Three Weddings And A Kiss (2 page)

1

H
eart pounding in her throat, Rachel Constantine stared at her intended victim as he drew abreast of her on the opposite boardwalk. She would have been pleased to see him stagger just a little, anything to assure her he had indeed been drugged. As it was, it was difficult to tell he’d even had anything to drink.

With a sigh, she plucked her wire-framed spectacles from her nose and stashed them in her skirt pocket. From here on, she would have to settle for looking at Rafferty through a blur. Better that than risk being seen wearing eyeglasses. Most men didn’t find ladies with poor eyesight attractive, and for tonight, at least, it was vitally important that Rachel be a femme fatale.
Drat
! Why did he look so sober? Had something gone wrong inside the saloon? Maybe he wasn’t drugged, after all. Just the thought made her pulse race even faster and her knees go weak.

Biting her lip, she cast a glance at the saloon. To her relief, she saw Dora Faye standing inside the doors, signaling just as they had planned
,
to let her know everything had gone smoothly. Unless Matt Rafferty had the constitution of an ox, he would be unconscious in a few minutes. Rachel smiled into the darkness. From her hiding place in the shadows, it would do no good to wave back at her friend, so she made a mental note to stop by the saloon tomorrow to thank Dora Faye profusely. None of this would have been possible without her help.

As Rafferty moved past the mercantile, he slowed to a stop, standing in silhouette against the moon-washed glass. Rachel squinted to see him better,
then
wished she hadn’t. He seemed taller than she remembered, maybe a little broader across the chest and shoulders as well.
Just a trick of moonlight and shadow
, she assured herself.
Don’t go letting your nerves get the best of you
.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t that simple. Matt Rafferty was walking, talking trouble, definitely not the type a decent young woman approached without some measure of trepidation. Nevertheless, the man couldn’t be allowed to go around humiliating young girls and breaking their hearts. At the very least, he deserved to be taken to task. Because her fourteen-year-old sister Molly was his latest victim, Rachel felt that it was her job to do just that. Hence, the plan she’d concocted with Dora Faye’s assistance.

As surefooted as a prospector’s mule, Rafferty stepped off the boardwalk to cross the street. Watching him come toward her, Rachel felt her mouth go dry. This was it. Going down the list of dos and don’ts Dora Faye had given her, she stepped out from the shadow of the general store. “Well, hello, Mr. Rafferty!” she called, trying for a flirtatious twitter. “What a pleasant surprise!”

Evidently taken off guard, he broke stride and came to a slow stop. Without her eyeglasses, Rachel knew she tended to look a bit owlish, so she tried not to open her eyes too wide. As she closed the distance between them, his blurry edges took on better definition. No doubt about it, the man was bigger than she cared to admit.

“Rachel Constantine? Rachel Constantine, the marshal’s daughter?”

Giving a throaty laugh, just as Dora Faye had taught her, she said, “How many Rachel Constantines do you think there are in Shady Corners, a baker’s dozen?”

He seemed baffled by the question. Clearly, his thought processes were
muddled,
a sign the valerian Dora Faye had put in his whiskey was taking effect.

She drew up a few feet shy of him and struck a seductive pose. It was hard to remember all that Dora Faye had taught her—how to move, stand, and smile.

“Trust me, sir,” she informed him in a twittery little voice, “there is only
one
Rachel Constantine. My pa says that after me, they broke the mold.”

She immediately wanted to call back the words. Irresistible temptresses did
not
talk about their fathers. Even she knew that.

Though the eight Rafferty brothers had been living in the area for nearly a year now, her eyesight was such that she’d never gotten close enough to get a good look at any of them. It seemed to her that tongues had been buzzing forever about how handsome they all were. She was absolutely dying to see what all the fuss was about.

Not that she was personally interested. Goodness, no. She had her eye on Lawson Wells, the minister’s son. Tall, painfully thin, and nearly as blind as she, he was about as far from handsome as a body could get. Consequently, he was sweet and thoughtful and caring, all the things Matt Rafferty obviously wasn’t, no doubt because he was so handsome he felt he had no need to be. A pox on handsome men: that was Rachel’s motto.

Even so, she was curious. At the risk of appearing myopic, she leaned closer so she could see his face more clearly and judge his looks for herself.

No question about it, he
was
handsome. A bit older looking than expected, but she imagined working outdoors and drinking heavily would make any one look older than he actually was.

Even shaded by his hat, his smoky blue eyes glistened in the moonlight like raindrops shot through with lightning. Thick waves of ebony hair fell lazily across his forehead, and whether it was a trick of light or an actual cast to his skin, he looked to be deeply tanned. Oh, yes, he was handsome, but not in the usual way. There was something about him a lethal
edge, that
made her wary.
Dangerous
.
Matt Rafferty wasn’t merely dreamy, as rumor painted him, but dangerous. Little wonder poor Molly had come away lacerated and heartsick.

Rachel didn’t like the way he studied her—a lazy appraisal, his eyes glinting as if at some private joke. It seemed at odds with the stories she’d heard, namely that he was a charmer. Instead, he was making her feel awkward and more than a little frightened, which seemed more in keeping with the stories she had heard about his older brother, Clint. Now
there
was a man to avoid, always serious, never smiling. His gray-blue eyes could sear right through a woman, according to her friends.

After completing the slow appraisal of her person, Matt flicked his gaze to hers and said in a deep, silken voice, “That must’ve been quite some mold, sweetheart.”

Mentally, Rachel stumbled about, trying to make sense of his comment. In her bewilderment, she forgot all about looking owlish. Lands, he was attractive. No wonder poor little Molly had gotten a crush on him.
“Pardon?”

A smile flickered across his firm mouth. “The mold that got broke after they made you? Judging by the results, it must’ve been quite some mold.”

“Oh!” Rachel gave a horrified little laugh. “
That
mold. So much time passed that—well, I totally forgot—” She realized she was babbling and waving her hands like a lunatic. She punctuated the inanity with another shrill laugh.

“What are you doing out at this time of night? Good little girls like you should be home in bed with the covers tucked up to their chins.”

Coming from any other man, the appellation “little girl” would have infuriated her. At eighteen, she was still new enough to womanhood to be easily offended if someone insinuated she wasn’t yet an adult. Not so with Matt Rafferty. Compared to him, she’d be a child at ninety. In the silvery gloom, his features, sharp, uncompromising, and blatantly male, looked as if they had been carved from polished mahogany, giving his face a hardness that made her pulse skitter.

“Maybe I’m not the good little girl you think I am.”

Touching a fingertip to the edge of his hat, he nudged back the brim and arched one black eyebrow. “Is that so?”

Shoving her hand into her skirt pocket, she curled her fingers around her spectacles and raised her chin a notch. Swamped with old resentments, she glared at him through the gloom, remembering another man who had laughed at her.

“It’s been my observation that good little girls don’t have very much fun.”

“True,” he agreed with a slow grin, “but, then, most good little girls don’t realize what they’re missing.”

“Well, I do.”

Judging by the way one corner of his mouth twitched, that proclamation amused him.
“Oh, really?
And who was the lucky fellow?”

Rachel couldn’t see how any one fellow played into it.
“Pardon?”

He chuckled, the sound a low murmur from deep in his chest.

“Is it a private joke, Mr. Rafferty, or will you share it with me?”

“It’s nothing, really.
Just that you answered my question.”

“What question?”

“As to whether or not you realize what you’re missing. I have a hunch you don’t.”

Rachel’s chin went up another notch. “If not, why would I be here?”

“Good point. Care to enlighten me?”

“Because I’m tired of living a dull existence, that’s why.”

His full but firm mouth tipped up at one corner again. The grin had scarcely left his lips when he yawned. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. When he looked at her again, his eyes were a little unfocused. “So you’re tired of a dull existence, are you? Why do I have this feelin’ you’re hopin’ I’ll remedy that?”

“Possibly because I am.”
Rachel affected a sultry smile and tried not to think about the seconds that were racing by.
“Who better than you when a girl’s lookin’ for an exciting experience?
I hear tell you’re a carefree fellow and always game.”

“You must have me confused with someone else, darlin’. Carefree isn’t in my vocabulary, especially not when it comes to you. I have an aversion to bein’ locked up, you see. A man’d have to be crazy to mess with Big Jim Constantine’s daughter.”

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of my pa?”

“Damned straight.”
His mouth tipped into another teasing grin that flashed perfectly straight white teeth. “And scared I’ll stay as long as he’s wearin’ that badge.”

“But, Mr. Rafferty, my pa’s never gonna know about this. You have my word.”

“He ain’t gonna know because there ain’t gonna be
a
this
,” he said with a laugh.

Driven to brazenness by sheer desperation, Rachel stepped closer to him. Recalling Dora’s instructions, she hooked a finger under the front placket of his shirt. She couldn’t help but notice how iron hard his flat belly felt against her knuckles.

Trying to remember all that her friend had told her to say, she crooned, “I know this is going to sound terribly forward, but I can’t help myself, Mr. Rafferty. I want you.”

His smile deepened. “Say what?”

Rachel wiggled
closer,
not at all sure she liked the tingling sensation in her nipples as she grazed his shirt with her bodice. “I want you.” She paused, trying to remember the other things Dora had suggested she say. “I’ll do whatever I have to. Deep and slow, or hard and fast, however suits you, I’m yours for the taking.”

He gave another low laugh.
“All right.
I’ll bite. Why?”

His response was so unexpected that Rachel’s heart leaped. “What?”

Stressing each word as if she were an imbecile, he said, “Why do you want me?”

Of all the questions she and Dora had anticipated he might ask
,
this wasn’t one of them. The truth was
,
Rachel didn’t have a clue why any female would be attracted to him. Oh, he was handsome, she’d give him that, but he was also a little terrifying.

“Because you fascinate me,” she blurted, which was the unvarnished truth. She
was
fascinated by him—in a morbid sort of way.

“Why are you fascinated?”

“Because you’re exciting.”

Even in the moonlight, she saw his eyes twinkling. He chucked her under the chin. “More exciting than you can handle. Go home, honey. If you want to cut your teeth on some poor fellow, go gnaw on your little friend Lowry, the minister’s son. He won’t bite back. I just might.”

“Lawson, his name is Lawson. And he’s not the one I’m interested in.”

He touched the brim of his hat.
“G’night, sweet cheeks.
I appreciate the offer. It’s mighty generous and about as sweet a proposition as I’ve ever had. But, unfortunately, I’m going to have to pass.”

With that, he started to walk away. Rachel saw him sway slightly before he caught himself. Filled with a sense of urgency, knowing that this chance would be forever lost unless she acted fast, she grabbed his arm. “Please, don’t go! Please?”

He swung back around. In a tone that was suddenly serious, he said, “Rachel, I told you to go home.” He paused for a moment as if to let that sink in. “If you’re smart, you’ll run, not walk. From the way I’m startin’ to feel, I’d say I’ve had a little too much to drink, and you’re too tempting by half. My head isn’t real clear. When a man can’t think straight, he doesn’t have as much willpower as he ought. Keep on, and I’m liable to accept your offer. We’ll both regret it come morning, you more so than me.”

Rachel had news for him: he would be the one with regrets. “What can I do to make you change your mind?” She pressed her body against his. “I’ve already thrown myself at your feet. Don’t humiliate me more by walking away.”

“
Christ
!” Teeth clenched, jaw muscle twitching, he squeezed his eyes shut.