The Outlaw Bride (17 page)

“What did she do?”

Katherine felt the old shame rise like bile in her throat. She didn’t blame her mother, but she hated what she’d done all the same. “She took in laundry at the mining camp. And…” She couldn’t get the words out.

“And men,” Connor finished, but she didn’t hear any condemnation in his voice.

Katherine nodded.

“Where’s your mother now?”

“Dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

She stared down at her hands. She couldn’t keep the sadness from threading the edges of her voice. “I think she was glad of it. She never quite got over Pa dying. She loved him something fierce, but part of her always blamed him for dying and leaving her alone.”

“How old were you when your mother passed?”

“Sixteen.”

He took another step, the brief separation between them shrinking further. “What did you do?”

“I married a man I barely knew.”

For a moment, Connor said nothing, then, “Where is he now?”

Katherine shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Seconds ticked past and the silence dragged between them. “Are you still married?”

“Yes,” she whispered, unable to look at him.

“Is he who you’re hiding from? Why you pretended to be someone you’re not?”

She nodded.

Connor lifted a hand to her cheek. Katherine inhaled sharply. For a brief second he paused then touched a stray curl where it dangled near her ear.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

Before what? Before she fell for him? Before he touched her? “I was afraid you wouldn’t hire me if you knew my situation.”

He nodded. She could see his mind working, turning over what he had just learned, deciding whether to believe her or not. She wasn’t sure what she had said that made the difference, but the hardness in his gaze eased and she felt him relent. “You’re safe here. You know that, don’t you? He can’t hurt you now.”

She swallowed. She knew he meant well. She knew he believed what he said. But the plain and simple truth was if Rogan ever tracked her here, no one would be safe. He’d kill anyone that got in his way. What happened on the stagecoach drove that point home.

Connor moved closer, his fingers brushing her cheek, her jaw. The heat of his body closed in around her, pulling her back to the present.

“What are you doing?”

His brows knit together. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything where you’re concerned. You’re like a fever in my blood I can’t get rid of.”

He cupped her face with both hands, his thumbs gently pressing the underside of her chin, tilting her face toward him. She couldn’t breathe. His mouth was so close. His gaze locked on hers and drove into her with such force it pinned her in place, making it impossible to move.

The air between them became charged and nothing else in the world existed. Connor lowered his head until his lips hovered just above her own.

A deep yearning cleaved through her. “Are you going to kiss me again?”

“Yes,” he said with a small nod, resignation etched into his features. “I’m afraid I am.”

Connor’s lips touched hers, a gentle brush, skin against skin. The breath Katherine held escaped. He lifted his head to take it in. Then the pressure on her mouth returned, firmer this time, yet oh so tender. So different from the previous night’s kiss, but no less intoxicating.

Katherine’s body tingled, the sensation waking parts of her she hadn’t given much consideration to in a very long time. She had never been kissed like this. Like it was going to consume her entire being until nothing remained but a whimpering mass of want and need.

Connor nibbled at her bottom lip, kissed the corner of her mouth, nuzzled his nose against hers. His thumbs brushed the underside of her chin, and his fingers teased the back of her neck. She rested her hands against his hard chest, reveling at the strong beat of his heart beneath her touch. The heat from his body soaked through the soft fabric of his shirt and warmed her palms. She gave into the longing to explore. Her hands slid down the hard ridges of his belly then wound around his back, marveling at the muscles shifting beneath her palms.

Connor’s touch was both gentle and demanding, and she wondered how the two could coincide together so beautifully. Did a more wondrous feeling than this exist?

She pressed herself against the length of him, wishing she could melt into his body and stay there forever. A low groan rumbled in his chest and his arms slid around her shoulders and crushed her to him. He deepened the kiss, wanting, demanding. Katherine found herself only too happy to comply, lost in the heady madness his touch had conjured.

A flurry of barking riddled the air, breaking the spell that had wrapped itself around them as if someone had doused them with a bucket of ice water from the creek.

Connor’s gaze seared and she could see in his eyes all the things that would have happened had they not been interrupted. A shiver rushed through her veins. Would she have stopped him?

No, she realized. She didn’t think she possessed that kind of strength.

A voice grew closer and spoke to Jenny, the tone friendly. Connor shot her one last, inscrutable look before moving away from her to the door.

“It’s Reverend Sangster.”

***

“Old Mrs. Greevy, despite her son’s worry to the contrary, still has some kick left in her,” Reverend Sangster said, scooping a spoonful of creamy mashed potatoes onto his plate. “Three times this week her son has traveled to town to say his mother had taken a turn for the worse and was asking about me. And three times I arrived at their cabin to find her fit as a fiddle. What do you make of that? A miracle?” He smiled and handed the bowl to Kate.

Warmth radiated from Kate’s return smile. She dished out a helping for Jenny and then herself. A pang of unexpected jealously jabbed at Connor. He wanted her smiles directed at him and him alone, not at the handsome young Reverend with the charming manner that filled a church every Sunday and had the whole congregation singing his praises.

Connor shoved a forkful of garden peas drizzled with butter into his mouth and swallowed the irrational emotion. Will was happily married to Bart’s daughter. He wasn’t about to steal Kate away. And even if he wanted to, Kate didn’t belong to him. She was married.

Married.

Whatever truth he’d been expecting, that hadn’t even been on the map. And not just married, but married to a man who scared her enough she had changed her identity to hide from him. What had that man done to her? A sick sensation twisted in his guts. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“Perhaps Mrs. Greevy likes your company, Reverend,” Kate offered, interrupting his thoughts.

“Perhaps so. She certainly makes a point of showing up for service each and every Sunday.” He turned his pointed gaze on Connor. “Unlike some other people I know.”

Connor squirmed in his chair and stabbed at the seasoned beef steak on his plate. He grunted noncommittally, hoping Will would let it go.

Kate cut in. “I’m afraid it was my fault we missed last Sunday.” Color bloomed in her cheeks. Lord, but she was pretty all flushed like that. “I didn’t bring much with me to Fatal Bluff and I didn’t have anything proper to wear to town. But Connor graciously allowed me to borrow some of Jenny’s mother’s clothes—”

“Emily’s?”

Connor watched from the corner of his eye as Will’s attention swung back to him.

“Leave it alone, Will,” Connor warned. He had no intention of hashing out his past in front of Kate and reliving the hurt and humiliation all over again.

Kate leaned forward. “Leave what alone?” A spark of curiosity turned her eyes a lovely sage green. A man could get lost in those eyes. A man
had
gotten lost in those eyes. Connor bit down into his beef steak and tried to forget just how lost he’d been. Tried to forget how close he’d come to taking her right there in the kitchen with Jenny on the other side of the door.

When no one answered her, Kate piped up again. “Leave what alone, Reverend?”

“It’s just…well I…” Will cleared his throat and straightened the cutlery around his plate. “You know, perhaps now that you’ve something suitable to wear, Kate, you might convince Connor to bring you and Jenny to the social on Saturday.”

Connor dropped his fork onto his plate and leaned back in his chair. That was the last thing he needed. Will smiled and Connor could see the laughter behind his friend’s eyes as he pushed his chair back. “Well, I best be going before Beth starts to wonder where I’ve wandered off to. Thank you for the dessert, Kate. Tastiest cobbler I’ve ever had. Next to my wife’s, of course.” He grinned and winked at Kate, who blushed beneath the compliment.

Will gathered his black coat and Connor stood, glad to get the man out of his house before he ran off at the mouth and Connor’s entire past was laid bare for Kate to pick over. “I’ll walk you out.”

Will waited until they were outside before he spoke again. “She doesn’t know?”

Connor didn’t have to ask what Will referred to. It seemed to be all the townspeople wanted to talk about since he came back. That and getting him married off.

“No.” He unwound the reins from the hitching post near the chicken coop and led the sable-colored horse out of Kate’s earshot, forcing Will to follow. “And I prefer to keep it that way, too.”

“She’s bound to find out eventually, Con. You know how people in this town like to talk. Maybe it’s best you tell her yourself?”

Connor shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other and crossed his arms over his chest. He couldn’t look Will in the eye. “No reason she needs to know.”

“Isn’t there?” His horse snorted impatiently and Connor wished the man would take the hint and head on out. He didn’t want to think about all the reasons he should tell Kate. Besides, if she was content to keep her own secrets, shouldn’t he be allowed a few of his own?

“I didn’t come back to Fatal Bluff to relive the past.”

Will patted his horse’s neck to settle it down. “If I recall, you didn’t want to come back here at all.”

Connor couldn’t argue with that point. Coming back to Fatal Bluff had been the last thing he wanted. But he’d done it anyway. He’d picked up the threads of a life he’d run away from eight years earlier, only to find its landscape had changed dramatically.

Grant was dead. Emily too. In their place stood a little girl who bore only a faint resemblance to either of them. He began to wonder if he had changed too from the hotheaded young man who had charged out of town, hurt and betrayed, swearing never to return. In the time he’d been gone, the scope of his life had altered, widened. He’d ridden through it, not caring about the passing of days, thinking he had all the time in the world to go back and fix things.

Grant’s death brought that assumption to an abrupt halt. In an instant, he’d lost forever the chance to make amends, to put their relationship right. He should have come back when he’d heard of Emily’s death, but pride and hurt kept him away. It took an outlaw’s bullet to bring him home, and by then, it was too late.

“Well, I’m here now.”

Will nodded and stuck a foot in the stirrup, swinging himself up into the saddle. “Yes, you are. And you have a chance to start over. Kate’s a good woman. It’s not right the way you have her living here without the benefit of marriage. It won’t be long before talk starts and people wonder what’s going on—”

“Nothing’s going on,” Connor shot out.

Will fixed him with a look that said he might as well try to convince him his horse was about to sprout wings and fly home.

“Lying to a man of God, Con?” He clucked his tongue. “You look at her like you’re a man dropped in the middle of the desert and she’s the oasis.”

Connor swallowed. Hell.

“Make things right, Con. And tell her the truth before she hears it from someone else.”

But he couldn’t make things right. She wasn’t free to let that happen. And he wasn’t sure he trusted his heart enough to take that step even if she were.

Will reached down and took the reins from Connor. “I’ll see you this Saturday.”

“I’m not going to the damn social.”

Will gave him a knowing smile. “Yes you are,” he said, and Connor knew it for the truth. Just last night Kate had been busily hemming a dress in the hopes of attending, and he couldn’t find it in himself to dash that hope.

Connor stepped back as Will rode off. He waited until horse and rider grew to a speck on the horizon before he turned back to the house. He stopped halfway and looked through the door.

Kate reached across the table for his plate, piling the silverware on top, chatting away to Jenny. The blue paisley shirtwaist melded to her body, outlining the shape of her breasts and drawing downward to her small waist. One of Emily’s, he assumed.

He tried to imagine Emily in it, but couldn’t picture her face with any detail or clarity. She remained a fuzzy image in his mind’s eye, receding into the blackness.

The realization struck him unexpectedly and squeezed the air from his lungs. There had been a time when he thought her image would be burned into his memory forever. It surprised him he could barely remember the details, or the sound of her voice. Now when he closed his eyes, the image that haunted him had strawberry blond curls, sea-green eyes and a body that fit so perfectly against his he found it difficult to imagine she could be made for anyone else.

Connor changed direction and headed for the barn with swift strides. He couldn’t go back inside. Couldn’t face Kate after that kiss and not pick up where he’d left off. He needed some time and distance to wrap his head around his raging emotions…and stuff them back down to the dark corner where he’d kept them for the past eight years.

“We have a traitor in our midst, Sheriff!”

Connor stopped his ascent up the staircase to Amelia’s boardinghouse and turned, staring down at Oliver Hewitt. Sunlight glinted off the man’s bald head. “Beg your pardon, Hewitt?”

“A traitor, Sheriff.”

Connor glanced at the pink envelope in Oliver’s hand. The faint trace of rose wafted up in the still air to tickle his senses. He recognized it immediately. It was a letter from Hannah Stockdale.

The
real
Hannah Stockdale. His heart plummeted to his boots.

Connor held out his hand and Oliver stuffed the letter into it. “She says she has changed her mind about our business venture and sends her deepest regrets. It appears she will not be traveling to Fatal Bluff to marry Walter Figg. Do you know what that means, Sheriff?”

Connor swallowed. He knew exactly what that meant. The only problem was, so did Oliver Hewitt. And now the question was, how did he keep the nosy little man’s mouth from wagging all about town with the news that Kate was not who she said she was? If she was hiding from an abusive husband—and Connor could only assume that was the case, given that she was rather sketchy on the details—then outing her as a liar in front of the whole town would likely only cause her to run. And he couldn’t afford that.

For Jenny’s sake.

Connor chose his words carefully. “I know she isn’t the real Hannah Stockdale.”

Oliver’s eyes bulged. “You do? Then why isn’t she in jail?”

Connor released a hard breath and stepped down off the staircase into the quiet street. Shops had closed early this evening to allow people to prepare for the social. “She isn’t in jail because no crime has been committed.”

“Fraud, Sheriff! She has committed fraud! She bilked us out of the train fare and a night’s lodgings and she—”

“And if I lock her up you won’t be getting one cent of that back,” Connor reminded him. That was enough to shut Oliver up. “Listen, the lady has had some difficulties in the past and just wants to start a new life. I say we let her. You’ll get your money repaid, I get myself a housekeeper to care for Jenny, and everyone’s happy.”

“But—”

“But nothing, Oliver,” Connor said. He leaned in close and fixed the man with a hard stare. “I don’t want you mucking this up. She’s not hurting anyone. Now, I’m going to hang onto this letter and I don’t want one word of this being breathed to anyone until Kate decides she’s ready to tell. Do I make myself clear? Because if I hear you haven’t kept your mouth shut, I’m going to be pretty mad, Oliver. And I guarantee you do not want to be on the business end of that. Do we understand each other?”

Oliver’s chins quivered as he hastily nodded his head. “Yes, of course, Sheriff. I—I would be more than pleased to keep your confidence. After all, I’m a business man. I know the meaning of discretion, I do.”

Connor straightened and folded the letter, shoving it into his shirt pocket. “Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He turned his back on Oliver and headed up the stairs. He hadn’t intended on seeing Kate tonight, but he guessed he’d best warn her that Oliver knew the truth.

Or at least as much of it as anyone did.

***

The idea of spending an evening in town at the autumn social made the butterflies flitter about in Katherine’s stomach until she could barely concentrate on pinning her unruly curls in place. The only dark shadow cast on her excitement was Connor’s firm refusal to attend. Instead, he drove her and Jenny into Fatal Bluff and dropped them at Amelia’s boardinghouse, where they would spend the night. She wouldn’t see Connor again until the next day when he arrived to bring them home after church services ended.

Disappointment flooded her veins, but Katherine knew it was for the best. She didn’t need to be building silly daydreams where Connor was concerned. Besides, if he asked her to dance she’d just trample his toes and make a fool of herself. She’d never been to a dance or social before. Her life had never allowed for such things.

A knock on the guestroom door made her jump. “Kate?”

She slid the last pin through the curls piled high on her head, took one final look in the vanity mirror and crossed the room to open the door. Connor stood on the other side, his hat in his hands.

He took a step back, his mouth opened, but no words came out. His gaze traveled up from her toes, stopping briefly at her cinched waist, and again at the ruffled neckline that scooped downward and revealed a rather dazzling display of cleavage she’d forgotten she had. It had been a long time since she’d fit herself into a proper corset.

Katherine looked down at the silk dress with its dark green-and-brown stripes and gathered hem. Beth Sangster had been kind enough to lend her a pair of proper shoes that fit and Amelia had insisted she wear a cameo necklace of hers that dangled just above the swell of her breasts. She’d never worn anything so fine. Part of her worried she would do something to ruin it.

Nerves worked her over and she glanced up into Connor’s startled expression. “Maybe I shouldn’t go.”

He nodded then shook his head.

Confused, Katherine tried to decipher which he meant. “I shouldn’t go?”

“No…uh…I mean…” He cleared his throat.

“I should go?”

“You…um…” He winced and the skin across his cheekbones tightened. “You look real pretty,” he said finally, but the words seemed to cost him.

“Oh.” Katherine swallowed at the unexpected compliment and smoothed the skirt of her dress with a shaky hand. “Thank you.” One rebellious curl escaped its moorings and dangled against her cheek. “Oh drat.”

She reached up to fix it but Connor’s hand stayed her own. “No, leave it.” He touched the buoyant lock, letting it slip between his fingers. Katherine couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but stare at the intent expression on his face.

He stared at the curl as if it contained answers to the mysteries of the universe. “When you fell asleep that first day after arriving at the house, I checked in on you.”

“You did?” Her lungs constricted.

He nodded then smiled. “I was hungry.”

She couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped.

“Your hair was loose and had fallen over the pillow. It reminded me of autumn, all red and gold.”

“It did?” Lord, how she wanted to close the distance between them. He hadn’t touched her since their last kiss and not a minute had passed that she didn’t ache for more.

As if her thoughts had set off a warning, Connor dropped the curl and took a step back, the desire she’d seen rising in his gaze quickly smothered. “I just had a talk with Oliver Hewitt.”

Katherine froze. The Hewitts had caused nothing but grief for her since she arrived in Fatal Bluff. Mention of their name set her already taxed nerves on edge. “Oh?”

Connor nodded. “Seems he got another letter from Hannah Stockdale telling him she’d changed her mind and wouldn’t be making the trip to Fatal Bluff.”

Relief over knowing the real Hannah Stockdale was not going to show up was eradicated by the fact her letter had done the damage anyway. Her ruse had been discovered.

Somewhere in the corner of Katherine’s eyes blackness threatened. She felt the world tilt slightly as if it were trying to shake her free and leave her tumbling into the void. “He knows.”

“He knows you’re not Hannah Stockdale, nothing more. He’s promised to keep his mouth shut. But I thought you ought to know.”

Katherine rested a hand against her stomach, unable to feel it through the boning of the corset. She couldn’t breathe, though the lacing was not drawn too tight and up until that moment had been perfectly comfortable. Now it felt as if it was crushing her.

“You alright?”

She shook her head. She was a far cry from being all right. Oliver Hewitt knew she was not Hannah Stockdale. And while he may have promised to hold his tongue, Katherine didn’t fool herself into believing that would last. The idyllic picture she had created in her mind, one filled with happiness and laughter and Connor and Jenny, deteriorated. It had been a foolish dream anyhow, but that didn’t make its destruction any less painful.

“Kate?”

She pursed her lips and drew in a shaky breath. There was nothing left to do. At month’s end, Connor would give her the wages she’d earned. She would pay off the Hewitts and quietly slip away.

“I’m fine. I’m…” There were no words. None she could find that truly encompassed everything she was feeling in that moment. “Thank you for telling me. And for ensuring Mr. Hewitt kept it to himself. I appreciate it.”

Connor nodded. “Amelia said they’re ready to go. I should get you downstairs.”

Absently, Katherine slid her arm through his and let him lead the way, each step taking her closer to leaving, to her heart breaking, and to the knowledge that a life on the run was the only kind of life she would ever have.

When they reached the parlor, all eyes turned. Beth and the Reverend, Amelia and Bart stopped mid conversation. Connor’s arm dropped away and Katherine missed the support until she felt the light touch of his hand at the small of her back, his fingertips burning through the layers of silk and boning.

“Well my, my,” Amelia said, stepping forward. “Don’t you look pretty as a picture.”

Katherine fidgeted under the scrutiny until Jenny pushed her way through the adults. Her small hands covered her mouth though not enough to hide the sweet smile beneath.

“Pretty.”

Katherine blinked. Every nerve in her body jumped to attention. She stared at Jenny in disbelief. Her voice was raw and rough, barely more than a whisper from months of disuse, but the effect couldn’t have been less if she’d shouted it from the rooftop. Behind her, she heard Connor’s swift intake of breath. No one moved. They all stared at Jenny in stunned silence.

As if sensing the change in the room, Jenny looked around at the adults. A trickle of apprehension smothered the spark in her eye.

Katherine found her own voice and forced her limbs to move. She knelt before Jenny and smiled, joy beginning to bubble up inside of her, overriding her initial surprise.

“Do you think so, Jenny? I wasn’t sure the dress would suit.”

Jenny nodded and smiled once again.

“Thank you, sweetie.” Katherine gathered the little girl in her arms and hugged her, unable to stop the sting of tears that burned her eyes. “It means a lot to me that you think so. You look very pretty too.”

Jenny’s arms wound around Katherine’s neck and squeezed back. A quiet giggle tickled her ear. When they separated, Katherine took Jenny’s hand in hers. “Shall we go then?”

Katherine turned and stopped short, nearly knocking into Connor. He stood, his eyes fixed on her, myriad emotions racing across his expression one on top of the other until she couldn’t identify any of them. But she could imagine. All the same emotions raged through her.

Jenny had spoken.

She’d broken the dark silence she’d sunken into and uttered her first word since her father’s death. Katherine wanted to shout, cry, jump and cartwheel through the room. But Jenny had been unnerved by the sudden attention, and Katherine realized the best thing to do was to treat it as if she had never stopped speaking in the first place.

“Say good-night to your uncle, Jenny.”

She waved a small hand. “’Night.”

Connor scooped his niece into his arms and held her against his broad chest. “You know,” his voice came out in a croak, his shock and relief barely contained. “I think maybe I’ll go after all.”

Connor didn’t set Jenny down until they reached the town hall. He was reluctant to let her go, still amazed at what had happened. He thought if he could hold her forever he could keep her safe, keep her from crawling back into the protective silence she’d wrapped herself in for the past seven months. But by the time they arrived at the doors, Jenny squirmed her way down to chase after Beth’s children and disappeared inside. The others followed, Bart with his fiddle in hand. Connor held the door, letting everyone file past.

“Wait!” Kate stopped him when he tried to usher her inside. The stricken look he’d seen at the boardinghouse when he knocked on her door had returned. Connor lifted an eyebrow, easing the door shut. Music filtered out through the thick oak door. He recognized Jeb Gatling’s vigorous fiddle playing and knew it was just a matter of minutes before Bart joined in.

“What’s wrong?”

Nervousness etched tiny lines into the outer edges of her eyes. Her hands pressed against the silky material. “Was Jenny right? Do I look okay?”

Connor stepped back from the door, careful not to bang his head on the lamp hanging from a hook overhead. Another couple passed by them, and he tipped his hat at Bill and Mandy Cuthbert. The interruption gave him a moment to collect his thoughts, though once he turned to look at Kate they scattered once again.

“You look fine.” In truth, she looked nothing short of stunning. Though the dress had belonged to Emily, Kate had made some alterations, bringing it in through the waist and drawing up the hem to keep from tripping over it.

“You think so? I won’t be unfashionable? Or stick out? Or—”

Connor shook his head, cutting her off. He didn’t know one lick about women’s fashions, but even a blind man could tell she’d be the most beautiful woman at the dance. In town, even. Hell, probably the whole country. The promises he’d made to keep his hands to himself faded like smoke caught in the wind.

“You look just fine,” he answered. The words came out strangled, and he didn’t recognize his own voice.

Kate smiled, relief easing the tension from her features. A tinge of pink colored her cheeks and the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose danced in the lamplight. “Thank you. And you’re sure Mr. Hewitt won’t tell anyone about the letter?”

He nodded. “I’m sure.” Not if he knew what was good for him.

“Okay.” She nodded. “I’m ready.”

She squared her shoulders and faced the door. She looked as though she was facing down a battalion of soldiers and not a hall filled with dancing couples.

Connor opened the door for her and swept an arm toward it. “After you.”

If Kate had been concerned about her appearance, she needn’t have worried. Based on the amount of attention she received the moment she walked through that door, she would likely never question her appeal again. They had no sooner entered the festively decorated room with its swirling bodies and hum of conversation than she was descended upon by every unattached male in town. Suddenly Connor wished he’d worn his guns; then he could shoot each one of them in the foot every time they came within arm’s reach of her. He didn’t think anything could cut through the joy of hearing Jenny’s voice for the first time, but watching a bevy of bachelors jockeying for position while Kate smiled warmly at each one of them came damn close. Telling himself she was married and in no position to encourage any of them did not make him feel any better.