m your whore, Luke. They all do.”
He skimmed his fingertips over the reddened skin on her arm where John had grabbed her. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have left you alone.”
She loved it when he called her sweetheart. She met his tender gaze, and the look in his beautiful blue eyes took her breath away. “Don’t blame yourself. I shouldn’t have come with you today. If I’d been thinking clearly, I would have realized something like this would happen.”
He moved his hand from her arm to her face, tenderly stroking the curve of her jaw. “It won’t happen again, Sarah. I won’t let it.”
Someone cleared their throat. Sarah stepped away from Luke, only to find herself face-to-face with the women from the store.
“Well, I never...” The one from the restaurant turned up her nose and hurried down the walk, as though it disgusted her to be on the same street as Sarah.
Sarah watched them go and then sighed. “Can we go home now? I really don’t think I can bear to stay here another minute.”
For the first time, Luke noticed Sarah was empty-handed. “Didn’t you find anything you liked at the mercantile?”
A hurt look flashed in the emerald depths of her eyes. “The atmosphere in there wasn’t any better than it is out here.” She glanced after the two old busybodies who’d just passed them. “In fact, it was downright frigid.”
The anger he’d so recently released began to simmer once again. “Are you telling me those old bats made you feel unwelcome?”
Sarah nodded, and his gaze was drawn to her clenched fists. “It’s all right. I don’t mind. I’d just like to go home.”
“Not yet,” he muttered, taking her arm and steering her toward the front door of the mercantile. “You need some new clothes, and we’re not leaving here until you get some. Besides, I promised you a meal at the restaurant.”
Sarah dug in her heels at that. “Oh, no,” she said defiantly. “I am not going to step foot in that restaurant. They’ll probably refuse to serve me, and then they’ll have me tarred and feathered and run out of town on a rail.”
Luke laughed bitterly, dragging her along. “No, they won’t. Not while you’re with me.”
When she continued to resist, he stopped and met her horrified gaze. “I won’t let anyone treat you as anything less than the lady you are. We haven’t done anything wrong, and I refuse to act as though we have.”
“We haven’t done anything wrong,” Sarah muttered. “Today.”
Luke grinned, imagining her in his arms once again. “I don’t care what they think,” he stated, more at peace with himself than he’d been in years. “I really don’t.”
He held the door of the mercantile open. After a pause, she preceded him through it. Once inside the dimly lit interior, he guided her toward the ready-made articles in the front window. There was a lilac gown that looked as though it would fit her to perfection.
“Do you like this?” He held it up, but her gaze skittered away toward the bolts of cloth in the back of the store.
“Oh, Luke. I couldn’t. I thought I’d just get some calico and make me a few dresses to work in. That’s much too fine.”
“It’s not nearly fine enough.” Luke thought of the beautiful gowns Becky ordered from back east and promised himself that one day Sarah would do the same. “But it will do for now.”
The look in Sarah’s eyes as she held the dress up to her shoulders was priceless. He’d never realized how pleasurable it could be to buy something for a woman. Christine had never been satisfied with anything he did for her, but Sarah acted as though he’d just given her the moon.
“I think it will fit. But if you buy this for me, those women will be right. I’ve done nothing to deserve it.”
“Nothing to deserve it?” Luke shook his head. “You’ve made my house into a home. Hell, you’ve made me want to live again. I want to do this for you. Please, let me.”
There was a time when he’d been damn near irresistible to women when he used that tone of voice, and he was pleased to see he hadn’t lost it completely.
Sarah flushed. “I really love this dress,” she admitted.
He grinned. “Go in the back and try it on. I want to do something special this afternoon, and I think this dress will be perfect.”
“What are you planning?” she asked, suspicion lacing her voice.
Pulling her close, he bent down and kissed the tip of her nose. “I’ll tell you in a little while, sweetheart. For now just humor me, all right?”
“All right,” she agreed. “I’ll go try on the dress.”
“Take your time,” he told her. “I need to talk to Mr. Bradford.”
She nodded, her eyes a little glazed as she looked over the array of feminine frippery. Luke made his way to the front of the store, his smile slipping as he pinned Mr. Bradford with a stare.
“Am I a valued customer in this store?”
Bradford nodded vigorously. “You know you are, Mr. Chandler.”
“If I ever hear again that a guest of mine was treated with anything less than the utmost respect in your establishment, I’ll take my business elsewhere. Is that clear?”
Bradford swallowed. “Yes, sir. Perfectly clear.”
“All right, then. I need a piece of your finest, softest sheepskin.”
Chapter Sixteen
WHEN SARAH EMERGED from the dressing room ten minutes later with the beautiful violet gown tucked under her arm, Luke and Mr. Bradford were waiting.
“Did it fit?” Luke asked, giving her a breathtaking smile.
Sarah blushed, very aware of the storekeeper. “I shouldn’t let you do this. We’ll give those women even more to talk about.”
“That’s not what I asked,” Luke chided. “Come on, sweetheart. Smile for me. Everything will be all right. I promise.”
He was fairly beaming with good humor, and she loved him so much she’d face a tar and featherin
g just to keep that smile on his face. “All right,” she murmured, doing her best to match his grin. “The dress fits fine.”
Actually, the dress had fit as though it had been made for her. She hadn’t had anything so fine since the first days of the war, when Savannah society had thumbed their noses at the blockade by wearing the most beautiful gowns to be found. But that had been eons ago, and the sight of herself in this simple, store-bought dress had brought tears to her eyes.
“Good.” Luke took the dress and undergarments from her and handed them to Mr. Bradford. “We’ll take it all,” he said. “And you might want to think about ordering more dresses in this size.”
Sarah looked away as the man rang up the items, giving Luke a total that made her want to sink through the floorboards. Luke paid, took the neatly wrapped package, and escorted her back out to the street.
“Wasn’t that fun?” Luke inquired, his eyes sparkling. “I like buying things for you.”
Sarah shook her head in dismay. “Fun isn’t the word I’d use to describe it. Have you lost your mind? Everyone will think I’m your mistress now.”
Luke laughed. “We’re not done. By the time we’re through, we’ll have given the gossips enough to talk about for a year.”
She frowned. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
Luke took her hand and led her across the street to the hotel. “I’m going to rent a room so you can freshen up and change into your new dress. I have some things to do, but I’ll come back in about an hour and we’ll go to dinner.”
She shook her head. “I’m not up to this. I’d really just like to go home now.”
He stopped in the hotel lobby and caught her hands. “Trust me, Sarah. Please.”
How could she say no to that? He was so earnest, so intent. “Promise me you’ll protect me when they form an angry lynch mob.”
Luke grinned. “I promise.”
Before she could protest any further, he walked over to the front desk and asked for the best room in the house. The young clerk promised to have a hot bath sent up right away, and then Luke handed her the room key. “I’ll be back soon,” he told her, then lowered his voice. “I can’t wait to see you in that dress.”
“Hurry,” she urged him and then watched him leave the lobby. Walking down the hall to their room, dread gathered in the pit of her stomach. What in the world was Luke up to? He’d made certain there would be a huge scandal, but he didn’t seem at all concerned about it.
Of course, why should he be concerned, she thought darkly. It was never the men who bore the brunt of the blame. It was always the woman who paid the price for falling in love with a man who didn’t love her in return.
LUKE SPENT THE NEXT hour arranging his wedding. He spoke to the preacher, bought an embarrassingly expensive diamond ring, and then charmed a stingy widow out of a dozen brilliant red roses. He returned to the mercantile and bought himself a new set of clothes, and then purchased a bottle of champagne at the saloon.
He hadn’t intended to get married when he and Sarah had left the house, but now it seemed the only possible solution. Sarah didn’t deserve to be treated as anything less than the lady she was. He’d ruined her reputation, so it was up to him to salvage it.
Not that he minded. He’d been trying to think of a way to convince her she should marry him practically since he’d met her, and now it had fallen right into his lap. He’d be a fool not to take advantage of it.
Now all he had to do was get her to say yes.
He returned to the hotel and walked down the hall to the room where he planned to spend his wedding night. He balanced his packages under one arm and knocked on the door.
“Who’s there?” Sarah’s voice drifted to him through the wood panel, and he winced when he heard how lost and afraid she sounded.
He laid his palm on the wood and prayed this would work. Sarah had come to mean everything to him. If she said no to his proposal, he wasn’t certain what he’d do.
“It’s me,” he said. “Luke.”
The door opened so fast he almost fell into the room. “Where have you been?” she demanded. “I’ve been going out of my mind.”
He smiled and held out the roses. “I was getting you these.”
Her eyes widened, but she made no move to take the flowers. “Oh, Luke,” she said on a sigh. “What are you doing?”
That wasn’t the response he’d been looking for. “Hasn’t anyone ever given you roses before?” he asked, striving to maintain a light tone.
Sarah stared at him and slowly shook her head. “I can’t do this. No matter how sweetly you present it, I can’t be your mistress.”
“My mistress?” Luke shut the door behind him and offered the flowers again. “I’m not asking you to be my mistress. I’m asking you to be my wife.”
The words burst out of his mouth before he could call them back, and they’d come out all wrong. Damn. That wasn’t at all how he’d meant to do this.
Sarah plopped down on the edge of the bed. “You can’t be serious.”
“Of course, I’m serious,” he said, getting defensive. “I’ve ruined your reputation. It’s the only gentlemanly thing to do.”
“So that’s what this is all about?” Sarah’s voice rose with each word. “You’re going to marry me because you feel a sense of responsibility to me?”
She buried her face in her hands, but not before he saw the tears welling up in her beautiful green eyes. “Ah, hell,” he muttered, tossing aside his packages and moving to sit on the bed beside her. He put his arm around her waist and guided her head to his chest. “It’s not about obligation, sweetheart. I swear it isn’t. I just thought that since you were alone, and I was alone...”
She lifted her face and his heart clenched when he saw the tracks of the tears she’d cried. He wanted to tell her he’d fallen hopelessly in love with her, but the words wouldn’t come. He wasn’t at all certain she felt the same way about him. After all, she hadn’t been very enthusiastic about his marriage proposal.
So he decided not to say anything else at all. He’d only managed to make a mess of things so far. Instead, he lowered his lips to hers and kissed her with all the longing and tenderness within him. “Marry me, Sarah,” he whispered. “Please?”
She kissed him sweetly in reply, tangling her hands in his hair and pulling him closer. “Yes,” she said on a breathy sigh, surprising him. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
For a moment, they simply stared at each other, and then Sarah began to smile. “Shall we just figure it out as we go along?”
He nodded, feeling as though a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Nothing had gone as he’d planned, but she’d said yes, and that was all that mattered.
He gazed at her, taking in her lovely figure and her carefully upswept hair. “Have I told you yet, how beautiful you look in that dress?”
She blushed. “No, but I wanted to thank you again. I love it.”
“I hope so,” he whispered. “After all, it’s going to be your wedding dress.”
She smoothed her hand over the violet skirt. “You mean we’re going to get married today?”
“Is that all right with you? I’ve already spoken with the preacher, and he said we could do it whenever we’re ready. But if you need more time, I’ll understand.”
“No,” she answered quickly. “The sooner we do this, the better.”
“Then if you don’t mind, I’ll just take a quick bath and get changed, and then we’ll head over to the church.”
SARAH NERVOUSLY PACED the hotel room as Luke got undressed near the tub. Impossible to believe that in less than an hour he would be her husband.
My husband.
She’d schemed and dreamed of this since he’d come after her at the saloon but somehow, Luke’s proposal hadn’t made her as happy as she’d imagined it would. A month ago, she hadn’t minded the thought of marrying a man who didn’t love her, but everything had changed. In the past few weeks, she’d glimpsed what coul
d have been between her and Luke, and she hated settling for anything less.
Luke cared for her. She didn’t doubt that, but he’d made no mention of love. He was marrying her merely to salvage her reputation because of his misplaced notion of guilt and responsibility.
She couldn’t make the mistake of letting herself believe there was anything more to it than that.
Loud splashing told her Luke was getting in the tub, and she tensed even more. Even though she knew he probably didn’t want her to look at him, she couldn’t resist the temptation. Turning, she was met by the sight of Luke’s broad, bare chest glistening with droplets of water. He reclined against the back of the tub, watching her with wariness in those smoky-gray eyes.
He was still so self-conscious about his foot, even after all they’d shared. Damn Christine for doing this to him. “Would you like me to bathe you?”
His eyes flared in passionate response. “I’d love it, sweetheart. But I don’t want you to get your dress wet.”
She smiled and sat down in the chair he’d pulled next to the tub. “I’ll be careful.”
He gave her a grateful glance, then handed her the soap. Leaning forward, elbows on knees, he presented her his back.
She dipped the soap in the water then rubbed his smooth, wet skin, leaving streams of bubbles in her wake.
Luke moaned softly, letting his head fall forward to rest in his hands. “Ahhh, that feels so good.”
Setting the soap aside, she massaged his heavy shoulder muscles, wringing a series of small, appreciative sounds from deep in his throat. It was like stroking a big cat; he practically purred beneath her hands.
Once he seemed relaxed, she asked the question that had been bothering her for days. “Why haven’t you let me stay all night with you? Is it because you didn’t want me to see your foot?”
He stiffened and then nodded, not looking at her. Sighing, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his temple. “I wish you trusted me more. Don’t you know how beautiful you are to me?”
“I believe you. I don’t understand it, and I don’t deserve it, but I do believe you.”
