by Carol Finch
Hanna levered herself onto a wobbly elbow, then pushed upright to shed her torn gown. The delighted anticipation of gathering supplies had been ruined by the unexpected attack. But what disturbed her most was the way she’d flung herself into Cale’s arms the instant he arrived on the scene of disaster. For some reason she was embarrassed to have a man as capable and self-reliant as Cale Elliot witness her incompetence. Why that should matter so much Hanna didn’t know. But it did matter—a lot.
When Cale came through the door with Skeet on his heels and his arms laden with packages, Hanna braced herself for another scathing lecture. To her amazement Cale didn’t light into her. He simply struck a rigid pose beside the bed, stared down at her with those eyes that were the color of the sky between midnight and dawn, and said, “I made arrangements for your meal to be brought up to you. If you’ll meet me at the courthouse after supper the judge can perform the ceremony.”
“Today? Really?” she squeaked in amazement.
He nodded briskly. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
That was exactly what Hanna wanted. She just hadn’t expected to have her whim met so quickly. But then she reminded herself that she was going to marry a man who was expedient efficiency at its finest. It was a trait she greatly admired. Someday she hoped the same could be said about her.
She stared quizzically at Cale when he reached out, as if to brush a recalcitrant strand of hair away from her face. He apparently changed his mind at the last moment, and his hand dropped to his side. The near gesture spoke of tenderness and comfort that she hadn’t expected from him.
Cale stared at the air over her head. “Maybe you should catch a nap, Magnolia. I’ll leave Skeet here to accompany you to the courthouse.”
When he pivoted on his heel, Hanna stared at his broad muscular back. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not raking me over live coals for my stupidity,” she murmured.
He glanced over his shoulder, making her squirm beneath that probing gaze that never failed to unnerve her. “Who ordinarily rakes you over live coals?”
He was prying again, and she couldn’t bring herself to tell him who she was just yet. “I’ll answer all your questions later,” she promised.
“After the deed is done?”
She tried to smile, but the puffy welt on her cheek made it a mite painful. “Precisely. When I marry you my troubles will be over.”
“And mine will have just begun,” he murmured on his way out the door.
Cale was decidedly uncomfortable with the emotions this dainty female aroused in him. This morning she’d touched his hand and insisted he was an honorable, worthy man—despite what the rest of the world thought of him. Then she’d scared him witless when she was attacked and mauled. Then he’d almost made the crucial mistake of touching her consolingly a moment earlier, as if there was an affectionate bond between them.
Hell, who was he kidding? He was just a means to her mysterious end, and he’d bargained to make her a means to his personal brand of justice. Don’t get sentimentally attached, Cale cautioned himself as he set off to tend his errands. His association with Miz Magnolia would last only a month—two at the most. He’d exchange survival skills for polished etiquette, and she’d go her way while he went his. End of story.
He had to quell these fits and starts of lust that kept lambasting him at unexpected moments. A deal was a deal, after all. Having her come running to him for comfort and protection had been hard on his blood pressure—and certain parts of his anatomy. She might be his wife after supper, but she was still off-limits, he reminded himself sternly. And if he had a brain in his head he wouldn’t let himself forget that, no matter how much he wanted to touch and taste and hold.
In name only, he mused in frustration. Helluva deal he’d made, wasn’t it?
Hanna awakened with a jolt and glanced apprehensively around the room, trying to orient herself to her surroundings. The instant she saw Skeet napping beneath the table, the unnerving incident in the alley came back in a rush.
Rolling off the bed, she knelt in front of the wolflike dog, which bared his teeth at her. “I know you don’t like me, Skeet, but I didn’t thank you properly for saving me.”
Although Cale had warned her not to make any sudden moves toward Skeet, she tried a new approach. She held out her hand, palm up, in front of his snout. The dog growled softly but didn’t snap. Hanna took that as a sign of progress. She didn’t try to touch Skeet, just left her hand dangling in midair until he took a cautious sniff.
After a moment she pushed to her feet and walked across the hall to retrieve the wedding gown she’d stuffed in one of her satchels.
Hanna dressed for her second wedding in less than a week. For certain, she was more enthused and eager than she’d been at the first one. Although she knew she didn’t mean anything to Cale, she wanted to look her very best. She’d chosen a gown with a low-cut neckline that buttoned down the front—to facilitate a quick change before she escaped through the church window and boarded the steamboat.
She tugged at the swooping neckline, but it didn’t help much. One gulping breath and her breasts would spill from the lacy confines. Well, she’d just have to remember not to breathe deeply until she shed this gown.
Once she had her hair pinned atop her head in a fashionable coiffure, she assessed herself in the mirror. She’d likely be overdressed to marry a man who preferred buckskins and moccasins. But he was doing her a tremendous favor, and she intended to acknowledge it by dressing like a proper bride.
Hanna was dismayed to note the welt on her cheek had turned black-and-blue. She dabbed on some powder to hide the bruise as best she could. Shoulders squared, head held at a determined angle, she marched toward the door, then yelped when Skeet sprinted past her, knocking her off balance. She braced her hand on the wall to steady herself, then opened the door.
Skeet padded into the hall, glanced this way and that, then stared up at her as if to say the coast was clear. Hanna smiled on her way down the hall, remembering the lazy, worthless hound her father kept around as a prestige symbol. That purebred creature couldn’t hold a candle to Skeet. Just as she couldn’t hold a candle to Cale.
The discomforting thought caused Hanna to grimace. She would prove herself worthy and competent, she promised fiercely. She was not getting by in life on her looks, even if her father insisted that was all she needed to do. She was going to count for something—as soon as she had the opportunity to discover what she was good at.
“Miss Rawlins, you look enchanting,” James Jensen said as she descended the steps.
Hanna smiled gratefully as the hotel proprietor came around the counter to position himself between her and the crowd of men who loitered in the lobby.
“I must say, I didn’t quite believe the rumors flying around the restaurant last night, but despite what anyone says, you’ve chosen a fine man. The best, in fact,” James assured her.
“I couldn’t agree with you more,” Hanna replied.
“Er…even if this is rather sudden,” James murmured, “Um, all the same…”
She knew the hotel proprietor was dying of curiosity, fishing for an explanation for this whirlwind wedding. But Hanna was hesitant to confide the story to anyone. She simply smiled sweetly at James.
“I think you should know that a well-dressed, distinguished looking man named Richard Sykes, from the Pinkerton Detective Agency, questioned me two hours ago about a young lady who fit your description.”
The color drained from her face. Blast it! Her father hadn’t wasted a moment in sending out the troops. But then, she’d anticipated that. She just hadn’t expected to have Pinkerton bloodhounds on her trail this quickly.
James patted her clammy hand and veered down the hall. “Not to worry, my dear. I pleaded ignorance, but I doubt your secret will be safe for long.” He glanced pointedly at the crowd of men. “Cale left the buckboard by the back exit. There’s a young lad waiting in the alley
to take you to the courthouse.”
Nodding appreciatively, Hanna exited and climbed into the wagon. Skeet hopped on to the wagon bed behind her. Apparently Cale was aware of the situation and wanted to transport her to the ceremony as discreetly as possible. She had the uneasy feeling he’d be full of questions when the ceremony ended—if he waited that long to demand answers.
An apprehensive sensation settled in the pit of her stomach while she was whisked down the alley at a hasty clip. For all she knew the agent could be watching for her, waiting to pounce. If the Pinkerton agent interrupted the wedding, her hopes of freedom would be dashed.
With a quick murmur of thanks, Hanna bounded from the buckboard and the young boy drove away. She moved swiftly toward the courthouse. Leaving Skeet to wait outside, she asked directions to Judge Parker’s chambers, then breathed a sigh of relief when she closed the door behind her. Now, if only Cale and the judge would show up so she could see this deed done quickly!
Hanna lurched around when the door swung open with a whine and an authoritative giant of a man with a tawny mustache, thick goatee and piercing blue eyes strode toward her. She smiled cordially as she extended her hand. “I’m marrying Cale Elliot,” she announced.
The judge’s stern expression softened and he chuckled as he took her hand. “So I’ve been told. Come with me, Miss Rawlins, and we’ll get the license in order before my deputy arrives.”
While the judge turned his back and thumbed through the desk drawer for the necessary legal papers, Hanna heard the door creak open again. She glanced over her shoulder to see a well-dressed gentleman wearing a fashionable bowler hat hovering in the shadowed alcove by the door.
Hanna panicked. The Pinkerton agent! Damnation, he’d found her before the ceremony could be concluded!
Her heart hammered frantically in her chest as she darted a sideways glance toward the window. That had been her escape route once before, and it might have to be again. Confound it! Where was Cale when she needed him?
While Judge Parker was preoccupied, Hanna inched closer to the window, keeping her back turned to the unidentified man. The click of footsteps crossing the judge’s chambers echoed like a death knell, causing another wave of anxiety to swamp her. The footfalls rang in her ears, bringing captivity one step closer.
Hanna fidgeted with the locket around her neck, seeking the comfort the object usually brought. She didn’t dare turn around and alert the Pinkerton agent that she was aware he was stalking her. All she had was the element of surprise on her side, and she wasn’t about to give that up.
The closer he came, the faster her heart pounded in her chest, making it difficult to draw breath. Hanna stared desperately at the latch on the window, trying to calculate the amount of time it would take to lift the sash, jump through, and make a mad dash for cover.
The hair on the back of her neck stood on end when the footsteps halted close behind her. Now! the voice of survival screamed at her.
Hanna launched herself at the window, but a steely hand shot out to manacle her wrist, dragging her backward while she stared helplessly at her porthole of freedom. Hell and damnation, she’d been inches away from escape and now she’d be dragged back to her irate father and that stuffy Louis Beauchamp!
God help her!
Chapter Five
“Going somewhere, Miz Magnolia?”
Hanna lurched around at the sound of the familiar voice. Her jaw dropped and her eyes popped as she surveyed the new and improved version of the bounty hunter she’d met the previous day. Gone were the worn buckskins and assortment of visible weapons. Cale’s shaggy mane had been neatly trimmed. He’d shaved off the dark beard and mustache that had concealed the square line of his jaw, the dimple in his chin and the high cheekbones that denoted his Indian heritage. Sweet merciful heavens! She’d never imagined Cale Elliot to be so breathtakingly handsome, and she was sorely disappointed in herself for gaping at him in rapt fascination.
For years she had scorned her shallow suitors for focusing on her outward appearance and inherited wealth. Now here she was—the world’s worst hypocrite—practically drooling over Cale’s powerful masculine physique wrapped in expensive finery. The sheer beauty of his face mesmerized her.
“Thank God!” In relief Hanna threw herself into his arms and held on for dear life. She was getting married after all, not being captured and dragged back to her father and unwanted fiancé. “I thought you were—” She slammed her mouth shut so fast she nearly snipped off the end of her tongue. “That is to say, you look positively dashing.”
Cale glanced over her blond head and smiled reassuringly at Judge Parker, who stared inquisitively at Sarah’s peculiar behavior. Cale knew exactly what she’d thought when he strode up behind her. He’d seen her stiffen, glance speculatively at the window. Her body language had told him that she hadn’t recognized him and that she was preparing to make a hasty departure via the window.
After James Jensen informed Cale that a Pinkerton agent was snooping around town, Cale had made arrangements to have Sarah driven discreetly to the courthouse. What he didn’t know was why the agent was trailing her. Being suspicious by nature and by habit, he couldn’t help but wonder whom she’d murdered and if the stash of money she carried was stolen.
Yet there was a decided innocence about Sarah—or whoever she really was, and he intended to find that out very soon. An innocence that made it hard for him to believe she was capable of murder and mayhem. Although he suspected she’d fed him white lies and half-truths up to this point, Cale was more than a little stunned to realize he trusted Little Miz Magnolia’s honor and integrity. And that was saying something, because Cale had learned years ago not to put faith in anyone but himself.
When Sarah withdrew and stared happily at him, Cale forgot to breathe. His gaze fell to the revealing décolleté that displayed her creamy breasts to their best advantage. He tried to swallow—and couldn’t. To say this woman was beautiful had to be the understatement of the century. Despite the unsightly bruise on her cheek—and he’d like to mutilate and murder the heathen who’d put it there—she was every man’s secret fantasy come true.
And she wanted to marry him? The question ripped through his mind for the dozenth time. Why?
Cale figured a gentleman should gush compliments when he beheld such a vision of ravishing beauty, but his tongue seemed to be stuck to the roof of his mouth. He simply stood there, drinking in every inch of her luscious swells and curves, itching to run his fingers over her satiny skin.
Judge Parker cleared his throat and arched a brow as he stared at Cale in wry amusement. “You indicated expedience,” he prompted his tongue-tied deputy marshal. “Shall we get on with it?”
“Yes,” Sarah insisted as she clutched Cale’s hand and pivoted to face the judge.
She looked so fiercely determined that Cale had to bite back a grin. Never in his wildest dreams had he envisioned such a sophisticated beauty practically champing at the bit to get herself hitched to him.
“Please don’t back out on me because a Pinkerton agent is looking for me,” she whispered. “There is nothing illegal or immoral about wanting this marriage to take place. I need the protection of your name, and I will be happy to explain why later. But, please, not now, okay? Can we continue the ceremony?”
The judge dutifully rattled off the words to legally bind them together. All the while, questions swirled in Cale’s mind. What was she running from that had a Pinkerton agent snooping around town? Cale promised himself that he’d have answers before the night was out. It was easier to be prepared for trouble if you knew what form it took and what to expect rather than wandering blindly into a catastrophe.
He glanced up, startled, when Sarah gouged him in the ribs.
“Do you take this woman?” Judge Parker prompted a second time.
“I do,” he said, and nodded.
“And do you—” The judge frowned at the name she had written on the piece of paper she handed to him, then gape
d at her. “Hanna Malloy?”
“Malloy?” Cale crowed in disbelief as he stared at his soon-to-be bride. “Good grief!” The well-known, disgustingly wealthy shipping entrepreneur from New Orleans was her father? Even Cale had heard of the dynasty that could practically buy and sell the whole blessed country!
The beseeching look Hanna Malloy flashed him caused his breath to gush from his lungs. She stared at him as if all her hopes and dreams were pinned on him, as if he held the answer to all her prayers, the key to her future.
Well, hell. What man could peer into those incredible amethyst eyes, fringed with long thick lashes, and turn her down? Not even him. He wasn’t that hard-hearted.
“Okay, go on, Judge,” he said with a gusty breath.
“Do you, Hanna?” the judge asked, still looking a little bewildered.
“I do.” She sagged in relief and her knees wobbled when the judge finally pronounced them man and wife. Now all that was left was a hasty kiss and the signatures on the license. In a few more moments all would be said and done, and she would be virtually untouchable by her father. Walter Malloy could shout and rant and rave for all he was worth, but he couldn’t undo this marriage. She had her freedom at long last.
“Kiss your bride, son,” the judge said, smiling.
Hanna tilted her face upward, expecting a chaste kiss—and found herself practically bent over backward as Cale’s full lips took possession. She sizzled. She burned. She nearly melted in a puddle while he kissed her as if there was no tomorrow and they were sharing their last dying breath.
Astounded, tingling with unprecedented sensations that channeled in every direction at once, Hanna found herself kissing him back with the same fanatic enthusiasm he directed toward her. Heavens, it was like breathing fire, as if every ounce of sense she’d spent two decades cultivating was being sucked right out of her body, leaving her functioning on nothing but pure desire.
And then, just as suddenly as he’d grabbed her, he propped her upright. He clamped an arm around her waist when she staggered clumsily, then he reached out to shake hands with the judge.
