The Prospect: The Malloy Family, Book 10

by Beth Williamson

  Declan snorted. Jo glared at him. “I will ride Apollo.” She kept her head high as she approached the horse. She knew she needed help to mount, but she was loath to ask. She wished there were a rock or something similar she could use as a mounting device.

  Before she could swallow her pride and ask for help, Declan threw her onto the blanket and then swung up behind her. He surrounded her, immersing her in sharp need. Her body knew his now, at the basest level. All it took was a simple touch and she turned into a puddle of feminine foolishness.

  John barely glanced at them before he rode off on his horse, leaving them to follow at the brisk pace he set. Jo gritted her teeth and held onto Apollo’s mane. Echoes of her discomfort and their mad run from the wolf exploded through her at each jarring motion of the horse. She closed her eyes and held on to the notion she would see her sister soon. There was no one and nothing chasing them, yet still they rode hard.

  She didn’t blame her brother-in-law for his speed. If they had arrived at the wagon train filthy, bedraggled and telling stories of wolves, Josephine would have a hard time believing such a fantastical tale. She wouldn’t have believed it herself if she hadn’t lived through it.

  Strands of her hair had come loose from her bun and flew around her face, tickling and getting caught beneath her spectacles. Her eyes watered and she blinked hard, telling herself it was irritation. She was not breaking down and being emotional. Jo never did and she couldn’t start now.

  They rode east. The sun’s rays threw golden splashes on the ground, as though they followed Leon. A flock of birds burst from a bush, soaring into the bright sky.

  She tried to remember what life was like in New York before they left to go West. Walking in the brisk winter air, the sound of her boots on the cobblestones, climbing the steps into their modest home or the smell of her mother’s cooking when she came home. Did she miss all of that or had the West taken the place of all those memories?

  The West had brought her Declan, the discovery of her courage, the amazing experience of the wilderness, and best of all, the idea she was more than a book-learned governess. So much more. She wouldn’t have traded a moment of it for anything.

  Jo saw the chimney smoke first, rising above the trees. Her heart leapt in excitement as the small cabin came into view. Behind the building were a large barn and a corral. The wood used on the structures gleamed with newness, the knotholes dark against the lighter wood surrounding it. Leon bounded ahead, barking and hopping as he approached the house.

  Francesca emerged from the house carrying a basket on her arm. The dog danced around her. A braid lay on her shoulder, the sunlight bouncing off the reddish highlights. “I wondered if you had gone to find—” She stopped in mid-sentence and her mouth dropped open. Jo smiled at her sister.

  “Bonsoir, soeur.”

  “Josephine? Merde! Ce qui est vous en faisant ici?” Frankie picked up her skirt and ran toward them. “Are Maman and Papa well? What has happened? Why are you with Monsieur Callahan?”

  John dismounted and pulled Jo out of the saddle. He made a chuffing sound as he set her on the ground. “You’re skin and bones, Jo.”

  “Maman and Papa are fine. I have a long story to tell and an explanation for everything.” Jo took a deep breath but found her throat was too tight to do more than wheeze. “At this moment, I need to hug my sister.”

  Frankie opened her arms and Jo fell into them. At that moment, after a month of the hardest days of her life, she let the tears fall.

  Declan followed John to the rough-hewn barn with Apollo in tow. It was apparent Malloy had a lot to say, but with Jo weeping all over her sister, he only frowned at Declan and left the women to the female foolishness.

  “You did all this by yourself?” Declan gestured to the barn and the sturdy corral. “It’s mighty good work.”

  “No, I did a hell of a lot of work, but I’ve found that money can buy you just about anything.” John pointed at the barn. “It ain’t perfect, but it’s enough for now. We do what we can. I have horses coming in any day, so I needed it done fast. I paid a group of six men to build it with me and they damn sure were happy for the money.”

  Declan hadn’t known Malloy had money to throw around, but he was glad of it. They would take care of Jo even if he couldn’t. He would give them what funds he had left. He didn’t deserve it, not after all the lies he’d told.

  They stepped into the barn, and the smell of new wood greeted them. Envy pinched Declan’s heart at the newness of all Malloy had, and not just the sturdy barn. It had a dozen stalls on each side, with two larger ones at the back, one of which had fresh hay bales.

  “Put him in the second stall. I keep the males on the left and the females on the right. After I get a stallion, he is going to be completely segregated until I know what he’ll do.” Malloy led his own gelding into the first stall and proceeded to unsaddle it.

  Declan noted the curious mare watching them from across the way. He remembered her from when the Malloys left the wagon train.

  “That’s Liberté, Frankie’s horse. She’s a nosy critter.” John propped his shoulder on the open stall door. “Just like her mistress.”

  Declan grunted and led Apollo into the stall. He wasn’t ready to confess anything to his friend yet. There was too much to sort out first with Jo. Yet he had a feeling Malloy wouldn’t be quiet for too long.

  A feed bucket hung from a nail above a small water trough. The floor was freshly swept and the horses’ hooves echoed on the clean wood. Declan took the blanket off the gelding and rubbed his neck.

  “You’re a damn good ride, Apollo.” The horse shook his head in response. “And smart too.”

  “You can get some hay down at the end there. I’ll get some oats for these boys.” John’s voice faded away as he left the barn.

  Declan leaned his forehead against Apollo, the heat from the horse’s body providing a welcoming warmth. He had never felt so lost in his life. There had only been one path to follow and he hadn’t ventured off it until now. Being sent to track down Francesca Chastain had yanked him off that path so hard he hadn’t been right since. Had he known his life would change so much, would he have refused to do what his boss Peck told him to? Unlikely, since Declan did whatever he was told. At least he used to.

  Now he was hundreds of miles from nowhere, with a woman who had turned his world upside down, with stolen money in his possession and a heart that ached to pretend their marriage was real. He was well and truly stuck in a pile of shit.

  The sound of oats hitting the bucket pulled him from his reverie. John pushed his hat back and cocked one brow.

  “You ready to tell me what the hell is going on?”

  Jo sipped the coffee, enjoying the way the hot beverage slid down her parched throat. She hadn’t had the bracing brew since they’d left the fort. It was bitter, but with a bit of sugar, it was actually quite good. She took another healthy swallow and finally looked up at her sister.

  Frankie watched her, her hands folded in front of her. They sat at the table in the kitchen. The barn was rough looking, but they must have put more effort into the house. John must have known a home was what they needed first. It was lovely if not yet finished. The sunlight sliced through the fabric covering the windows, making the house cozy and comfortable.

  “This is a lovely home, Frankie.” Jo’s voice was rough and low. Emotion swam through her and she didn’t know how to start telling her sister what happened.

  “Thank you. John and I drew it up together, and we had help to build it all.” Frankie smiled. “I do not know how you came to be here but I am so very glad to see you.”

  Jo took another sip of coffee. “As am I. You were a welcome sight to my tired eyes.”

  “I do not remember the last time I saw you cry.” Frankie’s concerned gaze probed. “I nearly wept alongside you.”

  Jo shook her head. “I have not cried in at least ten years. My emotions have woken from a slumber and I find myself compromised by th
em.”

  Frankie’s brows rose. “Compromised?”

  Jo’s cheeks heated. “An unfortunate choice of words, if accurate.”

  Frankie turned to the door as it opened and the men walked in.

  Declan looked at her, and a lightning bolt slammed into her. With three feet separating them, the air still shimmered with awareness. Being away from him for fifteen minutes had only sharpened the affect he had on her.

  Frankie lowered her voice and leaned in. “Are you ready to speak of what happened?”

  “I believe it is time to tell the tale.” Jo took another fortifying gulp of the coffee.

  “Please sit down, Monsieur Callahan. I believe you are part of this story.” Frankie stared at him hard, daring him with her green eyes to contradict her statement.

  “Aye, I am.” He plunked down to Jo’s right and slid a sidelong glance at her. It was full of so many emotions she could barely sort them out. Then he looked away.

  Jo took a moment to make sure she wouldn’t embarrass herself by sitting on Declan’s lap and kissing him. She was exhausted. That must be the explanation for her uncharacteristic actions. She was in her sister’s house and yet all she could think of was his arms around her.

  She met her sister’s gaze. “It started a week after you left to start your lives here. I grew very ill near Fort John, and Declan saved me.”

  Telling the story took a long time, each word torn from her heart. Jo’s coffee grew cold as she relived every moment of the last month she’d spent with Declan. They took turns with the telling, which was the way it should be. They had done it together. Hours passed as the tale was told. When she spoke of the wolf, her hands shook and Declan took them in his. John and Frankie watched them carefully.

  After they finished, Frankie poured them all cups of coffee. Somehow in the time they’d been in the cabin, the late morning had given way to afternoon, and soon, evening would arrive. Everyone sat in silence for a few minutes. Jo was thankful for time to think of answers to all the questions her sister would ask.

  However, John surprised her first.

  “You shot a wolf dead in the eye from the back of a moving horse?” He whistled between his teeth. “Holy shit, Jo. Just holy shit.”

  Declan snorted and the tension in the room broke. Jo managed a shaky smile.

  “When did this fake marriage take place?” Frankie glanced between them. “Were Maman and Papa able to attend?”

  Jo swallowed the lump in her throat. She didn’t know how to respond since she didn’t remember the wedding. It wasn’t as though she had dreamed of a wedding day like many young ladies did, but she did at least want to have a smidge of a memory of it.

  Declan cleared his throat. “It was Mrs. Chastain’s idea.”

  “I find that hard to believe.” John scowled.

  “Maman wrote me a letter. I lost it in the river, but he is telling the truth.” Jo felt the weight of the words. “She did it to protect me.”

  “I know it must have been hard for her.” Frankie’s expression was one of sympathy.

  Josephine wanted to mention the entire ordeal was harder for her, but didn’t. Everyone assumed she was the strongest sister, one who could endure anything. But she couldn’t. She needed to be loved, supported and understood. Declan did that for her.

  “You did more than pretend to marry her.” John’s gaze narrowed on Declan. “I can see it a mile away.”

  Declan squirmed on the chair, unlike the stoic man she knew. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

  Stung, Jo’s mouth tightened. “You participated. Every time we copulated.”

  “Jesus, you Chastain women and your big words.” John crossed his arms. “You fucked her.”

  “John! That is not necessary.” Frankie smacked his arm. “This situation is hard enough without your crude language.”

  “Crude, but true.” Her brother-in-law looked thunderous. “You took advantage of her. She was sick and alone, and you knew better.”

  Jo didn’t like the direction the conversation was moving toward. “Please do not cheapen what we shared.”

  “He can’t cheapen it any more considering what he did.” John’s expression grew colder than ice. “I ought to take you outside and shoot you.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  “Maybe I will.”

  “Stop it. Both of you.” Jo jumped to her feet. “The decision to be intimate was mine to make. I am a grown woman and I can make my own choices.”

  “And Callahan just proved he’s no better than the gutter he crawled out of. He took advantage of you, Jo.” John would not let up. “You deserve better.”

  “That’s the truth. You deserve better, Josephine. It shouldn’t have happened. It was supposed to be a fake marriage, not a real one. It can’t be a real one.” Declan looked sad and resigned.

  Her heart dropped to her feet. “You do not mean that. You cannot mean that.”

  “I do. I ain’t your husband and I can’t be. Ever.” His words hit her like a punch to the stomach, hard and brutal.

  “You have had two weeks to tell me the truth, Declan. Two weeks! I do not understand how you could tell me you loved me, and make love with me. It meant nothing to you, did it?” Fury built within her, growing stronger with each beat of her heart.

  “I’m sorry, lass. I can’t tell ye how much.” His voice had now dropped low.

  She reached over and slapped him so hard, his head jerked to the left. Her hand stung, but she refused to acknowledge the physical pain. Her heart hurt worse than her hand ever would. With her head high, she walked out of the house, putting one foot in front of the other while her heart shattered into a thousand pieces, littering the floor behind her like forgotten tears.

  Declan wanted a hole to open up in the floor and swallow him up. He was the worst kind of man. He’d warned Josephine that he wasn’t to be trusted, that he came from the gutter and would likely never rise above it. Now she knew for certain what he was.

  “Would you care to explain your actions, monsieur?” Frankie’s clipped words broke apart his self-imposed misery.

  “Explain? Hell, I’m gonna take him outside and hammer that anvil head of his again.” John was rightfully angry, a vein pulsing in the side of his forehead. Declan deserved a beating.

  “I don’t have an explanation. I ain’t going to excuse what I did. All I can say is that I was protecting her.” Declan’s words fell flat. Excuses, just as Jo had said.

  The awkward silence stretched on, broken only by Malloy’s grunts of displeasure and Frankie’s tut-tuts of disapproval. He wanted to get up and chase her down, tell her he loved her, beg her to marry him. Yet he didn’t, and he wouldn’t. Jo deserved a man who wasn’t bound by the chains of his sins.

  “What are we to do?” Frankie spoke to her husband. “Jo can stay with us, but I do not know that she would want to.”

  “She’ll stay here. You can convince her. Hell, you can talk the bark off a tree. Either that or order it off.” John endured the swat she gave him on the arm.

  “And Monsieur Callahan?” They spoke of him as if he wasn’t sitting a foot away. The entire conversation was strange.

  “I don’t give a rat’s fart what he does as long as he hightails it out of here at first light.” John’s gaze was hard, unforgiving. “He can bunk down in the barn with the other animals.”

  Declan accepted it all; the punishment was due.

  Frankie leaned forward and peered into his eyes, her green gaze intense and disconcerting. “You love her.”

  It wasn’t a question, and he didn’t answer.

  “You risked everything, gave up your future, nearly your life, all for Josephine. No man would do that for a woman unless he loved her.” She scowled at him. “If you love her, you should have been honest with her, monsieur. She is hard on the outside, but fragile inside. Jo has never been able to express her feelings and let herself be anything but what was expected.”

  Declan nodded. He saw that and more in
Josephine.

  “However, I see that my sister has changed. She is no longer the little mouse hiding in the corner. Shooting a wolf? Hiding in a tree? I cannot imagine her doing any of this, but she did. What does that tell me, monsieur?” She leaned even closer and tapped her finger on his hand. “It tells me that she became the person she was meant to be with you. I believe she loves you and you love her.”

  “It’s not enough.” Declan held back a sob through force of will. He would not let his emotions out. Not now. “I’m not enough.”

  Frankie sat back and sighed. “Then I feel sorry for you.”

  “Can I shoot him now?” John snapped.

  Declan was about to offer his own pistol when a shot rang out from outside. The three of them looked at each other and then scrambled to their feet. He burst out the door and glanced around, anxious to find the origin of the shot. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the twilight that had fallen.

  When he could finally see, his heart dropped straight to his feet. Drummond and Parker held Jo between them, pistols aimed at her head.

  Chapter Ten

  The two men gripped her arms so tightly, she was certain to have deep bruises. Her stomach had shriveled up into a ball and resided somewhere near her throat. Jo stared at Declan, fear racing through her veins. His expression was cut from stone, hard and unyielding.

  “How dare you walk onto our property and threaten my sister? I order you to release her at once.” Francesca put her hands on her hips and raised her chin.

  The men ignored her while Jo wanted to applaud her.

  “I took your shit and gave you money for a month. Now you hurt my woman? I’ll send ye back to the bowls of hell, ye mangy curs.” Declan’s brogue was as thick as the promised violence in his face.

  “Who are you?” John had a rifle in his hand, pointed at the ground.

  “Callahan owes us money.” Drummond smelled of sour sweat and musk. The scent made her gag.

  “I owe you a hole in the ground and a hole in your head.” Declan’s hand stayed firm on the pistol riding his hip.