Justin's Bride (30 page)

Mrs. Dobson cleared her throat. “If you choose not to take me up on my offer, I'll understand, but I thought I would make it all the same.”

She paused. Megan didn't have any idea what the other woman was talking about. She glanced at Justin. He shrugged.

“It would be a simple thing to explain to people that the two of you left Landing last night, rather than this morning.” Mrs. Dobson looked at Megan and nodded significantly. “If you get my meaning.”

At first Megan didn't. Then she understood. The widow was offering to tell everyone that Megan and Justin had been married
before
she'd spent the night in his hotel room. The lie would go a long way to salvaging her reputation. She looked at Justin. “What do you think?”

“It's up to you.”

She studied the handsome lines of his face. The scar on his chin, the full mouth, the dark eyes. Familiar yet unfamiliar. He was her husband now. He was also a stranger. They were finally married—seven years too late. Or was it? He hadn't forgiven her for what had happened between them. Was this wedding the finest form of revenge? Did he plan to exact a price for the rest of her life? Or was their marriage a second chance? Would it give them the time to learn about each other and perhaps even fall in love again? Did marrying him to protect her reputation mean she was destined to an unhappy life? Did she want the marriage to be successful?

She waited, hoping he would give her a hint as to what he was thinking, but he didn't. It was her decision. To save herself and begin with a lie, or to begin with honesty. To begin as she meant to go on.

She turned to Mrs. Dobson. “No lies,” she said. “Let them think what they want. I'm not afraid.”

* * *

“I'm not afraid.” Easy words for Megan to say while they were still two hours away from Landing, Justin thought. More difficult to believe now, as they drove into town.

He could feel her apprehension. She huddled close to him on the seat. Behind them, Mrs. Dobson and Bonnie had grown silent. It was late afternoon. Before starting the long journey back, they'd stopped and eaten. At the time, Justin had wondered if Megan was putting off the inevitable. Did she already regret the wedding?

He told himself he didn't know that for sure, but he couldn't let go of the thought. Why wouldn't she regret it? He was still just that bastard, Justin Kincaid.

His hands tightened on the reins and the black gelding tossed his head. Justin loosened his grip and took a deep breath. He had to consider the facts. First of all, he
wasn't
just that bastard kid anymore. He was the sheriff. Seven years had passed. He was older and, hopefully, wiser. He and Megan were married. That couldn't be undone. Even if she wanted it to be.

The horse trotted down the main street, past the hotel, past the new saloon. The animal's pace increased as he apparently realized he was close to home. Justin reined him in. They had to take Mrs. Dobson to her house first. He felt Megan inhale sharply. He glanced at her. She'd put on a bonnet to protect her skin from the bright spring sun. Gloves covered her pale hands and she'd pulled a thin shawl over her bare shoulders and bosom. She looked every inch a lady.

But she was still wearing her Worth gown. She'd still spent the night in his hotel room, then disappeared with him out of town that morning. People were talking. And stopping to stare. And pointing. He was used to being the center of attention, but she wasn't. He could feel her shrinking against him.

“Take me to the store,” Mrs. Dobson ordered from the seat behind theirs.

“Don't you want to go home?”

“No. If I'm at the store, tending to my duties, it'll be easier for folks to come ask me questions. The quicker everyone knows you're married, the quicker things will settle down.”

So she'd noticed the crowds, too. “You all right?” he asked Megan.

“Fine.” The single tight word conveyed several emotions. So much for not being afraid.

Justin slowed the gelding and moved him to the side of the road until the animal stopped in front of the general store. Andrew rushed outside and helped the older woman down. The teenager stared up at Megan.

“I opened the store like you said, Miss Bartlett. It's been real busy. You gonna come close up?”

“I don't think so, Andrew. Can you take care of it for me?”

“Sure thing, Miss Bartlett.”

Megan stared at the boy for a second, then laughed. If her humor had a slightly strangled sound, Justin wasn't going to say anything.

“It's not Miss Bartlett anymore, Andrew. I'm married. I'm Mrs. Kincaid, now.”

Andrew looked at her. “You married the sheriff?”

She nodded.

“Well, I'll be. That's just fine.” He came around the horse and held out his hand to Justin. “Congratulations to you both.” Justin shook his hand. “Sheriff, Miss Bartlett, ah, Mrs. Kincaid, is a fine lady. Married. Don't that beat all.”

He kept them for several more minutes while he explained how pleased he was, then he escorted Mrs. Dobson into the store. Justin picked up the reins, but didn't urge the horse forward.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“What do you mean? I thought we were going home.”

“That's what I'm asking, Megan. Where's home? Bonnie and I live in the hotel.”

Her hazel eyes darkened to gray. “Do you want me to come live with you there?”

“I wasn't sure we were going to be living together.”

“But we're married. What else would we do?”

It wasn't a conventional marriage, so he didn't know. He'd been half expecting her to assume they would continue living separate lives. He hated the relief that filled him with the knowledge that she expected them to share a roof. Which only left the questions of which roof, and, more importantly, would they be sharing a bed?

“Where will we live? At your house or the hotel?”

She bit her lower lip and twisted her hands together. “Would you mind terribly if we lived in my house? The hotel is so public.”

He didn't mind at all. “That's fine. I'll drop you and Bonnie off, then go back to the hotel and collect our things.”

Megan placed her hand on his arm. “Couldn't I come with you? It would be faster that way. I can pack for Bonnie while you take care of yourself.”

He could feel her trembling. Dark shadows stained the delicate skin under her eyes. She looked ready to cry. This had been hard on her. Considering all she'd been through, she was holding up very well.

He glanced over her shoulder to see what Bonnie was making of this conversation. The small girl was curled up in a corner of the seat, her arm tucked under her head, her free hand clutching her doll. It would be better for Bonnie to have a real home, he thought. Megan was great with her, teaching her to read and sew. He faced front and saw the crowds collecting on the sidewalk. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but it was obvious the gossip was spreading.

He flicked the reins and the gelding started walking in a wide half circle toward the hotel. When they reached the three-story building, he jumped down, and held out his arms for Megan. She placed her hands on his shoulders while he helped her down. Her body felt warm and familiar next to his. He wished she would look up and smile at him, but she didn't. Several people paused to watch them.

Someone came rushing out of the hotel. “Sheriff Kincaid, I need to talk to you.”

“Not now, Newt.”

The young man moved closer. “I must insist. I've spoken with the owner about what happened yesterday. He was understandably upset. I'm afraid I can't allow you to take this lady up to—”

“Newt,” Justin said, interrupting him, “have I introduced you to my wife?”

An audible gasp went up from the bystanders. Megan raised her head, so he could see her face. Her expression sent a chill through his body like a long ribbon of ice. It coiled in his belly and knotted, twisting tighter and tighter. Fear and regret. Of course. What else would she be feeling?

He tried to control his anger. He shouldn't be surprised. He'd known this was what was going to happen.

Newt was still babbling. “I'll be checking out,” Justin said, cutting him off. “Send one of the bellboys up to carry my things. Prepare the bill and have someone watch the buggy. Bonnie's sleeping inside.” Then he took Megan's cold hand and led her into the building.

* * *

It was nearly dark by the time they arrived at the large house on the edge of town. Justin stared at the structure. Old man Bartlett's house. He was going to live here now. But it wouldn't be his home. He knew that. Megan had barely spoken to him the entire time they'd been in the hotel. They'd worked quickly, in separate rooms. The maid, Alice, had come up to offer her assistance. At least having a third person there had taken some of the edge off the tension.

Who would do that tonight? Where would he spend the night? In Megan's bed? Or alone?

“Are we there yet?” Bonnie asked as she stirred on the seat behind them. She bounced to her feet, making the buggy rock slightly. “Oh, we are. Are we going to stay here forever and ever?”

Justin didn't know how to answer that. Were they? His plan had always been to leave in a year. But he was a married man, now. Could he still think of leaving? Did he want to?

“Can I have my own room?” Bonnie asked, holding on to the back of their seat.

“Of course. I'll even let you pick it out,” Megan said as she turned and smiled at the girl.

Justin waited, but she never answered Bonnie's original question. She didn't say if they were going to live in the house forever or not.

“And are we a real family? My mama always promised me a real family.”

Megan smiled at the child. “We'll do our best, Bonnie.”

He wondered if their best would be good enough. After climbing down from the rented buggy, he walked around to the other side and held out his arms to Megan. She placed her hands on his shoulders as he lowered her to the ground.

Just for a moment, before he released her and she stepped back, their eyes met. He searched for some hint as to what she was feeling. He could see that apprehension was foremost, mingling with fear. He turned away. He didn't want to know what else swirled through the hazel-gray depths. Not yet. He wasn't strong enough to face her censure. Not when he could still taste her passion on his lips.

Bonnie jumped down and ran up the steps to the porch. Megan moved after her and opened the front door. Justin unloaded the luggage and started carrying it inside.

Half expecting to see old man Bartlett jumping out to bar him entrance, he crossed the threshold. The house was cool and dark inside. It smelled faintly musty, as if daily cleaning wasn't enough to disguise the fact that only one person lived in the three-story mansion.

While Megan removed her hat and shawl, Bonnie danced impatiently at the foot of the stairs.

“Go on,” Megan said, and laughed softly. “Go pick out your room.”

“I know exactly which one I want,” the girl answered as she tore up the stairs. Her footsteps thudded loudly on the wooden floor, then muffled as she reached the landing and ran across the carpet.

He set down the small trunk Megan had packed Bonnie's things in, then lowered his valise next to it. “Do you know which one she'll choose?” he asked.

“I think so. There's an oddly shaped room in the corner. It's tucked under the eaves with a view of the forest. She seemed to like it the best.”

“Is it close to your room?”

She suddenly seemed to find the ribbons of her bonnet fascinating. She looped them around her fingers. “No, it's on the opposite side of the house. I have a small bedroom up on this side.”

A small bedroom. With a virgin's narrow bed. He looked at the expensive wallpaper brought out from St. Louis, or maybe even New York. The floors under his feet gleamed with polish and care, the furniture was large and substantial. Hard to believe he was less than half a mile from the room above the saloon where he'd grown up.

This wasn't his home; it never would be. It was Megan's. For the hundredth time since morning, he wondered why she'd married him, and what he was going to do when his year was up.

“There's a large guest suite just off the stairs,” she said softly.

He glanced at her. She was staring intently at her hands as if the task of removing her gloves required her full attention. There was little light in the hallway, no flicker of a candle to catch the gold-blond color of her hair. He could see her profile, the straight line of her nose, her full lips. He knew that mouth in exquisitely intimate detail, yet he ached to know it, to know her, again.

A large guest suite, with an equally large bed. If they shared that bed, he would touch her and claim her long into the night; he would never grow tired of being with her.

His throat tightened against the pressure of emotion. If he shared that bed with her, in time her belly would swell with his child. And when his year was up, he would be forced to stay. He could never abandon a child.

He glanced at her bare shoulders, at the tendril of hair brushing against her spine. He remembered the feel of her skin against his fingers and the warmth of her body pressed against his as she slept. If he stayed, she would destroy him. Living with her and knowing she wouldn't love him would slowly eat away at his soul. He'd only ever wanted to love and be loved by Megan Bartlett. Like most men, he yearned for the one thing he would never have. He could claim her body, but as he held her, he would know she neither trusted him nor thought him good enough. That she had married him to save herself from the scandal.

He picked up his valise. “I'll take the room next to Bonnie's” he said, ignoring Megan's start of surprise. He didn't meet her eyes as he walked past her toward the stairs. “It's better if I'm close. Sometimes she has nightmares.”