Bound for Sin

by Tess LeSue

  “Georgiana, I know this ain’t a joy for you, but will you marry me when we get to Fort Hall?”

  She squeezed his hands to steady herself. Then nodded. Yes, she would. If only because the thought of letting go of him made her feel . . . hopeless.

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Yes.” God help her. God help him. He didn’t seem to realize that her heart had been burned away. And that there would be no happy ending for them.

  “Can I go back to the tent now?” she asked dully. There was a new ache in her chest, a new sense of loss. She thought back to those heady days of stealing kisses, to the hope that had sustained her: the hope for a new life in a new land, with Matt at her side.

  She would have her new life, and he would stand by her side, but the Georgiana who could treasure those things no longer existed.

  32

  THIS WEDDING WAS nothing like her first one. The first one had been held in Trinity Church in New York, managed to perfection by her mother, who hadn’t approved of the match, but who was far too proud to let anyone know. Vivian Bee had kept her haughty demeanor as the cream of New York gossiped behind their fans about the dashing little nobody her daughter had taken up with. The fortune-hunting dashing little nobody.

  That wedding had been a gilded affair. In Georgiana’s memory it shone: the light falling through the stained glass windows, the vast majesty of the organ serenading her walk down the aisle, the smell of incense and lilies, her own ridiculously misguided happiness . . .

  There was no grand church this time. No organ, no whispering crowds, no mother to smile at her as she swept by in her French silk gown. No misguided happiness. And no fortune hunter.

  As Georgiana stood before the pastor in the dim and dusty trading post, in well-worn traveling clothes that were still damp from being hastily washed in the river, she realized that the biggest difference between her last wedding and this one was the groom. At her first wedding, Leonard had been puffed up like a prize rooster, decked out in superfine, his dark hair pomaded and perfumed. He had regarded the congregation with pride and (Georgiana had to admit now) no small measure of pomposity. In contrast, Matt was in his usual buckskins and boots, his face deeply tanned from traveling, his hair curling around his collar. He didn’t look puffed up or proud. He stood earnestly before the pastor, his gold-speckled eyes sober and a little sad.

  Although perhaps the groom wasn’t the biggest difference between the weddings . . . Perhaps the biggest difference was in the bride.

  Leonard had married a blushing young debutante whose bank accounts had been plump with cash. Matt, in stark contrast, was marrying a penniless widow who came with children and a world of trouble. She wasn’t young anymore. She wasn’t a virgin. She wasn’t wealthy. She came with a broken heart; her looks had been ravaged by grief. And yet, as she stood there, she realized Matt looked at her with more longing, more admiration and more care than Leonard ever had. Here he stood, pledging to protect and honor her for all the days of her life, when, as far as she could see, he had nothing to gain by doing so.

  “Wait,” she said abruptly, interrupting his vows. She held the wild sunflowers Susannah had picked for her in unsteady hands. They had thick, prickly stems. She was trembling from head to toe all of a sudden. Beneath the sandy desert of her heart, she felt enough care for him to call a halt to this farce. “I can’t let you do this,” she said.

  Behind her, she heard the twins groan.

  “I told you,” Phin complained. “I told you she’d be difficult.”

  “Hey”—Matt flicked him a scolding look—“watch your manners.”

  “Is there a problem?” the pastor asked Georgiana. He peered over his spectacles at her.

  Matt was watching her too. And so were the children. Along with the traders, who were leaning on their bench, chewing their tobacco. They’d let Matt use the trading post after closing hours for the ceremony, but they had no intention of missing the show themselves. Georgiana felt the weight of all their gazes.

  “I can’t let you do this,” she told Matt. “I can’t let you throw your life away like this.”

  “What on earth are you talking about?” He was frowning. The golden lights had gone from his eyes. “We talked about this. We agreed.”

  “I’m not marrying material,” she said helplessly.

  “Neither am I.”

  “That’s settled, then,” Phin interrupted. “Keep on with it, Pastor.”

  “No!” Georgiana felt a surge of panic. “I can’t. It’s not right. You deserve better than this. You deserve a proper wife. Someone strong and young, someone comely, someone who can bear you children, someone . . . who can love you.” She stared deeply into his warm brown eyes. “The way you deserve to be loved.”

  “Which bit are you up to?” Flip asked the Pastor, peering over his arm at the open prayer book. “Can you skip ahead or is it all necessary?”

  “Just say the ‘you may kiss the bride’ bit,” Susannah suggested. “She likes it when he kisses her.”

  The priest looked taken aback.

  “She’s right,” Phin agreed. “Just kiss her, Matt.”

  “No,” Susannah protested, “the priest needs to tell him to do it first or it doesn’t count.”

  “Georgiana,” Matt said quietly, ignoring them, “I told you when we first met that I ain’t the marrying kind. I got no interest in marrying for marrying’s sake.”

  Her heart was pounding like she’d run a race. She was no good for him. She was a burden, a curse, an albatross around his neck. She didn’t want to be a weight for him to carry.

  Matt stepped closer to her. His eyes were hypnotic. The golden lights sparkled again, like the flare of candlelight in the window on a wintry night, calling her in from the cold. “I ain’t looking for a wife,” he told her, his voice husky. “Not a young wife, not a childless wife, not any kind of wife.”

  “Then why is he getting married?” Phin asked, outraged.

  “Be quiet,” Susannah hissed. “I think he’s about to kiss her.”

  “I don’t want a wife, Georgiana,” Matt said, reaching out to brush a finger down her cheek. “I want you.”

  Georgiana felt the tears fall. She didn’t know why she was crying. The feelings were too big and messy and knotted together for her to work out exactly what they were.

  “Don’t say no to this marriage on my account,” he told her softly, catching one of her tears on his fingertips. “You’ve got no call to protect me from this. I want it.”

  “Say it now,” Susannah hissed at the pastor. “Go on. ‘You may kiss the bride.’”

  “It won’t work,” one of the traders called over to the children. “He has to say all the other guff first.”

  “Say it, then!” Phin ordered. “Quick, before she thinks of more reasons not to marry him.”

  “You seem very set on this marriage,” the pastor observed.

  “We want to keep him,” Flip said.

  “Shall I go on?” the pastor asked Georgiana gently.

  Still crying, she nodded.

  “I don’t think brides are supposed to weep like that,” Susannah said disapprovingly.

  “Oh, trust me, they do,” the pastor sighed, returning to the vows. “Repeat after me: I, Georgiana . . . ”

  Georgiana said her vows in a shaking voice, promising Matt her obedience, her loyalty and her body.

  “Now,” the pastor said, closing the book, “you may kiss the bride.”

  “About time!” Phin whooped as Matt dropped a chaste peck on Georgiana’s salty wet lips.

  * * *

  • • •

  “WE HAVE TO make it look as though the marriage was consummated,” Matt apologized, as he closed the door behind them. He’d managed to get use of the back room of the trading post for their wedding night. Becky had taken the children to their tent
. The wedding was being kept secret for the night so Wendell wouldn’t have the opportunity to protest until the morning. Matt wasn’t taking any chances. He knew Wendell would blow up when he found out, and he wasn’t about to have their marriage overturned. There was less chance of interruption here than back at the camp. If they went back, Wendell was bound to sniff Georgiana out, and it wouldn’t take more than a minute for him to notice the cheap wedding band on her ring finger.

  Matt wished he’d had something better to slide onto her finger, but that was the best Fort Hall had to offer. One day he’d buy a nicer ring for her.

  “We need to act like the marriage is real in every way,” he said gently, “but it’ll only be an act.” He cleared his throat. He felt wretched enough about the situation as it was; she was in no condition to be consenting to anything, let alone something as momentous as marriage. But, as he’d said, he’d not stand between her and a divorce if she wanted one once they’d found Leo.

  Which meant he was sleeping fully clothed and not touching her. It wasn’t exactly how he’d pictured their wedding night. His mind drifted to the way she’d pulled the ribbon on her chemise back at Green River. Oh God. He’d never seen anything so magnificent. The memory of her heavy breasts and thrusting pink nipples made him rock-hard.

  Which shouldn’t have been a problem, given it was his wedding night, he thought wryly. But, as things stood, it was going to be a long night.

  “You take the bed,” he said. He watched as she sank onto the narrow camp bed. She looked beyond exhausted. The sunflowers hung limply in her hand. “Come on, honey. You’re safe and sound. I ain’t planning to touch you.” He took the sunflowers out of her hand and dropped them on the stack of crates by the door. “Get some rest. I have a feeling we’ve got quite a day ahead dealing with Wendell.” He sank to one knee and began unlacing her boots for her. They were caked in dust, and the soles were near about worn through. He made a note to resole them before they left Fort Hall.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered as he pulled the blanket over her. She was welling up again.

  “Don’t be sorry, honey.” Ah, it just about killed him looking at the mute misery in her gaze. “You’re all right. Get some sleep. I’m here.”

  He settled himself on the floor, his back against one of the crates.

  “Matt?”

  “Yeah, honey?”

  “Thank you.” The tears were rolling now. He reached over and held her hand, which was curled limply near her cheek.

  “Hush now. You got nothing to thank me for. Get some sleep.” He kept hold of her hand, stroking her skin with his thumb until she drifted off to sleep. A faint frown marred her pretty face even in sleep.

  He sighed and closed his eyes.

  * * *

  • • •

  AS EXPECTED, WENDELL had a complete conniption when he discovered that they’d got themselves properly married.

  Luckily, Matt had been prepared for it and managed to knock the gun out of Wendell’s hand before he’d fully drawn it from its holster.

  “Settle down,” he growled, twisting Wendell’s arm up behind his back to immobilize him. They were a fair distance from the camp by design, as Matt had assumed Wendell would act out.

  “You lying cowpuncher,” Wendell frothed, bucking and writhing against Matt’s grip. “You woman-stealing two-faced son of a whore! You promised me you’d only pretend to marry her!”

  “What?” Georgiana looked suitably confused.

  “She was mine,” Wendell fumed.

  Georgiana gave Matt a startled look.

  “No, she’s hers,” Matt disagreed, keeping tight hold of his arm. “Now, stop your tantrum and let us explain things to you.”

  “If you think I’m keeping quiet about that Indian now, you got another thing coming!”

  “What Indian?” Georgiana was looking increasingly alarmed. Matt shook his head at her. He’d tell her later.

  “It don’t matter,” Matt told Wendell. “Knowing him, I can’t imagine he’s keeping a low profile. Folks will know soon enough that he’s back from the dead.” Matt didn’t doubt that was true. Deathrider stuck out like a sore thumb and was too contrary to stay dressed as a white man for long.

  “Goddamn you, Slater, we had a deal!”

  “And exactly what deal was that?” There was a certain snap to Georgiana’s voice that Matt hadn’t heard for a good long while.

  “He was going to stop you marrying anyone else by pretending to be your fiancé,” Wendell wailed as Matt twisted his arm, “so I could have a fair crack at you.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Matt winced as Georgiana fixed him with an appalled blue stare.

  “It ain’t like it sounds,” he assured her.

  “Yes, it is,” Wendell shouted.

  “Well, yes, it is,” Matt sighed, “but not exactly how it sounds. He was threatening to kill my . . . brother.”

  “Tom?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He ain’t his brother; he’s that goddamn Indian!”

  “You’re making this harder than it needs to be,” Matt told Wendell.

  “I don’t understand.” Georgiana stared at him like she was trying to read his mind.

  “Trust me, honey, you don’t need to. It was a nasty mess that never should have happened. All you need to know is that I didn’t mean you any harm.”

  He saw her nod.

  “If you hadn’t wanted me to pretend to be your fiancé, I never would have done it. It just seemed the easiest thing to do, when he wanted it and you wanted it and . . . Tom’s . . . life was at risk.”

  “Don’t you go acting like the nice guy,” Wendell complained. “You’re nothing but a lying son of a bitch.”

  “I didn’t lie. I fulfilled my part of the bargain—you wanted until Fort Hall to woo her and you got it. She weren’t wooed, so I married her.”

  “You were trying to woo me?” Georgiana couldn’t keep the astonishment out of her voice. Matt tried not to laugh.

  “Not lately,” Wendell objected. “It didn’t seem right after your boy.”

  She flinched.

  “That didn’t stop you though, did it?” Wendell sneered at Matt.

  “I would never have married you,” Georgiana told Wendell, her voice dripping with dislike, “no matter how hard you tried to ‘woo’ me. You kidnapped my son!”

  “I figured that would convince you if the wooing didn’t,” Wendell admitted.

  “Because nothing seduces a woman better than holding her child hostage,” Matt said sarcastically.

  “I was trying to marry her, not seduce her,” Wendell snapped.

  “I’m amazed it didn’t work with charm like that.”

  “It didn’t work because you were after her like she was a bitch in heat.” Wendell gave a sudden yell as Matt pulled his arm upward.

  “There’s no point in this,” Georgiana interrupted. She’d picked up Wendell’s fallen gun. “We’re married now, so there’s no point in discussing it. Now, let’s all try to get along until we get to Mokelumne Hill and meet your friend Hec Boehm.”

  Wendell gave her a poisonous look. “I only wanted you for your land,” he spat, “so don’t go thinking otherwise.”

  “Don’t be an idiot,” Matt told him. “We’re willing to play nice, if you are.”

  Wendell gave a sour laugh. “You’re an idiot if you think Hec will play nice with the likes of you. You’ll be lucky if the boy is even half-alive by the time we get there.”

  Matt heard Georgiana gasp. Then he heard the click of the hammer being pulled back, and before he knew what was happening, she had the gun at Wendell’s head.

  “What did you say?” Her face was white, her eyes blazingly blue.

  Wendell gave her a crafty look. “Shoot me and you’ll never get the boy.” He sized
her up. “Or . . . you could put that gun down and we can make a deal of our own. Unlike Slater here, I can keep a bargain.”

  She didn’t move. If looks could kill, Wendell would have been flat-out dead.

  “If you sign that land over to me,” Wendell said hastily, “I’ll help you get your boy away from Hec. Alive.”

  Georgiana shook her head. “Why on earth would I sign away the very thing Hec Boehm wants?”

  “Not that land,” he sneered. “Not the gold claim. I ain’t suicidal. Hec would skin me alive and roast my liver if I took his gold. I mean the plot on Main Street.”

  “That’s all I have left,” she protested. “I was going to open a store.”

  Wendell looked at her like she’d taken leave of her senses.

  “You can’t stay in town after you get Leo,” Matt told her gently. “Even if he gets your land, that man ain’t going to be safe for you or the kids to be around.”

  “Besides, you’re married to him now,” Wendell whined, “and everyone knows he’s got more land than he can even use. According to Seb, those Slaters are lousy with land. It ain’t fair not to leave any for the rest of us.”

  Matt resolved to talk to Seb about gossiping with the likes of Wendell Todd.

  “He’ll be packing you all off to Oregon,” Wendell kept whining, “so what do you need with a plot in Moke Hill?”

  But it was all she had left, Georgiana thought in panic.

  “If she won’t give you the land, will you take cash?” Matt asked abruptly.

  It turned out Wendell would take anything, and once Matt had paid him off, he had no more interest in courting Georgiana than he had in courting Kipp. Matt paid him half before they left Fort Hall, and promised the other half once Leo was safely in their care.

  * * *

  • • •