He took a step back and inhaled a deep breath. “I’ve been lying to you, Amanda.”
Wariness grew in her eyes and suspicion lit the deep emerald depths.
“But, we promised each other. We said...”
He didn’t wait for her to finish the sentence. The words were a painful memory. “I know what I said, but I lied.” He raked his hand through his hair. God, he wanted a drink. He should have gone to the saloon to prepare himself.
She crossed her arms and the soft planes of her face hardened. “I think you’d better explain yourself, Samuel Calhoun.”
He was backed into the corner, trapped by her dressing screen, the bed, and an angry and perplexed Amanda. He glanced at the window and briefly considered opening it and stepping out onto the roof. Then he could fling himself off and hope he’d be so severely injured he wouldn’t need to do this. “I think you should sit down.”
“I don’t want to sit down, Sam.”
He swallowed again, and tried to find the words. Finally, he closed his eyes, summoned every ounce of courage he could find, and proceeded.
“I made a deal with Father Mikelson.”
“Father Mikelson? What kind of deal could you make with that pious old fool?”
Sam winced and opened his eyes. A frown furrowed her brow. He wanted to pace, but she remained implacable. With her crossed arms and harsh, angry look, moving her wouldn’t be wise.
“It was all to protect you and keep you safe. For your own good.”
She tapped a toe. “Whenever a man utters those words, my blood turns cold. It means I’m going to hear something I won’t like.”
He took a step closer, wanting to reach out and touch her, to reassure her. “Father Mikelson knows about the threats against you—that someone might even be trying to kill you.”
She gasped, and her lips formed a hard line. She stood silently, glaring at him, before stomping across the room. She kicked several pieces of clothing to the side. “I told him about that in confidence. He’s a priest for heaven’s sake. He’s supposed to keep secrets. He took some kind of vow.”
She picked up a silver brush from her dressing table, and Sam imagined it flying toward his head. Instead, she sat down and tugged pins from her hair before roughly yanking the brush through it with no apparent regard for her scalp. He winced at the thought of the pain she inflicted upon herself.
He cares about you. He said he loves you like a daughter.”
She snorted and turned to face him. “Love is just a word men use to justify their treachery.”
The words wounded Sam deeply. Is that what she thought of him? No, because in all their time together, those were the words he’d kept locked inside. He’d never told Amanda how much he loved her. At least not when she was awake and able hear him.
She turned back to the mirror, but their eyes met in the reflection.
“He knew you were in danger, that you’d been threatened, and that’s why he insisted on the marriage. He thought I could protect you.”
“How noble of you, Sam. You took a wife you didn’t love to keep her safe.” Acid dripped from her words. “But, wait. This is the same Samuel Calhoun who planned to seduce a defenseless widow for money.” Her smile grew hard and cold. “How much did he pay you, Sam?”
He froze at her words. Fumbling for an answer, he tried to distract her. “Father Mikelson wanted you to be safe and happy.”
She stood, hands on her hips, to face him. “Then why did he force me to marry you, Sam?”
He recoiled. “Because he thought he could trust me?”
Her brittle laughter slashed through the room. “Then he’s more of an old fool than I ever imagined. Didn’t he know you’re the prince of lies? Remember Sam, I called you that once before. Truly, you deserve the title.”
She slammed the brush down on the dainty lace doily lining the surface of the dressing table and glared at him. “Why did you do it, Sam? Tell me the truth. The truth, if that’s even possible, and then I want you out of here.”
He considered pleading with her. He could tell her he’d started out wanting to protect her, but that he’d fallen deeply, irrevocably in love with her. He might tell her she was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, have children with. He could tell her about dreams that the two of them would grow old together.
His heart was shattering within his chest as he realized being with Amanda was what he desired most in this world, and the one thing he couldn’t have. He wanted to fall to his knees and plead with her to forgive him, but telling her the truth would bind her to him forever, and lies would send her away. Lies that were necessary for her survival.
Blood moved slowly through his veins. If he’d been submerged in a glacial stream before the spring thaw he couldn’t be more chilled.
“Money. Isn’t it always money?” He made his voice cold and emotionless. “That and an annulment. He said if I left you alone, didn’t share your bed, he’d arrange for an annulment. We’d both be free.”
Amanda stared at him, her eyes betraying her shock and surprise. She laughed again, the hollow, brittle sound making him shudder. “Well, Sam. You didn’t exactly fulfill that part of the bargain did you?” She pointed to her bed. “I seem to recall I haven’t spent all the nights since our wedding alone in this bed. How will you explain that to Father Mikelson?”
Sam’s face heated. “I…we...” The truth, that he simply couldn’t resist her, sounded feeble.
“Don’t worry, Sam.” She leaned forward, acting as though she were conspiring with him. “I won’t tell if you won’t. You can have your annulment and good riddance to you.” Her words were clipped and icy as she waved a hand in the air, brushing him aside.
She pointed toward the door. “Now get out, and I don’t want you bothering me again. When the Miners’ Ball is over and Caleb is healed, I’ll be leaving Willow Creek for good.”
Sam hurried around her, anxious to escape her anger and accusations. He was afraid the dark, cold emptiness filling him would bring him to his knees. He grabbed his hat from the bed and stood in the doorway separating their rooms. “I’m sorry, Amanda. I never intended to hurt you.”
She had bent over to fasten her boots and he couldn’t see her expression. “Just do me one favor, Sam.” Her tone was icy.
“I’ll do whatever I can to make you happy, Amanda.”
She lifted her head and flung the buttonhook across the room. “Hang that door back on the hinges. I still have a gun, and I can’t be certain I’ll resist the temptation to shoot you again.”
He pulled the Stetson down on his head and nodded. “You won’t need to worry about indulging your murderous tendencies. I won’t be sleeping at the hotel anymore.”
He turned and walked out of the room, trying to appear calm and composed. When he finally reached the porch, he leaned against one of the carved newel posts. He remembered crossing this street several weeks ago, telling himself he didn’t need to worry about losing his heart to the Widow Wainwright, because he didn’t believe he possessed one anymore.
He’d been a damned fool. Today he knew for certain he still had a heart. He recoiled as he realized everything he had treasured with Amanda was lost forever. All those years he’d spent building a wall around his emotions had been useless. A shattering sense of loss overwhelmed him.
He’d just sentenced himself to a future without love. He clenched his fists and fought back against the wave of loneliness that swept over him, nearly choking him with pain. He yanked his hat down over his eyes to hide the tears he knew glistened there.
He stumbled across the street toward the saloon, knowing there wasn’t enough whiskey in the world to wash away the heartache he was feeling. He didn’t care.
Drinking himself into oblivion was the only way he could think of to get through the night.
Chapter Eighteen
Lies.
That’s all he’d ever told her.
She swept a loose curl back from her face. Her earlier conversation with Harriet haunted her, and tears filled her eyes, threatening to cascade in a waterfall of heartbreak.
She’d never tell Sam about the baby now. Her hands moved to cover her stomach protectively. Maybe the father of her child didn’t want a family, but she did. This baby would be the one good thing she could take away from her marriage to Sam.
She unfolded her silk shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders. In a few weeks, she could leave Willow Creek and all the horrible memories. She’d travel to Europe, perhaps to Italy. She’d heard there were places on the Mediterranean coast where the sun was warm and the air perfumed with the scent of flowers. A rich American widow could easily hide herself in some small seaside town there.
She stood at the doorway to Sam’s room and wiped away tears that insisted upon falling. She wanted to bury her face in his pillow, to smell the clean masculine scent of his shaving soap. She wanted to gather some small item to remind her of the man she loved.
She pushed the thought aside. When she left Willow Creek, she would be the Widow Wainwright again. She wouldn’t even give Sam’s child his name.
The thought fulfilled her desire for vengeance. Sam wanted his freedom, and she was obliged to give it to him. But he would never know about the child she carried in her womb. Her final act of retaliation would be to rob him of that knowledge. She needed to find Harriet and make sure she didn’t congratulate Sam.
Hurrying down the stairs, she waited at the desk in the foyer. No one was about, which was unusual. She gasped when she saw a letter in her mailbox. Bright blood-red ink screamed at her, and she backed away, terror clenching her in a vise that nearly strangled her. She was ready to scurry back up the stairs when she bumped into Mr. Penny.
“I heard what happened to young McQueen. I was hoping there might be something I could do.” He rolled the brim of his hat in his hands and avoided looking directly at her.
Amanda twisted around to ponder the letter in the cubbyhole, then turned to find his small black eyes studying her. He grasped her elbow.
“You look a bit pale, Mrs. Calhoun, perhaps you should sit down. You’ve had a very trying day from what I’ve heard.”
Amanda sat down in a deep upholstered chair and gave Mr. Penny a sharp glance. “What do mean, trying?”
He swallowed hard, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. He seemed intent upon destroying his black bowler while he fumbled for words. “The whole town is talking about it.”
Amanda’s eyes grew wide. Had the news of Sam leaving her swept through town already? Mr. Penny shook his nearly bald head. “They say you were the one who found Caleb.” His eyes glittered with something that disturbed her. “That you found him lying in a pool of blood.”
Amanda shuddered as she recalled the image of Caleb, pale, wounded, and sprawled upon the floor. Taking a deep breath, she adjusted the shawl around her shoulders and gave Mr. Penny a grim smile. “I seem to be getting used to astonishing events and frightening experiences. My constitution is stronger than you might imagine, Mr. Penny.” She stood and lifted her chin, hoping he would see confidence where it didn’t really exist. “I need to finalize the arrangements for the Miners’ Ball.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve decided to leave Willow Creek soon. Please have all the papers ready for transferring management of the association to the miners within the next week.”
Mr. Penny’s eyes popped wide. “Will Mr. Calhoun be leaving Willow Creek with you?”
Amanda started toward the door and paused to glance over her shoulder. “I’ll be traveling alone for the time being. Mr. Calhoun has business interests to attend to before he can join me in San Francisco. After that, we’ll be taking an extended voyage to Europe.” She gave him a weak smile. “Our honeymoon.”
Before he could ask any more questions, Amanda spun on her heel to briskly walk out the door. That would be her version of events, and Sam could go to hell if he didn’t support her. She planned to leave Willow Creek with her pride intact and her head held high. No one would know her heart had been broken and her dreams destroyed. No one except Sam, and he’d made it perfectly clear that the sooner she disappeared from Montana, the happier he’d be.
***
Sam learned to observe Amanda from the shadows. If she caught sight of him, she went to extremes to avoid him. He tried to inquire about her, but ugly frowns and cold stares from both Robert and Harriet silenced him. Sam cursed Father Mikelson and his arrangement, and considered resigning from the Secret Service. Several times he’d started to cross the street to the Miners’ Association, aware she was there, keeping vigil at Caleb’s bedside. He wanted to unburden himself and beg for her forgiveness. The honest, painful truth was that without her, his life wasn’t worth living. He’d tell her about the sleepless nights, pacing the lonely rooms above his office, trying to drown his sorrow and loneliness in whiskey. He’d make any promise necessary to win her back.
He’d tell her about the times he fell exhausted upon his bed, only to be tormented by dreams of her. He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t eat, and now, he lurked in the shadows, hungry for the sight of her.
He slammed his fist against the wall and grimaced at the crushing pain that slid up his arm. Lately, pain was the only way he could remind himself he was still alive. Most of the time he felt like a phantom, flickering in and out of conversations, drifting through each day, feeling nothing but cold, bleak loneliness.
Amanda’s head was bowed as she crossed the street to the Parmeter House. An ugly dark black bonnet obscured her expression, but he knew what he would see if he could catch a glimpse of her face. There were deep shadows beneath her eyes, and the corners of her mouth were drawn sharply down. He’d heard when others expressed concern over her she waved them away, explaining her long hours with Caleb were taking their toll. Yet, she’d hardly leave the boy’s side.
She planned to leave town after the Miners’ Ball. Gossip said she was going to Europe, and when others questioned him, Sam simply nodded at Amanda’s assertion they would be traveling abroad together after he settled details of his business.
In a few weeks, his mission would be over and he’d leave Willow Creek forever. Father Mikelson would arrange for the annulment, and Sam would get a new assignment. Most importantly, Amanda would be alive and safe.
Sam pondered the box sitting at his feet. He’d ordered a gift for Amanda weeks ago. It had arrived on the stage today, but he didn’t know how to give it to her. If he placed it on the steps of the Miners’ Association for her to find, she’d discard it. He needed to explain the significance of the gift, the reason it was so important and why he wanted her to have it.
He tucked the box beneath his arm. He could sneak up the back stairs so no one would see him. He still had the key to his room. As far as anyone knew, he worked late each night, attempting to organize his affairs so he would be free to travel on an extended honeymoon with his wife. When the town slept, when even the doors to the saloons closed, he doused his light and climbed the steps to his lonely rooms above the office.
At first light, he made sure he was back downstairs, so intent upon his business he never had time to dine with his wife. She took her meals with Caleb or in her room. He climbed the steep back stairs of the hotel, preparing the words he’d use when he faced Amanda. She hated him. She certainly wouldn’t want to accept a gift from him.
He opened the door to his room quietly and stood for a few moments trying to locate her. A soft rustling echoed from the other room, followed by the heavy crash of an object hitting the floor. Amanda cussed loudly and Sam grinned. Her temper was certainly intact. He didn’t kno
w if he should be grateful or wary.
Many of her garments were now spread across his bed. He paused to caress the fine lace of a petticoat. It brought to mind the nights he’d undressed her, discarding each piece of lingerie to reveal the soft, satiny skin beneath. Blood surged to his groin and he rose. There was no denying the carnal appetite they shared, but there was more than sensual lovemaking between them. A lancet of regret pierced him. He hated to hurt her. The pain was worse than anything he’d faced in prison camp. His breath caught when her shadow fell on him.
“What the hell do you want, Calhoun?” Poison dripped from her voice.
She stood on the threshold between their rooms. The door had not yet been replaced, but without him in the other room, why would it matter? She was garbed only in her corset, petticoat, and chemise. Sam couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, and his cock grew as hard as stone. His mouth was so dry, he didn’t think he’d be able to form words.
Instead of blushing and turning away, she pushed her breasts out, set her hands on her hips and tossed her head. “Get out. I told you to leave me alone, and I meant it.”
The length of her hair, glowing copper in the late afternoon light, moved in an undulating swirl. Desire ripped through Sam’s body like a flood released from the gates. His tongue was thick in his mouth and he grew harder with a hot, sizzling need that flashed red across his vision.
“I have something for you. A gift.” Before she could back away he thrust the box toward her. She smiled coldly at it but made no move to take the box away from him.
“A little late to come courting, isn’t it, Sam?”
She was different, as if she’d grown into a woman and discarded all of her girlish affectations. She didn’t accept the box, but moved with a familiar glide across the room to sit at her dressing table.
“I don’t need anything from you, Sam, remember?” She picked up her brush and pulled it through her auburn tresses.
Sam couldn’t tear his eyes from her. Her breasts, spilling out over the top of her corset, seemed fuller, rounder than he remembered. She tossed her head again and gave him a long desultory look. The tip of her tongue flickered across her lips, and a sharp stab of desire clawed at Sam. She was teasing him, and damn her to hell, it was working.
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