Midnight Marriage

by Victoria Bylin

  Susanna tugged his hands downward, drawing their bodies together like beads on a string. “What exactly do you want?”

  “A bed big enough for both of us. Soft sheets and a mountain of pillows. Put it anywhere but here and I’d make love to you all night long.”

  “Close your eyes,” she whispered. “Tell me what you see.”

  Rafe gave in and stepped into a dream. He didn’t have the strength to do anything else. “I see you,” he said. “And me…in a bed big enough for two. It has a red velvet spread and I smell roses.”

  “Then that’s where we are.”

  Their lovemaking started in that dream, but it didn’t stay in the land of make-believe. As soon as Rafe kissed her, his senses came alive with the taste of his wife, the way she moved her lips, her soft breasts pressed against him. He wanted to feel her writhing under him, grasping for him, but as much as he craved her body, a deeper truth had struck home. Susanna wasn’t the only virgin in the jail cell. Her body was pure while his was experienced, but no woman had ever owned his heart. As far as first times went, Rafe was newer at love than she was.

  He eased back on the kiss and looked into her eyes. “Come lie with me.”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Together they moved to the cot. It was too small, so they stood facing each other. Rafe loosened her hair and undid her buttons, watching her face as a glow spread from her throat to her eyes. When he pushed the suit off her shoulders, she gave him a seductive smile. And when he sent her skirt to the floor in a puddle, her underthings went with it. Was there anything more glorious than a naked woman with love in her eyes? Rafe didn’t think so, unless it was a man who felt the same way.

  Susanna smiled at him. “My turn.”

  A minute later he was buck naked and warming his wife with his bare skin. Tiny or not, the cot would have to do. He brought her down with him, being careful not to crush her with his weight. Then he gave her all the love he could find. They were lost in each other—kissing, touching, suckling—when the lamp died and plunged them into a world without sheets or walls. Rafe rolled her to her back and stroked and kissed until she was moaning. Then he whispered, “You’re mine,” and joined their bodies with a tender glide.

  “Oh!”

  “Did that hurt?”

  “Just a little,” she said, her eyes wide. “Whatever you do, don’t stop.”

  Rafe held still until she began to rock on her own. She moved slowly, as if she were testing the water, then she pulled back her knees, bringing him as deep as a man could be. He slid out and then back in, gauging her reactions for pain, but Susanna was already arching to meet him. Her first time…their first time. He picked up the tempo, aware of her every move until she cried out in surrender.

  Never before had Rafe felt such utter possession of a woman. And never had a woman so fully owned him. Driving forward, he followed her into the oblivion of being loved, spilling his seed without fear. Sweaty and spent, he collapsed on top of his wife and pressed his temple against hers. When he kissed her, he tasted tears. “Do you hurt?”

  “Not anymore. I want ten thousand nights just like this one.”

  “Me, too.”

  But danger was lurking outside the jail. If Jessup had his way, their first time would be their last. Rafe had no regrets about making love to his wife, but he was just as sure he wanted Susanna safe at the hotel. After easing out of her, he snuggled close and stroked her hair. He had to tell her to go…but she was kissing his neck and exploring his chest. When she traced the line of hair that ran past his navel, Rafe decided talking could wait.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Susanna woke up at dawn and realized she was alone on the cot. Blinking away the fog, she saw Rafe fully dressed, standing by the wall and holding the blanket open a crack so he could see out the window.

  “Good morning,” she said in a husky voice.

  “Hi.”

  He’d answered without turning his head. A kiss would have been nice, but Susanna understood his nerves. They had made love twice, but she hadn’t slept in her husband’s arms. He’d been on guard all night, watching for the first sign of trouble.

  “You’d better get dressed,” he said gently. “Beck’ll be here soon.”

  “I guess so.”

  But Susanna was in no mood to hurry. Yawning, she stretched against the straw tick and sighed. They’d had a glorious wedding night, but the future was far from secure. Glancing at Rafe, she saw that she’d caught his attention.

  “Any regrets?” he asked.

  “Not a one,” she said.

  With Rafe’s eyes on her, she put on her underthings and traveling suit. Barefoot, she padded across the cell and leaned against his arm. He dropped the blanket in place and pulled her close with an urgency that matched last night’s coupling. Only instead of sexual release, he needed reassurance.

  “It’s going to be fine,” she said.

  “I wish I could believe that.”

  “Charles Archer seemed optimistic at supper last night. He said my testimony would help.”

  Rafe held her even closer. “I want you to promise me something.”

  “What is it?”

  “If things go badly, I don’t want you to stay for the hanging.”

  Susanna put her hands on his chest and looked up. “Don’t talk like that. You’re going to be acquitted.”

  She felt the rise and fall of his chest and knew that he didn’t share her confidence. When he loosened his arms and stepped back, she saw a coolness in his eyes. “Promise me you’ll leave.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “But Susanna—”

  “If you’re found guilty, we’ll file an appeal. Your father has connections, Rafe. We’ll use them.”

  His lips curled with disdain. “I’ve thought a lot about the boss. I don’t have anything to say to him.”

  Susanna was appalled. Garrett hadn’t explained Mr. Albright’s reasons for seeking out Rafe, but how could his motives be anything but good? “You have to talk to him.”

  “I’m sorry I stole from him and I’ll pay him back. But that’s it.”

  “Maybe he wants to apologize to you.”

  Susanna watched as bitterness creased Rafe’s eyes and hardened his mouth. This was the man who had hunted down Frank Benton and mocked Timothy Duke. As surely as Ed Jessup wanted to see Rafe hang for his wife’s murder, Rafe had punished these men—deserved or not—for the sins of his father.

  He looked at her with disgust, then jerked the blanket to the floor. A ray of sun made an arrow into the cell and landed at his feet, not quite touching his boots. “You’re naive, Dr. Leaf. Get out of here before you get hurt.”

  “Darn you, Rafe.”

  “You just proved my point. As mad as you are, you won’t even cuss.”

  Susanna got right in his face. “What you call naive, I call trust. I married you knowing full well what it would cost. Don’t you dare treat me like a child.”

  “But you are,” he insisted. “How can you tell me to talk to Walter Albright after what happened to Mimi? The man made her life hell—and mine too.”

  “He also gave you a roof over your head and an education. That counts for something. And he sent Garrett to help you. I can’t believe you’re so bitter that you won’t even speak to him.” She hadn’t meant to sound superior, but that’s how the words came out.

  When Rafe glared at her, she knew that his anger went bone deep. She didn’t want to fight with him, but she couldn’t back down without losing more than the argument. If he couldn’t set down his bitterness, it would destroy him from the inside out. She raised her chin in defiance. “I won’t apologize for speaking my mind.”

  “Neither will I,” he said with a chill. “This marriage was a mistake. Get an annulment.”

  Susanna felt as if she’d been kicked. “Last night meant something to me.”

  “Like I said, you’re naive.” His eyes glinted with the hardness she’d seen the night he
had kidnapped her. “You had an itch and I scratched it. That’s all it was. No one has to know. Now go back to Midas like a good little girl.”

  Susanna had never struck a person in her life, but she was close to it now. Boiling inside, she flashed on her talk with her mother.

  You don’t have to rush, sweetie. If he’s the right man, you’ll have your tomorrows.

  She had seen the wisdom but hadn’t wanted to accept it. Now she wondered if she’d be spending her life steeped in his bitterness. Susanna steadied her voice. “We rushed into this, didn’t we?”

  “That’s for damn sure.”

  Susanna grabbed for her shoes. She had no desire to annul their marriage, but neither could she stand the man slouching against the wall. “I’m going to the hotel. We both need time to think.”

  “That’s fine with me.”

  They were shooting bullets with their eyes when the front door swung wide. Sheriff Beck, shadowed by four men, walked in with his hands over his head. The tallest man had a pistol pressed to the lawman’s back and two others were armed with shotguns. The fourth was holding a length of rope in one hand and a black hood in the other. Terror ripped through her as she guessed what had happened. To get past the guards, Jessup had used Beck as a shield. Judging by the shouts in the street, a crowd was gathering. Last night a dozen guards seemed like a small army. Now she wondered if fifty would have been enough to control the mob.

  Beck looked at Susanna. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “She’s leaving right now,” Rafe answered.

  Jessup aimed the pistol at Susanna’s head and cocked the hammer. “I don’t think so, LaCroix. Maybe I’ll shoot her first. Then you’ll know how it feels.”

  Susanna would have dodged for cover, but the cell offered no protection, nothing but Rafe’s shadow and then his body as he stepped in front of her. “I’m the one you want, Jessup. Let her go and I’ll make this easy for you.”

  The man holding the shotgun spoke up. “Take him up on it, Ed. I won’t hurt a woman.”

  Susanna couldn’t see Jessup, but she could feel the hate spilling out of him. After a huff, he shifted the gun sight from her head to Rafe’s. “All right, LaCroix. Your life for hers.”

  “No!” Susanna cried. “He’s innocent!”

  But Rafe had already stepped from the cell. She wanted to kick and scratch at his captors, but the man with the second shotgun was aiming in her direction. Rendered helpless, Susanna watched as the man with the rope tied her husband’s hands behind his back and then raised the black hood over his head. Rafe turned his head and looked straight at her. His eyes shimmered with remorse. “Susanna, I—”

  But the black hood fell into place, muffling his final words.

  Jessup spun him toward the door. The man with the shotgun jerked his chin toward the cell. “What about these two?”

  “Lock ’em up,” Jessup replied. Then he shoved Rafe into the street.

  Susanna charged for the cell door, but the man with the shotgun was already shoving Beck behind the bars. He slammed the door and then aimed at the sheriff. “Give me the keys.”

  Beck motioned toward the wall behind his desk. “They should have been on that nail.”

  The man glanced at the empty spot, turned back to Susanna and took aim. Panic spread through her smallest veins. As long as she had the keys, she could escape. “I don’t know where they are.”

  “Don’t lie to me, lady. I’ll shoot Beck first and then you.” He pumped the shotgun to make his point.

  If she argued, Beck would end up full of holes. Trapped, Susanna reached into her coat pocket and shoved the keys through the bars.

  The man snatched them from her fingers. “That was smart.” With a twist of his wrist, he locked the cell, tossed the keys on the desk and left.

  “Help!” Susanna shouted at the top of her lungs, but she doubted anyone would come. The security agents would be trying to save Rafe, but maybe a passerby would take pity on her.

  Beck put his hands on hips. “Save your breath, miss. Everyone’s headed for the hanging tree.”

  “Where is it?”

  “East of here. Just past the tracks.”

  Susanna peered out the window where she saw puffs of smoke from a locomotive. Yesterday she’d arrived on a similar train and had seen a cottonwood on the edge of town. Even barren of leaves, it had struck her as pretty and she’d commented to Garrett about its cross-arm branches. He’d looked away and now she knew why.

  Terror stole her breath and made her heart pound. When the room started to spin, she dropped down on the cot. The ropes squeaked like they had last night and the straw tick crunched—but just once instead of over and over with the joining of their bodies. So much had been left unsaid. To grieve was part of life. But for a husband and wife to be torn asunder with anger in their hearts, that was a special kind of wretchedness.

  Susanna couldn’t stop the tears. How long would it be? Would she know when it was over? She wished she wasn’t a doctor. She knew the science of death by hanging, but there was nothing clinical about the agony in her heart.

  Raising her head, she looked out the window and wondered if she’d know when Rafe took his last breath. She wanted to believe she’d feel it as her own. Even more, she wanted to believe that Garrett and his army would come to Rafe’s rescue. Grabbing on to that hope, she faced the corner of the cell and dropped to her knees. She was about to beg God for mercy when she saw a bouquet of roses penciled on the wall. In the middle of it, Rafe had written her name in a fine script. Below it, he’d left his initials and the words, “For my wife.”

  He’d bid her goodbye, and this time he wouldn’t be back.

  As soon as Jessup shoved him into the street, Rafe felt the mob surging like floodwater. He couldn’t see a thing because of the hood, but he could hear the hateful jokes and a chant calling for his death. Every town had a hanging tree and that’s where they were headed. With Susanna out of harm’s way, he intended to fight every inch of the way.

  He knew he didn’t have much time, but each second gave Garrett and the security agents a chance to get to the tree first. Blind and stumbling, Rafe zigzagged like a drunk. When one of his captors slammed the butt of the shotgun into his shoulder, Rafe crumpled to his knees and fell on his face.

  “Damn you, LaCroix!” Jessup jerked him up by the collar and shoved him forward. Rafe deliberately fell again, but the ploy ended in two men gripping his biceps and dragging him down the street. The chants turned to a roar as they neared the edge of town until he was surrounded by calls of “killer” and “murderer.”

  Suffocating under the hood, Rafe heard the pant of his own breath. It muffled the catcalls but couldn’t block the whinny of a horse. When the crowd suddenly hushed, he shuddered. They’d reached the hanging tree.

  He struggled against the ropes binding his wrists, welcoming the sting of air on torn flesh, because it meant he was alive. He’d be dead if Jessup and his cohorts got him on that horse. With only his instincts to guide him, Rafe made a show of being exhausted. Just as he’d hoped, one of the men let go of his arm. Rafe kicked wildly and landed a boot in the man’s crotch.

  A curse filled the air, followed by the thump of a man landing on his butt.

  Rafe pulled free from the second man and head-butted his fat belly. To his utter relief, the hood rode up past his nose. Even in the midst of the fight, he knew that he’d never breathe fresh air again without remembering this moment. Before he could shake the hood loose, Jessup pushed him to the ground, yanked off the hood and pointed the pistol at Rafe’s temple.

  “You’re not going to die easy,” he said. “Get up.”

  Rafe went limp, but Jessup had the strength of a madman and dragged him to the swaybacked horse standing under the cottonwood. In spite of the crowd, the horse stood still, as if it were part of the plot. Rafe didn’t have a friend in sight. As Jessup pushed him on to the horse’s back, another man pulled his legs into place. When a third man climbed a st
epladder and dropped the noose around his neck, Rafe surrendered to the inevitable. Even if Garrett mustered his small army, it was too late to save his life.

  In a final act of mercy or retribution—he didn’t know which—Jessup stepped back and bowed his head in prayer. Then he looked at Rafe. “If you’ve got anything to say, LaCroix, now’s the time.”

  Susanna was on her knees when two men wearing tan dusters walked into the jail. She pushed to her feet and waited for the bad news about Rafe.

  The older man tipped his hat. “Dr. LaCroix, I’m Detective Russell Montgomery. I have orders from Mr. Albright to see you safely on the train.”

  “Does this mean it’s over?” she said in a near whisper.

  “No, ma’am. It means I’m supposed to put you on the train.”

  “But Rafe—”

  The man ignored her and turned to Beck. “If there’s a key handy, I’ll use it. Otherwise I’ll shoot out the lock.”

  “It’s on the desk,” Beck replied.

  The younger guard found it and opened the door. “You better hurry, ma’am. The crowd’s breaking up.”

  Susanna struggled into her shoes and then allowed the detective to escort her out the door. Some of the onlookers had reached the jail and were walking with their necks bent in shame. One woman was crying, and another was muttering about men who deserved to die.

  Susanna looked east, beyond the buildings to the top branches of the cottonwood, barren and lifeless against a sky so blue that it hurt her eyes. She heard the clop of hooves coming around the corner and turned. The undertaker’s wagon, drawn by two black horses and driven by a shriveled man in a black top hat, rolled down the street. She had to face the facts. Her husband was dead.

  The security agent touched her elbow. “Don’t think, ma’am. It’s possible Mr. Albright’s men arrived in time.”

  As much as Susanna wanted to believe him, she couldn’t muster that much faith. “This may be difficult, but I’d like to take my husband’s body to Midas.”