Something Borrowed

by Rebecca Hagan Lee

  Mary stared down at the photograph of a man and a woman, and found her husband's sepia-colored face staring back at her.

  * * *

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lee awoke with a start as something cold and heavy landed in the center of his chest. He opened his eyes to find Mary standing over him, her brown-eyed stare shooting sparks at him. A silver picture frame rested against his breastbone. "What the… ?"

  "You lied to me," she accused. "I thought you said you had never been to Utopia before," she challenged.

  "I haven't." Lee sat up in bed. The covers fell to his waist and the silver picture frame slid off his chest onto the mattress.

  "Then how do you explain that?"

  "What?" He yawned and wiped the sleep from his eyes, then absently rubbed his chest where the picture frame had landed.

  "That!" Mary pointed to the photograph.

  Lee picked up the frame and looked at the picture. He and Tabitha embracing in a photographer's studio in Denver. He thought back. What was it now? Three, three and a half years ago? He couldn't remember the exact date, but he remembered the day—a crisp, cold January day in Denver. Tabitha had insisted they stop at the photographer's studio on the way to the depot. She had wanted a picture of them together. A memento of the time they had spent as partners, as friends, and as lovers. Lee smiled at the memory. Their brief romance had been a month out of time. Four special weeks they'd shared before they went their separate ways. He had boarded the train for Chicago shortly after that photograph was taken and Tabitha—lovely, young, vibrant Tabby Gray—had remained behind in Denver to continue her work for Pinkerton. Now Tabitha Gray was dead at the age of twenty-seven. "I didn't lie to you, Mary. I've never been here before. This photograph was taken in Denver," he answered quietly. "In January eighteen seventy."

  "What about your partner?" Mary already knew how Lee would answer, but she asked the question anyway.

  Lee met Mary's clear brown-eyed gaze. "I never told you my partner was a man."

  "But you let me continue to think it."

  Lee shrugged his shoulders. "It seemed less complicated at the time. At least I thought it would be." He smiled. "I guess I was wrong."

  "Then she was your partner?"

  "For a while," he answered evasively.

  "I see," Mary replied in a tight voice.

  Lee hadn't planned to explain the circumstances of his partnership with Tabitha. It had begun and ended long before he met Mary, long after Jeannie died. He had been unattached, and lonely. He didn't owe Mary any explanation. His affair with Tabby had happened years before he met her. Years before he even learned David Alexander had a sister. His relationship with Tabitha had nothing to do with Mary. Or did it?

  Lee took a deep breath and laid the picture aside. He wasn't being honest with himself or completely honest with Mary. His relationship with Tabitha Gray had everything to do with where he and Mary were now. He was living in Tabby's house, sleeping in Tabby's bed, and taking care of her daughter. And Mary Alexander was right there beside him because Tabitha had been forced to tie up the loose ends of her life before her time. Maybe he didn't owe Mary an explanation for his involvement with Tabby, but he suddenly realized he wanted to give her one. He wanted to talk about it. He wanted to tell Mary everything—to share that part of his life with someone else. And he knew he could trust Mary. Despite their first meetings, or perhaps because of them, Lee had realized from the beginning that Mary Alexander was trustworthy and loyal. "For two months," he burst out. "She was my partner from December of eighteen sixty-nine until the end of January eighteen seventy."

  Mary nodded. "I see," she said again.

  "No, you don't," Lee contradicted her. "But you're going to after I explain what happened."

  "You don't have to explain," Mary said, suddenly sure she didn't want to learn the depth of Lee's involvement with Tabitha Gray.

  "Please stay," Lee said. "I want to explain." He scooted over in the bed, shoved a feather pillow behind his back as he leaned against the brass headboard, then patted the empty place beside him. "You might as well sit down. It's a long story."

  Mary eyed the empty space on the bed. The thought of sitting in bed beside Lee seemed so inviting, so warm and cozy—so married.

  Lee saw the look in her eyes and discerned the reason for her hesitation. "It's all right," he assured her. "I promise not to bite."

  She smiled. "I wasn't worried about your biting me."

  Lee grinned as he pulled the sheets and the wool blankets to his chest, then tucked them tightly around him before propping one of the feather pillows, beside him, up against the brass poles of the headboard. "You can sit on top of the blankets and pull the top quilt over your lap for warmth."

  Mary continued to waver.

  "Even if I promise to keep my hands where you can see them?" He held the top quilt open, inviting her to enter the warmth of the bed. "Come on, Mary, be adventurous. Take your shoes off and climb in. It's wanner."

  She sat on edge of the bed, then stretched her long legs, and toed off her deerskin moccasins. They fell to the floor with a soft plop.

  "No wonder I didn't hear you come in," Lee said. "You were wearing moccasins." He flipped the heavy quilt back over so it covered Mary's legs up to her waist.

  "You didn't hear me come in because you were snoring too loudly," she replied.

  Lee shrugged. "I guess there's a first time for everything."

  "Sleeping that soundly and snoring that loudly can get a man in your line of work killed," Mary reminded him.

  "I'm at home."

  "Yes," Mary retorted dryly, "I can tell that from the family pictures."

  Lee reached over and gently tucked a stray lock of her straight black hair back into place, then let his fingers graze the line of her jaw. Mary shivered in reaction. "Ah, yes," he said. "The family pictures." He lifted the silver-framed picture and looked at it once again. "Her name was Tabitha. Tabitha Gray. But I always called her Tabby for short. Allan Pinkerton assigned me to work with her in Denver that December." Lee paused for a moment, remembering. "Counterfeiting was a lucrative operation. There were only two chartered banks and way too much paper money floating around. Paddy Carnahan, the owner of Paddy's Saloon in Denver asked Pinkerton to investigate. You see, Paddy's Saloon also provided banking services for its boarders and tavern customers, and the counterfeiting was interfering with Paddy's banking business. The Agency tried several times to infiltrate the ring but failed each time. At first, Pinkerton thought the counterfeiters were tavern owners themselves, one or two of Paddy's rivals, but the operatives sent to investigate the taverns couldn't find any evidence of that. And the paper money flooded the saloons, threatening their very existence. So Pinkerton looked elsewhere. He began to suspect that the counterfeiters were from a higher level of society than the tavern owners. Someone working in one of the town's two banks; someone who mixed with investors, bankers, and businessmen from different areas of the country. Tabitha posed as a wealthy widow from St. Louis and I became her escort, a rich investor from back east."

  "What happened?" Mary couldn't help but be caught up in the story.

  "The territorial governor invited us to his home and in a matter of days, Tabitha and I were receiving invitations to all the Denverites' social gatherings. The doors of the inner circle opened. All at once, The Pinkerton National Detective Agency gained access to all kinds of information it hadn't been privy to before."

  "But you were outsiders."

  "Yes, we were," Lee agreed, stroking one side of his mustache. "But we were rich outsiders. And Denver, like all frontier towns, was desperate for cash. The city government needed investors, very wealthy investors, and the city fathers welcomed potential financial backers with open arms. Tabitha attended all the society ladies' functions, contributed to numerous charities, and became, in a very short time, an intricate part of Denver society."

  "Were you accepted as well?"

  Lee smiled. "Of course. I dran
k and gambled with the cream of society, and gained memberships to the most exclusive gentlemen's clubs. I was accepted completely. And while Tabitha garnered bits of information from the wives and daughters, I picked up all sorts of investment and financing ideas—some legal—some not so legal from the men. Eventually, we were able to send evidence to Pinkerton, who contacted Treasury officials. They arrested everyone involved in the forging, except the pen man."

  "Pen man?"

  "The pen man is the actual forger—the artist or engraver who alters bills, bonds, or drafts, or copies real currency. The pen man in the Denver forgery ring slipped out of town before the federal marshals arrived to arrest him."

  "And the Denver businessmen never suspected you?"

  Lee shook his head. "Not at all. In fact, I still maintain my membership in several of the clubs."

  "I knew you were good at your job, but I must admit, I'm as impressed as I am concerned."

  "Concerned about what?" Lee asked. He shifted his weight on the bed so he could see Mary's expression.

  She smiled at him, a teasing light in her dark brown eyes. "I'm concerned for myself," she told him. "How will I ever know when you're telling the truth and when you're simply acting a part?"

  "I try to always tell the truth," Lee replied solemnly.

  Mary turned to face him. "As you did about our partner?"

  "Exactly," Lee agreed. "I never said my partner was a man, I just didn't correct your inaccurate assumption."

  "Failing to correct an erroneous assumption is almost the same as telling the inaccuracy."

  "That's true to a point," Lee admitted. "But the fact is that I did not lie to you. I told the truth. And always telling the truth, or as much of the truth as possible, is one of the first things Allan Pinkerton taught me. If you make it a point to tell the truth, then if it ever becomes necessary for you to lie, there is a greater chance that you'll be believed."

  "Interesting theory," Mary mused. "You tell the truth to keep from being caught when you're compelled to lie. I don't remember reading that theory in the ten commandments."

  Lee chuckled. "Moses wasn't a Pinkerton operative."

  "What about the aliases you use? And the roles you assume?"

  "I always use a part of my name in my aliases—even my traveling names."

  "Traveling names?"

  "I always travel under the name Smith or Jones. It makes me harder to trace," Lee said. "But I'm always L. K. Jones or G. M. Smith."

  "Liam Gordon Maclntyre Kincaid," Mary said softly, repeating his full name. "Very clever."

  "Very safe," he corrected. "And anonymous."

  Mary stared at her husband's handsome face—his beautiful gray eyes, classical masculine features, and tantalizing mouth, and wondered how he could ever consider himself anonymous. "What about the roles you play?"

  "I don't think of it as playing a role exactly," Lee told her. "It's more like changing jobs. You thought I was a bartender in Peaceable when you met me and I was, but at the same time I was working on a case and trying to help David prove Tessa was innocent. It's always like that. At various times, while working on cases, I've been a gambler, a cowpuncher, a guard, a bank clerk, a newspaper reporter…"

  "And a handsome escort for a wealthy Denver society matron," Mary added, deliberately turning the conversation back to Tabitha Gray and Lee's relationship with her.

  "It was part of the job."

  "Only part of the job?" Mary couldn't keep herself from asking the question. She leaned closer to Lee and studied the picture once again. "What happened to Tabitha after you solved the case?"

  "I returned to Chicago and Tabby remained in Denver where she continued to work for the Agency."

  "But your personal relationship ended when you left Denver?" Mary probed.

  He shook his head, amazed at her persistence. "I never said we had a personal relationship."

  "You must have seen her from time to time when you traveled to Denver."

  "I never returned to Denver until a few days ago when I went to claim Maddy."

  "Not once in over three years?"

  "No."

  "Never?"

  Lee sighed. "I knew I should have bought you emeralds to go with your jealous nature."

  "I don't have a jealous nature." At least she hadn't had one until she met Lee Kincaid.

  "Oh, yes, you do," Lee told her. "You're jealous of Tabby Gray."

  "All right," Mary admitted. "Maybe I am jealous. But what do you expect? You've brought me here to live in her house."

  "So?" Lee didn't understand.

  "What was she to you? Why would a bachelor like you agree to take on the responsibility of a two-and-a-half-year-old child?"

  "Tabby was my partner," Lee answered. "She made me the executor of her will and guardian of her child."

  "Why?" Mary persisted.

  "Why? Why what?" Lee was beginning to lose his temper.

  "Why did she make you Madeline's guardian? Why not someone else? Why not a relative? Where's Maddy's father?"

  "Tabby Gray didn't have anyone else. She was married once, before the war, then widowed. She wasn't married to Maddy's father. And according to her letter, if I refused to take her, Maddy would've grown up in a St. Louis foundling home—just like her mother."

  "And you couldn't let that happen."

  "No, I couldn't let that happen," he replied. "Could you?"

  "Of course, I could," Mary replied. "Unless I knew I that by fulfilling the terms of a will and agreeing to adopt a little girl, I could get my hands on a mansion and a silver mine."

  Lee couldn't believe what he was hearing. "That's not why I agreed to adopt her and you know it! Or you should know it! I don't give a damn about owning a mansion or a silver mine!" Unable to sit still any longer, he flipped back the covers, got up from the bed, and began to pace the confines of the room—in all his naked male glory. "And if that's the kind of man you think I am, then why the hell did you marry me?" He stopped pacing and turned to face her.

  Mar)' swallowed the lump in her throat. Her imagination hadn't done him justice. Goodness, but he was handsome. "I could ask you the same question." She swung her legs off the bed, stood up beside it, and slipped her feet into her moccasins. The sight of Lee Kincaid standing in front of her, as naked as the day he was born, practically took her breath away. It was all she could do to keep from flinging herself at him. "If all you wanted was someone to cook and clean and care for Judah and Maddy, you could have hired a maid. You didn't need a wife. You didn't need me. Unless…" She grabbed hold of the top quilt and took a step toward him, dragging the quilt along on the floor behind her. "Unless I was part of the deal, too. Was I, Lee? Was I one of the terms of Tabby's will?" Mary stopped just inches away from her husband and boldly placed her palm flat against his broad chest before she trailed her index finger down over his stomach.

  Lee shivered in response, then reached out and caught hold of Mary's wrist, preventing further exploration. "Why do you want to know?"

  Mary shrugged. "Maybe I'm wondering just how far you went to meet the terms of your partner's will. And how much farther you're prepared to go. Or maybe I just want to know if you'll feel compelled to lie to me again like you did when you told me why you planned to adopt Madeline and if I'll believe you this time, too. But most of all, I'm wondering if I'll ever know whether you wanted to become my husband or simply do a job."

  Lee stared at her. Her doe-brown eyes softened as she met his gaze. He leaned forward slightly, then reached out and lifted her chin with the tip of his finger. "Trust me," he said, bending down to kiss her. "When the time is right, you'll know." He gently touched his lips to hers.

  Mary tried to push her doubts aside. She had put her trust in Lee Kincaid when she agreed to marry him and she wasn't going to back away now that she had him.

  She had known from the beginning that Lee didn't love her, and suspected that he was using her for his conveniences, but still it hurt to have her suspicions confirmed.
It hurt to know Lee had deliberately misled her by allowing her to believe his former partner was a man when all the time he was planning to bring her to Tabitha's house to live. Mary understood that Lee had had a life before he married her. And secrets. But somehow, she had expected him to confide those secrets and to pretend to love her even though he didn't.

  Somewhere along the line, she had confused the real Lee Kincaid with her idea of Prince Charming and expected the two to be the same. Just as she expected her one-sided marriage to be filled with love and warmth and sharing like the marriages of her parents, and grandparents, Reese and Faith's, and Tessa and David's.

  She had thought herself mature and sophisticated. She thought she was old enough to resign herself to a loveless marriage to Pelham Cosgrove or to Lee Kincaid. But she was wrong. She'd made a mistake when she married Lee. Pelham had been safe—she didn't love him and knew she never would. But she'd fallen for Lee Kincaid. And once she realized she loved Lee, Mary knew she hadn't really grown up at all. She couldn't settle for a loveless marriage to him, not when she still believed in fairy tales—especially in happy endings.

  She wanted to live happily ever after. Desperately so. She needed to believe it was possible. So she pushed her nagging fears aside and told herself over and over again that Lee's reasons for marrying her didn't matter as much as the fact that he had. And then Mary prayed she could make it be true. She was his wife, bound to him for better or for worse and it was up to her to prove that having her as his wife was better than letting her go.

  Lee had ended the kiss quickly. Too quickly for Mary's satisfaction. It was over almost as soon as it began. He released her and stepped away.

  Not knowing what else to say or do, Mary handed Lee the quilt. "Supper will be ready in half an hour."

  Realizing he was standing before her without a stitch on, Lee gratefully accepted the covering.

  Mary turned and headed toward the bedroom door. She opened it as Lee called out.

  "Hey, Two-shot."

  "Yes?"