Jane Bonander (24 page)

She huddled on the settee, trying to curl herself into a ball, to protect that which he’d defiled almost four years before. “You would have had to get me drunk, you bastard. There was no way I’d have let you touch me otherwise.”

“Convince yourself of that, Susannah. I’m sure it makes you feel better. But now,” he added, still caressing her knees, “we have a son. That aside, I’m also entitled to everything that’s in my brother’s strongbox.”

“Was that what Harlan left me in his will?”

He barked a laugh. “You? He left you nothing.”

Whether it was the truth or not, she didn’t care. But she wasn’t about to hand him the certificates, either.

He misread her silence. “Don’t feel too badly, Susannah. Harlan may not have wanted to give you anything, but I’m perfectly willing to share. Besides,” he added, “I’m anxious to get you into my bed again.”

She pinned him with a hateful glare. “I’d tell you I’d have to be dead first, but obviously, since you raped me when I was drunk, you probably wouldn’t notice the difference.”

He gave her a look of mock despair. “Ah, Susannah, you wound me.”

She flung his hand off her knee and turned farther from him. “Nothing would please me more,” she answered on a hiss of breath.

He stood, crossed to the sideboard and poured himself another drink “The courts have decreed that whatever belonged to Harlan is now mine, and—”

“I don’t believe you,” she interrupted.

He swirled the drink around in the glass. “Shall we go to the sheriff? Think about it, Susannah. With just a word from me, you’ll go to jail. And that precious, curly haired child you protect with such vengeance will be mine—to do with as I please.”

Her stomach roiled and her head continued to throb. She pressed her fingers against her temples.
Think
. She had to think. The threat of the sheriff made her quake, for although she could maintain until she was blue in the face that she’d killed Harlan in self-defense, no one would believe her. But worst of all, if she went to jail, Corey would be given to Sonny. It wouldn’t matter whether he was the child’s father or not, he was Harlan’s brother, therefore next of kin.

The threat of losing her child was stronger than anything he could do to her and he knew it. “If you so much as touch Corey, I’ll kill you.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Susannah, Susannah. Why are you fighting me so? To avoid this, all you have to do is bring me the strongbox, and you, your son and I can live in luxury.”

She turned away so he couldn’t see her face. “I . . . I gave Nathan the strongbox to hold for safekeeping. I don’t want him to become suspicious—”

“Just get it, or you’ll spend the rest of your life behind bars. Actually, I think I’d make a rather grand father,” he speculated.

He moved behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. Snakelike feelings slithered over her skin. “You missed your calling, Susannah.” One hand stroked her neck, then her throat. “You’d have made a finer whore than your mother. High-class. Men would have paid much for you.”

“I’m not—” She tried to move away, but his fingers gripped her throat, threatening to cut off her air.

“Don’t pretend to be such a pious priss, Susannah. I clearly remember the look on your face as I rubbed that sweet spot between your legs. The look changed from one of fear to total and complete . . . rapture,” he finished, leaning over and whispering the word into her ear.

The smell of the drink made her want to vomit, and she fought it. “No! I—” She gasped as he pressed against her windpipe.

“Deny it if you can, but I know what you really are.”

She clawed at his fingers until he finally let go, then she stood, gasping for breath, gripping the arm of the settee for support. “Then why in the bloody hell would you want me?”

His eyes were filled with lusty promise. “That should be quite obvious. Now,” he said, “bring me Harlan’s strongbox, Susannah. If you don’t, I’ll tell the sheriff where you are and you’ll lose that precious son of yours.”

Her shoulders sagged in defeat and she quickly shored herself up again. Short of giving in to him, she knew nothing she said would change his mind, but she had to try.

“Nathan will help me, I know he will—”

Sonny’s derogatory snort cut her off. “He can’t help you. He double-crossed me, Susannah. He’s harboring a fugitive. Hell, he’s in as much trouble as you are. All I have to do is contact the sheriff—”

“No!” She didn’t want to drag Nathan into this. She was sorry she’d even mentioned his name

“I thought not,” he answered, pleased with his threats. He grabbed her from behind, clamping her to him. “And don’t think about doing me in, Susannah. I have a little insurance tucked away. Should anything happen to me, the truth about Harlan’s death will fall into the hands of the law.”

She fought her panic. “If you don’t let me leave right now, someone from the ranch will come searching for me.”

He released her and sighed. “Yes, you’re probably right. You won’t run from me again, though, will you?”

When she didn’t answer, he gripped her chin, pinching it hard between his fingers. “No matter where you run, Susannah, I’ll find you. Remember that.”

She tried to pull away, but he held her fast. Pain shot into her jaw. Refusing to be cowed, she glared at him, hating him more with each breath she took.

“I don’t like that look of defiance, Susannah. Just remember that if you cross me, I’ll put you away. And if that’s not threat enough, remember that when you’re locked away in some dirty, dusty jail, Corey will be with me.”

He shoved her away from him and strode to the window, appearing to study the street below.

An unsettling sense of dread shot through her as she nursed her jaw. His words were a bigger threat than the unexplainable bruise his touch would leave on her skin.

“You’re worse than Harlan ever was. He was just mean; you’re evil,” she answered with quiet hatred.

He turned, giving her a nasty smirk. “I do what I can.”

Uncontrollable stomach spasms left her weak. She felt pinned against a wall with no place to run. No escape possible. Turning toward the door, she said, “I need a few days to . . . figure this out.”

He moved from the window and stepped in front of her, unlocking the door. He opened it with a gentlemanly flourish that she knew was all show.

“By all means,” he said. “You have until the day after tomorrow.”

She stepped out into the hall and hurried down the stairs, clinging to the bannister for fear her legs would give out.

Somehow she managed to make it to the wagon. The lumber and a stack of shingles were piled neatly in the back. She pulled herself onto the seat and gripped the reins, the action halting her shaky fingers. Though she’d been in town less than two hours, it had felt like an eternity.

L
ouisa was waiting for her on the porch, her fists on her hips and her expression thunderous. “Where you been, you shameful girl?” She hurried beside the wagon as it creaked toward the barn. “You like to scared the wits out of us. An’ you were s’posed to take Nub with you. Why’d you go off alone, Honeybelle? With that pissant Sonny lurkin’ around, it ain’t safe for none of us.”

The ride back to the ranch had given Susannah plenty of time to think. She tried not to dwell on the vile memories surrounding Corey’s conception, but she couldn’t help it. She knew now that Sonny could be Corey’s father. And Nathan couldn’t help her. She knew he would if she asked him to, but it would only embroil him in a mess that was hers and hers alone. He was already in enough trouble because he’d not followed Sonny’s orders. And yes, he was harboring a fugitive—her.

She didn’t want to leave. It seemed she always ran when she couldn’t face things, but she didn’t know what else to do without getting Nathan into trouble. She loved him; she always would, and leaving him would be like cutting off a limb. But losing Corey would be like cutting out her heart. She couldn’t live without a heart.

Pasting on a gay smile, she stopped in front of the barn, hopped down and handed the reins to Jackson. Their new ranch hand, the breed McCloud, who had brought Jackson home, was teaching the boy how to handle the horses. She watched him unhitch the team and lead them into the enclosure.

“There’s too much to do around here to take Nub away for a few hours, Louisa. Nathan says it’s past time for the rains, and there’s still that leak in the roof. I learned to take care of myself a long time ago. I can’t start relying on others now.”

Louisa strained to look over the side of the wagon. “What’s that lumber and them shingles doin’ there?”

Susannah pulled her gloves off. “It’s to fix the leak in the roof.”

Casting her a suspicious glance, Louisa asked, “Where’d you get the money for that?”

She started for the house. “That’s not important. What’s important is getting things fixed around here before it starts to rain.”

Louisa studied her as they walked to the porch. “I been lookin’ for that fabric you bought yesterday. Can’t find it nowhere.”

“That’s because I took it back,” Susannah said softly.

Louisa gripped Susannah’s arm, stopping her. “You
what?
”

“I took it back.”

“But why?”

Susannah stepped into the house, Louisa still clinging to her arm. “We both know I don’t need such a lavish wedding dress.” As it turned out, she probably wouldn’t need a wedding dress at all. The thought made her ache.

Louisa gave her a disapproving sigh. “Mister Nathan tol’ you to buy it.”

“But, do you know what he used to pay for it?” When Louisa shook her head, Susannah said, “The lumber and the shingles that he’d planned on using to fix the barn.”

An expression of understanding relaxed Louisa’s face. “So that’s where it all went.”

“Yes. Now you understand why I couldn’t let him do that.”

“Oh, Honeybelle, that man must love you somethin’ awful.”

Susannah turned away. No, she thought, he just assumed that every woman was like Judith, their needs fulfilled by material things.

Louisa glanced out the window. “Speakin’ of that man . . .”

Susannah’s gaze followed hers, and she saw Nathan striding toward the house. He looked as though he’d eaten a thundercloud for lunch.

McCloud had informed him there were shingles and lumber in the back of the wagon when he and Jackson had pulled it into the shed. Damn it, he hadn’t even known Susannah had gone back into town.

He stormed into the house. Susannah’s cape was still over her shoulders and her gloves dangled from her fingers.

“What’s the lumber and shingles for?” He hadn’t meant to sound so angry, but he couldn’t take it back.

She removed her cape and hung it on the peg by the door. “It’s for the barn, silly.”

There was a nervous quaking in her voice, but he didn’t stop to analyze it. “How did you pay for them?”

She made a fuss over straightening the other coats on the pegs. “The same way you paid for my fabric.”

He frowned, letting her words sink in. “You know about that?”

She came and stood before him, her eyes wide, her face sweet. “I couldn’t keep that ivory silk, Nathan. I don’t
need
anything so grand. I’d feel guilty—”

“But I wanted you to have it,” he interrupted firmly.

“I know,” she said on a smile, then reached up to touch his chin. “That’s what made the gesture so special. But it wasn’t realistic. We . . . we needed the lumber and shingles far more than I need a fancy wedding gown.”

He couldn’t understand her. Women always liked expensive things. Giving them was the only way he could profess his love, for the words themselves always came hard. “But, Judith—”

She placed her fingers over his lips, quieting him. “I’m not Judith,” she said, emphasizing each word.

His anger dissipated, and he pulled her into his arms. She stiffened and removed his arms from her waist. Something was wrong. He shouldn’t have mentioned Judith’s name.

He watched her cross to the corner by the stove and pull a pair of Jackson’s overalls off the drying rack. “I shouldn’t have brought Judith into this. I’m sorry I mentioned her. It’s just that she was only happy when I bought her things.” He gave her a helpless shrug. “I guess I thought all women were like that.”

She continued to take clothes off the rack, fold them and put them on the table. “No, don’t apologize. It’s only natural for you to mention her.” She turned toward him, and he saw the pain in her eyes. “But I’m not Judith, Nathan. I would ask nothing from you but your love.”

He swung away, knowing he might lose her if he didn’t say the words. God, but they’d always come so hard. . . .

“I do love you, Susannah.” He turned toward her. “I love you and I want to marry you so you can’t ever leave me.”

Her eyes filled with tears and she pushed the drying rack to the floor as she ran from the room.

It wasn’t the reaction he’d expected.

He was still standing, puzzled, when Louisa came in from outside, her apron filled with squash from the garden.

“She musta tol’ you she took the material back,” she observed, studying his face.

Nodding, he answered, “She did. But I don’t understand her, Louisa.”

Louisa dumped the squash on the counter then planted her fists on her hips. “You say somethin’ to upset her? ’cause if you did, I’ll get Kito to rip your heart out through your mouth and don’t think he won’t.”

He listened to the rhythmic cadence of her words and wondered if he’d live the rest of his days under the threat of Kito’s brawn. Probably, he thought, with resigned sarcasm.

Louisa wiped her hands on her apron, then turned to clean the squash. “My Honeybelle ain’t had a pot to pee in all her life, Mister Nathan. She sewed for other people until her fingers bled. An’ she tried to squirrel a few pennies away, but that bastard Harlan always found her hidin’ places. Took her money and drank it up,” she said with a flourish of a knife “Or gambled it away.” She clucked her tongue angrily and cut the squashes in two, then scooped out the seeds. “If you ask me, I think she shoulda kept the ivory silk, but ’course no one asked me.”

She turned, two squash halves in her palms. “She loves you a heap to give up the chance for the dress of her dreams just so’s you can fix that blasted hole in the barn roof.”

He was beginning to realize that, but her reaction to his admission of love still mystified him. Something else was bothering her; he’d find out what it was or die trying.

Susannah sat on Corey’s bed and wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron. He loved her! Oh, God . . . he loved her. . . . It would have been hard enough to leave had he not said the words, but he had. And though she didn’t want to, she still had to take Corey and go away.

Was she a coward for running again? Perhaps. If she could think of any way to deal with this without involving Nathan, she would. But now that Jackson was home, and he and his father were getting along so beautifully, she refused to jeopardize either of them.

The door swung open, hitting the wall. Nathan stood in the doorway, the thunderous expression back on his face. He strode to her and stood over her, his thumbs hooked into his pockets.

“I want to know what in the hell is going on here.”

With a quick swipe of her fingers, she wiped the remaining moisture from her cheeks. “What do you mean?”

He lifted her chin, inadvertently touching her fresh bruise. She winced.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was sharp as he released her and sat down beside her on the bed.

“Nothing,” she answered, turning slightly away.

“Susannah.” His tone was threatening as he pulled her toward him.

She refused to look at him, but he gently lifted her chin again, this time examining it.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” she answered a bit too quickly. “It’s nothing, really.” She tried to avoid his intense gaze. “I’m . . . I just get emotional when I think about . . . about us.”

“No,” he argued. “It’s more than that. If there’s something wrong, Susannah, I want you to tell me. How can I help you if I don’t know what’s bothering you?”

“Oh, Nathan,” she said on a choking sob. “How I wish you could—”

“Damn it, Susannah, you’re scaring the hell out of me. Tell me what’s wrong.” He tried to fold her in his arms but she pulled away again.

She wanted to tell him. Oh, how desperately she wanted to! She put her hands over her face and pressed her fingers against her eyes. “You can’t help me, Nathan. No one can.”

He took her in his arms. This time she didn’t fight him. “Try me.”

She huddled against him, wondering what she would do if she no longer had his strength to rely on. She hadn’t wanted to involve him, but something stronger, maybe his admission of love, urged her to tell him everything.

“It’s Sonny,” she finally said.

He swore, holding her tighter. “I wondered when he’d show up. Tell me what happened.”

She did, from the moment Sonny stopped her outside the bank to the last frightening threat. She related his specific interest in the strongbox and the contents, and her exposure to the law for Harlan’s death if she didn’t comply with everything he wanted. And his threat to keep Corey and have her sent to prison if she didn’t submit to his every demand.

“And he could do that, Nathan,” she said, shoring up her nerve. “He—” She took a deep breath. “He could do that because . . .” Her lower lip quivered and she bit down on it, hard enough to cause herself pain. “. . . because he
is
Corey’s father.”

Nathan’s hand tensed on her shoulder. “What?”

She pulled away and curled into a ball on the bed. “At their mother’s funeral they got me drunk. Sonny . . . Sonny ripped off my clothes and . . . and raped me. I remember now. Oh, God, Nathan, for years I’ve been having these awful nightmares where Sonny raped me. And . . . and there was always this gagging smell, even after I’d wake up. But it wasn’t just a nightmare, Nathan, it happened. It really happened. It all rushed at me when I was in Sonny’s hotel room. He . . . he was drinking some vile, sweet drink—the same thing he made me drink after the funeral. I remember everything that happened. Everything.”

Tears stung her eyes again, and she dashed them away with her fists. “I won’t blame you if you don’t want me now. Everything you’d accused me of is true. And you can’t help me even if you wanted to. Not now.”

Nathan sat on the bed and stroked her shoulder. “Ah, Susannah. I love you to distraction and I’ll always want you. Once we’re married, Corey will be my son, too. And no court in the land would take the boy away from his mother.”

She swallowed, relieved. “Not even if she’s guilty of murder?”

“We’ll settle that one way or another, don’t you worry about it. But something’s been bothering me.” He pulled her to him again. “What’s in the strongbox?”

“Well,” she began, “I thought it was just a bunch of worthless papers, but I took them to the bank this afternoon and discovered they’re some kind of stock certificates and they’re worth a fortune. Can you imagine?”

Her purse was at the foot of the bed. She grabbed it and opened it. “Here. They’re all here.” She dug them out and shoved them at Nathan.

Nathan flipped through them, studying them. “You’re rich, Susannah.”

Hope stirred within her. “No.
We
are. And I’d wanted it to be my dowry, Nathan. We can fix up the ranch, we can—”

“This is what Sonny wants, isn’t it?”

Nodding, she answered, “He claims they were left to him. That they’re his.”

“And the only way he can get them from you is to threaten to expose you for killing Harlan.”

“But I
did
kill Harlan,” she answered, her face pinched with emotion.

“That’s been the consensus, hasn’t it?”

“It’s not a consensus, Nathan, it’s the truth.”

Nathan drew a few certificates from the pile and tapped them against his chin. “I’ve been thinking maybe we should go to the sheriff together and give him your side of the story.”

Fear and horror turned her blood to ice. “Oh, Nathan. I . . . I couldn’t. Sonny said he’s already told the sheriff what happened. He’s always had the law in his pocket, Nathan. It wouldn’t work. It wouldn’t do any good. They’d just put me away somewhere—”

He gripped her shoulders. “We’ve got to put an end to this, Susannah. You can’t go on living with it hanging over your head.”

Her throat tightened. “It’s better than a noose around my neck,” she managed to say.

He gently ran his fingers over her chin. “Sonny hurt you, didn’t he?”

She shrugged. “He . . . he pinched me.”

Nathan continued to stroke her face. “Do you love me?”

She softened, her eyes filling with tears again. “Oh, Nathan. You know I do.”

“Then you must trust me, Susannah.”

She pressed his fingers firmly against her cheek. “I want to, darling. But we don’t have much time. Sonny expects me to get back to him the day after tomorrow.”