by Barbara Metzger, Connie Brockway, Casey Claybourne; Catherine Anderson
“I never chased my tail over Caitlin.”
Joseph chuckled. “You sure as hell did, and had me chasin’ mine, too. Snarlin’ at everybody, ornery as a badger with a thorn in its paw. Hell, big brother, she’s still got you chasin’ your tail. You love that girl beyond all reason.”
Ace parted his lips to argue, and then snapped his teeth closed. “I’m going to remember this when you finally get hitched.”
“Never happen,” Joseph replied confidently. “I’m a grazer. Fence me in on one pasture, and first thing you know, I’ll be stretchin’ my neck to nibble the grass on the far side of the wire.”
Ace rolled his eyes again. Then he settled a thoughtful gaze on Patrick. “Is Joseph right? Do you have feelings for this woman?”
Patrick almost said no, but as the word tried to creep up his throat, he swallowed it back, recognizing it as a lie. He’d been in over his head with Faith almost from the first, and he’d been struggling to stay afloat ever since. He loved the woman; that was the long and short of it. He’d also come to love her daughter as if she were his own. The thought of marriage still sort of alarmed him, but not nearly as much as the thought of losing them did. When he tried to imagine his life without Faith and Charity in it, his blood ran cold and his chest hurt.
“I love her,” he confessed. Once the words were out, he wondered why he’d been so reluctant to say them.
“Enough to put your bacon on the plate?” Ace asked.
Patrick straightened his shoulders and nodded.
“Well, marry her, then,” Ace said. “That’ll put a hitch in Mr. Maxwell’s get-along like nothing else will. Man sounds like a bully to me, and bullies only push people around when they can get away with it. Faith won’t be so easily intimidated by the arrogant bastard if she has a husband who won’t hesitate to push back.”
That made sense. Patrick had known a bully personally, and for a goodly number of years. In all that time, he’d never once seen Connor O’Shannessy whale the tar out of a man bigger than he was. His father’s victims had always been unable to fight back.
“What about Charity?” Patrick asked. “If I marry Faith, she’ll be safe enough, but what of the child? Is there any way Maxwell could get custody?”
Ace scowled thoughtfully. “I think you’ll automatically become the child’s legal guardian, but to be on the safe side, go straight from the justice of the peace to the courthouse and file for adoption.”
Faith was struggling to dismember a plucked chicken when Patrick returned to the house. Charity sat at the table, building a house of cards, the puppy asleep by her chair. Patrick moved in close behind Faith where she stood at the sink and bent to nibble the nape of her neck. She missed her aim with the butcher knife and nearly relieved herself of a thumb.
“What are you about?” she asked breathlessly.
“Trying to get your attention.”
He had definitely succeeded. Fiery heat swirled in her belly, and her nipples had gone as hard and sharp as screw shafts. “A simple hello would suffice. I’m trying to make chicken and dumplings.”
Patrick latched on to her earlobe and did fascinating things to it with flicks of his tongue. “I love chicken and dumplings. But right now, I’ve got other things on my mind.”
Faith’s knees almost buckled. “Like what?”
He glanced at Charity. “Can you tear yourself away from that hen and take a turn around the yard with me?”
“Can I come?” Charity asked.
“May I come,” Faith corrected, wondering when her daughter had started to talk like a Coloradoan.
“Not this morning,” Patrick told the child. “I need to speak to your ma in private.”
Patrick seldom denied Charity anything. Of late, Faith had even begun to worry that her daughter would become spoiled and willful if he had his way. She gave Patrick another wondering look. He only smiled, handed her a towel to wipe her hands, and then grasped her by the arm to lead her outside. Once there, he stalked in a circle around her for a moment, then stopped, planted his hands on his hips, and said, “I love you.”
Faith was so startled that she cocked her head. “I beg your pardon?”
“Damn it, Faith, you heard me the first time. Don’t make me say it again until you’re ready to say it back.”
“You love me?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”
He didn’t seem to be very happy about it. In Faith’s estimation, it was marvelous news. She started tapping her toe. “May I ask what brought this on?”
“Your father. If he finds you now, he may find a way to make you go home. He could claim you’re emotionally unbalanced—or that you abuse your daughter. God only knows. If you marry me, nothing he says or does will hold any sway. I’ll be able to tell him to go whistle Dixie.”
“That isn’t enough reason for us to marry, Patrick.”
“I love you. Isn’t that reason enough?” He winced and turned his gaze toward the sky. “Damn it. You made me say it twice.” He leveled a burning look at her. “Out with it. I want an answer right now. Do you feel the same way or not?”
“You are cursing at me, sir.”
He winced again. Then he threw up his hands and turned a full circle. When he faced her again, he leaned forward to get nose to nose with her. “ ‘Damn’ is a byword. It’s not a curse word by my definition. All the same, I apologize. I don’t reckon I should say it while I’m proposing to you.”
“Is that what you’re doing, proposing?”
The glint in his eyes intensified. “What? Do you want me on my knees? Is that it?”
“No. It’s just that you seem so upset!”
“If you felt like this, you’d be upset, too.”
An odd, tight sensation closed around Faith’s throat. “How is it that you’re feeling, Patrick?”
“Scared.”
She searched his sky blue eyes, trying to understand. “Scared of what?”
“Scared to death that you don’t love me back.” Tears stung her eyes. The next instant she was in his arms. She wasn’t sure if he’d grabbed her, or if she had jumped. And it didn’t really matter. She was in his arms, right where she belonged.
“I’m not a good lover,” she whispered against his neck.
He laughed and spun in a circle with her clasped against his hard chest. “You will be, darlin’. Leave it to me.”
He had taught her so many things, how to milk cows, how to make butter and cheese, how to slop hogs, and how to do laundry. She was also becoming a halfway decent cook. Perhaps he could teach her how to make love as well.
Faith prayed so. She wanted to please this man. She wanted that more than almost anything.
“Oh, Patrick,” she whispered fervently, “I love you, too. I love you so very much.”
“It’s a damned good thing. Otherwise I’d be in a hell of a fix.”
At Patrick’s insistence, Faith stood at the center of her room an hour later, draped head to toe in ivory silk and lace. To say she was bewildered was an understatement. Patrick was right; the dress that he had stowed in the trunk that first afternoon bore no dirt stains. It was as spotless and perfect as new. There was just no explaining it. Faith clearly remembered dropping the gown in the dirt and despairing afterward that it was ruined. And yet, by some miracle, it wasn’t. Even stranger, it fit her like a glove. It was almost as if the dress had been made especially for her.
Faith closed her eyes and ran a hand down the front of the gown, marveling at the tingling warmth that ribboned through her body. She’d felt it the instant she slipped into the dress, and the heat had intensified with each button that she fastened. It was almost as if the dress were imbued with some inexplicable magic. She remembered how she’d felt drawn to it the first time she’d seen it and then how she’d felt when she touched it. Even stranger, directly afterward, she had spotted Patrick’s advertisement taped to the door window of the mercantile. How was it that she’d passed that store a fair hundred times and n
ever seen the sign until she’d been holding this dress in her arms?
“Knock, knock. You about ready?”
Patrick shoved his head through the crack of the door. Faith felt suddenly self-conscious as she faced him.
“Dear God,” he whispered.
“Is it too fancy?” she asked.
He stepped into the room, his expression stunned. He wore a white shirt and black dress slacks. He was, in Faith’s estimation, the handsomest man who’d ever drawn breath.
“Too fancy? No. It’s gorgeous. You’re gorgeous. You look so beautiful, I can’t believe you’re real.”
Faith’s stomach was churning with nerves. She wanted to become Patrick’s wife more than she’d ever wanted anything, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible might happen to spoil their happiness together.
“Oh, Patrick, I’m scared.”
“Of me?”
She gave a startled laugh and then found herself blinking away tears. “No, never that. I’m just—oh, I don’t know.” She glanced at the window. “It’s probably stupid, but ever since you asked me to marry you, I’ve had this feeling that my father will appear at any moment.”
He stepped across the room and drew her into his arms. “All the more reason to get this done. Once you’re my wife, you can stop being afraid. If he comes around, I’ll draw him a map in the dirt to guide him out of here and give him a boot up the ass to help him on his way.”
Faith wanted to believe that. She needed to believe it. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that something dark and sinister awaited them just around the corner.
It was to be a simple ceremony before a justice of the peace. And by all rights, it should have been the plainest, simplest wedding on record. The JP performed all nuptial ceremonies in his sitting room, the walls of which were papered in a pattern of ancient roses, long since turned brown from the smoke of his cigars. His wife was a stout, unadorned woman who nodded and seldom spoke. Faith had barely recovered from the shock of finding goats on the people’s doorstep when she and Patrick were saying “I do.”
Nevertheless, she felt thoroughly and wonderfully married afterward. Caitlin and Ace were there to witness their vows, along with all of Ace’s brothers. Charity preceded Faith into the sitting room, sprinkling rose blossoms from Caitlin’s flower garden on the worn carpet. All in all, it was, in Faith’s opinion, the most beautiful wedding ever.
After the brief ceremony, Faith nearly swooned when Patrick kissed her. It was not only their first kiss but also a startling revelation. She actually liked it. He encircled her waist with one strong arm, drew her snugly against him, and tasted her mouth as if she were a succulent piece of fruit.
“My turn,” Joseph Paxton said with a laugh. The next thing Faith knew, she was draped over his muscular arm, expecting to feel his mouth on hers at any moment. Instead, he winked at Patrick and bussed her cheek.
After that, Faith received more kisses on the cheek, the first delivered by Ace, the second by Caitlin, followed by quick kisses from the rest of the Paxton men. Esa was a quiet, gentle-mannered man with a kindly smile. David had a tough, wiry look about him, and he wore a silver star on his shirt, leading Faith to believe he must be a lawman.
With congratulations ringing in her ears, Faith signed the necessary papers to record her marriage to Patrick O’Shannessy. When those particulars had been completed, Patrick led her and Charity to the courthouse, where he filed more papers to adopt Faith’s daughter. Then Caitlin arrived to collect the child.
“Your daughter and her puppy will be spending the night at our place,” she cheerfully informed Faith. “It’s your wedding night, after all.” Ruffling Charity’s hair, Caitlin winked at Patrick and smiled. “Charity has kindly offered to help me make cookies tonight.”
Faith had never been apart from her daughter overnight. As though attached to the child by an invisible string, she followed Caitlin and Charity from the courthouse. Never leaving her side, Patrick gave her elbow a reassuring squeeze as Ace swung Charity up into his wagon.
“They’ll take good care of her, honey. No need to worry.”
Faith was about to agree when she spotted a well-dressed gentleman entering the hotel farther up the street. Her heart gave a nasty lurch.
“What is it?” Patrick asked.
Faith blinked and shook her head. The man had already entered the building. “Nothing. It’s just—” She shook her head again and reached blindly for her husband’s hand. “Nothing. I just thought for a moment that I saw my father.”
Patrick curled an arm around her. “And so what if you did? I told you once how that will go. Do I need to say it again? From this moment forward, the only man you need to worry about is me.”
Faith dragged her gaze from the hotel and forced herself to look up at Patrick’s dark countenance. His deep blue gaze gave her the strength to dredge up a smile. “You’re right. Absolutely right. I’m just being silly.”
Faith went up on her tiptoes to kiss her daughter good-bye and then surrendered happily to the circle of Patrick’s arm as Ace drove the family wagon away from the boardwalk. When the dust had settled, Patrick bent to kiss her forehead.
“Well, Mrs. O’Shannessy, are you about ready to go home?”
Home. The word had such a lovely, final ring to it. With a last worried glance at the hotel, Faith relaxed and laughed. “I am, sir. Lead the way. I’ll follow you anywhere.”
“You’ll never walk behind me,” he whispered huskily. “Only beside me.”
In truth, Faith didn’t care if she led or trailed behind, only so long as she could spend the rest of her life with him.
It had been a hectic day, packed with varying emotions. By the time Patrick reined in the team of horses in front of his house, Faith was thoroughly drained. After he helped her from the wagon, she went inside and stood at the sink in her wedding dress, wondering stupidly what she should fix for supper. The chicken she’d left in the icebox, she guessed.
“We’ll have eggs and bacon,” Patrick said when he came in from the barn a few moments later. “It’s late. We’re both tired. That’ll make less mess to clean up after.”
Faith jerked back to awareness, wondering how long she had been staring blankly at nothing. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
He came to wrap her in his strong arms. “Why the worried frown? Are you thinking about your father again?”
Faith wanted to deny it, but when she looked into her husband’s eyes, she couldn’t bring herself to lie. “That man going into the hotel. He truly did look like Papa. I know it’s unlikely, but I can’t shake the feeling that it may have been him.”
Patrick’s embrace tightened. “Given the fact that it’s our wedding day, I sincerely hope not. But if he’s here, we’ll deal with him.”
“He isn’t easily dealt with.”
Patrick’s mouth thinned. “You can’t live the rest of your life terrified that he may show up, Faith. Have some trust in me. You’re my wife now. His hold on you is forever broken. From this moment forward, you have nothing more to fear from him.”
She closed her eyes and pressed her face to his shirt. After drawing in the scent of him, she sighed shakily. “You’re right. No more worrying.” She let her head fall back and smiled. “Eggs and bacon sound lovely.”
“I’ll cook.” He bent to kiss her and set her head to spinning. Then, his voice husky with desire, he gently nipped her lower lip and said, “Why don’t you go upstairs and get into something more comfortable while I’m tossing together some grub?”
Faith felt perfectly comfortable in the wedding dress, but she might dribble food on the bodice if she didn’t change into something else. She went upstairs, rifled through her armoire, and selected Patrick’s favorite, a pale blue dress that had seen better days. After stepping out of the wedding gown, she carefully folded it and laid it at the foot of the bed until she could put it away in the trunk.
When she’d finished dressing, she turned to pick
up the wedding gown. It no longer lay on the mattress. Bewildered, she got on her knees to look under the bed. Then she checked inside the trunk, thinking she might have put the gown away without thinking. Nothing. It had vanished into thin air.
Patrick found Faith at the foot of the bed. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
When she told him that the wedding dress had disappeared, he executed a search as well. Finally, he gave up, shrugged in bewilderment, and scratched his head. “I’ll be damned. Where on earth could it have gotten off to?”
Faith swallowed, hard. “I think it was charmed,” she whispered.
“You think it was what?”
“Charmed.” Afraid he might think she was crazy, Faith told him about the tingle of warmth that she’d felt the first time she touched the dress, and how, afterward, she’d seen his advertisement for the first time, even though she’d walked past the mercantile on countless occasions. “When I dropped the gown along the road, I felt sure that it was ruined. But when I got it out of the trunk earlier today, there wasn’t a dirt stain to be seen. How could that happen? You didn’t clean it, did you?”
“No. I just folded it up and stuffed it in the trunk.” He frowned slightly. “I don’t remember there being any dirt stains on the skirt, though. I just remember thinking how pretty it was.”
“It was ruined, I’m telling you.” Faith gave the room another appraisal, half expecting to see the dress somewhere. “I can’t help but wonder if it wasn’t charmed, Patrick.”
He didn’t laugh, just gazed wonderingly at the trunk. “Maybe it was charmed,” he agreed. “You ended up here, didn’t you? That’s all I care about, that you found your way to me.”
Tears of happiness stung Faith’s eyes. “That’s what truly matters,” she agreed. “That we’re together.”
He sighed, smiled slightly, and said, “Supper’s done. You hungry?”
Faith felt hungry, but not for eggs. “Not really. Are you?”
He moved slowly toward her. “I’m starving.”