Scandal

by Molly Ann Wishlade

  “So, Mitch.” Clayton continued. “What would an honourable man do?”

  He sat back in his chair and laced his fingers together.

  Ellen rocked the baby gently, glad of the child’s warm little body against her breast. She felt like she would burst with relief and she couldn’t wait to reunite mother and child.

  “I’d like…” Mitch sat up straighter. “I’d like to firstly apologise for my behaviour.”

  Clayton nodded. “That’s a start. My sister is right now shaking and crying in her bed cos you ran off with her baby!”

  “I’ll apologise to her and I want to make it up to her. Ya see, Clayton…I love her. I always did. I was just scared. And I…I wanna marry her. If you’ll let me.”

  The young man’s green eyes shone as he blinked at Clayton, waiting for his response.

  “Please, Clayton. I’m mighty sorry. I really love Stella Rose and I’ll make her happy. I swear it!”

  Ellen nudged Clayton’s leg. What was he holding out for? The lad might be a bit worse for wear with drink but what he’d said made sense. He hadn’t hurt the baby and though he’d given them all, especially Stella Rose, a scare, he wanted to try to put things right. Didn’t everyone deserve a second chance?

  “I think you’d better come back to the cabin and explain yourself to Stella Rose.” Clayton stood up. “I can’t go making decisions for her. She’s out of her mind with grief right now and she needs her baby back. You come with us and we’ll see what she says. But I’m warning you…” Mitch tucked his chair under the table then looked up at Clayton like a wary child. Ellen realised that he couldn’t be much older than Stella. Just youngsters, the pair of them.

  “Yes?” Mitch replied.

  “I’m warning you that if you so much as make my sister shed one more tear…then you really will deal with my wrath.”

  “Yes, sir!” Mitch nodded.

  Clayton waved at Al and Kacey. “Mighty grateful to you. I…” He glanced at Ellen and winked. “We…appreciate what you did here tonight.”

  Al and Kacey raised their whisky glasses in a smiling salute then Ellen, Clayton and Mitch walked out into the night.

  It was time to go home.

  Chapter Seven

  Ellen sat on the step outside the cabin and rested her head on Clayton’s shoulder. It had been a long and eventful evening.

  Stella Rose had been beside herself with joy to have little Ellen returned safely and almost as happy to hear what Mitch had to say. Right now, Stella and Mitch were cooing over their child together and every so often their soft laughter or hushed voices drifted out of the cabin.

  Clayton held Ellen’s left hand between both of his and he toyed absently with her fingers.

  “Clayton?” Ellen kissed his bicep through his shirt. “Earlier on…you said that you wanted to explain things to me. Are you still wanting to do that?”

  Ellen’s relief at finding the baby safe and knowing that Clayton would not be involved in a gun fight or at risk of getting hurt had left her exhausted. But she also felt more frightened than she’d ever been in her life. She had believed that all she wanted once she quit the Gem was a quiet life – away from men, with a heart to call her own and a body shut down to all sensations.

  But now she knew that she’d been wrong.

  It wasn’t enough. How could she ever settle after knowing Clayton? After feeling his hands upon her skin, his body joined with hers and the way she did each morning when she woke and saw his face. How would she ever be able to survive without him? What if he didn’t want her in the same way?

  She would have no hope, no happiness, just a broken heart.

  “I did want to explain, Ellen. I mean…I do.” Clayton gently moved his arm from beneath her head and flung it around her shoulders. She snuggled closer, breathing him in. She rested her hand upon his wide knee and a jolt of lust shot through her like an arrow. Even at serious times like this, her longing for him overwhelmed her.

  “I felt like I’d failed Stella Rose when she told me that she was with child. See, Ellen…” He cleared his throat. “She’s my little sister and I swore to protect her. I knew that she’d fallen for Mitch. I could see it in how they looked at each other. I trusted him with her. And…I’m sure now that they’re gonna be fine. I’ll be keeping an eye on him, that’s for sure.” He gave a small laugh. “But I felt so guilty when she got with child because I was still so lost in my own grief.”

  Ellen lifted her head. “Grief?”

  He nodded. “I…uh…sorry, Ellen, I’m not mighty good at talking about all this.”

  “It’s okay.” She stroked his cheek. “Take your time.”

  She swallowed her fears as she gazed at his handsome face. She’d known that he carried a burden with him but had feared asking what it was. She was terrified that he might confess that her past scared him and that he couldn’t envisage a future for them…together.

  “”I was like a dead man walking, Ellen. See…two years ago…I thought I had it all. I’d a small hardware shop in Custer City which I ran with my wife, Maria.”

  “Oh.” Ellen’s spirits plummeted to new depths. She’d known when she first met him that he must be married. A man like him just had to be wed.

  “We were doing well. Not making a fortune but we had a roof over our heads and food on the table. Maria was a good woman. A compassionate woman. Kinda like you.” He bit his lip and took a few calming breaths.

  “Was?” Ellen asked.

  He nodded. “We had a son. I was just so happy. A beautiful boy we named Frank. I had everything. Then…new arrivals in Custer City…brought with them…” He covered his eyes with his free hand.

  “What was it, Clayton?” Ellen squeezed the hand that rested upon her shoulder.

  He looked at her. “Smallpox. Took ’em both within a week. Wiped them both out. Just like that!” He slapped his leg. “Gone…”

  “Oh Clayton, I am so sorry.”

  “I wasn’t in a good frame of mind for a long while afterwards and…when Stella seemed so happy with Mitch…well, I was just glad for her. But I guess if I’m honest…I could see they was headed for trouble. But that haze around my vision that had spread up from my heart just made it all so cloudy. It was like…I could see it happening but I just couldn’t quite care enough to do anything about it.”

  “So you felt guilty?” Ellen asked.

  “Guilty that I couldn’t protect or help my wife and child. It was awful, Ellen, seeing them deteriorate before my eyes. Seeing them fade away. Putting their cold bodies into the ground. I cursed the disease for not taking me too. I mean, why take two good and innocent people but leave me untouched? Then…because I was so churned up…I was at fault by not being there to protect Stella Rose from…from Mitch and really…from herself…”

  He fell silent.

  Ellen shifted around so that she knelt in front of him and she wound her arms around his neck.

  “It’s not your fault, Clayton. You couldn’t prevent the smallpox from taking your family any more than any other man. It’s a mighty painful fact that it takes more than it spares…or it seems that way. You can’t blame yourself for them dying or for the fact that you survived. You made them happy when they were alive and happiness is a gift that many would give a limb for.”

  Clayton gazed at her. His eyes were full of unshed tears. Full of grief. And full of something else that made Ellen warm to her very core.

  “And you can’t blame yourself for Stella Rose growing up and falling in love. That’s her right as a young woman and Mitch should have had a bit more respect and sense about him, but he’s just a youngster too. And they sure ain’t the first to have their baby before the wedding and they won’t be the last.” She grinned and cupped his face.

  “You’re a fine woman, Ellen Finch.” Clayton kissed her gently. “A very fine woman. But I have something else I have to tell you.”

  Black spots swam before Ellen’s eyes and she fumbled around with her skirts, desperat
ely trying to find something to cling to.

  Here it came.

  The rejection.

  She was a whore. She was no fine woman. Not really. She’d helped Clayton to put his family back together and helped him to air his pain. And for that, she was glad. So glad that she would do it again and again and again. Just to have the few precious weeks that she’d had as a part of his life.

  Though she knew that her future lay before her like a cold empty canyon, she was glad of the time that she’d had as Clayton’s lover. As Clayton’s friend. As a part, however temporary, of Clayton’s family.

  She steeled herself for the words that she knew would pierce her heart and soul. She would accept the dagger to her breast graciously and without complaint. She would do that for him. Because she loved him.

  “Ellen…I want you to stay on with us.” Clayton kissed her hand. “Even though Stella Rose is getting better. I want you to stay. I know you were planning on quitting Deadwood…but I don’t want you to go.” He searched her face. “Will you stay…here…With me?”

  Ellen’s chest tightened. She gasped for air, suddenly convinced that she would fracture into a thousand pieces.

  “Wh…what?” She shook her head. Where was the rejection? The thanks for a good time but…

  Clayton wanted her to stay? With him?

  “But…how would that work?”

  Please have the answer…Please!

  He smiled.

  “Well…I guess we’d have to make things official like. So as folks know that you’re my wife.”

  Ellen frowned. “Your wife?”

  “What do you think?”

  What do I think?

  She loved Clayton. She wanted to be with him. But for the first time in her life, she had the money and the opportunity to be free. Her body was her own. Her time was her own. No man had the power to tell her what to do or when to do it.

  Could she…would she…be prepared to surrender that freedom to another man? Even one that she loved?

  Clayton was asking her to stay.

  “Ellen?” His voice wavered. He sounded afraid.

  Ellen looked into his eyes. His beautiful dark brown eyes.

  She ran a hand over his cheek. Smoothed her thumb over the stubble that was already beginning to grow.

  “I love you, Clayton.”

  “I love you too. With everything that I am. I want to make you happy. To treasure you always. You’ve done so much for me and for Stella and the baby. But it’s not just that…I know that if I lose you now…if I don’t take a risk and love you with everything that I am…then I’d be a fool. I’d regret it forever.”

  Ellen leant forwards and kissed him. She ran her fingers through his soft dark hair and pressed against his hard lean body.

  “I’d be honoured to be your wife, Clayton.” She held his gaze.

  “You would?” He grinned.

  “Definitely!” she nodded. “I’ve been so afraid that you’d see me as just a whore. As a woman to warm your bed…or your floor…for a while, but as nothing more. I didn’t dare to hope that this could be more for you. But every single day I’ve been around you, I’ve fallen for you even more. I did want…or believe…when I first met you, that it was time for me to be free. But I can see now that this is freedom. Freedom to be with the man I love. Freedom to have a hearth…not of my own but of our own.”

  And she meant it. Clayton Kile was a man worth surrendering to. A man to share a hearth with.

  “Though I have to be honest, Clayton…” She gestured at the cabin. “I think we’re gonna need a bigger hearth!”

  They both laughed and he scooped her into his arms and showered her face with hot kisses.

  “I think you’re right…Mrs Kile to be. But for now…” he growled, “we always have the clearing.”

  With that, he carried her quickly past the cabin and through the trees to the beautiful spot where they had made love earlier that evening. Then they made the most of the hours that were left before dawn.

  Can’t wait for more from The Wild, Wild West trilogy?

  Then turn the page for an exclusive extract from the last book in the series

  Menage

  Chapter One

  “Hello there! Mrs Holbein?”

  Grace peered up from the chicken coop at the approaching cowboys. They dismounted from their horses then walked towards the perimeter fence.

  She was knee-high in straw and feathers as she gathered that day’s eggs, depositing them in a basket hooked over her left arm. She wasn’t expecting company and she didn’t recognise the two men. Her survival instinct kicked in, increasing her heart rate, and she quickly reached down and checked her right boot. The cold steel blade sat in its place, encased in the leather sheath, reassuring her with its sharp edge and fierce point.

  “Hello?” She raised her voice to intimate that it was a question not a greeting. She straightened her back and wiped the perspiration from her upper lip with the back of her free hand.

  The cowboys reached the fence. This close, she could see how big they were. Tall, broad-shouldered men. Large and masculine. They made her acutely aware of how petite and feminine she was.

  How utterly defenceless.

  She eyed them, her senses on high alert. Being a woman alone at an isolated homestead a few miles outside of Deadwood meant that she was constantly wary. Letting her guard down, even just a fraction, could have been fatal whether dealing with man or beast.

  “Mrs Holbein?”

  Grace met the blond man’s blue eyes and a shiver ran down her spine. They were as intense as the sky on a clear summer’s day. Beautiful, bright blue framed by thick black lashes. He rested his large, tanned hands on the fence. She found her gaze drawn to his long, slim fingers with their short nails and the tiny white-blond hairs on his muscular forearms which shone in the afternoon sun. This was a man who worked hard for a living. Outdoors. Probably with horses and cattle.

  “Are you Mrs Holbein?” He repeated the question.

  “That’s me. Whadda you want?” She pulled herself up to her full height. She could see that if she stood next to either man she would not reach his shoulders. As the cowboy searched her face, she let the basket swing in front of her body. An obstacle between them, to hide her figure from view. Protection. A barrier.

  “We’re looking for work, ma’am,” the cowboy explained. He pushed his Stetson further back on his head and wiped his brow with a folded neckerchief.

  “And what makes you come out here looking for it?” Grace scowled. She nudged an inquisitive chicken away from her skirts with her foot.

  “We asked in Deadwood, ma’am. They said you was likely to need some help around your farm. In light of your…” He removed his hat. “Your recent loss.”

  So they knew about Jack. That also meant that they knew she was alone and that she had no man to protect her. She took a steadying breath.

  Keep calm. Show no fear.

  “What’s your names?” She stalled. She had no intention of giving them more information about her circumstances than she needed to. She didn’t have the time for pleasantries. There was no time to waste in the day. No time at all. She was exhausted, run ragged trying to take care of the farm all alone. They had never had any hired help and life had been tough but Jack had insisted that they could do it all themselves. But now that he’d gone, she realised exactly how much he had done.

  Around the farm and to her.

  She shivered. Her corset grazed the spot below her left shoulder blade that never fully healed and she gritted her teeth together. Damned sensitive female flesh. She was filled with resentment for her own frailty.

  “I’m Matt Huntley and this here’s Blake Donohue.” Matt gestured to his companion.

  “Howdy, Mrs Holbein.” Blake doffed his hat. Grace swallowed hard. His hair was black and shiny as a raven’s wings and his eyes like pools of whisky. His face was tanned from being outdoors and he had a few days’ growth of stubble. But he was handsome as the
devil himself. She shook her head.

  A pleasing face did not equal a good heart. As she’d learnt. For the past five years.

  “So you got any work needs doin’, Mrs Holbein?” Matt asked, offering a crooked grin that made her heart flip in spite of her anxiety.

  She did need help, it was true. She’d been into town recently and asked about labourers but it seemed that everyone was hooked up at the mines or elsewhere. No one was interested in helping Grace Holbein out. And she suspected that she knew why. It all came down to Jack and his sour-faced obstinacy. During their marriage, he’d turned his back on everyone who’d asked him for help and upset everyone within the locality. When she’d buried him, she’d paid handsomely for his casket and the cart to carry it. Apart from the pastor, she’d been the only one who’d stood at his graveside.

  As lonely after his death as she had been during their marriage. Ironic really, as marriage was meant to bind two people together. She had learnt the hard way that this wasn’t true.

  So Grace had been left alone. Struggling. Without a man. Without anyone.

  “What experience you got?” She met their eyes in turn. They looked like they worked hard, both were fit and muscular as bulls. She needed help with the heavy work before the winter set in. South Dakota winters were hard and she wasn’t happy about the idea of spending this one alone. Although she wasn’t going to miss that domineering rat of a husband either.

  “We’ve done most types of work, Mrs Holbein. We can help with the animals, the crops, repairs on the outbuildings and any maintenance. All we ask for is room and board and the regular going wage.”

  Grace chewed her lip. It would be risky taking on two strangers with no references from the folks in town. They could be conmen or thieves just passing through, intent on robbing anyone who crossed their path. But what was the alternative? She’d faced the cold shoulders of the folks in Deadwood and didn’t have the time to go begging in Custer City, so she’d better take this opportunity whilst it was presented.