“I believe your father did say something like that, but I think this is a better arrangement. Now, why don’t we take your things into the next room?” Without giving him a chance to argue, she picked up Bishop’s bag, scooped the key off the dresser, and headed out the door. She heard Gavin come up behind her as she was unlocking the door to the room next door and felt a sense of relief that he hadn’t simply ignored her. The relief was short-lived, however.
“You’re going to have a baby, aren’t you?”
Bishop’s bag dropped from Lila’s suddenly nerveless fingers, hitting the floor with a thump. She turned to look at the boy.
“What?”
“I heard him tell Mr. Lyman that you got married months ago. Only you didn’t, did you?” His eyes were steady on her face.
If Bishop had to have two children, why couldn’t they both have been Angel’s age? Lila wondered distractedly. Why did one of them have to be this boy with his watchful blue eyes and his uncomfortable questions? She could lie to him, of course, but he’d probably recognize it for what it was.
“Your father and I were married recently,” she admitted carefully.
“Are you going to have a baby?” he asked, pursuing his line of thinking with the ruthlessness characteristic of members of the Inquisition and the very young.
“Yes.” There was no sense in denying something that would soon be obvious to anyone who cared to look.
“Is that why you married him? Because you were going to have a baby?”
Though Lila had seen the question coming, it still knocked the breath from her. Her first impulse was to tell him that he was mistaken, that her pregnancy had nothing to do with her reasons for marrying Bishop. But looking into those blue eyes, so like his father’s in both color and expression, she knew that it would accomplish nothing to lie to him. Not only would he recognize it for what it was, but it would damage any chance she might have of gaining his respect, let alone his friendship.
“I don’t think my reasons for marrying your father are any of your business,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “What’s important is that we are married and the four of us are a family now.”
Gavin appeared to consider that, his expression thoughtful. Standing there, in his dark suit, his black hair mussed from taking off his hat, he looked like any other twelve-year-old boy, until she saw the maturity in his eyes. She remembered what Bishop had said about the children being unhappy with their grandparents and wondered what had happened there to make Gavin so much older than his years.
“Angel likes you,” he said thoughtfully.
“I like her.”
“She looks like our mother.”
“Does she?” Lila felt as if she were picking her way over a sheet of thin ice. “Your mother must have been very pretty.”
“She was. Angel doesn’t remember her but I do.” “You must miss her,” Lila said.
“Sometimes.” Gavin shrugged but, for just a moment, his eyes revealed a stark grief that tore at Lila’s heart. The expression was gone in an instant but she knew it hadn’t been her imagination.
“I lost both my parents a few years ago. They were killed in a carriage accident. I miss them all the time.”
He shot her a quick look, his eyes guarded, but his only response was another shrug.
“You’re lucky to still have your father,” she said, knowing that she was treading on very thin ice and curious to see his reaction. It came in the form of a quick flash of emotion, gone too fast for her to identify. Rage? Hatred?
“He doesn’t care about us.”
Lila noticed the emphasis he put on the pronoun and realized that she’d yet to hear him refer to Bishop in any other way. Angel called him Papa as easily as if she’d been living with him all her life, but Gavin referred to him only as “he.” That the boy was bitter, she’d already known. But it was obvious that the gap between father and son was much wider than she’d realized.
“Did you know that your father didn’t plan to bring you with us right away?” she asked him. “He’d planned to send for you later, after the baby was born. Do you know why he changed his mind?” Gavin shrugged again, keeping his gaze on the floor between them. Lila wasn’t fooled by his apparent indifference.
“He told me that you were unhappy and that was why he didn’t leave you with your grandparents.”
Gavin’s head jerked up, his eyes wide and startled.
“Sounds to me like he cares,” Lila added softly. She wasn’t sure why it mattered to her whether Gavin knew that his father cared. The boy hadn’t, thus far, done anything to endear himself to her, unless it was with his meticulous concern for his little sister. She just knew it was important that the boy know his father cared.
“Maybe.” He looked away again, apparently unimpressed by her words, but Lila had seen the hunger in his eyes and was unimpressed by his indifference.
“I’ll leave you to unpack,” she said, judging it best to give him time to digest her words. “I don’t know about you, but I’m almost as tired as Angel. I’m going to lie down for a little while. You might like to do the same.”
She walked to the door without waiting for an answer. She had her hand on the knob when Gavin spoke from behind her.
“You’re not my mother and I’m not going to call you that.” There was challenge in his voice, and it was echoed in the set of his chin when she turned to look at him.
Was there no end to the problems associated with being a stepmother? Was she going to spend the rest of her life involved in diplomatic discussions with Bishop’s children? She chose her words with care.
“I’m not really old enough to be your mother,” she said lightly. “And I’m certainly not foolish enough to try to take her place.”
Gavin looked at her uncertainly. She guessed that he’d been expecting an argument, perhaps even wanted one, and, when she didn’t give it to him, he wasn’t sure how to react.
“Angel is little, she may want to call you mother,” he said, probing for her reaction.
“Why don’t we leave that up to Angel?” Lila’s mind reeled at the thought but she kept her tone casual.
“Okay.” Gavin looked down, studying the toe of his shoe. Sensing that the conversation was not over, Lila waited. It didn’t take him long. He looked up at her, his eyes, so like his father’s, curious and not quite as wary as they had been. “What do I call you?”
Good question, Lila thought. It was something she should have considered before now.
“I guess you could call me Stepmother,” she said slowly. She wrinkled her nose. “That’s a bit of a mouthful, isn’t it?”
Gavin nodded.
“And Mother Lila is even worse. Besides, it makes me sound like someone who should be carrying a cane and wearing thick shoes, doesn’t it?”
Gavin nodded again and she caught the merest hint of a smile teasing the corners of his mouth. It was the first time she’d seen him smile at anyone other than his sister.
“Why don’t we keep it simple for both of us? There are those who won’t approve, but I think you should just call me Lila.”
“Okay.” He shrugged to show how little it mattered but she’d already seen his eyes widen in quick surprise and caught a glimpse of that almost smile again. He was going to break hearts when he was older, she thought. Just like his father.
Not that she had any intention of letting Bishop break her heart, she assured herself as she stepped out into the hall.
CHAPTER 8
It seemed as if half the town’s population had been struck by a sudden urge to sample Dot Lyman’s cooking. Bishop hadn’t thought it possible to get so many people into the hotel’s dining room but, with some chairs dragged in from the lobby, a little determination, and a willingness to eat without moving their elbows, every table was filled to capacity and a bit beyond. Most of the diners made a show of being there to enjoy the food, but the more honest among them gave scant attention to the meal and concentrated instead on the re
al reason they’d abandoned hearth and home, which was to take a look at the sheriff’s brand-new family.
Bishop shifted in his seat, uneasy at finding himself the center of so much attention. The only time he’d ever had so many people staring at him at once was in the aftermath of a shooting. Unconsciously he reached down to loosen his gun in its holster, only to remember at the last minute that he wasn’t wearing a gun. Irritated, he reached for his coffee cup. Curiosity wasn’t a shooting offense, he reminded himself. But he was starting to think it ought to be.
“Frowning isn’t going to do any good,” Lila said without looking up from the task of cutting up Angel’s meat.
“The way they’re acting, you’d think they’d never seen anybody eat a meal before,” he muttered.
“What they’ve never seen is you with a family,” she told him. She handed Angel her fork and checked to make sure the child’s napkin was in place before looking across the table at him. “You must have known they’d be curious.”
He should have known, Bishop thought. He’d lived in enough small towns to know that one characteristic they had in common was an unending curiosity about anyone or anything new. Six months ago, he’d come to Paris to take the job as sheriff and, for the first few weeks, every time he walked down the street, he’d been aware of people sliding sidelong glances in his direction. There had been whispered speculation about whether he was as fast with a gun as they’d heard, some half hoping they’d get a chance to see for themselves. He knew there’d been some disagreement about whether to hire him. There were those who thought that hiring a man like Bishop McKenzie would help to curb the lawless element in town and those who feared that his reputation actually would draw trouble.
As the weeks passed and he’d provided them with no spectacular displays of his skill with a gun, the townspeople had gradually lost interest. He should have realized that he couldn’t expect to return from his abrupt trip East with a wife and children in tow without touching off a whole new round of interest. Well, they could be as interested as they liked, as long as they kept their distance.
“So, this is why I’m so overworked tonight,” a soft voice trilled next to the table. Bishop winced. He should have known. Dot Lyman was not only a world-class gossip and a good cook, she was the only person in town who’d dared to ask him if his reputation was exaggerated and, if not, just how many gunfights had he been involved in. She’d taken his blunt refusal to answer in stride, offering neither apology nor excuse for her interest. Short and plump, she resembled her husband so much that it would be easy to think them brother and sister. Despite her predilection for minding other people’s business, there was not an ounce of malice in her. She was almost childlike in her belief that everything and everyone in Paris was her personal business. It was only natural that she’d be the first to risk approaching the table.
“I didn’t think it was just my cooking that was drawing a crowd,” she said with a soft giggle. “Don’t sit there like a bump on a log, Sheriff. Introduce me to your family.”
Bishop set his napkin by his plate and rose politely. “Lila, this is Dot Lyman. Dot, this is Lila McKenzie, my wife.”
“I didn’t think she was one of your children.” Dot giggled again and cast Bishop a teasing look. “She’s pretty as a picture, Sheriff. Where have you been hiding her?”
“I’ve been in Pennsylvania, Mrs. Lyman. Not hidden at all,” Lila said, smiling at the other woman.
“Well, this husband of yours didn’t say a word to anyone about getting married when he went East a few months ago. In fact, I didn’t even know he’d been married before, let alone that he had two beautiful children. And if I didn’t know it, no one did,” she said with simple pride. “What are their names?”
Bishop turned to perform the introductions and was surprised and pleased to see that Gavin had risen from his seat. He should have guessed that the one thing his former mother-in-law would have drummed into the children was good manners.
While Dot expressed her amazement over how tall Gavin was and how much like his father and exclaimed that Angel was the most beautiful child she’d ever seen, Bishop became aware of the sudden silence that had seized the room. Not a single fork clinked on a single plate. No one spoke. It seemed as if they barely breathed as every ear strained to hear what was being said at the corner table. Not that they had to worry about missing anything, Bishop thought cynically. Anything that was said to Dot would soon become common knowledge.
“So I understand you and Bishop were married in February when he went back East.” Dot fixed Lila with a bright-eyed look, apparently deciding enough pleasantries had been observed and that it was time to get to the heart of the matter.
“That’s right. He came to Pennsylvania for my brother’s wedding. That’s when we met.”
Dot’s eyes widened. “He wasn’t gone more than a couple of weeks. You met and married in that little bit of time?”
“I swept her off her feet,” Bishop said. His eyes met Lila’s and he wondered if she was remembering the way he’d literally swept her off her feet the night he carried her to his bed. He thought he saw color warm her cheeks, but the light was such that it was difficult to be sure.
His comment drew Dot’s attention back to him. “Oh, do sit down, Sheriff. I can’t think with you looming over me like that. You too, young man.” She waved a hand in Gavin’s direction. She waited until they both sat and then returned her attention to Lila.
“Seems odd, you marrying in such a hurry and then staying in Pennsylvania and letting him come back to Paris alone.”
“Unfortunately, there was an illness in my family that necessitated my staying in Beaton. It was not our preference, of course, but we had no choice.” She spoke with such grave sincerity that Bishop found himself halfway believing her.
Dot prided herself on the delicate nature of her sensibilities, and her eyes shone with sympathetic tears. “Oh, it must have been terrible, having to part so soon after finding each other.”
“It was difficult,” Lila admitted. She forced a brave smile and gave Bishop such a fond look across the table that he nearly choked on the coffee he’d just swallowed. “I was fortunate to marry such an understanding man.”
“Yes.” Dot looked at Bishop, who tried to look understanding. He was relieved when she returned her attention to Lila. “I hope whoever was ill made a good recovery?”
“Oh, yes.” Lila gave her a sunny smile. “Uncle Duke is almost good as new.”
This time Bishop did choke on his coffee. Duke was the name of Douglas’s favorite horse, an ill-tempered gelding who’d tried to attack a stablehand the day before the wedding and had managed to tear his own shoulder open on an exposed nail in the process. The gouge had been deep and ragged, and there had been some concern about the animal’s recovery. His eyes met Lila’s across the table. She returned his look with one of such bland innocence that he nearly laughed out loud. For the first time since the wedding, they were completely in charity with one another.
Dot was called back to her kitchen soon after that, but, as if she’d broken through some invisible barrier that had been keeping everyone at bay, others began to approach the table, asking to meet the sheriff’s new family. After the easy way she’d handled Dot, Bishop knew Lila didn’t need his help, so he made the introductions and then sat back and watched his wife charm everyone who came near.
He shouldn’t have been surprised by her easy handling of the situation, he thought. After all, she’d acted as Douglas’s hostess from the time she was old enough to let her skirts down and put her hair up. Douglas had once told him that, if he made it to Congress, it would be thanks in no small part to Lila’s ability to charm even the crustiest of politicians. Watching the way she dealt with the citizenry of Paris, Colorado, Bishop could believe it.
This was the girl he’d met three months ago, the one whose eyes had sparkled with such invitation that all thoughts of honor and friendship had faded before the need to possess her. S
he’d been wearing green that night too, he remembered. That gown had been cut low across the bosom, the dark silk a potent contrast to the milky whiteness of her skin. He remembered the sound of the delicate fabric tearing beneath his impatient fingers and the sound of Lila’s breathless laugh as he stripped the gown from her.
Bishop shifted uncomfortably in his seat and forced his thoughts back to the present. The poised woman sitting across from him seemed a far cry from the spoiled girl he’d met three months ago. Which one was she? Was she the girl who’d bewitched him or the woman sitting across from him dispensing charm with easy grace?
Whichever it was, he wanted her, had wanted her from the moment he’d seen her. Now she was his. No matter what the circumstances of their marriage, she was his wife now. And tonight they’d make their marriage real in every sense of the word.
***
“You did what?” Bishop watched in disbelief as Lila shooed Angel through the door ahead of her and then turned to face him. They’d finished their meal and come upstairs to their rooms. This was the first time he’d heard about the distribution of those rooms.
“It seemed the best arrangement,” she said calmly. “I put Angel in my room and Gavin in yours.”
“That wasn’t what I had in mind.”
“Perhaps we should discuss this in the morning,” Lila said, acutely aware that Gavin stood listening, his too-old eyes knowing.
“We’ll discuss it now.” Bishop’s eyes cut to his son. “Go to bed.”
The boy cast one last look in Lila’s direction, but the light wasn’t strong enough for her to tell whether there was sympathy or a simple I-told-you-so in his eyes. She waited until the door closed behind him before speaking to Bishop.
“This is the arrangement we had in St. Louis and again last night in Denver City.”
He was silent for a moment, his eyes shadowed and watchful on her face. Lila did her best to look unperturbed. She’d known this moment was coming, but that didn’t mean she felt ready for it. Bishop was an unknown quantity. She didn’t know what to expect from him. The silence stretched until she could stand it no longer.
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