“You mustn’t say ‘was.’ You are beautiful, Miranda.” He drew the side of his finger along her jaw and pressed his lips to her head. “So the idiot wasn’t blind. What happened next?”
“He said we would be married as soon as his mother was better. She was ill, he said. I was so stupid I didn’t even get suspicious when he wouldn’t take me to meet her. Turned out his mother had died years before. It was his . . . his wife who was ill.”
“Wife?”
“Yes, that’s the true reason why he couldn’t marry me, not that he would have. I mean, even if there hadn’t been a wife, I don’t imagine he’d really wanted to marry me. But at first, I had believed he cared about me. I . . . I let him . . . he said he needed a woman and he’d go pay a . . . a whore if I didn’t allow him in my bed. It didn’t seem right for me to make him wait until we were married, not when he was worryin’ about his mother and all. He had a way of talkin’ that made me feel guilty no matter what I did.” She swallowed. “And so I let him come to my bed. I did everything he asked of me, but I could never please him. And he . . . when I did something wrong he would . . .”
“He hurt you?”
“Usually it was just a slap. But sometimes, when he was really angry, it was worse than that.”
Ben stroked her hair, trying to comfort her, knowing that he couldn’t.
“I had decided to leave him, to pack up and move somewhere he’d never find me. And then I . . . I found I was carrying his child. I thought if he knew about the baby he’d want to marry me, start treatin’ me better.” She swallowed, picturing the wild look Lawrence had in his eye when he came after her. “Instead, it made him ferocious mad. Worse than I’d ever seen him before. He shouted and then . . . then he started to beat me. While he was beatin’ on me, he told me about his wife, his children. I don’t remember what all he said. I was so scared. I tried to protect the baby, tried to run away. He had this walking stick and he used it over my head until it broke. I don’t remember much after that, except that my friend Lydia found me half dead on the floor of my room. She got me a doctor. I don’t know how.” Miranda shivered, remembering those dark days. “Somehow Lydia convinced me I shouldn’t die.”
“You lost the child?”
Miranda closed her eyes, remembering the small flutter of life she’d felt only days before Lawrence had tried to kill her. “I remember crying with Lydia, telling her my baby had gone to heaven and I would never see him because I was going to hell.”
Ben kissed her forehead. He tried to take away the pain but understood that he couldn’t. It was too much pain. Too difficult to dull.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Well, it’s over and done. To tell the truth, I’m glad I told someone. Tellin’ the story, it’s almost like it happened to someone else.”
“But it didn’t.”
“No.”
“You should tell Mercy about—”
“No! And you promised you wouldn’t tell either.”
“I won’t. But . . . won’t it be difficult for you, helping with her baby?”
“I thought so, at first. But she’s my sister and her havin’ a baby doesn’t add to my loss. I reckon when I see her holdin’ her little one, I might feel an ache inside. But I think I’ll feel more joy for seein’ Mercy happy. And I’ve found with Jonathan that I enjoy bein’ an aunt, too.”
“You’re a remarkable woman, Miranda Chase.” He pressed a kiss to her head. “Will you . . . tell me one more thing?”
She turned, and he could see her features in the glimmer of dawn.
He took a breath to keep his voice calm. “What happened to him?”
“The accident. The one I’ve been telling about? It was real. He was driving his buggy and he was drunk. He ran into a farm wagon and his carriage overturned. He was killed.”
“I’m glad.” Saves me the trouble of killing the bastard myself.
“Don’t seem right to be glad a man died,” Miranda said. “But it is hard for me to be sorry.”
Ben held her close as he watched the rain pelt against the window. “What do you say we make a fire and warm ourselves before we head out into that?”
“Good idea, then you can tell me about your scar.”
He kissed her for good measure before he braved the cold outside of their warm nest. When the fire was blazing, he snuggled back under the blanket with her. “I suppose we should get dressed now.”
“You’re not gonna avoid keeping your promise, are you? I want to hear your story.”
“There’s not much to tell. I was shot in the back; I’m told the wound is small. You may have seen it.”
Miranda nodded.
“I survived because the bullet came straight through without damaging anything important. The ugly scar in the front is where it came out.” He took a breath.
“That wasn’t a fair trade.” Miranda pouted. “I told you the whole story.”
“There isn’t much more to it. There was a battle, lots of gunfire . . .”
“What were you doing? Why would someone shoot you in the back?”
“You have to stand up in the open to fire a cannon. We made a good target when they could get to us. That day they had riflemen out to try and stop us.”
She rested her head against him, tracing a finger over the scar on his chest. “Your arm and your hand—did that happen at the same time?”
He closed his eyes and nuzzled the top of Miranda’s head. “You don’t really want to hear about this.”
“You promised.”
“The arm . . . was the same battle.” He lifted his right arm and looked at the old wound. “It wasn’t as bad as the scar makes it look; the bullet ripped through pretty cleanly. We had to keep the cannons firing. Our infantry troops were depending on us.”
“You kept fighting even though you were hurt?”
“You make it sound heroic, but it wasn’t really. You get caught up in a battle and you keep going until you can’t go on.”
“And so you were nearly killed by this bullet.” She brushed a kiss to the scar on his chest.
“I didn’t die. I was lucky. When I got my strength back, they sent me back to my company and I was able to finish out the war.” He pulled her tight against him with his right arm. “Luck is a strange thing. I might have lost my right arm and been sent home a cripple.”
“And you would still have your left hand.” She took his battered hand in hers and stroked the remaining fingers. “You would still be able to paint.” She kissed his left hand. “Ben.” His name seemed almost a sigh escaping her lips.
“I’ve had more than one person tell me it makes no sense to prefer the loss of an arm to a few fingers, but . . .” He swallowed. “It’s not as though wishing could change any of it.”
“No, I reckon not.” Her tears dripped onto his chest and she wiped them away. “I know it was hard for you to tell me. And to listen to me.” She caressed his cheek, feeling the rough stubble of his beard. “Thank you.” They held each other in silence as the room filled with the light of a gray dawn. “And thank you for showing me how nice a man’s touch can be.”
“That last was my pleasure. I only hope this night hasn’t made things more difficult for you.”
“One thing’s certain: I’ll remember Ben Lansing for the rest of my life.”
Ben felt something squeezing his heart. “You’ll remember me, but not for long. Soon you’ll find an honest, hardworking man who will want you desperately. You’ll marry, bear him children, and think of no one else but him. I only hope the man will realize what a treasure he has.”
“You’re a kind soul to imagine such a life for me.”
“It isn’t my imagination. It’s what you deserve.”
Miranda bit her tongue. She was afraid to think about what she deserved, but Ben had surely described the life she dreamt about. She traced a finger through the hair on his chest. “Can I ask you one more question that has nothing to do with the war?”
“Wo
n’t promise I can answer.”
“When we get back to the house, will you tell Mercy and Thad you’ve decided Jonathan should stay with them?”
“I’ll tell them.” He touched her face. He didn’t want to think about facing Mercy and Thad. Didn’t want to think about closing his business here, because that meant he would no longer have an excuse to touch Miranda’s unruly corn silk hair, to swim in her great blue eyes, or to bask in the glow of her smile.
“I don’t suppose before we go you’d kiss me one more time?”
“One more kiss?” Ben asked. That was like asking a beggar at the feast to take one slice of bread and leave the roast pig, the fruit, the cheese, and the fine wine. “No, I don’t think I’ll settle for one small kiss.”
Ben feasted from Miranda’s lips to her toes and he relished her gentle touches. Surely, a village of island maidens could not give him the pleasure of Miranda’s trim body.
They both knew it had to end; they could hardly stay in this shelter forever. As the sun peeked through the clouds outside they made a game of dressing each other. She helped him pull on his pants, spending far too long on fastening each button. He helped her pull her chemise over her head, covering her breasts and her waist and her hips; then he knelt before her, pulled the hem of the garment up, and found her navel with his tongue.
He had her giggling fiercely when the door flew open and Thad Buchanan stepped inside holding two pistols hip high and aimed straight at them.
Ben jumped to his feet, blocking Miranda from view.
“What the hell are you doing here, Lansing?”
Ben opened his mouth to speak, but Miranda shouted. “Put those guns away before you hurt someone.” She pulled a blanket around herself and stepped in front of Ben. “What the hell are you doing barging in without knocking?”
Thad’s face flushed and he looked away from her as he shoved his guns back into his holster. “We were out lookin’ for O’Reilly, and when I saw the smoke—” He shoved his hat back on his head and mumbled something that might have been “damnation.” He glared at Ben. “Lansing . . . This is a hell of a strange way to look after a girl!”
Ben and Thad each stepped around Miranda, driven by some mysterious male instinct, she supposed. Thad’s fist connected with Ben’s jaw, causing the smaller man to stumble back a step. Thad landed a second punch on Ben’s chest; Miranda could hear the whoosh of air forced from Ben’s lungs.
Hell, Thad was going to kill Ben if he didn’t start defending himself. “You stop!” she shouted.
Neither man seemed to hear her. Ben came to life, and Thad grunted as Ben drove a fist into his gut. He tackled the larger man, and they rolled over the table and onto the floor in a tangle. Miranda could no longer tell who was dominating in the blur of fists and knees and elbows. She had to do something to get their attention and she remembered the bucket she’d set out to catch the rain. Her aim was true as she doused the pair of ruffians with icy water.
“Dammit, that’s cold!” Thad bellowed as he rolled away.
Ben grinned up at her and winced as blood trickled from his lip.
“You boys about done with your antics?”
They sat like two chastised schoolboys and stared up at her. Ben was still grinning. Thad looked angrier than a bull locked away from the cows at breeding time.
Miranda stood wrapped in a blanket and glared at the pair of them. “Thad Buchanan, you’re married to my sister. That gives you no rights over me. I’m a grown woman.”
Thad touched the side of his face, where it appeared a bruise was starting. “I know what Mercy would say if she’d walked in here and saw you.” He glared at Ben.
“I didn’t . . .” Ben started, then looked up at Miranda.
“He didn’t do anything I didn’t ask him to do.” She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “I’m old enough to make my own decisions.”
“I’m sorry, Miranda,” Thad said. “You may be old enough, but Lansing is a good bit older, and he had no right to take advantage of you. A gentleman would offer marriage.”
Miranda laughed.
“Of course I intend to marry her, Buchanan. You certainly didn’t think she’d allow such liberties otherwise, did you?”
Miranda gaped at him, but she couldn’t find her tongue to tell Ben that no such offer was necessary.
“I realize it’s a bit of a surprise, Mister . . . Thad. We were on our way to tell you the good news last night when the storm drove us into this cabin. I’m afraid being alone here, we were carried away.”
It was Thad’s turn to gape. He stared at Ben, then turned to Miranda. “Is that right, Miranda? You intend to . . . to marry Lansing?”
Miranda swallowed. She watched Ben for some clue as to how she should respond, but he wasn’t looking at her. She forced a smile. “Of course. We’ll be married in the spring.”
Thad looked from Miranda to Ben. He brushed dust from both of his knees, then stood, towering over Ben, who was still sitting on the floor. “The hell you will,” he said in a voice so quiet it was frightening. “Preacher’s in town this week—you’ll be married on Saturday.”
Ben looked up and Miranda expected him to say he’d been joking, he’d never intended to actually marry her. Instead, he smiled at Thad—that smile that made Miranda think he wanted to sell a used buggy without any wheels.
“Well, that’s good news, isn’t it, sweetheart?” He looked up at Miranda. “We won’t have to wait, after all.”
“Good news.” Miranda couldn’t think of anything else to say, at least not out loud in front of Thad. The moment she could get the madman posing as Ben Lansing alone, there was a hell of a lot she planned to say.
Miranda took a sip of coffee. It was cold and bitter. She glanced up at the clock over the mantel. They’d been sitting around the kitchen table going over plans for the wedding. The strange thing was that Pa seemed happy about it. Of course, he was the only one.
Mercy rubbed her temples and closed her eyes, then looked back at Ben. “There’s one thing I want to ask you, Mr. Lansing.”
“Ben.” He smiled at Mercy. “Please.”
“Very well, Ben. Is the purpose of this marriage so that you can provide a home for your nephew?”
“Jonathan?” Ben looked from Mercy to Thad. “No, of course not. I should have said earlier, only in the excitement about our plans it escaped my mind. Jonathan’s place is here, with the two of you. I hope you’ll forgive me for doubting you. I am most grateful for all you’ve done for my nephew. As for me, I’ve no desire for children—”
“Except for the children the good Lord may bless you and Miranda with,” Thad said.
“Yes, exactly what I meant.” Ben’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He smiled at Miranda. “I mean no children other than those we’re lucky enough to have.”
“Children are not a matter of luck.” Thad leaned across the table and glared at Ben. “They are a blessing to be cherished. As I’m certain you will cherish your wife.”
Ben put his hand over Miranda’s and squeezed tight. She noticed his hand was damp, which meant his calm appearance was an act. “I’ll do everything in my power to protect Miranda.”
And I will do what I can to make certain that doesn’t include marrying me against her will.
“What the hell are you doing?” Miranda asked when she was certain no one else was in the barn.
Ben kept his eyes on Lightning. “Checking on my horse.”
Miranda reached up and clasped his shoulder. “That’s not what I mean and you know it.”
He smiled at her, then turned back to his horse. “Thad’s right. I don’t want my actions causing anyone to think less of you.”
“It’s not as though you forced me. If anyone is to blame, it’s me.”
Ben nodded. “That’s exactly what people will think. Your family will believe that I took advantage of you. The rest of the world will believe this reflects on your character, not mine.”
“You know damn well
you weren’t the first for me.”
“I’m the only one in this town who knows about that, aren’t I?”
Miranda turned away from him. She had done her best to keep the secret. She wet her lips. “I still can’t ask this of you.” Miranda shook her head. “I was willing to play along. No harm in pretendin’ we’re engaged. We could have a fight and it would all be over. But—they are in there now planning our wedding.” She glanced back toward the house where she’d left Thad, Mercy, and Pa talking about the “good news.”
He turned her and pulled her against his warm chest. His musky scent reminded her of their long night of passion. Lord how she wanted to believe there would be more nights like that, nights of tender kisses and long, slow lovemaking.
“It’s no sacrifice, love.”
Her heart stopped as he used the name he’d called her last night. She looked up at him and he smiled, a warm, tender smile that filled her heart and caused tears to pool in her eyes.
“You want me?”
He nodded. “How can you doubt it?” He brushed a kiss to her forehead. “Did I seem reluctant last night?”
“No, you didn’t.” She blinked back a tear and sniffed. “Only I thought . . . Ben.” She pulled him down for a kiss and felt the same spark of passion that was always beneath the surface when he was near.
He held her close. In that moment everything became clear—the two of them belonged together. She hated the idea of Thad forcing Ben into this. His kiss convinced her that this wedding might be rushed, but the marriage was going to work.
Chapter 15
“Well, congratulations, Mr. Lansing.” Clarisse surprised him when he walked into the store early the next morning. How she’d heard he couldn’t imagine. Word traveled more quickly than his horse, apparently.
“Thank you. I can’t tell you how pleased I am.” Shocked would be a better adjective. Yet, he knew he was doing the right thing. A few months spent here playing husband to Miranda wasn’t such a high price to pay for her future. All he was putting off was his retirement on that tropical island. And he still needed to find a way to fund that. “Miranda will make a beautiful bride.”
Teresa Bodwell Page 18