Teresa Bodwell (18 page)
Authors: Loving Miranda
“It isn’t my imagination. It’s what you deserve.”
Miranda bit her tongue. She was afraid to think about what she deserved, but Ben had surely described the life she dreamt about. She traced a finger through the hair on his chest. “Can I ask you one more question that has nothing to do with the war?”
“Won’t promise I can answer.”
“When we get back to the house, will you tell Mercy and Thad you’ve decided Jonathan should stay with them?”
“I’ll tell them.” He touched her face. He didn’t want to think about facing Mercy and Thad. Didn’t want to think about closing his business here, because that meant he would no longer have an excuse to touch Miranda’s unruly corn silk hair, to swim in her great blue eyes, or to bask in the glow of her smile.
“I don’t suppose before we go you’d kiss me one more time?”
“One more kiss?” Ben asked. That was like asking a beggar at the feast to take one slice of bread and leave the roast pig, the fruit, the cheese, and the fine wine. “No, I don’t think I’ll settle for one small kiss.”
Ben feasted from Miranda’s lips to her toes and he relished her gentle touches. Surely, a village of island maidens could not give him the pleasure of Miranda’s trim body.
They both knew it had to end; they could hardly stay in this shelter forever. As the sun peeked through the clouds outside they made a game of dressing each other. She helped him pull on his pants, spending far too long on fastening each button. He helped her pull her chemise over her head, covering her breasts and her waist and her hips; then he knelt before her, pulled the hem of the garment up, and found her navel with his tongue.
He had her giggling fiercely when the door flew open and Thad Buchanan stepped inside holding two pistols hip high and aimed straight at them.
Ben jumped to his feet, blocking Miranda from view.
“What the hell are you doing here, Lansing?”
Ben opened his mouth to speak, but Miranda shouted. “Put those guns away before you hurt someone.” She pulled a blanket around herself and stepped in front of Ben. “What the hell are you doing barging in without knocking?”
Thad’s face flushed and he looked away from her as he shoved his guns back into his holster. “We were out lookin’ for O’Reilly, and when I saw the smoke—” He shoved his hat back on his head and mumbled something that might have been “damnation.” He glared at Ben. “Lansing . . . This is a hell of a strange way to look after a girl!”
Ben and Thad each stepped around Miranda, driven by some mysterious male instinct, she supposed. Thad’s fist connected with Ben’s jaw, causing the smaller man to stumble back a step. Thad landed a second punch on Ben’s chest; Miranda could hear the whoosh of air forced from Ben’s lungs.
Hell, Thad was going to kill Ben if he didn’t start defending himself. “You stop!” she shouted.
Neither man seemed to hear her. Ben came to life, and Thad grunted as Ben drove a fist into his gut. He tackled the larger man, and they rolled over the table and onto the floor in a tangle. Miranda could no longer tell who was dominating in the blur of fists and knees and elbows. She had to do something to get their attention and she remembered the bucket she’d set out to catch the rain. Her aim was true as she doused the pair of ruffians with icy water.
“Dammit, that’s cold!” Thad bellowed as he rolled away.
Ben grinned up at her and winced as blood trickled from his lip.
“You boys about done with your antics?”
They sat like two chastised schoolboys and stared up at her. Ben was still grinning. Thad looked angrier than a bull locked away from the cows at breeding time.
Miranda stood wrapped in a blanket and glared at the pair of them. “Thad Buchanan, you’re married to my sister. That gives you no rights over me. I’m a grown woman.”
Thad touched the side of his face, where it appeared a bruise was starting. “I know what Mercy would say if she’d walked in here and saw you.” He glared at Ben.
“I didn’t . . .” Ben started, then looked up at Miranda.
“He didn’t do anything I didn’t ask him to do.” She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “I’m old enough to make my own decisions.”
“I’m sorry, Miranda,” Thad said. “You may be old enough, but Lansing is a good bit older, and he had no right to take advantage of you. A gentleman would offer marriage.”
Miranda laughed.
“Of course I intend to marry her, Buchanan. You certainly didn’t think she’d allow such liberties otherwise, did you?”
Miranda gaped at him, but she couldn’t find her tongue to tell Ben that no such offer was necessary.
“I realize it’s a bit of a surprise, Mister . . . Thad. We were on our way to tell you the good news last night when the storm drove us into this cabin. I’m afraid being alone here, we were carried away.”
It was Thad’s turn to gape. He stared at Ben, then turned to Miranda. “Is that right, Miranda? You intend to . . . to marry Lansing?”
Miranda swallowed. She watched Ben for some clue as to how she should respond, but he wasn’t looking at her. She forced a smile. “Of course. We’ll be married in the spring.”
Thad looked from Miranda to Ben. He brushed dust from both of his knees, then stood, towering over Ben, who was still sitting on the floor. “The hell you will,” he said in a voice so quiet it was frightening. “Preacher’s in town this week—you’ll be married on Saturday.”
Ben looked up and Miranda expected him to say he’d been joking, he’d never intended to actually marry her. Instead, he smiled at Thad—that smile that made Miranda think he wanted to sell a used buggy without any wheels.
“Well, that’s good news, isn’t it, sweetheart?” He looked up at Miranda. “We won’t have to wait, after all.”
“Good news.” Miranda couldn’t think of anything else to say, at least not out loud in front of Thad. The moment she could get the madman posing as Ben Lansing alone, there was a hell of a lot she planned to say.
Miranda took a sip of coffee. It was cold and bitter. She glanced up at the clock over the mantel. They’d been sitting around the kitchen table going over plans for the wedding. The strange thing was that Pa seemed happy about it. Of course, he was the only one.
Mercy rubbed her temples and closed her eyes, then looked back at Ben. “There’s one thing I want to ask you, Mr. Lansing.”
“Ben.” He smiled at Mercy. “Please.”
“Very well, Ben. Is the purpose of this marriage so that you can provide a home for your nephew?”
“Jonathan?” Ben looked from Mercy to Thad. “No, of course not. I should have said earlier, only in the excitement about our plans it escaped my mind. Jonathan’s place is here, with the two of you. I hope you’ll forgive me for doubting you. I am most grateful for all you’ve done for my nephew. As for me, I’ve no desire for children—”
“Except for the children the good Lord may bless you and Miranda with,” Thad said.
“Yes, exactly what I meant.” Ben’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He smiled at Miranda. “I mean no children other than those we’re lucky enough to have.”
“Children are not a matter of luck.” Thad leaned across the table and glared at Ben. “They are a blessing to be cherished. As I’m certain you will cherish your wife.”
Ben put his hand over Miranda’s and squeezed tight. She noticed his hand was damp, which meant his calm appearance was an act. “I’ll do everything in my power to protect Miranda.”
And I will do what I can to make certain that doesn’t include marrying me against her will.
“What the hell are you doing?” Miranda asked when she was certain no one else was in the barn.
Ben kept his eyes on Lightning. “Checking on my horse.”
Miranda reached up and clasped his shoulder. “That’s not what I mean and you know it.”
He smiled at her, then turned back to his horse. “Thad’s right. I don’t want my actions causing anyone to think less of you.”
“It’s not as though you forced me. If anyone is to blame, it’s me.”
Ben nodded. “That’s exactly what people will think. Your family will believe that I took advantage of you. The rest of the world will believe this reflects on your character, not mine.”
“You know damn well you weren’t the first for me.”
“I’m the only one in this town who knows about that, aren’t I?”
Miranda turned away from him. She had done her best to keep the secret. She wet her lips. “I still can’t ask this of you.” Miranda shook her head. “I was willing to play along. No harm in pretendin’ we’re engaged. We could have a fight and it would all be over. But—they are in there now planning our wedding.” She glanced back toward the house where she’d left Thad, Mercy, and Pa talking about the “good news.”
He turned her and pulled her against his warm chest. His musky scent reminded her of their long night of passion. Lord how she wanted to believe there would be more nights like that, nights of tender kisses and long, slow lovemaking.
“It’s no sacrifice, love.”
Her heart stopped as he used the name he’d called her last night. She looked up at him and he smiled, a warm, tender smile that filled her heart and caused tears to pool in her eyes.
“You want me?”
He nodded. “How can you doubt it?” He brushed a kiss to her forehead. “Did I seem reluctant last night?”
“No, you didn’t.” She blinked back a tear and sniffed. “Only I thought . . . Ben.” She pulled him down for a kiss and felt the same spark of passion that was always beneath the surface when he was near.
He held her close. In that moment everything became clear—the two of them belonged together. She hated the idea of Thad forcing Ben into this. His kiss convinced her that this wedding might be rushed, but the marriage was going to work.
Chapter 15
“Well, congratulations, Mr. Lansing.” Clarisse surprised him when he walked into the store early the next morning. How she’d heard he couldn’t imagine. Word traveled more quickly than his horse, apparently.
“Thank you. I can’t tell you how pleased I am.” Shocked would be a better adjective. Yet, he knew he was doing the right thing. A few months spent here playing husband to Miranda wasn’t such a high price to pay for her future. All he was putting off was his retirement on that tropical island. And he still needed to find a way to fund that. “Miranda will make a beautiful bride.”
“Miranda?” Clarisse walked right up to him and stared as though she were trying to decide how he’d managed to acquire a third eye. “Miranda is to be married?”
“Yes, of course, Miranda. Who else would I marry?”
“You’re marrying Miranda?” Clarisse repeated.
“I . . . What else would you be congratulating me about?”
“Why, the sale of your paintings, of course.”
“My . . .” It was Ben’s turn to be puzzled. “The paintings you purchased from me?”
Clarisse nodded. “I didn’t give you nearly enough, it turns out.” She moved behind the counter, opened a drawer and removed a small package. “I gave you fifty dollars because I wasn’t certain how much I’d get for them.” She grinned and handed him the small rectangular package. “You’ll find another fifty in there.”
“Fifty.” Ben felt the weight of the parcel. “Dollars?”
“I set this money aside for you when I received the wire from my friend in New York. He bought the paintings and wired the money to our account in Denver.”
“New—” Ben stopped himself from echoing her again. “I don’t understand. You bought the paintings.”
“I sent them to an art dealer I happen to know, in New York.” Clarisse smiled as though it were common for the proprietor of a small mercantile in the wilderness to be friends with New York art dealers. “I knew he’d be able to get more money for them there than what I could get here, or even in Denver. The only surprise was the speed of the post and well, I never thought he’d get over a hundred dollars.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “I took out a small commission and the cost of shipping them, of course.”
“Of course.” Ben stuck the wrapped bills into his jacket pocket. He wondered if the money would be enough for passage to the Sandwich Islands. He’d heard that mail ships left from San Francisco regularly. Then he remembered the reason he’d come to the store. “I . . . I wondered if you had a wedding ring.”
Clarisse winked. “You came to the right place.” She waved him down to the end of the counter where she pulled out a drawer and set it on top of the display case. “Now, which one do you suppose Miranda would like?”
Ben had no idea. But the fact that his stomach twisted at the question struck him as a very bad sign.
“You don’t have to do this.”
Miranda scrubbed the old iron skillet. She did not want to have this conversation. Her sister was too good at knowing what was in Miranda’s heart. Although perhaps this time it would be harder for Mercy to figure out since Miranda wasn’t quite sure herself.
“I know I don’t have to.”
“Thad. I love him dearly, but he can be bullheaded about these things. He doesn’t know Fort Victory like we do. Things are different here. Could be that in the East you’d become an outcast, I don’t know. But that isn’t the way it is here. There are a few folks, of course, who will gossip, but a little talk isn’t as hard to live with as a man you don’t love.” Mercy sighed. “If you find yourself in a family way, you know we’d help you.”
Miranda stopped her scrubbing to look up at her sister. “I know, Mercy. It isn’t as though I feel I have to”—she stumbled over the words—“marry him.” She took a deep breath. “I want to.”
Mercy took a step closer and Miranda could feel her sister’s eyes probing her. “You love him?”
Miranda hesitated. She hadn’t thought of it that way until this moment. She wanted him and felt he needed her. That was enough. It was more than she’d ever expected to have from a man. “I do.”
“I’m happy for you, little sister.” Mercy grabbed her then and hugged her close. “It’s awfully quick, but Lord knows it happens that way sometimes.”
Miranda wrapped her arms around her older sister and let her tears run freely. She sniffed into Mercy’s shoulder. “I’ve got black grease on my hands; you’re gonna be a mess.”
Mercy stepped back, touched Miranda’s cheek, and smiled. “Why didn’t you tell me the two of you are in love? I was so worried with Thad ranting and all that he’d forced Ben to—”
Miranda turned away and wiped her hands on a towel. She glanced back at Mercy.
“Ben did ask you before Thad came barging in on you?”
Miranda wet her lips. That was Ben’s story. They were already engaged before they’d slept together. “I thought we’d already explained all that,” she said, though she knew her statement lost a good bit of credibility since she couldn’t look her sister in the eye.
“Miranda.” Her sister heaved a sigh and sat in one of the ladder-backed chairs their pa had made. “You’re very sure about this?”
Miranda blinked back more tears. Her sister would think her tears were a sign of sadness or fear, but that wasn’t the case. She was happy. Ben might not love her, but he did want her, and she was going to be a good wife to him. “I’m very sure.”
Miranda had surprised everyone when she announced that she intended to move into the small cabin on the mountain. Come winter they might have to move into the main house. The narrow trail up to the cabin was steep and difficult enough in the summer. When the snow came to stay, it could be icy and treacherous and might even be impassable for days at a time. If she were honest, Miranda would have to admit that the prospect of long days and nights alone with Ben in the small cabin held a good deal of appeal. But that wasn’t the main reason she’d chosen to make this place their home.
It wasn’t fair to Ben to force him to live with Thad, Mercy, and Pa. Not yet, maybe not ever. He had grown up in a mansion with servants and extra rooms for houseguests. Miranda was certain she’d be lost in such a house, but she imagined Ben would find frontier life just as difficult to accept.
If Miranda was going to find a way to show Benjamin Lansing how much he really needed her, they were going to need some privacy.
She’d spent hours cleaning and making the simple cabin comfortable for her new husband. Pa had given her a sturdy table and two new chairs. If they had callers, they would still have to use the old crates for sitting. She laughed at the thought of entertaining guests in this little building. Like everyone else in these parts, if they had visitors, Miranda would offer them hospitality.
She glanced at the freshly painted bed frame. They’d thrown out the old straw tick, and Thad had spent all yesterday afternoon working on the frame. Ingrid Hansen had organized several women to make a quilt as a wedding gift, and Clarisse had promised a new featherbed and two pillows.
Miranda’s heart sang with the idea of being a wife to Ben, a man who was handsome, intelligent, and strong enough to fight when he had to. She smiled at the memory of Ben tackling Thad. The man could take care of himself and protect his family. But he would never raise a hand to her in anger—she was certain of that.
Against all odds she’d found the man who was meant for her. All that remained was for Ben to understand the gift they’d been given. And he would, in time. He’d agreed to marry her to protect her from disgrace, which showed he was a man of honor. In time, she was certain he would come to really care for her. Perhaps not the way she loved him, but there were many different kinds of caring. For the moment, she’d settle for the knowledge that he truly desired her. He wanted to hold her and touch her and have her touching him.
He even thought she was beautiful—in spite of her scar. She brushed a finger along her jaw, feeling the ragged line the scar made. Ben wasn’t blind to the flaw, but it didn’t matter to him. She was sure there weren’t many men who would feel that way. Surely that was a sign that he was the one for her.
She made him smile—not that pretend snake-oil-vendor grin, but a real smile that came from deep inside him. A smile of contentment that warmed her heart nearly as much as his kisses did.
One day they would have a real house and children. Ben would find joy then, Miranda was certain of it. Funny how easy it was for Miranda to see Ben’s folly. He was a clever man, too smart perhaps. He had himself fooled into believing that a man could live alone. But living alone wasn’t really living, and it didn’t suit Ben at all. He needed her as much as she did him. It wasn’t until she’d found Ben that she felt womanly and wanted. Almost whole again. Her love was starting to heal him inside, too, though it was bound to take some time.
She pulled his bag out from under the bed and put his things into the drawers she’d cleared. He didn’t have much, just two suits, three shirts, some stockings and undergarments, and three books. Miranda opened the first of the books and found it wasn’t filled with printed words, but pictures. Pencil sketches. She turned through page after page and found horses, and women. Men too, as well as buildings, trees, and rocks. There were sketches of anything you could imagine, animals of all kinds and people of all ages.
The faces almost made her cry. Sadness and horror, terror and woe. She stared for a long while at a picture of a man sitting with a blanket wrapped around him. It was so real she could almost feel the cold.
The second book had pictures of seashore and river, trees and mountains. Almost all of the pictures were outdoor scenes, some with horses, cows, and sheep. One picture seemed to be looking up at a few clouds and a hawk dark against the sky.
“Miranda.” Ben strode across the wooden floor, pulling the book out of her hand. “That’s mine.”
“I was putting the books away with your other things,” she said. “I couldn’t help looking. Your pictures—”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
She let him take the books, which he returned to his bag and shoved back under the bed.
Ben spun back to her. “I appreciate your efforts, love, but my books are private.”
“I’ll do as you wish, Ben.” She stretched up to the tips of her toes and kissed his cheek, then looked away.
He lifted her chin. “I don’t want you feeling you must bow and scrape to my every wish.”
She grinned. “No need to worry, I won’t. I’ll respect your wishes about your books, though.”
“Thank you.” Ben looked around the room. “I didn’t expect to find you here. Thad made it clear you weren’t to move in until after the wedding,” Ben said. “You’ve cleaned up a bit.”
“I wanted it to be nice for us—a home.”
Ben shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
“You’re not changin’ your mind about tomorrow, are you?”
He smiled then, his genuine smile, the one that always made her heart skip a beat.
“No fear of that, my dear.” Ben pulled her close. “I intend to stand beside you in front of the preacher tomorrow and make my intentions clear to anyone who will listen.”
Miranda pressed her lips to his, wove her fingers into his hair, and held him tight until they were both breathless.
She rested her head against his chest, feeling his heart pounding as hard and fast as her own. “I hope I can hold up my part of the bargain.”
“You have nothing to fear,” Ben said. “All you have to do is be a beautiful bride, and I have no doubt you will be that.”
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