Mail-Order Groom (12 page)

Adam wished he'd been equipped to take Curtis Bedell into custody when he'd met him on the road. But with Savannah beside him, he hadn't dared risk it. If she'd been hurt in a showdown with Curtis, Adam wouldn't have been able to forgive himself. Just the thought of explaining to that gentle giant, Mose, how he'd allowed Savannah to be injured gave Adam chills.

So did the thought of Curtis Bedell forcing a confrontation between them. The eventuality felt all too likely. None of the Bedell brothers were known for being patient.

“I think we'd better get along.” Gently, Adam touched Savannah's arm, drawing her from her conversation with the friendly shopkeeper. “You must be hungry by now.”

“Oh, no, I'm fine.” She smiled. “Mr. Yee was just saying—”

“I'm feeling a bit peckish, myself,” Adam pretended to confess. A glimmer of light and motion caught his eye at the looming rock face to his left. He watched it with one hand on his gun—but it was only an Avalanche resident, hanging laundry on a makeshift line. “We had those sandwiches a while ago.”

“You're absolutely right.” Hastily Savannah made her apologies to Mr. Yee. “Why don't we go on to the hotel? I'm given to understand they have a wonderful dining room there.”

Just as he'd expected, what Savannah would not do for herself, she would do for someone else…chiefly, him. She was, he'd learned during his time with her, generous to a fault.

Feeling sorry for having misled her—but not sorry for
doing what he had to do to get her safely indoors—Adam took special care in escorting her. They chatted amiably as they proceeded to the nearby Beadle Hotel. The place catered mostly to visiting mining magnates, he learned from an overheard conversation as they approached, and had the gaudy decor to match.

Surprisingly Savannah adored it.

“Look!” She clutched his arm as they stepped into the lobby, her entire face glowing and awestruck. “It's beautiful!”

He vowed on the spot to get them a room there.

Savannah smiled. “I feel
so
at home here, for some reason.”

Even as he wondered why a rural telegraph operator would feel most comfortable amongst gilt and velvet and imported statuary, Adam decided he should probably book
two
rooms. He still had an adequate bankroll hidden in the hollow cache in his boot—a precaution he'd taken since his days as a Marshall. If the lobby made Savannah this pleased, then sleeping under the ornate ceilings, fine mill-work and fancy bedsteads the hotel undoubtedly sported upstairs would send her clear over the moon.

“It's almost like one of those fancy theaters,” she said. “Only from the
front
of the house, where everything is lovely.”

Adam's days of working in vaudeville jabbed at him.
Front of the house
was a term used by show folk. “You like it?”

Savannah turned in place, marveling. “Oh, very much so!”

“Then we'll have to stay here tonight.”

“Here?” She stared at him. “But I only came here to dine. I'd expected to sleep in the wagon. That's why I brought so many blankets. I thought if we were feeling
very
extravagant,” she admitted with an adorable wrinkle of her nose, “we might find a room in one of the boardinghouses nearby. Avalanche abounds with them, you know, because of the large population of bachelors.”

“I'll have no wife of mine staying in a place that caters to riffraff like bachelors,” Adam teased. “We'll stay here.”

For the first time, his joke drew no laughter.

“Hmm.” Savannah mused. “I
do
like the sound of that…”

“What, staying near riffraff? That's a predilection you should have shared with me before we were married,” Adam said, still teasing her. “If I'd known you craved the company of bachelors, I would have—”

“No.
Wife
,” she breathed. “
Your
wife. I like that.”

In that moment, time seemed to stand still between them. There with Savannah beneath the lobby's crystal chandelier, Adam realized to his surprise that
he
liked that, too.

He'd actually done it, he realized with a sense of awe.

He'd gotten married.

Of course their marriage wasn't official yet, he amended to himself with a frown. If he had his way, it never would be. Adam did not intend to consummate their union—nor did he intend to deliver the signed marriage license that the minister had entrusted him with to the proper authorities for certification.

That way, their marriage would never be registered or valid. It was the only means he'd struck upon to protect Savannah from the fraudulent partnership they'd entered into. So long as Adam kept from making their marriage official, Savannah would be free to walk away from it later…unblemished and, he hoped, forgiving of everything that had happened between them.

It wasn't the most brilliant solution, but it was the best he'd come up with. It would have to do.

“I did allocate a small amount of money from my nest egg toward buying us a nice wedding-day meal.” Beside him, Savannah lifted her reticule in demonstration. “So I hope you're hungry!”

“I could eat a horse, tail and all.”

A smile. “Then we must get started. Shall we?”

With no hesitation or awkwardness at all, Savannah sashayed toward the hotel's fine dining room. As she passed by the lobby desk and its attendant snobbish clerk, her assured movements left Adam wondering all over again. Why was a small-town woman like Savannah so comfortable with the fanciness of the Beadle Hotel? Why had she bandied about a show term like
front of the house?
And why, even more curiously, had she seemed to expect the people of Avalanche to shun her today?

Unkind, that's how people can be,
she'd said, appearing indescribably sad.
At least in my experience.

More curious than ever to know what she was hiding, Adam stayed beside Savannah as they entered the dining room. He kept his hand protectively on her waist, guiding her with care and interest. If anyone could unearth her secrets, he reckoned it was him. But would he have enough time to do so?

More than anything, Adam yearned to believe the ruse they were presenting. He yearned to introduce Savannah as his wife and know it was true. He wanted to hold her hand and care for her and prove that he'd
meant
the vows he'd taken today. He did intend to love and cherish her. Promising that had been easy.

Savannah made it easy. She was lovable and kind, funny and capable and self-sufficient. If Adam had been the sort of man to daydream himself a perfect wife, Savannah would have fit the ideal he'd imagined. Even more so, had she known the truth about him. Adam had the sense that
Savannah admired his work for the Marshall's office and understood his other varied jobs as well. Savannah would have probably approved of his detective work, too. She might even, with her inherent love of adventure, have been interested in hearing about the cases he'd worked on.

He'd only ever shared those stories with Mariana—and she'd been a less-than-avid listener, owing to her own involvement in several of those cases. But his platonic workaday friendship with Mariana was nothing like the growing affection that had arisen between him and Savannah. Adam felt drawn to Savannah in a way he'd never experienced before and likely, he realized as the maître d' approached them, would never experience again.

Determined to soak up as much of this day as he could, he smiled. “I'm looking forward to this meal. I don't often dine in restaurants—mostly beside campfires and the like.”

“Campfires?” Wrinkling her brow, Savannah gazed up at him. “But in your letters, you told me you were a connoisseur of the restaurants in Baltimore. You mentioned several by name.”

Blast
. Adam opened his mouth, hastily searching his mind for an excuse. He was adequate enough at concocting a cover story—something that was a necessity in his line of work—but here, with Savannah, he found himself slipping up far too often.

It was almost as though he
wanted
to be found out in the accidental lie he'd engaged in. But more than that, Adam figured, he was simply suffering from a lack of information. And it was costing him now. Although he and Mariana had had access to Savannah's letters to her romantic “pen pal,” they had not been able to read Roy Bedell's private correspondence to her. Nor had they been privy to all the
conversations that Savannah and Roy Bedell had shared over the wires these last few months.

All they knew was that Edward Bedell had taken a job as a telegraph operator in Des Moines some time ago, and that Roy had intimidated the other operators into letting him loiter about the station while his brother worked. Eventually they'd robbed the place, of course, with the help of Curtis, Wyatt and Linus. But they hadn't made away with enough money to make Roy abandon his lucrative marriage schemes. Despite Edward's efforts to move the gang into other, more easily divisible “opportunities” for thieving, Roy Bedell had targeted Savannah next…and all the way across the country, Adam had been hired to stop him.

“It's all right. There's no need to appear so worried. I won't spill your secret.” Laughing, Savannah linked her arm in Adam's. She nodded to the maître d' as he led them to a fine, cloth-covered table. “I quite liked the impressed look he gave you as he approached us and overheard your Wild West tale about campfire dining. That was very inventive of you.”

She thought he was embellishing his past in an effort to appear suitably rugged, as befit life in the Territory, Adam realized. Well, for now it was best to let her believe that.

“Yep,” he said loudly, so the maître d' would hear him. “There's nothing like a good elk steak thrown over the fire. Especially if you wrestle the critter to the ground first.”

“I hear that makes for extra-tender meat.” Savannah gave a sage nod, speaking at an equally noticeable volume.

“That's right,” Adam agreed. “A good sockdolager to the nose, and the elk just gives up and begs to become your dinner.”

“I hope the food is just as tasty as that around here.” Wearing a skeptical expression, Savannah gracefully took
her seat. “Otherwise, I'll be depending on you to go elk wrestling.”

“I'm hardly dressed for that, am I?” Stifling a grin, Adam pointed to his wedding-day suit as he, too, took a seat. He felt ridiculously grateful to Savannah for indulging his supposed flight of fancy. “I'd need different boots, at least.”

Savannah pretended to examine him. “Yes. And maybe a hat.”

United in mischief, they gazed across the table at each other. The maître d' stiffly signaled for a waiter, who scurried over and began outfitting them for their meal with napkins and cutlery and goblets of water. The waiter's and maître d's attitudes of hushed reverence only seemed to make Adam's and Savannah's shared joke even funnier.

“Is a black bowler hat good for elk wrestling?” Adam asked Savannah with his most thoughtful expression. “Or do you think a flat felt cap would be more appropriate?”

“Oh, I'm not entirely sure…” She pretended to vacillate.

Apparently seizing upon an area in which he could offer additional service, the maître d' gave a discreet cough. Adam glanced up at him. The man leaned his head nearer.

“I would suggest a Winchester rifle and a wool derby, sir.”

Solemnly Adam pretended to consider it. “Very good. I'll bear that in mind.” He could not look at Savannah, for fear of bursting into laughter. Straight-faced, he said, “Thank you.”

“You, sir, are most welcome.” The maître d' bowed.

He made ready to leave, as did the waiter. Adam waited for their departure with his breath held, knowing that the slightest movement might make him laugh. But then Savan
nah raised her fingertips in a genteel signal. She nodded at the maître d'.

“I will require my meal to be freshly wrestled, just as my husband would obtain it,” she specified in an amicable tone. “I trust that will be possible in your establishment?”

Another, somewhat stilted, bow. “I will make inquiries.”

“Very good. Once a lady is accustomed to life with a hard-driving,
truly W
estern man, it's extremely difficult to settle for less,” Savannah said, chin high. “I'm sure you understand.”

“Indeed, madam.” The maître d' nodded. “I certainly do.”

Both men left—and just in time, too. Marveling at Savannah's audacity, Adam took her hand across the table. He couldn't help laughing. “Thank you for playing along. That clinched it—if I didn't love you already, I would definitely love you now.”

The words slipped easily from his mouth, surprising even him. But the sentiment he'd accidentally confessed was no less true, Adam realized. In so many ways, Savannah was the ideal partner for him—compassionate, clever
and
playful.

The fact of the matter was, he'd become jaded in his line of work. He'd dealt with bad people for so long that he'd started believing they made up the whole world. With her good example, Savannah had restored his faith in the goodness of people—no small feat, given the depth of his cynicism.

“Right now,” Adam continued with complete honesty as he tightened his grasp on her hand, then lifted his gaze to hers, “I feel very, very lucky to be here with you.”

“And I feel lucky to be here with you,” Savannah
said—exactly as coolly as she might have confirmed a shared affection for green beans. She picked up her menu, then raised her eyebrows at him. “Now then. What shall we eat?”

B
y the time the night grew late enough for Savannah to accompany Adam upstairs to the pair of rooms he'd booked them for the night, she'd forgotten most of the details about the delicious food and drink she'd shared with him…but she hadn't forgotten what Adam had said just before they'd had dinner.

If I didn't love you already, I would definitely love you now
.

Savannah still could not believe she'd actually replied to that statement by asking Adam what he wanted for dinner! His had been such a momentous declaration…and she had answered it by inquiring about the state of his appetite. For the tenth time that evening, Savannah wanted to kick herself. She'd
longed
for someone to care about her. And now that someone did…

Well, to put it frankly, she feared she'd ruined it. The plain fact was, Adam had caught her unprepared. She'd been so busy poking fun at the notion of hand-wrestled elk steaks that she hadn't been thinking about the wedding day they'd
shared or the importance her mail-order groom might have attached to it.

If I didn't love you already, I would definitely love you now
.

Thrilled by the memory of his gruff assertion all the same, Savannah smiled at Adam. But her new husband merely cast her a vaguely morose look—the same look he'd worn for at least five minutes now, ever since they'd left the dining room, crossed the lobby and started ascending the stairs to their private rooms.

Worried, Savannah bit her lip. The fancy staircase underfoot might have disappeared, for as much notice as she paid it. The richly colored carpet runner, shimmering chandeliers, dark paneled walls and all the rest… Everything faded from view as Savannah took stock of her new husband's tight jaw, grim eyes and squared-off shoulders. He appeared so resigned and miserable, he might as well have been going to the gallows.

Clearly she'd hurt his feelings, Savannah thought. The realization made her heart ache as well. Adam had been so good and fine and upstanding today. He'd come all the way west to marry her and start a new life together. And how had she repaid him? By opening a menu and offering a silly query about food!

Well, she would simply have to make it up to him, she vowed as they rounded the landing and ascended the staircase leading to their second-floor accommodations. She would have to cheer him up first, and then she would have to make amends somehow.

The first part would be easy. The second… Well, the second she'd deal with when the time arose.

After all, it was of paramount importance that she and Adam not be at odds with each other, especially tonight of all nights. She knew from gossiping with the other dancers
and stage performers in New York City that a wedding night positively foretold
everything
about a marriage—its compatibility, potential happiness and longevity…even its fruitfulness.

Savannah wanted her marriage to be fruitful. She knew that
fruitful
meant children, and she hoped that she and Adam were blessed with many. But if her friends from her old life had been correct in their whispered confidences, if she did not begin her marriage happily, she and Adam would be doomed for certain.

Another glance at his glum expression settled the matter once and for all. She couldn't allow this to continue. Even if it
weren't
proven bad luck to begin a marriage discontentedly, she would have wanted Adam to be as joyful about their union as she was. To that end, when they reached the door to their room, Savannah turned to Adam. With a nonchalant, wifely gesture, she straightened his suit coat lapels, then let her hands linger. “
That
was a most delicious meal, wasn't it?” Coquettishly she fluttered her eyelashes—the better to hide the sleight of hand she performed—then gave his suit coat another pat. She glanced up with elaborate innocence. “Do you have the key?”

Adam patted his coat pocket. “Yes, I do. It's right—”

“Yes?” She raised her eyebrows in overt innocence.

A frown. “It was right here a minute ago. I'd swear I—”

“Maybe you didn't put it in your pocket. Maybe it's somewhere else. In your boot, perhaps?”

He automatically bent to look, just as she'd known he would, giving her the chance to execute the second part of her secret maneuver. Deftly she palmed the key, which she'd plucked from him during her eyelash fluttering and coat patting.

Once upon a time, this routine had been a part of the Reed family onstage act. It, like the boot joke that went with it, had always been a crowd pleaser. But tonight, to Savannah's distress, her efforts didn't draw so much as a ghost of a smile. To the contrary, Adam appeared just as somber as ever.

“My boot? No, I'm sure I put it in my coat.” He juggled the satchel he'd had retrieved from their wagon, then checked his pocket again. “Maybe it fell out on the way upstairs.”

He frowned down at the carpet runner, appearing even more dismayed than he had a second ago. Savannah felt her heart turn over. It was a good thing she knew how to cheer him up.

“Oh! I think I see it.” She lifted onto her tiptoes.

Adam stopped, his gaze following hers. “Where? In my hair?”

“No. In your
ear
.” Savannah flexed her fingers in the same practiced move she'd used with the lost little girl on the train depot platform. Grinning, she waved the key. “Got it. See?”

Adam clapped his hand to his ear—the way everyone always did—staring at her in amazement. “How did you do that?”

“A good magician never shares her secrets.”

His smile looked dazzling. “You can tell
me
.”

“No, sir.” Savannah took her time looking over Adam's broad-shouldered form, his capable hands, and his now-smiling face. She felt as though she'd accomplished a minor miracle by erasing his gloomy expression. That pleased her enormously. “I'm afraid I can't even tell you. But it's entirely possible that I
won't
be able to keep my secrets—” here she broke off, allowing a devilish smile to sneak onto
her face “—if confronted with a little bit of…shall we say…
persuasion?
”

Adam gazed down at her, his hands on his hips. “Are you
daring
me to extract your magician's secrets from you?”

“That depends.” Savannah twirled the key, a delicious sense of anticipation coming to life inside her. She didn't know where she found the gumption to be so daring…except for those words she kept remembering.
If I didn't love you already, I would definitely love you now.
Yes, those words emboldened her beyond all measure. “Are you interested in doing such a thing?”

“I hadn't planned to,” Adam said. “I'd secured two rooms for us, in case you were feeling tired after the long day—”

“I am feeling,” Savannah assured him, “wide-awake.”

Still, Adam persisted. “If you'd rather take that key and go to bed early, you're certainly welcome to—”

“Wide,” Savannah repeated, “awake.”

She stepped boldly nearer, until their bodies almost touched, swaying with a mixture of eagerness and nervousness and wild bravado. Feeling more alive than she had in years, she put her hand to Adam's shirtfront, then trailed her fingers lower. “So if
you
would rather take this key,” she told him, “and hold it in your hand while you give me a proper wedding-day kiss, then you're certainly welcome to do exac—”

As she'd hoped, his kiss cut off her words. With a low moan, Adam lowered his mouth to hers, then cradled her jaw in his hand. The hotel key dropped to the floor with a muted
ping
, its descent scarcely noticed as their kiss went on and on.

Breathless and dizzy, Savannah twisted her fingers in Adam's shirtfront, then kissed him back with all her might.
The union between them felt
wonderful
. And it felt right. Arching higher, she pressed herself wholeheartedly against him, sending them both crashing against their hotel room's closed door.

The wood rattled beneath the impact, but Adam simply dropped her satchel and raised his other hand to her face, holding her still for his next slow, soft, heart-poundingly intense exploration of her mouth.

Savannah's lips tingled. Her breath escaped her in a surprised flutter. Adam angled his head to the side and kissed her again. Still holding her in his arms, he smiled.

“Open your mouth a little.” He nudged her lower lip with his thumb, coaxing her. “That's it. That's…perfect.”

Obliging him, Savannah felt as though she'd achieved an astounding feat. An instant later, Adam pulled her close once more, lowered his head, then swept his tongue inside her mouth.

Startled, she jerked backward.
This
was not something the ladies backstage had warned her about. Still reeling from the surprise of it, Savannah put her hand to her lips.

She gazed at Adam. He appeared concerned.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I should have held myself in check.”

He turned away from her, then retrieved the room key and thrust it in the lock with a savage jab. He turned the knob.

The door swung wide, revealing a dim hotel room lighted by the glow of the hallway's chandelier and wall sconces. He gestured for her to precede him inside—probably for the night.

Feeling disappointed, Savannah held her ground. “No, you were wonderful! This is my fault. I don't like surprises,” she explained hastily. “Just ask Mose! I do whatever I can to plan for every possible eventuality. But that kiss—”

“Was not what you wanted. I understand.” Adam took out the key to their second room, then fisted it. “I'll be right next door. Don't hesitate to call on me if you need
anything
.”

He didn't understand. She hadn't
disliked
that kiss. She simply hadn't been ready for it. She knew she could do better, now that she'd been forewarned and knew what to expect.

Dismayed, Savannah watched as Adam opened the adjacent hotel room door. He set her satchel inside, then paused in the doorway. Clearly he had no intention of reentering the room he'd designated as hers. He tipped his hat. “Good night.”

Again he gestured for her to take her place in her own room. Not sure what else to do, she did. She spent a few minutes fiddling with the oil lamp on the bureau, listening to the sounds of Adam settling into his own room. Something clanked. The bedsprings creaked. She imagined him sitting on the bed, all alone, while his new wife paced at a loose end next door.

Well. That was plumb ridiculous. They shouldn't be apart!

An instant later, Savannah marched purposefully to Adam's room. She gave a sharp rap. He opened the door immediately. His hair stood partway on end, as though he'd been tugging on it.

At the sight of his familiar face and rumpled locks, Savannah felt something inside her give way. Her whole heart seemed to expand in that moment, enlarging to make room for her newfound feelings. She smiled then, and Adam's expression eased.

“I find I
do
need something,” she said firmly.

“What do you need?” He grasped the doorjamb, leaning partly outside—the better to scour the hallway with an
intent look. “What's the matter? Did you see someone? Is your room not—”

“I need
you
,” Savannah said, “and I won't settle for less.”

 

With all the determination and unshakable assurance she usually displayed, Savannah strolled into Adam's room as though she owned the place. Swearing under his breath, Adam watched her. He'd thought he was free for the night. He'd thought he'd gotten Savannah safely stowed next door. But now she was
here
, tempting him again, and her unexpected arrival left him feeling nearly at the limits of his resistance.

He'd tried his best to keep a safe and platonic distance between them tonight. He'd done all he could to keep his vow not to make their marriage real—for her sake. Even on the way upstairs, he'd forced himself to take every step with a strict reminder that he could
not
take liberties with Savannah. Doing so would not be fair to her.

The effort required to do so had taxed him. So had the apologetic, worried looks that Savannah had kept casting him. He'd known he was disappointing her, so he'd tried to brighten his mood…but that had only led to kissing her. Kissing her and holding her and, ultimately, pushing her too far.

Remembering the startled way she'd pulled back from him was an effective damper now, even as Adam lifted his gaze from the seductive side-to-side swoosh her skirts made as she moved.

“You need me?” he repeated, deliberately misunderstanding her. There was always a chance she'd meant her remark to be innocuous.
I need you, and I won't settle for less.

“Well, we're married now,” Adam went on, “so you've
got me.” He smiled. “Forever. Or at least as long as you want me.”

“Those are the same things. I'll
always
want you.”

So she said now, Adam reminded himself amid a surge of regret…when she didn't yet know the truth.

Uncomfortably he edged toward the room's bureau, looking for some busywork to occupy himself with. He needed something more innocent than contemplating how lovely Savannah looked in her best dress, how appealing she seemed as she stood there puckishly watching him, and how much he wanted to pull her in his arms again and kiss her into downright insensibility.

Deliberately he crossed his arms and examined the hotel room. The place was about as ornately decorated as he'd expected. His room boasted flocked wallpaper, an elaborate four-poster mahogany bedstead and velvet curtains to grace the single window overlooking the starlit hills and valleys of the small town below. His gaze lit on the filled water carafe.