Just This Once (10 page)

As if reading his thoughts, Latherby crossed
the aisle and coughed quietly. His voice was low, as if to keep the
girl from hearing.

“I’m sure I can imagine what you’re
thinking, my lord. Last night you made a mistake. But there is
still time to rectify it. You could take care of this, er,
situation
—leave the girl at the next stop, and find yourself
another... wife,” he whispered, throwing a glance over his shoulder
at the pale, brown-haired girl sitting stiff and upright in her
chair. “Someone more appropriate.”

“I could, could I?” A number of men had seen
that deadly glint in Ethan Savage’s eyes, but none of them had
lived to tell about it. Latherby took one look, swallowed hard, and
continued forthrightly.

“You c-could, indeed, sir. And if you
hesitate,” he rushed on, “I beg you to consider that your cousin,
the esteemed Mr. Winthrop, is no doubt walking through Stonecliff
Park at this very moment counting the rooms, all two hundred of
them. And noting on a ledger each stick of furniture which will
become his if you do not return and meet the terms of the
will.”

“He’s welcome to it. And you know what,
Latherby? You’re damned impertinent.”

Yet the solicitor’s words stirred something
inside him. It wasn’t only that he didn’t want Oliver to get his
hands on Stonecliff Park—though that was part of it. Oliver
Winthrop was a sniveling weasel who’d had a hand in what had
happened to Molly, and the last thing Ethan wanted was to see him
prosper. But it was more than that.

Stonecliff Park meant more than land and
money and gardens, more than ancestral paintings and crests, and
tapestries dating from the days of the Conqueror.

There were scores of people on the
property—housemaids, footmen, grooms, gardeners, cooks, scullery
maids, coachmen, and tenants—all of whose lives and incomes would
be affected by his father’s death. Of the old retainers he would
remember from his childhood, some had been more like family to him
than his own father and brother. And now they were depending on
him.

Their lives, he knew, would be better
entrusted to his own hands than to Oliver Winthrop’s pale,
limp-fish, greedy ones.

He’d never thought to have the
responsibility of rank and property and title—as a younger son it
had never been a fixture of his future. Now circumstances had
brought the unwanted responsibility to rest squarely upon his
shoulders.

And as tempted as he was, Ethan was
beginning to realize he couldn’t just forget about it and walk
away.

He slammed his fist against the paneled wall
of the parlor car, startling the girl and Latherby. They both
stared at him as if expecting him to throw something next.

Ethan stalked to the girl and stood over
her. She instinctively shrank back in her chair, then forced
herself to lean forward again, her chin hitching up, up, up to meet
his eyes.

She had spunk, at least. He’d grant her
that.

He took his time studying her, ignoring the
hot blush that stole into her cheeks. Because he’d acted rashly
last night—unusual for him—a great deal now depended on this common
thief. This slender violet-eyed hussy with her wayward brown curls
and stubborn chin, who had picked his pocket twice in one day, and
had danced at the Golden Pistol, displaying her dainty ankles for
all of Abilene to admire, was far from being a lady.

Yet, it wasn’t all bad, he thought, his
brain finally beginning to turn the matter over more coolly. The
deal he’d struck could have been worse. Much worse.

With any other woman, he’d be stuck for
life. Someone proper and honorable never would have agreed to a
short-term marriage for the purposes of securing his inheritance.
But this thief had. She knew the terms and had made the bargain. A
short-term marriage, then goodbye. Forever.

That certainly suited his purposes. It would
nicely circumvent his father’s machinations, and leave him the
inheritance without the encumbrance of marriage.

So it was one point in the girl’s favor.

And studying his bride’s fine-textured skin,
the delicate bones of her face, those luminous eyes beneath
fairy-winged brows, he could actually see possibilities. With the
right clothes, a few lessons in speech and deportment...

If she was a thief and a dancing girl, maybe
she could be an actress too.

A good enough actress to fool Grismore, and
the rest of London, for a few short months, and then it would all
be over.

But it was essential he keep her in
line.

“I want to speak to my wife,” he told
Latherby, his gaze still riveted on the girl’s face. He saw her
eyes widen, her mouth part in surprise, before she clamped her soft
lips together again. But the tip of her tongue emerged to circle
them nervously.

“Latherby, leave us alone.”

“D
on’t look so
terrified.” Ethan’s mouth curled upward in a scornful imitation of
a smile as the parlor door clanked shut on Latherby and they were
finally alone. “I’m not going to shoot you.”

The edge of mockery in his tone set Josie’s
teeth on edge. She had too much pride to let anyone think she was a
coward. “I know that. And I’m not afraid of you, so don’t convince
yourself that I am.”

“If you had a lick of sense you would be.”
He stepped back a pace, pushed the hat back on his head, and she
could see his eyes. They gleamed so dangerously out from beneath
his frowning black brows that Josie nearly froze in horror, but she
forced herself to fold her hands together in her lap and to school
her face into a calm expression.

“Hungry?” he asked, with a gesture
indicating the silver platters set out on the table behind him.

She shook her head.

“Cup of coffee?”

“Why don’t you just say what you have to
say, Mr. Savage, and get it over with.”

The black brows shot up. What might have
been amusement leapt into his eyes for a moment, then was quickly
extinguished, replaced by cool appraisal.

“You don’t resort much to feminine airs, do
you, Miss—”

“It’s Mrs.” Her blue eyes flashed into his.
“Mrs. Ethan Savage. Or did you forget.”

“I wish the hell I could.”

Misery descended on her. “This was all your
idea, not mine.” She sprang up from the chair, her hands clenched
into fists. “And I know you’re regretting marrying me, and I’m not
so pleased with it myself, but if you think I’m just going to sit
here and let you insult me and yell at me and try to bully me,
well, you can think again.” She spun around and started desperately
up the aisle, but before she’d taken two steps, Ethan gripped her
by the arm and whirled her back.

“Not so fast.”

“Let me go!”

“I wasn’t trying to insult you. Don’t be so
damned prickly. Though I must admit I wasn’t exactly thinking
clearly when I married a thief.”

“I’m not a—” She broke off, and bit her lip.
“All right, I admit I took your money.” Because she was ashamed,
the words came out in a muffled choke, and she covered it by
glaring at him.

He glowered back, his eyes looking darker
now, almost black.

“Not only my money.”

“Fine, so I stole your pocket watch.”

“You’d have taken my pants if I’d have
blinked.”

She opened her mouth to protest, and he went
on roughly, cutting her off. “Don’t waste your breath. Just fork
over what’s mine.”

Her blue gaze clashed with his ominously
dark one. “I would,” she murmured tightly, “if you’d let go of my
arm.”

He glanced down and realized how fiercely he
was holding her. Quickly he dropped his hand.

Josie was aware of his gaze on her as she
retrieved her valise with all the dignity she could muster and
began rummaging through it. She felt the heat of that dark gaze
through all the layers of her clothes. Digging beneath a clean
chemise, the worn pouch containing her treasures, some other
clothes, and a hairbrush, she at last came up with the handkerchief
in which she’d wrapped Savage’s heavy gold pocket watch and wallet.
She handed them over in silence.

All the while Ethan’s eyes nailed her. She
sensed the tension rippling through him, sensed he wasn’t anywhere
near finished with her yet.

“Anything else you have to say to me?” she
asked at last, hoping the tartness of her voice hid how ashamed she
was. She couldn’t blame the man for considering her a thief—that’s
what she was, wasn’t it?

He folded the greenbacks away and slipped
the pocket watch inside his vest pocket. His face was grim. This
little hussy showed no remorse. There was something hidden beneath
that edge in her voice, but he doubted it was shame—probably
regret, regret that she’d been caught and forced to face her
victim.

Victim? Right now she seemed more like his
victim than the other way around. Clearly ill at ease, tense, and
fatigued, his dainty little bride looked a bit the worse for wear.
There were lavender shadows beneath her lovely uptilted eyes, and
her skin was white as a lily. He guessed she probably hadn’t slept
more than an hour or two, or eaten anything since sometime
yesterday.

But that’s not my problem,
he told
himself.
She’s nothing to me, nothing but someone to use for a
while and then get rid of. She’ll be well rewarded, and that’s all
that a woman like her cares about.

“I’ve got plenty to say to you, lady,” he
answered her evenly, noting the way she lifted her chin as he
spoke. “But let’s start with two things. First off, Latherby says
you nursed this cut of mine last night, that you stanched the
blood. He tells me you showed quick thinking.” His voice was flat.
“For that, I owe you thanks.”

Astonished, Josie could do no more than nod.
An embarrassed flush crept once more into her cheeks. She felt the
warmth of it, and cursed herself for never having learned to
control her blushes. “I didn’t do anything special. Just what
anyone with half a brain would have done. Well, actually, I did
learn something about nursing from the Beckers.” Because she was
nervous around him and his intent way of studying her made her
uneasy, she kept babbling, unable to stop. “I lived with them for a
time, you see, and I learned some things. Mrs. Becker’s mother had
nursed injured soldiers in the War Between the States, so even
years later, whenever anyone in town couldn’t get hold of the
doctor they called on her and—”

“I don’t give a damn about the Beckers,” he
interrupted, taking a step closer. His hands shot out and gripped
her shoulders. “I think you’re trying to change the subject.”

“No, I—” She broke off, too flustered to
explain. She did have a custom of talking too much, especially when
she was nervous. It had irritated everyone she’d ever lived with,
except Pop Watson.

“Go on,” she said more quietly, fighting the
urge to hang her head.”What was the other thing you had to say to
me?”

Ethan scowled as her lashes swept down over
her incredible eyes. Strange how innocent she looked, though he
knew damned well she was far from innocent. But she
looked
guileless and sweet, pristine as a farmer’s daughter, or someone
who’d teach school—not like a thief. And she had a sweet, melodious
way of talking that did something strange to a man’s insides.

He whipped his mind back to the matter at
hand with the expert self-control he’d developed over the years.
You’re too experienced to fall for a con artist’s wiles,
he
told himself brutally.
Stick to the point. Do what you have to
do right now. Scare the hell out of her.

“Here’s the other thing.” He yanked her
toward him swiftly, so swiftly, she gasped in fright. “Consider
yourself warned that if you give me any trouble—a drop of
trouble—when we get to England, I’ll make your life such a living
hell you’ll wish you’d never been born. You’ll end up in Newgate
prison, and it’s far worse, I promise you, than an Abilene jail
cell.”

Staring up into the terrifying harshness of
his features, Josie had no doubt he meant what he said. Suddenly
the parlor car didn’t feel large enough for both of them. He
towered over her, his arms snaked about her body, his chest hard as
granite against her quivering breasts. She wanted to shrink back,
to run from the coldness she saw in his eyes, and from the hot
pleasure his nearness stirred inside her, a pleasure that
frightened and baffled her. But instead, she did what she’d learned
to do in the orphanage when she was cornered by a bully, what she
did whenever she wanted to survive. She took a deep breath and
thrust herself forward straight into the fight.

“And let me give you fair warning, Ethan
Savage. If you give me any trouble, any trouble at all, I’ll tell
everyone in London exactly what you’ve done, that you married a
woman you didn’t even know just to get around the terms of some
will. Just so you could get your paws on the money—”