Jane Bonander (23 page)

He held her loosely in the circle of his arms. “And I want to help you forget the past.”

She focused on his chin, unable to meet his gaze.
He feels sorry for me
. She rested her head against his chest, her throat so tight with topsy-turvy emotions that she could hardly breathe. He hadn’t told her what she’d wanted to hear.

“Well,” she said, keeping her voice light, “how can I refuse an offer like that?”

“I’ll make you happy, Susannah.”

“Oh, Nathan, you already have.” Tears impaired her vision. Standing on tiptoe, she draped her arms over his shoulders and kissed him.
And I’ll love you enough for both of us
.

Susannah finished the letter to Lillian Graves, in which she’d apologized again for leaving Angel’s Valley so abruptly. She’d tried to explain as little as possible, yet knew Lillian would understand if she mentioned Nathan and the ranch. She felt a wash of guilt at not having written her sooner.

She sealed the envelope, put it on the table, then gently touched the ivory silk fabric she’d purchased for her wedding dress. Her fingertips barely grazed it, for she was afraid she’d snag it. She and Louisa had gone into town and gotten it the day before.

“I shouldn’t have bought this, Louisa. I could wear the one I wore to the dance back in Angel’s Valley. It’s perfectly fine.”

“Hush that talk,” Louisa scolded. “The man says for you to get somethin’ pretty, an’ you got somethin’ pretty.”

Susannah continued to gaze at it. She’d fallen in love with it immediately. The bolt of silk had almost stood on end and waved at her when she stepped into the store. “How do I know he can afford this? I should have paid for it myself.” She gently drew the back of her hand across the beautiful fabric again.

“That’s nonsense, Honeybelle. A man wouldn’t feel right lettin’ his bride who has no family pay for her own dress, leastwise not Mister Nathan.”

“But I’ve got a little money, Louisa. And I keep forgetting about Harlan’s strongbox. Who knows, maybe those papers are worth something.” She worried her thumbnail with her teeth.

“They prob’ly ain’t worth the paper they’re printed on,” Louisa scoffed.

The longer Susannah stared at the fabric, the sicker she felt. It was natural for her to daydream; she’d done it most of her life. From the moment she’d seen the ivory silk, the dress she wanted to make from it became clear in her mind. She saw the silk fringe, the crepe de chine trim and the bishop sleeves, even the knotted band at the waist. The perfect wedding gown.

Turning away, she pulled in a quiet sigh. It was silly. It was wasteful. She couldn’t do it. But she knew she’d get an argument if she said anything to anyone. She’d have to find a way to return it herself, and while she was in town, perhaps go to the bank and see if the papers in the strongbox were worth anything.

Glancing up, she caught Louisa’s questioning gaze. “I’m sorry, Louisa. Did you say something?”

Louisa shook her head. “That man gonna want to wait till you make that dress? I’ve seen the way he ogles you. Lan’ sakes, Honeybelle, I think he’ll explode if you make him wait too long.”

She briefly lowered her gaze to hide her smile. Nathan had vowed not to touch her again until they were wed. She’d thought it was a sweet, if misplaced, gesture. The hunger in his eyes was proof of that. So she wouldn’t give her plans away, she answered, “I guess he’ll just have to now, won’t he?”

When Louisa left her to stir the pot of soup that had been simmering on the stove, Susannah ventured into Nathan’s bedroom. After all, she thought, shoving aside the feeling that she was intruding, it would soon be hers, too.

Standing just inside the doorway, she let her gage wander over the room. The furnishings were expensive. Even with her scant knowledge of furniture, she could tell that much. The bed, a large mahogany and pine four-poster, appeared at one time to have had a canopy, although now it was plain, and the coverlet a simple heavy quilt. An exquisite Chinese shaving stand occupied the wall next to the window and a mahogany and pine dressing table was tucked away in a corner, dusty from years of neglect. A mahogany chest-on-chest was next to it, one drawer slightly ajar. Beside the built-in country wardrobe, there was a blanket chest.

Susannah inched her way into the room, feeling like an intruder. She went to the bed and stared at where Nathan slept. The indentation on his pillow drew her gaze, and she pulled the pillow from the bed, lifting it to her face, drawing in a breath.

Clutching it to her, she crossed to the blanket chest, curious to know what was stored there. In the first two drawers, she found folded sheets and quilts, but in the bottom one, beneath an extra pillow, she discovered yards of soft pink netting.

She tossed the pillow aside then took the fabric from the drawer, unfolding it on the bed. She expelled a soft sigh. It was lovely—and it must have been Judith’s.

She wondered if she dared use it. Would Nathan even know? Probably not. Would he care? That, she didn’t know. But it would be so practical. . . . She heard the kitchen door close, then Nathan’s voice, and she folded the material and laid it back in the drawer.

“There you are.”

Despite her feelings of guilt, the sound of his voice sent her heart soaring. “Nathan!” She shut the drawer, drew up the edge of her apron and began wiping off the top of the chest. “I thought you and Kito were fixing the roof over the barn.”

He watched her, a frown nicking his forehead. “We ran out of shingles.”

She dropped the hem of her apron and went to him, relieved when he folded her in his arms. She pressed her nose against his shirt, smelling traces of the brisk, cold air that mingled with his scent. “You’d better get in to buy more before the rains come.”

“Will I have to put up with a bossy wife?”

He was teasing, but there was something else in his voice she couldn’t put her finger on. She traced the crooked line of his nose.

“I hope you’re not angry that I’m in here.”

“Of course not,” he answered, his eyes warm. “Do whatever you want to with the room. You deserve that much. And more.”

Her finger moved down over his lips to the bearded stubble that grew over the cleft in his chin. She kissed that spot, then let her lips rest there.

“I don’t want to do anything with it, Nathan. I just wanted to see where . . . where—”

“Where we would eventually sleep?” When she nodded, he drew her closer. “I want you naked in my bed now, but I want to make an honest woman of you first. I also understand that you might want to get rid of Judith’s things—”

“Shhh,” she said, placing her finger over his mouth. “We don’t have to worry about that now. It’s more important that you get your outside work done before the rains come. I won’t have you getting sick on me.” Being in his arms triggered her desire, and she pressed close. He was hard beneath his fly.

He lifted her chin with a finger and kissed her with hungry urgency. She opened her mouth, and the kiss deepened further. They both shook with need.

With a sharp groan, he pulled away and gazed at her, his eyes dark with desire. “I must have been crazy to vow not to make love to you.”

They rubbed against each other, heightening the pressure.

“Can’t we move the wedding up? Like say, to tomorrow?”

Laughter danced on the fringes of his lips and in his eyes, but she knew he was serious.

“This abstinence was your noble idea, not mine. And anyway, my dress is nowhere near ready.” She reached between them and cradled him in her palm.

He sucked in a breath. “I’ve said it before, woman. I’ll give you an hour to stop that.”

Memories of their lovemaking in the water aroused her so, she nearly climaxed where she stood. “In an hour, we’d both be naked.”

He stilled her hand, bringing it to his mouth and kissing her palm. “Inside of a minute we’d both be naked. Now,” he said, kissing her again, “if I don’t step away from you, I’ll go back on my word. I never do that, no matter how much it hurts. And believe me,” he added, briefly pressing her hand to his groin again, “it hurts like hell.”

Picking up his jacket, he gave her one last heated gaze before going to the door.

“Nathan?” When he turned, she asked, “You will be able to finish your work before the rains come, won’t you?”

Again, something flashed in his eyes. “That’s not something you should worry about, Susannah.”

Frowning, she watched him leave. The lumber that had been in the yard when she first got there was gone; she hadn’t seen them use it. She was curious to know what had happened to it. She left the bedroom and returned to the kitchen, the ivory silk fabric still lying on the table.

With gentle fingers, she caressed it, lost in thought. Suddenly she understood.

She found Louisa in the room where Corey slept. He’d just awakened from his nap and she was changing his clothes.

“Do you mind watching him for a while?”

“’Course not, Honeybelle. Where you goin’?”

“I have a letter to mail, plus a few other things to buy. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Mister Nathan know you’re goin’?”

“No, and please don’t bother him. I’ll take Nub with me.” She bent down and kissed Corey. “Be a good boy for Louisa, sweetheart.”

“You’re up to somethin’, Honeybelle, and I don’t think I like it.”

“Don’t be silly. In my excitement to get the material for my gown, I forgot something. I can’t start sewing on it until I get it. And as long as I’m in town, I might as well mail the letter to Lillian.”

Feigning nonchalance, she went to the corner where she’d stored her things, opened the strongbox and stuffed the contents into her apron pocket. She went to the door, blew them both an exaggerated kiss, and left the room. After pulling on her old cape, she slipped into her gloves and snatched up her parcel and the letter, then left the house. Once in the buckboard, she transferred the papers from her apron pocket to her purse. She left before anyone could ask her where she was going.

W
ith her purse and her parcel pressed close to her chest, Susannah left the bank, the president’s words still ringing in her ears. The contents of the strongbox, some Texas cattle shares and other papers, had added up to a small fortune.

In spite of her elation, she cursed Harlan Walker. All the years they’d been married he’d pinched every penny. He’d taken her earnings as a seamstress, claiming them for his own, forcing her to hide some of it from him so she could buy sewing supplies. They’d nearly lived in squalor, and she’d just taken him at his word that they were poor. Fool that she’d been, she hadn’t thought twice about the many nights he was out drinking and playing cards with his cronies, or how much money he’d spent on his own personal entertainment. She tried not to let the past eat at her, though. She was excited about her new wealth and was so anxious to tell Nathan about it that she could almost forgive Harlan for hiding it from her.

As she hurried across the street to the mercantile, she realized that now, although she could afford the ivory silk, she wasn’t sure she wanted to spend Nathan’s money or her own on it. For too many years she’d been conditioned to scrimp. Considering what had to be done to the ranch, she couldn’t justify spending an exorbitant amount of money on a dress.

The little bell over the door tinkled as she entered the shop and the aroma of freshly ground coffee seduced her. The owner, Mr. Glass, glanced up from the corner where he was sorting mail.

“Hello, again, ma’am. Didn’t get everything you needed yesterday?”

Clutching her parcel to her chest, she crossed to the counter. She pulled out the letter to be mailed and handed it to him. “I’ve had second thoughts about it, I’m afraid.”

He dropped the letter in a big canvas bag and frowned, concerned. “Something wrong with the material?”

“Oh, no. No, it isn’t that. I . . .” Mr. Glass had spoken so kindly of Nathan, she realized that he’d known him for years. She decided to be frank. “I just feel guilty. It seems so, well, frivolous, to spend his money this way.”

Mr. Glass began slipping letters into the slots on the wall. “Money didn’t exchange hands, young lady. We made a trade.”

“Really? What did he trade?”

The storekeeper peered at her over the top of his spectacles. “He brought me some prime lumber.”

Susannah pressed her hand to her throat. “Lumber? Oh, no.” So that’s where it had gone. “Oh, Mr. Glass. I can’t let him do that. He needs the lumber far worse than I need a silk wedding dress.”

Mr. Glass gave her a private closed-in smile. “You’re not much like Lady Judith, are you?”

“Lady Judith?”

He dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. “Didn’t mean to defame the dead, but Judith Wolfe went through Nathan’s money like blackbirds on a feeding frenzy. And he let her do it.”

Susannah couldn’t abide gossips. She felt a strange need to defend Nathan’s late wife, even though she’d heard similar complaints from Nub. “I heard she was very ill. Surely she—”

“Yes, she was a sick one, all right. But from where I stood, it appeared to me that she played it for all it was worth.”

Desperate to change the subject, Susannah asked, “Well, would you mind if I exchanged the fabric for the lumber? And . . . could you maybe throw in some shingles? Please?”

He studied her. “You sure that’s what you want?”

“I’m sure, Mister Glass. And the sooner the better, all right? There’s a leak in the barn roof that just
must
be fixed before the rains come.”

“Of course,” he answered, giving her a strange smile. “You got someone with you who could load it into the wagon?”

“No, I’m afraid not. I . . . I came in alone.” She’d lied to Louisa about asking Nub to take her; she hadn’t wanted anyone to know what she was doing.

“I’ll take care of it then, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Mr. Glass. I have a few other errands to run. I’ll return in less than an hour. Will that be enough time to find someone to load it up?”

“Sure will.” He chuckled and returned to his task, enjoying some private amusement.

Susannah left the store, thinking about the impression that Judith Wolfe had made on the storekeeper. In spite of the fact that the woman was dead, Susannah found she was angry with her for taking advantage of Nathan. Slowly, a picture of Judith Wolfe began to form in Susannah’s head, and she couldn’t help but feel guilty about it, for Judith’s selfishness came through as one of her strongest qualities.

As she passed the bank, she instinctively clutched her purse closer, as if guarding her newly found wealth.

“Well, well. Hello, Susannah.”

She stopped midstride, her heart racing. “Sonny,” she whispered, a shiver scooting down her spine.

“I’ve been searching for you,” he began conversationally. He moved from behind her to face her. His eyes, often so dark and empty, held a strange fire. “Nate Wolfe is a hard man to find. You
are
staying with him, aren’t you?”

Susannah shot a frantic gaze toward the street, alternately upset and relieved that she’d come in alone. “I . . . I suppose you’ve already told the sheriff what I did, and that I’m here.” Her fear made her babble.

Taking her arm, he steered her down the street. “Oh, I won’t turn you in, Susannah, not as long as you give me what I want.”

She tried to tug her arm away, but he held it fast. Suddenly having learned her own worth, she understood why he wanted her. “You’ve come all this way for nothing, Sonny. I don’t have anything you want,” she said with false bravado.

He chuckled, an evil, familiar sound. “I have a room at the hotel. I’d advise you not to make a scene here on the street, or I
will
tell the sheriff you’re wanted in Missouri for the murder of your dear, departed husband.”

“It was self-defense and you know it,” she managed to say, trying not to stumble as he hurried her along the plank board sidewalk. “And I’m not even sure he was dead when I left.”

“Really?” he asked smoothly. “What would make you think that?”

“Someone—” She was hesitant to use Louisa’s name. “I was told that when they came to . . . to remove the body, it was gone.”

“Ah,” he said. “No doubt that nigger whore you were so close to. She’d say anything to make you feel better, don’t you know that by now?”

The thought had crossed Susannah’s mind She’d been certain Harlan was dead; any reprieve was welcome.

They entered the hotel and Sonny smiled, tipping his hat at a couple who passed them at the door. Susannah knew only too well that behind that charming smile lay a clever, evil man. She had no idea what he would do, but she expected the worst. It made her stomach churn.

He stopped at the desk, his fingers pinching the soft flesh of her upper arm. “My key, if you please.” Again, his voice exuded charm, causing the man behind the desk to throw them both a lascivious smile.

Susannah’s skin crawled, and had the man really studied her, he’d have seen the fear in her eyes.

She managed to take the stairs without tripping. When they arrived at his room, he carefully locked the door behind them, pocketing the key. He tossed his fawn-colored Stetson onto the bed, then ran his long fingers through his golden hair, his gaze never leaving her face.

“I didn’t think you could get more beautiful, Susannah, but I was wrong.”

She hoped she was successful in hiding her revulsion. Sonny was a contradiction and had always been one. Outwardly, he was suave, immaculate, well dressed and cut a handsome figure. Inside, he was evil and ugly. Harlan, on the other hand, had been evil, ugly and dirty both inside and out. He hadn’t the brains to pretend he was something he wasn’t. She shuddered, remembering . . .

“Let me take your cape—”

“No,” she said firmly, clutching it to her, hiding her purse beneath it.

He moved away, his arms up in a gesture of resignation. “All right, but you might as well sit down. You’ll be here for a while.” He waved a hand at the tufted velvet settee. She would have refused if her knees hadn’t been so weak. She sat, still holding her purse to her bosom.

“A drink?”

She shook her head, trying to stay calm.

“Oh, but surely you still take a drink now and then,” he mused, pouring one for himself.

“You know I don’t drink, Sonny. It makes me quite ill.”

He still studied her, swirling the amber liquid in a crystal snifter, a smirk lurking at the corners of his mouth. “I can remember when you liked a little drink, Susannah.”

Feeling like a scrubwoman next to him, she nervously smoothed the folds of her patched and wrinkled calico skirt. His tone was conversational, yet she knew Sonny well and realized it was a trick he used to catch people off guard before he attacked. But she knew what he was doing; he was a master of intimidation and innuendo. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Remember Ma’s funeral?”

A frown nicked Susannah’s brow. “Of course. How could I forget?”

He smiled, his expression carnal. “I knew you’d remember.”

Susannah didn’t understand. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“You
do
remember that Harlan suffered from a severe case of the mumps some years before we took you in, don’t you, Susannah?”

It was the information Sonny had used to poison Nathan against her. She fought for control. “I remember hearing about it, yes, but what’s that got to do with your mother’s funeral?”

He threw his head back, laughing quietly. “Do you remember the punch you drank afterward?”

A vague uneasiness settled inside her. “That was almost four years ago. You can’t expect me to remember that.”

He laughed again, but this time there was an edge to it. “Playing dumb doesn’t suit you, Susannah.”

Forcing strength into her legs, she stood. “I don’t have to listen to this—”

“Sit down, whore.”

His words were like a slap, but she refused to be intimidated. “Tell me what you want, Sonny. I have to return to the ranch.”

His suggestive gaze moved over her until the air between them was taut with friction. “Among other things, I want you.”

“Well, the last person on this earth I want,” she spat, “is
you
.”

He gave her a strange, almost ethereal, smile. “And I want my son.”

She stumbled, the edge of the settee catching her behind the knees. She dropped to the seat, straining to keep from showing her fear. “He’s not your son,” she answered, quietly but tightly.

Sonny poured himself another drink. “No? Oh, but he is, my darling.”

“Don’t . . . don’t call me that,” she answered vehemently.

He stalked her. “Maybe you should seduce me one more time so I can shoot my seed into you, like I did before. You wanted me once, Susannah. I can make you want me again.”

Her skin crawled and fear prickled her scalp, sinking into the roots of her hair. “I never wanted you.”

He stood over her, his eyes never leaving her face, his eyelids heavy. “You have a birthmark in a very delicate place, Susannah.”

Her heart leaped, but she kept her face passive. “A lot of people have birthmarks,” she answered, although her voice shook.

His grin was frightful. “Ah, but yours is directly below your navel, hidden so slightly in the silky reddish brown hair that covers your—”

“Stop it!” She turned away from him, her head throbbing and blood pounding in her ears.

From somewhere behind her he asked, “How would I know that, Susannah, if I hadn’t seen it for myself?”

Her teeth chattered and she clamped her jaw tightly. Her mind was cluttered with thoughts that still just skirted the hem of her memory, but she was beginning to feel a horrible sense of panic.

“Harlan
was
sterile, Susannah. Why do you think you never had another child?”

“Just lucky, I guess,” she said as glibly as possible, but her throat was so tight she was barely able to speak.

He chuckled, sounding truly amused. “He wanted a child. Well, more importantly, he wanted a son. He asked me to do the honors, and faithful brother that I was—”

“I don’t believe you,” she hissed, turning to glare at him. “I might have hated Harlan, but I loathed and despised you.”

His eyes were dead. Empty. “But when you’re drunk, you become your mother, did you know that?”

The Sonny of her nightmares leaped into her head, unraveling the fabric of safety that had protected her for years, exposing a truth that she didn’t want to face.

Sonny leaned so close she could smell his breath. She gagged at the familiar, cloying aroma, pressing her fingers to her mouth. “What . . . what’s that you’re drinking?”

“Why, the same thing we were drinking the night after Ma’s funeral, Susannah. Don’t you remember how much you liked it? Don’t you remember?”

It was the same odor from her nightmares. It was the sickening smell that clung to her nostrils each time she woke from one.

A flash of memory had her on a bed, both brothers standing over her. She remembered floating, slightly dizzy and nauseous from the sweet drink they’d given her. Then Sonny was on top of her, pushing himself inside . . .

She swallowed the bile that had climbed her throat and rested behind her tongue. She swallowed again and again until she could finally speak. “You raped me.”

He raised a tawny eyebrow. “Rape, Susannah?”

She closed her eyes, but when the vision materialized as vividly as if it had happened yesterday, she opened them, blinking furiously to keep the tears at bay. “You . . .” She swallowed again. “You ripped off my clothes. My . . . my only dress . . . the buttons went flying . . .”

Emotion thickened in her throat and she couldn’t speak, she could only remember the horror, the fear, the pain, the smell . . .

“You weren’t a virgin, of course, but I liked to pretend you were. I enjoyed touching you, kissing your birthmark. It’s the shape of a crescent—”

“Stop it!” She covered her ears, refusing to listen, praying the banging of her heart would drown out the sound of his voice.

He sat beside her, his fingers caressing her knee. “Your body responded like the true daughter of a whore that you are, Susannah. Your mother, Fiona, faked it,” he said on a sigh. “Harlan could never tell, but I could.”