Promise Me (25 page)

Various plans to keep her by his side coursed through his mind. He could retire from the Secret Service, grab whatever cash he could raise quickly, and travel with Amanda. The idea filled him with hope.

Then masculine pride reared its ugly head.

How long would his measly savings support them? Sooner or later, he'd have to rely upon his wife's money. And the thought rankled him. He'd done a lot of things he was ashamed of, but he'd never used a woman's money to survive.

For the first time in years, he was regaining some of his pride. Living off his wife would destroy that.

Then again, he didn't want to give her an annulment and send her away either. Tossing the cigar over the railing, he stood up and brushed his frock coat. It was time. In a few minutes, the decision would no longer be his to make. Everything would depend upon Amanda's reaction to his confession.

Robert waved at him as he crossed the foyer to climb the stairs. “Harriet was with her for a while, tried to get her to eat something and rest.”

Sam kept one booted foot on the first step. “We need to take turns sitting with Caleb. The doc will stay for a few hours, but I want to make sure we have a man at the door and someone in the room with the boy at all times.”

Robert nodded. “You expectin' more trouble?”

Sam nodded. “I don't think Caleb was the real target. Once word gets out he's alive, I suspect whoever attacked him might try again. We don't know if Caleb recognized his attacker or not, but if he can identify him, that means the boy's still in danger.”

Robert lifted the oak divider that allowed entrance into the desk area. “I'll get some men together. There are a lot of miners who like that boy, and they're upset about what happened. I won't have any trouble finding volunteers.”

Sam started up the stairs. Each step seemed agonizingly difficult, and he tried again to rehearse what he would say to Amanda. He swallowed when he finally stood in front of their door and fumbled with the key. His fingers felt as thick as the lump in his throat.

Finally, he unlocked the door to step into the quiet late-afternoon shadows stretching across the two rooms. Silence greeted him. The soft rhythm of Amanda's breathing was the only sound in the room. He quietly approached her bed and watched her sleep. He admired her features—the pert nose, the full, luscious mouth that invited his kisses. Soft russet-colored curls had escaped from her chignon to frame her face. She was so beautiful, so precious, and so vulnerable.

How was Sam going to convince her they could never be together, when he couldn't convince himself?

She stirred and whispered a word.
Baby
? Was that what she said? Sam grinned. Maybe she was dreaming about him. He shook the thought away. He turned to walk back into his own room when her voice stopped him.

“How's Caleb?” Her tone was soft, dreamy sounding.

Sam knelt next to her, grasped one of her hands, and tried to make his voice gentle and comforting. “Doc Potter is still with him. He had a deep stab wound in his shoulder and he's lost a lot of blood.”

He watched her face go pale, visible even in the deep shadows of the room.

“We won't know anything for a few hours. But the doc says he's young and healthy. That should work in his favor.”

Amanda sat up and tried to fling the quilt aside. “I should be with him.”

Sam held her in place. “The doc is still with him, and I've sent Robert to find volunteers to keep guard around the clock.” He touched her face gently. “You had a terrible shock this afternoon and you need your rest.”

She gave him a small smile and leaned back against the brass headboard. “I suppose you're right.”

A tremor of concern gripped Sam. It wasn't usual for Amanda to agree so quickly. Was she truly feeling ill? Had the shock of seeing Caleb injured at the Miners' Association affected her so deeply?

“I need to talk to you, Sam.”

He took a deep breath and stood, pacing across the room. “We need to talk to each other, Amanda. And seriously.”

He twisted on a boot heel and walked to the window, opening the curtains to allow sunlight to spill into the room.

“You have that ‘I know what's best for you' tone in your voice, Sam. I'm not as fragile as you think I am.” She pulled the covers back again to climb out of bed. “In fact, since coming to Willow Creek, I've discovered just how strong I can be when necessary.” She crossed the room to face him, her chin high with pride and her eyes bright with confidence. “I think my experiences here have helped me grow up. Arthur tried to keep me childlike, dependent upon him.” She took a deep breath. “And I guess I enjoyed that, too. But I've learned I like being independent and making my own decisions. I appreciate that, even though we're married, you haven't tried to control me.” She touched his arm and gave him a brilliant smile.

Sam couldn't resist. He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. He inhaled her lilac scent and closed his eyes as her soft, curvaceous body molded against him. He'd never love another woman the way he loved Amanda, and the thought made him weak with longing.

He wanted to kiss her, to enjoy the soft petals of her lips opening beneath his. He ached to taste the sweet nectar she offered, but if he did, he'd be lost forever.

He took a step back and inhaled a deep breath. “I've been lying to you, Amanda.”

Wariness grew in her eyes and suspicion lit the deep emerald depths.

“But, we promised each other. We said...”

He didn't wait for her to finish the sentence. The words were a painful memory. “I know what I said, but I lied.” He raked his hand through his hair. God, he wanted a drink. He should have gone to the saloon to prepare himself.

She crossed her arms and the soft planes of her face hardened. “I think you'd better explain yourself, Samuel Calhoun.”

He was backed into the corner, trapped by her dressing screen, the bed, and an angry and perplexed Amanda. He glanced at the window and briefly considered opening it and stepping out onto the roof. Then he could fling himself off and hope he'd be so severely injured he wouldn't need to do this. “I think you should sit down.”

“I don't want to sit down, Sam.”

He swallowed again, and tried to find the words. Finally, he closed his eyes, summoned every ounce of courage he could find, and proceeded.

“I made a deal with Father Mikelson.”

“Father Mikelson? What kind of deal could you make with that pious old fool?”

Sam winced and opened his eyes. A frown furrowed her brow. He wanted to pace, but she remained implacable. With her crossed arms and harsh, angry look, moving her wouldn't be wise.

“It was all to protect you and keep you safe. For your own good.”

She tapped a toe. “Whenever a man utters those words, my blood turns cold. It means I'm going to hear something I won't like.”

He took a step closer, wanting to reach out and touch her, to reassure her. “Father Mikelson knows about the threats against you—that someone might even be trying to kill you.”

She gasped, and her lips formed a hard line. She stood silently, glaring at him, before stomping across the room. She kicked several pieces of clothing to the side. “I told him about that in confidence. He's a priest for heaven's sake. He's supposed to keep secrets. He took some kind of vow.”

She picked up a silver brush from her dressing table, and Sam imagined it flying toward his head. Instead, she sat down and tugged pins from her hair before roughly yanking the brush through it with no apparent regard for her scalp. He winced at the thought of the pain she inflicted upon herself.

He cares about you. He said he loves you like a daughter.”

She snorted and turned to face him. “Love is just a word men use to justify their treachery.”

The words wounded Sam deeply. Is that what she thought of him? No, because in all their time together, those were the words he'd kept locked inside. He'd never told Amanda how much he loved her. At least not when she was awake and able hear him.

She turned back to the mirror, but their eyes met in the reflection.

“He knew you were in danger, that you'd been threatened, and that's why he insisted on the marriage. He thought I could protect you.”

“How noble of you, Sam. You took a wife you didn't love to keep her safe.” Acid dripped from her words. “But, wait. This is the same Samuel Calhoun who planned to seduce a defenseless widow for money.” Her smile grew hard and cold. “How much did he pay you, Sam?”

He froze at her words. Fumbling for an answer, he tried to distract her. “Father Mikelson wanted you to be safe and happy.”

She stood, hands on her hips, to face him. “Then why did he force me to marry you, Sam?”

He recoiled. “Because he thought he could trust me?”

Her brittle laughter slashed through the room. “Then he's more of an old fool than I ever imagined. Didn't he know you're the prince of lies? Remember Sam, I called you that once before. Truly, you deserve the title.”

She slammed the brush down on the dainty lace doily lining the surface of the dressing table and glared at him. “Why did you do it, Sam? Tell me the truth. The truth, if that's even possible, and then I want you out of here.”

He considered pleading with her. He could tell her he'd started out wanting to protect her, but that he'd fallen deeply, irrevocably in love with her. He might tell her she was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, have children with. He could tell her about dreams that the two of them would grow old together.

His heart was shattering within his chest as he realized being with Amanda was what he desired most in this world, and the one thing he couldn't have. He wanted to fall to his knees and plead with her to forgive him, but telling her the truth would bind her to him forever, and lies would send her away. Lies that were necessary for her survival.

Blood moved slowly through his veins. If he'd been submerged in a glacial stream before the spring thaw he couldn't be more chilled.

“Money. Isn't it always money?” He made his voice cold and emotionless. “That and an annulment. He said if I left you alone, didn't share your bed, he'd arrange for an annulment. We'd both be free.”

Amanda stared at him, her eyes betraying her shock and surprise. She laughed again, the hollow, brittle sound making him shudder. “Well, Sam. You didn't exactly fulfill that part of the bargain did you?” She pointed to her bed. “I seem to recall I haven't spent all the nights since our wedding alone in this bed. How will you explain that to Father Mikelson?”

Sam's face heated. “I…we...” The truth, that he simply couldn't resist her, sounded feeble.

“Don't worry, Sam.” She leaned forward, acting as though she were conspiring with him. “I won't tell if you won't. You can have your annulment and good riddance to you.” Her words were clipped and icy as she waved a hand in the air, brushing him aside.

She pointed toward the door. “Now get out, and I don't want you bothering me again. When the Miners' Ball is over and Caleb is healed, I'll be leaving Willow Creek for good.”

Sam hurried around her, anxious to escape her anger and accusations. He was afraid the dark, cold emptiness filling him would bring him to his knees. He grabbed his hat from the bed and stood in the doorway separating their rooms. “I'm sorry, Amanda. I never intended to hurt you.”

She had bent over to fasten her boots and he couldn't see her expression. “Just do me one favor, Sam.” Her tone was icy.

“I'll do whatever I can to make you happy, Amanda.”

She lifted her head and flung the buttonhook across the room. “Hang that door back on the hinges. I still have a gun, and I can't be certain I'll resist the temptation to shoot you again.”

He pulled the Stetson down on his head and nodded. “You won't need to worry about indulging your murderous tendencies. I won't be sleeping at the hotel anymore.”

He turned and walked out of the room, trying to appear calm and composed. When he finally reached the porch, he leaned against one of the carved newel posts. He remembered crossing this street several weeks ago, telling himself he didn't need to worry about losing his heart to the Widow Wainwright, because he didn't believe he possessed one anymore.

He'd been a damned fool. Today he knew for certain he still had a heart. He recoiled as he realized everything he had treasured with Amanda was lost forever. All those years he'd spent building a wall around his emotions had been useless. A shattering sense of loss overwhelmed him.

He'd just sentenced himself to a future without love. He clenched his fists and fought back against the wave of loneliness that swept over him, nearly choking him with pain. He yanked his hat down over his eyes to hide the tears he knew glistened there.

He stumbled across the street toward the saloon, knowing there wasn't enough whiskey in the world to wash away the heartache he was feeling. He didn't care.