Harper's Bride (33 page)

He sat on the edge of the mattress and stared
at her, incredulous, wondering if he'd ever really known her.
"Don't you realize that there's nothing left between us? I don't
care what your reason was—you broke off our engagement to marry my
brother, Elizabeth, for money. There are some pretty ugly words for
women like you."

"Oh? And who is Melissa?" she demanded,
flipping her hair behind one shoulder. "Your wife?"

Startled, he realized he must have called her
name in his sleep. "None of your business. Look, you just get back
to your own bedroom."

Making no attempt to cover herself, she rose
to her knees and looked at him with her big, dark eyes. "Dylan,
think how it was between us. Don't you remember those nights I came
to you in your rooms over the stables? Sometimes you were so
satisfied when we finished, you couldn't move. We could have all
that again. I never stopped loving you. And you loved me once—we
can start over, from the beginning."

He shook his head, hardly believing his own
ears. "What makes you suppose I want you?"

"Think," she continued as if he hadn't
spoken. "If we married, we could restore this house and the grounds
to their past glory. You'd have horses back in the stables
again."

"Are you crazy? This is the last house I'd
want to live in. And you're the last woman I'd want to live with!"
He jumped off the mattress and reached for his pants and shirt, so
furious he was almost afraid to say anything more.

"Are you leaving?" Her lower lip was actually
trembling. Finally, she drew the sheet up to cover herself.

"Yes, damn it, of course I'm leaving." He
jammed his arms through his shirtsleeves. "And I've got one
proposition for you, Elizabeth, so you'd better listen. I'll make a
settlement on you so that you can move out of here and get a new
start somewhere else. Or you can wait here and let me buy you out
when the county puts this house up for sale. If you do that, you
won't get a dime from me. But make no mistake—I'll get this place
one way or the other."

She clutched the sheet to herself. "But you
said you don't want to live here."

"I don't."

She reached for his arm. "Are you doing this
just to spite me? Dylan, don't be a fool. I could make you
happy."

He disentangled his arm and pulled on his
boots. "Elizabeth, spite hasn't got a thing to do with it. You're
nothing more than a beautiful viper. You did me a favor by marrying
Scott. Christ, I actually feel sorry for him."

"Where will you go? What are you going to
do?"

He walked toward the door to the hall, then
turned to look at her. "I almost made the biggest mistake of my
life a few days ago, and tomorrow night I'm going to catch a boat
back to Portland to see if I can fix it. In the meantime, I'm
staying at the hotel in town. I'll give you till noon to let me
know your decision. If you decide to take me up on my offer,
there'll be ten thousand dollars in the bank in your name by
tomorrow afternoon."

"T-ten th-thousand . . . ten thousand
dollars?"

"It'll be the best money I ever spent."

"Mrs. Logan, is this all you have in the
world?" Sarah Keller gestured at the few bundles piled on Melissa's
empty parlor floor. She'd brought a basket of warm bread and fresh
butter as a welcoming gift. Rectangles of burnished October sun
gleamed on the polished hardwood and reflected off the light
striped wallpaper, making the room bright and cheerful. But there
was no way to disguise its lack of furnishings.

Melissa smiled and rocked Jenny in her arms.
"I know it doesn't look like much, but I think it's safe to say
that most people left the Yukon with a lot less than they arrived
with. I have clothes for Jenny and a few things for myself. And of
course, she has her cradle to sleep in. As soon as my new furniture
is delivered, the house will look more lived in."

The older woman gaped at her. "But what about
you? Where will you sleep in the meantime?"

"I have the bedding—at least that much was
delivered. I'll sleep on the floor until the rest of the things get
here." Melissa honestly didn't mind. Solitude wasn't what she'd
wanted, but since it had been thrust upon her, she was determined
to make the best of it now.

"Oh, dear, no. You must come to my house and
stay. I'll make the girls double up for a night or two, and you can
have one of their beds."

The memory of warm wolf hides flashed across
Melissa's mind before she had a chance to push it away. If Dylan
didn't stop haunting her thoughts, she worried that her heart would
never heal. She put a hand on Sarah's arm. "I appreciate it, but
really it isn't necessary. On the trip to Dawson, I was expecting
Jenny and I slept in a tent. Everyone camped in tents. In fact, she
was born in one during a blizzard, weren't you, button?"

Jenny was far more fascinated by the tiny
earrings Melissa wore than anything her mother said, but Mrs.
Keller made a horrified noise.

"Lordy, how terrible! I had no idea— But at
least you had Mr. Logan with you then. It's so tragic that you lost
him."

Remembering that awful night with vivid
clarity, she said nothing. Coy had left her in the care of an
Indian woman, and had gone off to gamble and get drunk. The
blank-faced woman, who spoke almost no English, had been more
frightening than a comfort. Melissa had been sure she would
die—she'd never been so scared or lonely in her life. And she never
wanted to be in that spot again.

She shifted Jenny to her hip. "Maybe it won't
be easy to make it by myself—I think the world can be very cruel to
women alone. But believe me, there are far worse situations a woman
can find herself in. We'll be all right. Making sure Jenny grows up
in a safe, loving home is the only thing that matters now."

Mrs. Keller gave her a searching look, then
nodded. "I've survived with just my girls, so I know it can be
done. I hope you won't be too lonely, though." She sighed. "Some
nights are a year long."

Melissa drew a deep breath. "But loneliness
doesn't leave bruises or scars. At least not the kind you can
see."

*~*~*

Dylan made his way back to town in the
darkness, blessing Penelope for her calm plodding every step of the
way. After turning her loose in Red's corral, he went back to the
hotel and tried to sleep, but he only tossed and turned.

At least he was alone in the bed, he thought
sourly. If he'd held any ragged remnants of esteem for Elizabeth,
she'd erased them with the little stunt she'd pulled at the house.
Why he'd never seen through her before remained a mystery to him.
But if everything finally went the way he'd like, he'd have just
one last dealing with her.

The single good thing that had come of seeing
her again was he'd realized what a fool he'd been to let Melissa
go. He loved her—and now he believed that she loved him too. She
had good reason to be afraid of being dependent on a man, but he
could prove to her that he was worthy of her trust. They belonged
together. Somewhere toward morning, Dylan rose and sat by the
window to watch the sun come up, edgy with anticipation. He had
plans, great plans, wonderful plans, for the land here. He would
bring Melissa and Jenny home to it yet.

As the morning grew older, Dylan paced his
room like a restless dog, waiting for word. Sometimes he'd go to
the window and look down at the street, hoping to see Elizabeth
approach. Then he'd go back to pacing. He must have pulled out his
watch a hundred times to check the hour. At twelve-ten he flopped
into a chair. Well, damn it, they could have done this the easy
way—easy for both of them, and certainly less humiliating for her.
But if the sheriff had to get involved, then so be it.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.
Dylan strode across the room in three steps and found a boy
standing in the hall.

"Mr. Harper? Are you Mr. Harper?"

He nodded.

The boy whipped an envelope out from behind
his back and thrust it into Dylan's hands. "A lady downstairs paid
me a quarter to deliver this to you. So I went to the front desk
and asked what room—"

Dylan dug into his jeans pocket and pulled
out a silver dollar. "Here, son, I'll give you a dollar for doing a
good job."

The youngster's eyes lit up as he stared at
the coin. "Gee, thanks a lot!"

"Go buy yourself some candy," Dylan called
after him as he ran down the hall.

He looked at the creamy envelope and his name
written in Elizabeth's flowing script, and his hands actually shook
a little. He ripped open the flap and pulled out a single sheet of
vellum that smelled faintly of roses.

Dear Dylan—

I accept your generous offer to move from
this house. I think I can be out within the month. Please believe
me when I tell you I didn't want to hurt you by marrying Scott. But
I have a lifetime to review my regrets.

Love,

Elizabeth

"Yeah, a lifetime and ten thousand dollars.
That makes it a little easier, doesn't it?" he said to her
handwriting.

By four o'clock that afternoon, Dylan had
made the bank deposit and was standing on the dock, waiting to
board a steamship bound for Portland. The biggest challenge of his
life lay at the other end of this journey.

He hoped he was ready for it.

*~*~*

Melissa stood in her parlor, critically
studying the location of her new settee, and shook her head. She
looked up at the two burly draymen who'd delivered it to her. "I'm
really sorry, but do you think you could put it back the way we had
it before? I promise this will be the last time. Really." Jenny
watched everything from her cradle with an expression of solemn
curiosity.

She heard a muffled sigh, but they picked up
the settee and carried it back to the bay window, turning it so
that it faced the street.

"Oh, much better. Thank you for your help!
Would you like some lemonade before you go?"

The older of the two said, "No, ma'am, but
thanks. We've got two more stops to make before lunch. We'll have
to come back this afternoon with that lamp we left at the
store."

"That's fine. Just so I have it by
evening."

They left then, and Melissa went to the
doorway to admire the room and its new furnishings. They weren't
fancy, but they looked very good in this house. Everything was
clean and bright and newly painted.

"What do you think, button. Isn't this
nice?"

Jenny smiled at her and waved both arms.

This was a new beginning for her and Jenny,
too. Not one that she'd wanted, but given time, Melissa hoped she
might stop thinking about Dylan twice an hour. Maybe she'd
eventually be able to think about him twice a day, and then once a
day. She might even be able to sleep nights without seeing him in
her dreams, or feeling as if he still lay next to her. As it was
now, sometimes she woke up in the darkness certain that if she put
out her hand, she'd find him on his side of the bed. He was the
only loose end left in her life. She'd taken care of everything
else.

Thank God Pa didn't know where she'd moved
to.

That was the one fear she had, that he'd
somehow find her and try to drag her back to Slabtown, or demand
money from her.

For now, though, her life was as good as it
could be without Dylan. She and Jenny were well and happy, they had
good neighbors in Mrs. Keller and her daughters, each of whom
competed with the others to hold Jenny, and they had money.

It wasn't until she moved into this house
that Melissa had found a poke in Jenny's clothes. She knew Dylan
had hidden it there, probably supposing that she wouldn't accept it
from him otherwise. And he'd been right. But since he'd left it
with Jenny's things, she intended to use part of it to open a bank
account for the baby. Added to what she'd already accumulated in
Dawson, the gold would keep them comfortable and safe for a good
long time.

*~*~*

Carrying a bouquet he'd bought from a cart on
the street, Dylan walked into the lobby of the Portland Hotel and
approached the front desk. Once again, he turned some heads, but he
took little note of their rude curiosity. He felt all the nervous
anticipation of a boy plotting his first kiss. On the trip
downriver, he'd envisioned the scene— The surprise on Melissa's
face when she opened her door, and the joy. She'd be so glad to see
him that she'd fall into his arms and save him the agony of having
to bare his soul to her with words. Or maybe being with her again
would make it easy to tell her how much he loved her. He'd tell her
whatever she wanted him to if she would only be his true, legal
wife. He'd happily spend the rest of his life making up for
everything she'd missed.

He didn't recognize the desk clerk behind the
counter—what kind of reception would he get this time?

"May I help you, sir?" The tone was a bit
brittle, but not downright hostile.

"My wife, Mrs. Dylan Harper, is a guest in
the hotel. Could you ring her room and tell her I'm on my way
up?"

The clerk glanced down at Dylan's knife and
blanched. "Well, sir, you see, Mr.
Harper . . . "

Foreboding washed over him like a powerful
wave. Feeling as if his stomach were trying to grab his ankles,
Dylan put both elbows on the countertop. "What's the matter?"

"I'm afraid your wife checked out
yesterday."

"Checked out! Are you sure?" It never
occurred to him that Melissa would leave the hotel so soon. He'd
supposed that she'd want to stay there for a month or so and let
the staff pamper her a bit.

The clerk nodded. "She paid her bill and left
with your daughter. I handled the matter myself."

"What forwarding address did she give
you?"

The clerk swallowed hard and looked as if he
wished he could crawl into one of the pigeonholes behind him.
"None, I'm afraid, Mr. Harper." Obviously, he thought that Dylan
was an abandoned husband.