Читать книгу Bounty Hunter's Bride - Carol Finch - Страница 12

Hanna awoke the next morning teeming with excitement and anticipation. She was anxious to gather supplies that would aid in her quest to discover her hidden talents. With a tidy roll of cash stashed in her reticule, she opened the hotel room door, then smiled in greeting when Cale’s door opened a moment later.

“Good morning,” she said cheerfully. To her dismay his penetrating gaze drifted over her pale blue gown and lingered on the gold locket around her neck. She thought she looked passable in her simple gown, but apparently he disagreed.

“Take Skeet with you,” he said without preamble as he clutched her arm to assist her down the steps.

“That isn’t necessary,” she insisted. “I’m only going to pick up a few gowns and supplies at the general store.”

“Skeet, guard,” Cale ordered the menacing-looking dog, which reminded Hanna more of a wolf than a domesticated canine. “I’ll purchase the buckboard and trail rations for the trip while you’re shopping. I’m due to testify in court this afternoon, so I’ll speak with Judge Parker about the ceremony.”

Another surge of excitement washed through her as she descended the steps. Considering Cale’s swift efficiency, she might be wed within a few days—making her untouchable to her father. The prospect filled her with elation and she smiled.

“You look mighty pleased with yourself, Miz Magnolia,” Cale noted, studying her intently. “Any particular reason why?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to reveal her true identity and the reason for her excitement, but caution bade her to bide her time. She’d tell Cale everything he wanted to know after she had the marriage license in hand.

“I’m eager for our wedding.” It was the truth—sort of.

“Eager to marry me?” He scoffed. “I doubt it.”

Hanna halted abruptly on the landing. “Now, see here, Mr. Elliot, I will not have you putting yourself down in my presence. I don’t care what anyone in this town—or this entire country, for that matter—thinks. You are the perfect husband and I want you to be mine!”

Cale blinked in surprise when she emphatically defended his worthiness for the second time. Damn, if this mere wisp of a female didn’t make him feel good about himself.

He stared at her uplifted chin, then his traitorous gaze drifted over the scooped-neck bodice of her gown and the trim indentation of her waist. She was such a tempting morsel—which was why he insisted on sending Skeet along as a bodyguard.

The woman didn’t seem to have a clue how much trouble she could get into just tramping down the streets of this rowdy town. If any man tried to lay a hand on her, Skeet would make him back off—or risk losing a few fingers.

“I’ll meet you back here for lunch,” Cale instructed as he escorted her down the last flight of steps. “In the meantime, pay attention to your surroundings. Got it?”

When she laid her hand on his arm and smiled up at him, Cale steadied himself against the baffling sensations her touch evoked. Her skin was as smooth as alabaster and his was as rough as alligator hide. That was just another reminder of the polar differences between them. And if she didn’t stop reaching out and touching him unexpectedly he wouldn’t be able to keep his mind on business.

Bottom line—this woman’s touch affected him. She affected him. Keeping his vow to bypass a wedding night was going to be torture, pure and simple.

Of course, Miz Rawlins from N’Awlins had a noticeable effect on all men, Cale decided as he stared at the male crowd that hovered by the door—with their tongues hanging out and their leers directed at his future bride.

“It’s so sweet of you to fret about me,” she said, totally oblivious to the gaggle of men gawking at her.

“I’m a long way from sweet,” he snorted. “No one has ever used that word to describe me before.”

“Then they obviously don’t know what a fine man you are,” she insisted. “But I can take care of myself. Truly.”

That, he thought, remained to be seen. Cale placed his hand possessively on the small of her back to guide her through the raft of men staring at her as if they’d never seen a woman before. Certainly not one as refined and bewitching as this one.

He inwardly groaned when they stepped outside to find another congregation of men waiting to feast their eyes on the newest arrival. Apparently the news of Sarah Rawlins’s heart-stopping good looks had spread through Fort Smith like wildfire. Hell, it’d be a full-time job watching over her. Cale was definitely going to dress her in oversize buckskins and a hat to disguise her gender during their trek through Indian Territory.

When they parted company, Skeet trailed at her heels. Cale watched a dozen male gazes follow the hypnotic sway of her hips. Possessiveness slammed him broadside again, but he told himself to get past it. This wouldn’t be a true marriage, after all. It wasn’t a marriage of convenience, either, because there would be nothing remotely convenient about having Sarah underfoot. She’d be an invitation for trouble and the worst personal temptation imaginable if Cale didn’t make her look like a boy—from a distance. Up close, there was no question that she was all woman.

Adding suitable clothing for Sarah to his own list of purchases, Cale strode off to the blacksmith’s shop to modify a wagon with a false bottom to conceal his shipment of weapons. No way was he going to advertise the fact that he was hauling enough guns and ammunition to equip a small army. He wanted to project the appearance of two travelers laden down with household supplies. That in itself was temptation enough for the swarm of thieves that lurked in Indian Territory.

Cale sighed in frustration as he strode into the livery stable. He had the unmistakable feeling that, despite all the experience he had under his belt, wedding Sarah and toting her across rough country was going to be the most difficult task he’d ever undertaken. And even though she kept insisting that he was perfect for her, Cale didn’t believe it. He’d never believe it, because he knew who and what he was—and so did everyone else around these parts.

He suspected she’d lose most of her cheery idealism after their rugged trek to Texas. Miz Magnolia didn’t know it yet, but she was on a collision course with reality. A damn shame, that, he mused. He wished the world was as rosy, noble and embracing as she wanted to think it was.

Hanna scurried around the general store like an enthusiastic child on a limitless shopping spree. Already she’d grabbed two sensible gowns off the rack, gathered art supplies, knitting needles, yarn, two bolts of fabric, parchment and charcoal pencils—in order to pursue her quest for her hidden talents. When she discovered her potential—whatever it might be—she was going to be prepared.

“Anything else, miss?” the shopkeeper questioned as he eyed her copious purchases curiously.

Hanna was certain the proprietor considered her frivolous and eccentric, but for the first time in living memory she didn’t have to explain herself to her father or anyone else. “No, this will be all,” she said most politely.

Hanna handed over the cash after the frizzy-haired man totaled her expenses. She scooped up the armload of packages and spun toward the door. Skeet waited just outside, and she swore the wolflike creature scowled in displeasure at her for separating him from his beloved master.

Honestly, there was no need for Cale’s precaution, she mused as she strode down the uneven boardwalk, leaving Skeet to sniff at whatever had caught his attention. No one was going to molest her right here in broad day—

Her thoughts scattered like buckshot when an unseen fist clamped around her elbow and forcefully jerked her into the alley. Before Hanna could let out a shriek, a grimy hand curled around her nose and mouth, cutting off her air supply. Terror pulsed through her veins when she glanced sideways and recognized the scruffy ruffian who had approached her on the docks. Hanna kicked and squirmed when the man wrapped an arm across her chest and dragged her deeper into the shadows.

Where was that blasted dog when she needed him? Moments earlier he’d only been a few steps behind her. Well, Hanna decided, it was time to prove she could fend for herself. She dropped her packages and bit a chunk out of the man’s finger. Simultaneously, she kicked her heel against his shin. Her abductor howled and cursed foully, but he refused to remove his hand from her mouth, so she bit down even harder on his finger.

“Argh!” Her captor yelped as he shoved her roughly against the side of the building. Trash barrels tumbled, and Hanna hit the dirt with a dull thump as he heaved her away from him.

Her breath gushed out in a whoosh as her head and spine slammed against the clapboard walls. She tried to scream before he pounced at her, but he’d knocked the breath clean out of her. No sound escaped her lips except a feeble whimper. And then he was upon her, backhanding her before he jerked her to her unsteady feet.

Finally Hanna managed to gather her wits and expel a bloodcurdling scream with Skeet’s name attached to it. The inhuman snarl from behind her gave her hope, but the burly brute had ripped the bodice of her gown and left it gaping before the wolf dog lit into him with teeth bared.

Suddenly it was her captor who was squealing like a stuck pig, fending off a vicious attack. Hanna, clutching her torn gown, braced herself against the wall and screamed for all she was worth. In fiendish horror she watched the dog—which she suddenly loved dearly—make short shrift of her abusive attacker.

As Hanna pressed a shaky hand to her stinging cheeks, she swore she’d never again be so naive and trusting when Cale warned her of potential danger. She’d probably gotten exactly what she deserved for not paying attention, but she was ever so glad Cale had insisted on sending along Skeet.

Cale jerked to attention when he heard a piercing shriek in the distance. He dropped the piece of lumber and dashed from the livery. Sarah was in serious trouble. The second shriek put him in a dead run, and he accidentally knocked bodies out of his way as he tore off down the street.

It had been years since Cale had dealt with the sensations of panic and fear. He’d mastered those emotions, but fear for someone other than himself was totally unfamiliar. He didn’t like the feeling that had his pulse hammering like hailstones, his gut twisting into a tight knot.

When he heard a vicious growl and a wail of pain, he elbowed through the crowd of onlookers and dashed through the trash-strewn alley. His legs suddenly refused to move when his gaze landed on Sarah, whose flawless face now boasted a red welt and whose delicate gown had been ripped from neck to waist.

Cale was still standing there, immobilized, when Sarah spotted him. She dashed toward him like a homing pigeon going to roost. She cuddled against his chest, and his arms reflexively closed around her. He felt her quaking fear vibrating through every fiber of his being.

“Call off Skeet,” she croaked.

“Not in this life,” Cale growled as he watched Skeet pin his victim to the dirt, his powerful jaws resting threateningly against the man’s jugular. Any heathen who laid his filthy hands on Sarah deserved to be chewed to bitesize pieces.

“Skeet, stop!” Hanna demanded as she huddled against Cale.

Amazingly, the dog unclamped his jaws and stood over the man, with his sharp teeth mere inches from his throat. Bemused, Cale arched a brow. It was the first time Skeet had obeyed a command from anyone but him. Must’ve had something to do with the fact that Sarah had tucked the uneaten portion of her supper steak in her purse and left it for Skeet the previous night, Cale decided.

“Somebody get the town marshal,” he ordered. “Now!”

Bodies scattered while Skeet stood guard, refusing to let the miscreant gain his feet and run for his life.

“Damn it, woman, didn’t I tell you to pay attention?” Cale snapped angrily.

Sarah nodded her tousled head, but refused to look up at him. He didn’t blame her. He was feeling positively murderous and probably looked it.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

“Obviously not,” he interrupted sharply. This was a good time to teach her a valuable lesson that she damn well better not forget. “You don’t trust anyone if you want to survive. You presume nothing. You remain on constant alert. Have I made myself clear?”

She jerked back slightly and glared up at him. When he saw the red welt on her cheek at close range and noticed the extent of the damage to the gown she clutched modestly to her chest, the damnedest thing happened. The vicious fury drained right out of him. Just like that. Poof! Suddenly it didn’t matter that this naive innocent hadn’t applied every precautionary measure that had become second nature to him. All that mattered was that she was alive and in one piece—more or less.

“Well, hell,” Cale muttered as he noticed the unshed tears glistening in those mystifying violet eyes. He slid his arm beneath her knees and scooped her into his arms.

“Put me down! I—”

“Clam up, Magnolia,” he interrupted as he carried her through the crowd of onlookers. “Skeet, stay.”

Without another word Cale strode toward the hotel, and he didn’t break stride until he reached his room. Propriety be damned, he decided. He was going to deposit Sarah in his bedroom, and nobody better mess with her again or he’d go on a shooting spree the likes of which this town had never seen!

It dawned on Cale that he’d gone a little crazy, was feeling off balance and out of control. But he didn’t care. Any man who would abuse a woman deserved to be poisoned, shot, stabbed and hanged in short order. It had been a sensitive issue with him since his—Well, for a long time. ’nuff said.

Cale laid Sarah gently on his bed, then forced himself to look away when his gaze dropped to the exposed swell of her breasts. She clutched at the tattered bodice and her face turned the same color as the welt on her cheek. Cale wheeled around to grab a towel, then dipped it in water.

“Here, Magnolia,” he said as he sank down on the edge of the bed. “Hold this to your cheek. I’ll fetch you another dress.”

“Th—thank you,” she stammered shakily. “I—I’m really sorry I’ve inconvenienced you.”

Well, there was another first, he realized as he stalked across the hall to retrieve the lavender gown that was draped over the end of her bed. No one had ever apologized for inconveniencing him and scaring him half to death before. He snatched up the garment and quickly reversed direction.

“Put this on while I retrieve Skeet.” He jerked his pistol from its holster and his knife from its sheath on his thigh. He laid both weapons beside her. “Anybody comes through that door besides me, you shoot ’em, and stab ’em a couple of times for good measure. I’ll be right back.”

She stared at the weapons with rounded eyes, then peered up at him.

“And don’t tell me you can’t or won’t shoot,” he demanded gruffly. “You’ll do what you have to do to protect yourself and that’s that.”

Cale wheeled around and marched out the door. Once he was in the hall, he sucked in a deep, steadying breath, and told himself to calm down. It was easier said than done. In the last quarter of an hour something had shifted and resettled inside him. He couldn’t put a name to it. Wasn’t sure he wanted to.

Hell and damnation, his brief association with the mysterious Miz Magnolia was altering his life in ways he hadn’t anticipated. He couldn’t deal with her without being affected by her. Furthermore, he’d only had to worry about protecting his own hide for years. Now he was saddled with an incompetent female who naturally attracted trouble and didn’t know how to handle it effectively.

He had to be capable enough to protect her, as well as himself. Yep, he decided on his way down the steps. He definitely had to teach that helpless female several self-defense maneuvers or he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night, wondering who’d be waiting to molest her when she struck off on her own in the West.

His life had suddenly become complicated, he realized, as he hiked off down the street to collect his dog and ensure that Sarah’s attacker was carted off to jail.

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!