The Scoundrel's Bride (19 page)

“I was hurt. I am hurt. I hurt inside and out.” She glanced around the room. “Do you have anything to eat? I’m starving. Louise sent me out into the cold without a bite of supper.”

Zach approached her as he would a skittish filly, moving slowly and speaking gently. “Morality, are you all right?” He laid his hand against her brow, testing her temperature. “You don’t sound at all like yourself.”

“I’m not like myself.” She shoved his hand away. “My head hurts. I’m in a rage. A fury. A passion.” Reaching up, she pulled pins from her hair, shaking her head as the thick braid fell. “Temper, you see, is one of my very worst vices, and it’s boiling inside me at this very moment. But you know what? I enjoy it. It feels good.”

He backed up quickly. “You’re not gonna kick me again, are you?”

“Maybe I will.” She squared off in front of him, finger combing her tangles. “It gave me a feeling of power. You’re bigger than me. You’re a man. But I won that time. I liked that. I never have any power. I never get my way. I have no freedom. How would you like it, Zach Burkett, if everything you said and everything you did were dictated by someone else?”

Her hair was a halo of fire that framed the passion snapping in her eyes. His angel had a spark of the devil in her. Arousal hardened his body as he murmured, “Oh, angel, you have power you can’t even imagine, and I can’t believe you are acting this way. Maybe I fell asleep in the bathtub. This has got to be a dream.”

“It’s a nightmare, Zach Burkett. My nightmare.” She took a step toward him. Scorn dripped from her voice. “Just look at you. You are not accountable to anyone but yourself. Do you have an uncle wanting to marry you? Do you have a good friend who flirts with ruining his life as a hooligan? Are you responsible to thousands of people out there who need to hear the message of your miracle? No! You can do whatever you please, whenever you please, and no one is going to say”—she snapped her fingers in front of his face— “that about it.”

“Hold up, there.” Zach’s gaze snagged on her tongue as it flicked out to wet her lips. Desire flowed inside him fierce and hot, the devil in Miss Morality appealing to the similar side of his own nature. His mouth twitched and he drawled, “So what you’re saying is that I can do whatever I want and nobody will stop me?”

“That’s right.” She lifted her chin and her hair bounced, glistening in the firelight.

“If that’s the case, I might as well do this.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, wrapping her in his embrace. The buttons on her bodice pressed against his bare chest, and he inhaled the faint scent of roses that clung tenaciously to her skin. Although a sleet storm raged beyond and Zach stood barefooted and bare-chested, he felt hotter than he had in months. In years.

She struggled, and he tightened his hold, whispering, “You can’t stop me, remember?”

Then he lowered his head and kissed her.

The pull of Zach’s lips sapped the fight right out of Morality. She needed this. She needed him. She closed her eyes and lost herself to the pleasure of his mouth on hers.

Softly, he wooed her. He stroked and nibbled and caressed. He kindled a fire inside her and warmed the chill in her soul. A faint voice in her head demanded she make him stop, but the protest was overpowered by the power of his gentle touch. When he finally pulled away, she stood silent and stunned.

A slow smile tilted his lips. “Always has been my favorite way for shutting up a woman.”

Morality swallowed hard. Her heart pounded and her knees felt weak. “Under normal circumstances I would criticize you for that.”

“The kiss or the comment?”

“I’m not sure.”

He arched a brow. “You want to try again and see if you can figure it out?”

Closing her eyes, she blew a frustrated sigh. “What I want, Burkett, is for this day to end.”

He lifted his fingers and brushed her hair away from her face. “It does sound as if it’s been a rough one. You up to clarifying just what the hell is going on?”

From out of nowhere, tears flooded her eyes.

Zach pulled her tight and said gruffly, “Aw, angel, don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying,” she insisted, her chin trembling. “I very seldom surrender to tears—yesterday was the first time in a long, long time.”

“Must be my charm that does it to you, then.” He stroked her hair as he gently held her.

Her shoulders shook. A trickle of wetness spilled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, but I’m just so tired. It is partially your fault. I hardly slept at all last night.”

“Dreaming about me?”

“Nightmares, remember?”

He smiled. “As long as you were thinking about me.”

“Oh, Zach, what is happening to my life?” She buried her face against him and cried out her tears, fears, and frustrations.

Zach felt helpless as a cow in quicksand. “Come on, darlin’, you’re blubbering all over my chest.” He reached for the shirt he’d dropped when she arrived and dabbed at her cheeks with the sleeve.

Her tears didn’t let up, and he breathed a curse before lifting her into his arms. He carried her to the rocker that was pulled near the fireplace and sat down, cradling her in his lap until the waterworks finally slowed to an occasional shudder and sob.

“That’s better.” He handed her his shirt. “Here, blow your nose.”

“On this?”

“I do it all the time.”

“No you don’t.” Morality shook her head spreading the shirt across her lap like a blanket. “That’s disgusting.”

“Yes, but I got a smile out of you.” Shifting his weight, he pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and gave it to her.

Morality wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and said, “I can’t believe I’m sitting here like this. With you.”

“Yes, well, you needed one bright spot in your day, didn’t you?”

She laughed without amusement, then closed her eyes. “I’m tired of fighting.”

“Who are you fighting, sweetheart?”

“You. My uncle. Myself.”

He pulled her head down to rest against his shoulder, and she didn’t resist. Her voice sounded soul-weary as she said, “I think I just need a spell to recover. Some time to decide how to deal with my problems.”

“Everyone needs a breather now and then.” Zach kept the rocker in motion and, for a bit, they sat without speaking.

He found the entire situation more than a little strange. Just this morning, she’d have sooner spit on him than sit on him. What had caused such a drastic change? “Morality,” he said in a soft, gentle voice when he could hold back curiosity no longer. “Why don’t you tell ol’ Zach here what your problems are, and we’ll see if I can help. I’m awfully good at figuring out problems.”

At first she remained silent, but after a few more rocks of the chair she sighed against his chest. “Well, it all started with the elixir, I guess. I believe I may be the one at fault. I may have added something harmful to my recipe.”

Zach opened his mouth to question her further, but she continued. “Then, Reverend Uncle proposed marriage. No, that’s not quite true. He told me we would marry—here in Cottonwood Creek at the end of the revival.”

“He wants to marry his niece?” Zach asked, frowning.

Morality’s fingers played with his shirt buttons as she answered. “He was married to my mother’s sister. He’s not my uncle by blood. But he’s like my father.” She related her uncle’s arguments for the marriage, and with every sentence, Zach’s scowl deepened. “You said he hurt you.” He paused, searching for the right words. “Has he…touched…you, Morality?”

“He disciplined me. It’s his right as my guardian.” She lifted her head and looked at him. “Funny how the same word can have such disparate meanings, isn’t it? My uncle’s rights aren’t exactly right, in my opinion.”

Her words chilled him. “Does he hit you?”

She shrugged. “Not often. Not badly. His discipline is no worse than many men’s, I imagine.” She held up her arm and revealed a line of bruises around her wrist. “He’s quite strong.”

Zach decided right then to see that the Bible Bully got a taste of what he dished out. “So, I guess we’ve covered everything except why Louise Marston sent you out in an ice storm.”

She snuggled back against him. “It wasn’t even raining when I left the Marstons’. Mrs. Marston was in a fret about the loan.”

Zach contained his reaction to a slight stiffening of his muscles. “She was?”

Morality nodded. “I’m supposed to tell you that she is the one who took the diary. She’ll give it to you, but it’s in Austin and will take some time to retrieve. She said Joshua isn’t at fault, and she’s asking for you to wait to call the note.”

He asked Morality to repeat her conversation with Louise in as much detail as she could remember. After asking her a few pointed questions, he fell silent, thinking over all that Morality had related.

“Zach, you’ll wait, won’t you? I understand you must harbor some anger, but he is your father, after all.”

Innocent and naïve. Sometimes he forgot just how much. “Why don’t you rest for a while, angel,” Zach whispered into her ear. “We can’t even think about taking you home until the sleet quits falling.”

“I am awfully tired.”

He pressed a kiss against her hair, and his hand stroked slowly up and down her arm. “I know.”

For long minutes the only sounds in the cabin were the yips of the puppies, the crackle and spit of the fire, and the rhythmic rock of the chair.

Warm and comforted, Morality drifted toward sleep. Right before she surrendered to exhaustion, she said in a small voice, “Zach? For a liar, you make me feel so safe.”

He winced. He was the last person she ought to feel safe with.

FROM JOSHUA Marston’s parlor window, Reverend J. P. Harrison glared at the sleet that pounded the earth, coating every exposed surface with a thin layer of ice. His finger tapped the frigid pane, but what he really wanted was to put his fist through the glass.

Where the hell was Morality? That stupid bitch Louise had sent her after Burkett on some personal secret mission, and the girl obviously had been caught by the storm. If she was somewhere with Burkett …alone …

Harrison’s hand grasped the drapery. He’d kill the bastard if he so much as touched her. Morality was his. He’d waited years to take her innocence, and by God, he wouldn’t stand for another man to have beaten him to it. Damn Louise Marston anyway.

“Reverend Harrison?”

He looked over his shoulder to see the woman he’d just cursed enter the parlor.

“Reverend Harrison, allow me to say again how sorry I am. I never thought we’d see such a storm. I’ve spent the past hour in my room praying for Morality’s safety.”

“Let us hope your prayers are heard.” Harrison forced a forgiving smile.

Louise Marston burst into tears and buried her face in her hands. “Oh, this is all my fault. I involved dear Morality in my own troubles, my own sins. I lied to her, sent her out into the storm under false pretenses. If something happens to her I will never forgive myself.” She took a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her eyes.

In a serious tone of voice, Harrison asked, “False pretenses? Sister Marston, I think you should explain yourself.”

“Yes!” Louise took a step toward him. “I want to confess, despite my husband’s objections. Oh, Reverend Harrison, I am weighted by the heaviest of burdens. Perhaps you could help me, show me the proper course?”

Her words engaged Harrison’s avaricious interests. “What is this all about, Sister?”

“The secret!” She paced the room, wringing her hands as she spoke. “It’s in the diary. There’s a letter. I lied and told her it’s in Austin, but I have it here. I was trying to buy time. I cannot give it to him, but then I must give it to him. I’m so confused! I almost told him earlier, but thank God I didn’t. It would have been a mistake to tell him like that. You see, in my heart I believe the time has come to tell the truth. But if I do, he could ruin us. He could bring the Marston empire crashing down.”

Harrison’s interest soared. “This sounds serious.”

She nodded. “Oh, it is. What am I to do, Reverend Harrison? My conscience demands I risk the consequences, but my heart fears for my family. We are ripe for blackmail!”

He gave a good imitation of dismay. “Blackmail?”

“To protect my family, I should remain silent. But Reverend Harrison, I worry that my soul is forfeit as long as I keep this secret. I’m not a young woman any longer. What if I were to die before the wrong is made right?”

This sounded like a piece of information he definitely must have. Harrison shut the parlor doors, then said, “Why don’t you explain the entire story to me, Louise. I must know the whole of it to properly advise you. Tell me, and we’ll pray about it.”

Louise Marston nodded, and in halting sentences, handed J. P. Harrison the Marston empire on a silver platter.

MORALITY BARELY stirred when Zach carried her to his bed. He stood above her, watching her sleep, as the horns of dilemma poked his backside. For some strange reason, he struggled making a choice when his best course of action was obvious. He guessed it all came down to a question of just how bad he wanted to be.

He could see the
Clarion’s
headlines now. “SLEET STORM TRAPS MIRACLE GIRL WITH THE BURKETT BASTARD OVERNIGHT.” Reaching down, he lifted a strand of her hair, and as the silky curl twined around his finger, he scowled.

Seducing Morality was the obvious, most natural move for him to make next.

For one thing, he’d be a lot more comfortable. This lap-sitting business had played hell with his control. Just looking at the woman was enough to get his juices flowing.

But even more important than his physical relief, seducing Morality would be best for his scheme. A thing like this couldn’t be kept quiet, and when news got around that Morality had spent the night here with him, the townsfolk would view her ruination as a foregone conclusion. Due to the circumstances under which the disgrace had occurred, all would be forgiven—as long as marriage followed immediately. While Morality’s reputation might be strong enough to weather the scandal without tying the knot, his sure as hell wasn’t. The citizens of Cottonwood Creek would not only refuse to buy his stock, they’d throw him on the first riverboat out of town.