by Lily Reynard
If what she was saying about her father and this crime boss Burgess was really true, then he might be able to forgive her lies. Except…
“If you’re really Sarah Franklin, then where’s Elizabeth Hunter? She was supposed to be arriving on the same train.”
Sarah bowed her head. She began twisting her linen napkin nervously between her hands. “She died on the train, a few hours before we arrived in Twin Forks.”
The news struck Walt with an almost physical blow. "So there really was an Elizabeth Hunter? I thought that maybe her letters—"
“Wait, she died?” Larkin interrupted, sounding skeptical. “Well, that’s awfully convenient, isn't it?”
Sarah flinched. “It was horrible! We’d become friends…and it was her idea to trade places!”
“So you didn’t do anything to help her along to her heavenly reward?” Larkin pressed.
Walt stared down at the remnants of his delicious breakfast. Sarah might be a liar and an imposter, but she didn’t seem like a cold-blooded killer to him.
But what if you’re wrong, and she just dosed your pancakes—food that she didn’t eat—with arsenic or something? Walt didn’t like what the voice in his head was suggesting.
But when it came to Sarah, he’d already been dead wrong about everything else.
“No!” Sarah looked genuinely horrified at Larkin’s question. “I would never do anything like that! Liza died of heart failure. Dr. Addison was there, and she said it was because Liza had a bout of scarlet fever last summer.”
She glanced wildly at both of them.
Walt didn’t know what she saw in his expression, but Larkin looked like he didn’t believe a word she was saying.
“If you don’t believe me, then you can go to town and ask Dr. Addison about what happened on the train!” To Walt’s horror, Sarah’s eyes welled up, and tears began trickling down her cheeks. “Please. I need to leave the ranch before Father and Mr. Burgess find me here.” She shot Walt a pleading look. “Will you drive me to town? The train to Butte is arriving soon, isn’t it?”
“Not until Friday,” Larkin said. “And how would your Da and this Burgess fella know where to find you, anyway?”
“Oh, God.” Sarah looked really scared now. “Because the sheriff said that Dr. Addison sent Father a photo of Liza and my suitcase, remember? They know I’m here now! And they’re going to come for me. Mr. Burgess isn’t—” She wiped at her eyes with her napkin. “He’s not the forgiving type. I need to get away from here before they arrive…they might already be on their way!”
“And you honestly think they’re gonna ride all the way out here to our ranch to make trouble?” Larkin asked.
“I can’t take that chance,” Sarah answered. “I know you don’t believe me after I lied to you about being Liza, but I do care for you, both of you. I couldn’t bear it if you were injured or worse because of Mr. Burgess. He’s got these men, terrible rough men, who work for him and make examples of anyone who tries to cheat him.”
She looked wildly around. “Please! Please believe me! I can’t stay here, not now.”
“I do believe you,” Walt said, working hard to keep his voice gentle.
She was genuinely frightened, and if her situation in Boston had been as dire as she’d just told them, then perhaps she could be forgiven for lying about her name.
“Then you’ll take me to town?” she asked.
He and Larkin exchanged another long look. Walt could tell that Larkin was still not happy that she’d lied to them, but he seemed to be less angry than he was earlier.
Larkin shook his head, and relief shot through Walt. He wants Sarah to stay too!
“I don’t want you to leave.”
Unable to bear the sight of her misery any longer, Walt rose and drew her up from her chair. He embraced her, and she clung to him, sobbing.
He held her tight, aware of Larkin’s attitude of wary reserve at the other end of the table. She felt so right—and so vulnerable—in his arms.
“Don’t worry, Sarah. We’ll figure something out. I promise. Just—just don’t run away again.”
* * *
After that incredibly uncomfortable conversation over breakfast, Sarah tried not to let her hopes soar too high.
After all, compelling reasons or not, she had deceived Walt and Larkin. How could they ever truly forgive her for doing something so dishonorable?
The rest of the day crawled by in a semblance of normalcy. The rain stopped and the clouds broke, letting long shafts of sunlight through. Walt and Larkin left the house and continued fencing their pasture, while Sarah busied herself with housework, chores, and preparing lunch and dinner.
Lunch was a mostly silent affair. Walt and Larkin shoveled down ham steaks served with a side dish of potatoes fried with bacon, onions, and cheese and hurried back to their labors.
Over dinner, the two of them continued to question her about Burgess, Liza, and Sarah’s decision to assume her new friend’s identity.
Sarah, determined to make amends for her earlier falsehoods, tried to answer as honestly and transparently as she could, but she sensed that Larkin was still somewhat skeptical.
By the time this strained dinner came to an end, Sarah was exhausted both in body and spirit. It wasn’t just the questioning, but also a night and a day of tumultuous emotions and unceasing worry about what her future might hold.
She was deeply concerned that Walt and Larkin didn’t believe her about the threat that Mr. Burgess posed.
And why should they believe me, after all the lies I’ve told them so far?
The men helped her wash and dry the dishes after dinner.
As she scrubbed out the big cast-iron skillet with a handful of coarse salt, she surprised herself with a yawn.
“I think it’s time for us to go to bed,” Walt announced. “We can finish talking things over in the morning. And decide what we should do next.”
Sarah nodded, dried her hands on a dish towel, and began heading upstairs. She wondered whether she would be sleeping alone again tonight.
Walt answered that question by following her out of the kitchen and down the hall to the stairs.
Halfway up the stairs, he paused and turned. “Lark, you coming?”
Her heart began pounding. She had been wondering what it might be like to share a bed with both men. She found the idea appealing, but the prospect also made her nervous…though her experiences so far with both Walt and Larkin suggested that they knew what they were doing and that it might be a very pleasurable experience for her.
Does that mean I'm forgiven? She couldn't believe it.
“Nope,” Larkin called back.
She wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or relieved.
He continued, “Reckon one of us should stay downstairs in case there’s any trouble tonight.”
He’s still angry that I lied to him. Sarah told herself that he had every right to feel that way. She done nothing to earn or deserve his forgiveness…or Walt's, either.
To be honest, she was surprised Walt would want to sleep in the bed with her after everything that had happened today. She remembered the sweetly sensual mutual caresses they had shared—had it only been two nights ago?
Up in the bedroom, they undressed in silence and donned their night clothes. She slipped between the sheets and waited tensely for whatever might happen next.
He would be within his rights to do anything he wanted to her. And she would let him.
What actually happened was that Walt climbed into the other side of the bed and remained there at a frustratingly chaste distance.
He doesn’t want to touch me. Bitter disappointment and hurt coursed through her. Somehow that realization felt even worse than the brutal ravishing she’d been half-fearing. Will he ever want to kiss me again?
Exhausted as she was, she lay there for what felt like an endless time, trying vainly to fall asleep. The late spring days were getting longer and longer, so it was still light out
side.
A week and a half ago, she had thought that stepping into the role of Walt and Larkin’s mail-order bride would solve her problems.
Now, she found herself a worse position than she’d been on the train. As the day passed, she’d grown growing increasingly certain that she would have to leave the men she’d grown to love over the past ten days. The interrogation at dinner had only intensified this conviction, despite Walt’s assurances over breakfast.
I’ll have to live the rest of my life wondering what might have been, if I’d only told the truth when Walt came to meet Liza at the train station.
Hot tears welled up. Acutely aware of Walt’s big, silent presence on the other side of the bed, Sarah rolled to face the window and did her best to muffle her sobs.
Walt heard her anyway. She felt the mattress shift as he moved.
Then he was spooned against her back, his arm wrapped comfortingly around her.
“Sarah, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
“I’ve done everything wrong. I’m sorry…and I’m scared,” she confessed.
“I told you that Lark and I would protect you,” he said.
“But I lied to you about being Liza! I lied about everything!”
His arm tightened around her waist, as if he thought that she might try to flee from the bed.
“Look, I can’t imagine what your situation must have been like back in Boston, but you’re here now. I’d like to start over.”
“But what if Mr. Burg—?” she began.
“Shh,” he interrupted. “I don’t want you to leave the ranch and go to Butte. I want you to stay here, with us.”
She wanted that too, so much that she didn’t dare believe that it might be true. She turned in his arms, so that they lay face-to-face.
“And what about Larkin? He didn’t really want me here to begin with, and now that he knows I’m an imposter…” She sighed.
"Hey, I meant it when I promised you that we’d figure something out. Maybe you’re not Liza, but I’m not ready to lose Sarah, either."
He drew her closer, and his lips met hers in a passionate kiss.
Relieved and grateful beyond words, she pressed herself against him and returned his kisses fiercely.
They kept kissing until the now-familiar hot, throbbing ache kindled between her legs. Walt was aroused, too, the hard ridge of his erect manhood pressing eagerly against her belly.
“I want you—I want all of you,” she said, between kisses. “Please, Walt. Make me yours.”
It was true. She wanted him so badly that she couldn’t imagine another minute without knowing what it was like to be truly joined with him at last.
Even if it meant giving up her virginity to the man she had wronged and who might no longer wish to marry her. Stay with me at the ranch could mean many things.
“Hey, I thought we were going to save that until our wedding night?” He smiled wryly down at her, his handsome features flushed with desire.
“I—I suppose so,” she agreed. He still wants to marry me? I’m the luckiest woman on earth, and I don’t deserve him.
“But there are plenty of other things we can do until then,” he said, and began to kiss his way down her throat.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Downstairs, in his lonely bedroom, Larkin lay awake in bed, trying to read a novel.
Was I too hard on Sarah?
Sure, she’d tried to bamboozle them by pretending that she was Elizabeth Hunter.
But she’d also been a warm and cheerful presence in a house that grown empty and lonely in the year since Walt’s folks passed. She’d worked hard since arriving here, and he hadn’t seen an ounce of greed or entitlement in her. Just the opposite—Sarah had seemed happiest when she was dishing up one of her amazing meals and watching them enjoy it.
Hell, she’d seemed genuinely surprised when he insisted on paying for her modest purchases at Silas Green’s general store.
And just as genuinely terrified when she’d mentioned having bad memories of her life back home.
Unable to keep his attention on his book, Larkin set it aside on his nightstand. He folded his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling.
Now that he’d had time to cool down after Sarah’s initial confession of her true identity, he recalled what it had felt like to flee an abusive father and to find a home with kindly folks.
If Walt’s folks hadn’t taken me in, would I have been willing to pretend I was someone else, if it meant I’d be safe, with a roof over my head?
And as bad as it would have been for him to be alone and friendless as a runaway, it would be ten times worse for a woman. He had more reason than most to know how the world treated lone women…hell, many of the upstairs girls in town had started their descents by running away from fathers or husbands who beat or otherwise abused them.
After thinking through everything she’d told him, he found himself believing her reasons for running away from home and assuming Elizabeth Hunter’s identity.
More importantly, he wanted to protect her, not only from her father and this Burgess fellow, but maybe the sheriff too. Larkin was sure that Sheriff Plummer hadn’t believed Sarah’s denials last night.
Plummer wasn’t stupid. And in this rough-and-tumble town, everyone, including the sheriff, was willing to do whatever it took to get ahead. A $2,000 reward was a hell of a reason for the sheriff to send Sarah’s father a telegram confirming that she was indeed alive and in Twin Forks.
Dammit. We’ve got to protect her.
With that, Larkin knew that liar or not, he wanted Sarah to stay here at the ranch.
More than that, he wanted to be with her, not sleeping alone downstairs.
He rose and left his bedroom, determined to tell Sarah and Walt what he’d decided.
As he climbed the stairs to the attic rooms, he heard a moan coming from above, followed by the murmur of Walt's voice.
The sound shot straight to his cock. He wanted to be in that bedroom right now, doing things to Sarah that would make her moan just like that.
Larkin reached the top of the stairs and eyed the closed door to the attic rooms.
It had started raining again after dinner, a heavy downpour. He listened to the steady drumming of raindrops against the roof and the sighing of the winds.
No one's gonna to be fool enough to ride out here tonight.
Larkin knocked on the door. The sounds on the other side abruptly ceased.
“Lark, come on in,” Walt called. “We were hoping that you weren’t going to stay downstairs.”
Lark entered and strode through the sitting room. The bedroom door was ajar, so he pushed it open.
As he’d expected, Walt and Sarah were in bed, still wearing their nightshirts but looking flushed and a little disheveled.
At his entrance, she sat up, wearing an apprehensive expression on her lovely face.
Larkin took a deep breath. “I wanted to tell you that I believe you about everything that happened in Boston,” he said. “And I want you to stay here with us.”
He saw dawning hope in her eyes, followed by disbelief.
“Thank you,” she said fervently. “I am so very sorry about lying to you.”
She turned to Walt, including him in her apology. “I don’t know how you could ever forgive me. Or trust me again. I’ll—I’ll do anything to show you how remorseful I am.”
Her eyes shone with tears, and Larkin traded a worried look with Walt. They needed to clear the air between them and Sarah. Larkin needed to know that she wasn't going to spend the rest of her days groveling and apologizing.
It would be difficult, though. From his own experiences, he knew that guilt and shame were something that would keep eating away at her inside, like a worm boring through an apple.
They needed to do something. He just wasn’t sure what.
Walt moved, rolling over to his side of the bed before swinging out of it and onto his feet. He walked around the bed to stand next to Sarah.
Larkin tried to interpret his friend’s expression, which hovered somewhere between grim and determined.
“Sarah, come here.” Walt offered her his hand.
She took it and threw back the coverlet before sliding off the mattress. Larkin caught a tantalizing glimpse of her pale, deliciously plump legs before Walt led her over to where Larkin stood.
There he released her and stepped to Larkin’s side. Looking like a prisoner ready to face a firing squad, she lifted her chin and faced them.