Western Widows

by Vanessa Vale

  "Claim her, Ben, or someone else will."

  I hadn't wanted to rush the woman, for I knew her marriage had not been a happy one. It had been obvious to everyone they were not a love match, but there had been nothing to do regarding the arrangement. Legal and holy bonds had kept Leah entrapped until the mine cave in. In a few seconds time, Caruthers had been killed and Leah had been saved. Saved from a lifetime of Paul Caruthers. If I continued to wait for her to be ready for another marriage, we would be old and gray, or she might be Mrs. Michael McNamara. Perhaps I needed to wed her first and show her reason later.

  LEAH

  Mr. McNamara appeared kind. His smile was mild and his voice was soft. It was blatant, even to me, his interest in me. Me! Why he was even looking in my direction with all the younger women, maidens instead of a widow, was confusing. Mary Green and Alice Rosman would suit him quite well. However, he wasn't with them, but standing before me. With a table between us I felt safe. The man wasn't going to grab me over the blueberry pie and hurt me. Nothing he said about the weather or the lunch offerings could remove the wariness I felt. Surely he meant me no harm and his intentions were honorable. But I felt nothing for the man and if not for the table, I would have bid him some excuse and hastily departed.

  As we set up for the lunch earlier, Charlotte Anderson and Rachel Byrnes had been speaking about their new husbands and offered a few salacious details in whispered voices. Their eyes brightened and their cheeks turned pink speaking of their husband's more fervent attentions. They were clearly happy. No fear haunted their eyes. No sounds made them jump. No touches made them cringe. They wanted their husbands to kiss them, strip them bare and take them. There was no doubt the men did, and frequently.

  I longed for what they had, but I was too jaded, too wounded, to believe that true love was meant for me. I was destined to be alone, for while married to Paul, I'd longed for just that. For him to go away and leave me in solitude. I'd even dreamed of his death. That dream had miraculously come true—although the deaths of the other men were nothing to be thankful for—and I could not be so lucky as to be provided with more.

  Mr. McNamara said something and stared at me expectantly, awaiting an answer, but I had not been paying him any attention. I felt a fool, for I was doing the man a disservice. He should be turned in the direction of a woman who was right for him, whole and eager for his attentions.

  "I'm sorry, sir, but I was woolgathering," I told him.

  "Her mind was focused on me and the meal she promised to eat with me."

  Mr. McNamara and I both turned at the man's voice. It was Ben Worth. My heart leapt into my throat at the sight of him. His hair was as dark as pitch, cut very short and kept neat. He held his hat in his hand and offered me a nod of hello. His equally dark eyes met mine and almost dared me to contradict him. When he looked at me thusly, I froze in place, as if my feet had been encased in one of the squares of ice cut from the river in winter. I swallowed, trying to return my heart to its rightful place in my chest. Could he see it pounding against my breast? The corner of his mouth tipped up into a semblance of a smile and I wondered what he looked like when he smiled outright, imagining it like the sun breaking through a spot in thick clouds.

  I'd only seen him a few times, the young ladies mentioning how handsome he was in quiet whispers with their friends and mothers. His looks were not missed by anyone of the female persuasion in town, nor I. I'd turned my gaze to him on occasion, wanting to see the play of his hands on a hymnal or rubbing a horse's flank. I watched as he lifted a sack of grain onto the back of a wagon in aid of an older gentleman and had been mesmerized by the muscles in his back.

  Ben Worth was the only man in my entire twenty-three years who made me feel. Something. I didn't know exactly what it was as it was foreign to me, but I liked it. When Paul had seen my eyes turned Mr. Worth's way at a Christmas party, I quickly averted my gaze, ignoring the man and the feelings that went with him. He could bring me nothing but trouble. I hadn't needed the repercussions that Paul meted out with demeaning and harsh words, so I put the man to the back of my mind. Unfortunately, he did not stay there and as I saw him in town, always from a distance, my thoughts returned to him again and again.

  Now, however, here he was, flesh and blood and a dimple in his cheek. He was tall, easily a head taller than I, but I was quite small and there was no real way to avoid him. At least with Mr. McNamara awaiting my response. If I disagreed with him, I'd call him a liar in front of Mr. McNamara. If I gave his lie truth, then I would have to...what? I did know that Mr. McNamara did not deserve any unintended interest from me.

  I gave the eager Mr. McNamara a false smile. "I apologize, sir, but it must be the heat. Mr. Worth is correct. I had forgotten and he has been kind enough to approach me even as I'm sure he's quite hungry and the food half gone."

  Mr. McNamara congenially shook Mr. Worth's hand. "Then I shouldn't keep you from your plans." He nodded to me then left.

  The sounds of the congregation were muted, most busy eating on blankets beneath the large swath of shade. Children ran and played, some even venturing down toward the creek to splash.

  "It appeared you needed rescuing from an overeager swain," Mr. Worth commented, watching the other man's retreat, then turning his gaze full bore onto me.

  "Indeed. Thank you, Mr. Worth, for rescuing me, however, you are not obliged to eat with me. I assure you there are many a maiden who would vie for that attention." I folded my hands in front of me, offering him a placid smile all the while my insides were in complete turmoil. He hadn't looked away from me yet and now his gaze became even more earnest, as if weighing my every word.

  "I assure you, ma'am, that I know exactly where I wish to focus my attention."

  I had to dissuade him, not wanting him near me. My palms were damp and I was afraid of him. Perhaps not in the way I'd been fearful of Paul, but there was something about Mr. Worth that had me edgy and nervous. Perhaps it was the strong jaw or how calm and confident he was.

  "It is unfortunate then that I am not hungry as I ate earlier." I was ravenous, in fact, but he did not need to know that. I had a meager selection at home to eat, although I had planned to take use of the church meal to extend it. It was bandied about town that Paul and Leah Caruthers were well to do, and after Paul's death that I was a wealthy widow. Our home was large, our clothes fine. I'd had money at one time that I'd inherited at my father's death and had been the only lure for Paul to marry me, but he'd bled that fortune dry, pouring money into a worthless mine. Now, I was nearly destitute and a church pot luck provided ample sustenance. It was ironic that my overzealous father had instituted the match, seeing only what Paul wished to show while courting, which was piety to my father's faith. It had been a more devout interest in his fortune. I'd shared my disinterest in the match, but my father had not listened and the union formed.

  "Then sit with me as I eat. Surely you would like to sit for a spell." Between his gentle charm and good looks, he was very persuading.

  Charlotte, who'd left me to see to her husband, came down the length of the table to stand beside me. "Go, Leah and eat with Mr. Worth. You've been helping all morning without taking a moment for yourself. No one will be coming for dessert until they've finished off all that fried chicken and pork chops." She glanced to Mr. Worth, then back to me with a very knowing smile. I flushed as she caught me in my lie and the man was smart enough to see that. "Ensure that she eats something, sir. I put her in your capable hands."

  She even had the gall to put her hand on my arm and give me a little nudge toward the end of the long tables. Mr. Worth, while amusement showed in his eyes, had the courtesy not to grin. He met me at the end of the table and held out his elbow. I had no choice but to wrap my fingers around his very muscular biceps and let him lead me to the food.

  He carried both of our plates while I held our glasses of lemonade to a blanket set away from the others. While no one could hear any conversation we might have, we were chaperoned by
half the town.

  "I am sorry about your husband's passing. I offer you my condolences at your loss," he murmured softly, picking up a chicken leg from his plate.

  My spine stiffened at the mention of Paul. "Thank you," I said tersely, using my fork to spear a slice of pickle.

  "You are not saddened by his death." His words were fact, not a question, so although I glanced at him briefly through my lashes, I did not feel he required a response. "You did not care for him."

  I felt as if he were prodding me with his fork instead of the potato salad. "Care for him?" I asked, my voice incredulous. "Caring would not be a word associated with Paul."

  He chewed, then swallowed. "No. No it wouldn't. He was a fucking bastard."

  I gasped at his words, shocked at his crudeness.

  "What?" he asked, unabashed. "It's the truth. You're too much of a lady to say it aloud, but it's true, isn't it?"

  I glanced around, but no one paid us any attention.

  "Admit it. I know you wish to utter it aloud."

  I looked at him, saw the dare in his dark eyes.

  "Yes," I whispered. Then I panicked, realizing what I'd done. Mr. Worth had tricked me with false kindness. The blood drained from my face at what he would say next to me now that I'd admitted my feelings. I covered my ears to block his words. He'd call me a cruel and miserable wife. A unthankful shrew. An unbreedable bitch. Worthless. "Oh," I exclaimed, moving to stand, but the long hem of my dress made it difficult in my haste.

  "Wait, Leah." Mr. Worth grabbed my wrist and stopped my motions. I was up on my knees and I looked at him, all the while moving backward. "Jesus, sweetheart. I've said something to scare you."

  "Please," I begged, my breath coming out in pants. "Let me go." I was making a scene most assuredly. I frantically glanced around, blinked at the tears that threatened. "I didn't mean it and was mistaken in my words. Surely you know my word has no value and I'm just a liar. Place no value in what I said, or me." I yanked hard and he released me. Pushing off the ground, I was able to rise and dash away, not before seeing the look of utter shock on his handsome face. He was stunned. Regardless, I wouldn't look back to see it morph into anger, because men didn't want a woman to question them or to be ungrateful.

  CHAPTER TWO

  I couldn't run, there were too many about and I would only draw attention to myself. I smiled brittlely at those I passed and made it as far as the front of the church, where I slipped inside the quiet sanctuary unnoticed. There I let the tears fall, the shame at being so weak willed, the constant worry I would say something to make a man turn from kind to enraged.

  I slumped down into the last pew and crossed my arms about my waist, hugging myself.

  "Leah."

  I startled at the sound of my name and whipped my head around to see Mr. Worth in the doorway, the bright sunshine at his back. I started to rise, but he walked toward me, held his hand out in front of him. "Please, no. Sit."

  His voice was quiet, his motions slow and relaxed.

  I sat down on the hard pew. He stood in the center aisle next to me, forcing me to look up at him. "Slide over," he told me.

  I'd earned whatever tongue lashing he gave me, but at least here we were alone. No one would know the trouble I'd caused with him, the way I'd made him angry. I moved so that he could sit beside me, the sides of our bodies touching from knee to hip to shoulder. Pushing over again to create space some between us, he stilled my motions with a hand on my thigh.

  I was too surprised at the touch to shift and glanced down at his large hand, the back of it sprinkled with dark hairs, resting upon my thigh. I could feel the heat of it through the thin fabric of my dress, and the weight of it felt remarkably...safe. He didn't move, didn't look at me, just sat next to me, our breaths evening out into quiet.

  "I'm sorry," he finally said, his voice low. Whether the tone was to keep me calm—which it most likely was—or because of the setting, I didn't know.

  His apology had me tilting my head up to look at him. He'd removed his hat and I could see dark stubble on his jaw, as if he hadn't shaved.

  I frowned. "I...I don't understand."

  "I put you in a terrible position. You were devoted to your husband and I only spoke poorly of him. Of course you would take offense."

  He was apologizing to me for speaking ill of Paul? "You think...I mean, you're not going to yell—" I couldn't get the words out, swallowed. "You confuse me," I admitted plainly.

  "Paul yelled at you?"

  I couldn't answer him for the same reasons as I ran off, worried that he'd be angry with my answer.

  "I'll take your silence as confirmation." He swore under his breath. "I'm not going to yell at you, Leah. I'm not going to raise my voice and shout. I know the kind of man Paul was. Outside, I wasn't testing you or your loyalty to your dead husband."

  I searched his face for the truth and I shook my head in denial. "No. You could be tricking me."

  His eyebrows went up. "Trick you? Why would I trick you into admitting the truth?"

  "So...so you can hurt me."

  He stared at me for a moment. "Jesus," he hissed. His hand resting on my thigh tightened into a firm grip. "Did he beat you?"

  Dark eyes raked over me, looking for signs of abuse, even after all these months. I had to ease his mind at least a little bit, for he seemed truly concerned. "No. He never hit me. He only—" I bit my lips together.

  "He only what, sweetheart?" he prodded.

  "He was verbally abusive and because of that I am fearful and cautious."

  "Of men," he responded.

  "Of everything," I countered with a weary sigh.

  "I don't want you to be afraid of me." He turned my hand over and held it, palm to palm. His touch was gentle, yet secure, his hand so much larger than mine that it all but disappeared in his grasp. "I won't hurt you. Ever. You have my word."

  I heard the vehemence in his tone, but that didn't keep me from wondering why his attention was focused on me.

  "Why are you here? There are so many nice young women outside who would suit you."

  "I know."

  My stomach soured at his words and I tried to tug my hand free.

  "I've found one that suits me just fine."

  "Oh," I responded, hearing the disappointment in my voice. Of course he'd find a woman to court, for he was all that I could imagine a man to be. In all the hubbub and enjoyment of a Sunday potluck, he was sitting with me in the empty church. He had no idea how attractive, how appealing he was, for he should be out there flaunting it. No doubt women circled him like bees to honey. "I should let you get to her then." I made to rise, but again, he held me in place with a simple squeeze of my hand.

  "Leah, it's you. I want you."

  My mouth fell open and I just stared at him for a long moment. "I'm sorry. What? Me?"

  He smiled at me, at my shock, his dimple appearing. "Yes, you."

  The man was crazy and I shook my head. "I'm worthless."

  Ben moved his hands to my arms and turned my upper body so I had no choice but to face him. "I never want to hear that from you again. If you're speaking of yourself, then your bastard husband did a job on you that I'll take the rest of my life to fix. If you're referring to your fortune, I'm well aware Paul gambled it all away, whether at the Poker table or on an unworkable mine." His eyes raked over my face, stilled on my lips for a moment, then lifted to mine again. "Do you think I was interested in you for that?"

  He looked angry with every tense line of his body, the firm grip of his arms. "You're angry with me." I licked my lips and he groaned.

  Giving me a little shake, he said, "I'm not angry, I'm in love with you."

  My eyes widened at his pronouncement.

  "Love? How...we've never even talked before."

  He released me and stood, paced back and forth along the center aisle, ran a hand through his hair. "Do you think this is the first time I've taken notice of you? I've watched you for months, ever since you moved to town
. I could see your marriage wasn't a love match, that you weren't happy. Next to shooting the man, there was nothing I could do to end your marriage, but the sheriff does not call for vigilante justice."

  "You knew?" I asked, my voice incredulous.

  He nodded. "I knew he was hurting you. Do you have any idea what it was like to watch you be so unhappy, knowing you were going home with him, so that he could hit you, yell at you, touch you?"

  "I...I never knew," I sputtered.

  "No, of course not! You were stuck in your own hell. At the Christmas party when our eyes met, you actually looked at me, and I mean looked, I knew then that you would be mine. But I saw Caruthers come up to you, admonish you for even glancing my way. I couldn't risk your safety for my own personal gain."

  I frowned. His words were so overwhelming, so confusing. "What are you saying?"

  He strode over to me, knelt down on the floor at my feet. He was so much larger than I that we were at eye level. "I'm saying you're marrying me. Right now."

  My heart beat so quickly it felt like a hummingbird in my chest. "Marry you?"

  "Did Caruthers pleasure you? Don't answer that. I can tell by the look on your face the answer is no."

  I could only nod.

  "He took your virginity."

  I nodded again and focused on Ben's gaze, not thinking back to that uncomfortable night.

  "Do you know what I want to do to you? To show you?"

  "No," I whispered.

  "I want to show you what it's really supposed to be like between a man and his wife. I want to strip you of this dress, to know that only I get to know what's beneath. I want to taste your skin and see if it's as sweet as I think. I want to know the size of your nipples, their color, the weight of your breasts. I want to spread your soft thighs and lick and taste your pussy. I want to put my cock deep inside you, to feel you clench me tight."

  I couldn't help but make a soft sound at the back of my throat at the thoughts his words elicited.