A Wanted Man
Page 31
“That’s pretty much it,” Sam admitted. He’d moved past the initial fury that had raged when he’d first discovered the charges, but not the frustration. “But he’s in jail, Laura, and he’s going to be there for a good long time. I suspect the territorial governor got a cable or two that ensured that.” He glanced at Hamilton, who met his gaze impassively, neither confirming nor denying Sam’s suspicions.
“The miners?”
“On a boat back to China. I saw them off myself.”
“All that, and they’re ending up back where they started.”
“They seemed happy enough to go,” he said. “They’d had more than enough of America.”
“I suppose so,” she agreed sadly. “Jo Ling?”
“Disappeared into Chinatown in San Francisco with her friend. I couldn’t find her.”
“Chan?”
He shook his head. “He was dead before we reached the Spur.”
Laura took one moment to mourn all the lives destroyed, the justice that would never be enough. Then she put it aside. She could tell their stories through paintings, and maybe a few people would understand. Until then…Sam is here. Here. The joy bubbled up, a frothy, swelling champagne of elation that tingled in her fingers and went to her head.
“I’m sorry it took me so long,” he told her. “Most of it was the work. But some of it was…” How did he explain it to her? That he’d tried so hard not to love her, tried so hard to forget, and finally had to acknowledge that the feeling was stronger than he was, that she was stronger than he was? That it had already been far too late for him to get out without being hurt?
But she was Laura, and she’d ever understood what he’d been unable to say. “You’re not going to lose me,” she told him. “Not ever.”
“I know.” For even if he’d never seen her again, she would have been with him, in every breath he took, every beat of his heart, for the rest of his days. “Let’s go get married.”
“Now?”
“If you had a preacher in the next room, it wouldn’t be fast enough for me.” Every second that was keeping him from being alone with her, and knowing she belonged to him, was one second too many. It felt like he’d been waiting too long already. That he’d been waiting for her his whole life without ever realizing it before.
“I’ve got plenty more guards,” Mr. Hamilton said. “And I’ve got no problems with calling them. You’re not marrying her.”
“Not to get off on the wrong foot, sir, but don’t you think that’s up to her, too?”
“No. If the touching’s not her choice, do you really think I’d let the marrying be?”
“But—”
“Father.” She stepped between them, the two men she loved most who were nose to stubborn nose, eyes blazing, each one as hardheaded and determined as the other. Laura knew if she waited for them to sort it out themselves, she might be too old for babies by the time it got settled. She put her hand on her father’s forearm. “Please, Daddy. You’ve raised me well. I’ve got more than a good dose of your good sense. I’m hardly a child.”
“Yes you are,” he said. “You’re my child. You could be tottering around with a cane, and you’d still be my child. What do you think I’ve amassed all this fortune and power for if not for my family’s protection? You can’t expect me to hand you off to some ruffian with a bad reputation who dragged you into no end of trouble without using what I’ve built to stop it.”
“Daddy,” she said softly.
“Sir, I love her,” Sam said, such richness and conviction in his voice that Laura’s eyes stung. It was physically painful not to touch him, to let him wrap his arms around her and simply hang on, letting all that love flow between them.
“Well, that’s easy enough to say, isn’t it?” her father scoffed. “What’s not to love?”
“What’s not to love, indeed,” Sam agreed. “You’re not going to stop me without locking me up. And probably not even then.”
Hamilton frowned at Sam. “There’ll be not a penny of it for you, you know. I’ve made certain of it. If she marries without my approval, she’ll never have any of it, whether I’m alive or dead. Not one cent.”
“Okay,” Sam said cheerfully, and reached for her hand. “Can we go now? There’s got to be a church open somewhere.”
“You, too, Laura. You don’t know what it’s like to have nothing. I haven’t worked my whole life for you to suffer in poverty, but you will if you do this. Be sure you understand what you’re forfeiting if you marry him.”
“Daddy. He’s not poor.”
Leland eyed Sam skeptically. The lowliest stable-hand at Sea Haven was better dressed than he. “Sure he’s not.”
“He’s not. And, even if he was, it wouldn’t matter. Heavens, it’s not as if I couldn’t make a living if I had to, too.”
“I’ll not have you—”
“Sir,” Sam said quietly. “You have my word. If I thought for one instant that Laura would suffer by marrying me, I wouldn’t be here. She understands what I have, and what I don’t, and she’s never been shy about telling me what’s on her mind. If she asked me to go, I’d be out that door before the final word left her mouth.”
“And just how do you plan on taking care of her? Hiring out your gun, leaving her home to fret and worry while you put yourself in the way of men who hold life in no more value than the cost of the bullet that ends it?”
“No, I’m done with that. I’ve saved up over the years. I probably couldn’t buy the rug in your office, but it’s enough to live in some comfort. I’ll buy some land, run a few horses, maybe some cows.” He shrugged. “I don’t care where we live. Laura can choose. Somewhere she feels like painting.”
“Oh, crap.” Blinking rapidly, Hamilton covered Laura’s hand with his own broad paw, still bearing the scars of the years he’d worked the docks. “Why is it that the only two people in the entire world I can’t say ‘no’ to are the two women in my family?”
“Daddy.” She threw her arms around his neck so tightly he nearly strangled. But he didn’t say a word of protest, just wrapped his own arms around her back and hung on.
“Duncan,” he said, after spitting out the hair in his way. “You consider Utah?”
“Utah, sir?”
“Stupid mine’s still there, and there’s a fair amount of ore left in it. Somebody’s gotta run it.” He grimaced. “Ben wants a chance, his father’s still got as many shares as I do if the government doesn’t find a way to take ’em away. But I’d feel better if there was someone there I trusted to keep an eye on him.”
Trusted. Sam’s throat threatened to close. “I won’t let you down, sir.”
“See that you don’t.” Hamilton frowned because it was expected. “And, of course, we’ll have to be running out there frequently to check on things.”
“We’ll be happy to have you.” We, he thought. Marveled. Laura and me. We. He’d never planned it, never once considered that he’d be more than just one. A unit of two, both stronger for their bond, facing a sometimes cruel world together.
But oh, for all that that world could be harsh, it could also be immeasurably rich.
Of all the things he owed Griff, including his life, he owed him this most of all, for without Griff he never would have found Laura.
“You’d better be.” And then, after one more last squeeze while his eyes screwed shut and he hung on to the last time his daughter was his little girl and his alone, he released her to her man. “Mrs. Jones!” he bellowed to his housekeeper. “Go find my wife. Go find Lucy. Hell, go find everybody. Laura’s getting married!”
Sam barely had time to take Laura’s hand and smile into her eyes before people began to arrive, troupes of maids and clerks and assistants and footmen, pouring from every corner, more than it seemed even that huge house could hold, all beaming with congratulations and happiness for Laura before turning Sam aside and threatening several delicate body parts if he didn’t take proper care of her.
Her mother
appeared in a rush of silk and lace and streaming tears. She managed one quick “I’m so happy,” enveloping her daughter in her arms, before turning to sob noisily against her husband’s chest.
Sam and Laura stood back to back while one person after another gushed by. He was aware of her presence there. He heard her speak, her joyous laughter. When he leaned back their shoulders brushed, a hint of her warmth making his knees weaken and his heart pump. It was a terrible, wonderful anticipation. They were finally together, and yet he couldn’t touch her, couldn’t kiss her…but he knew he would, soon, and for the rest of his life. He couldn’t wait much longer.
Mrs. Bossidy waddled down the stairs, her belly so large it looked as if she might give birth at any moment.
“Laura?”
“Hiram,” she told him over her shoulder. “He said it was the easiest way to get her to marry him.”
“Smart man,” Sam said. “I was going to try that if my first plan didn’t work.”
“Sam!” she exclaimed before she was surrounded by three young maids tittering about wedding dresses and flower arrangements.
“How long do we have to stand here and accept congratulations?”
“Oh, two or three hours,” she said airily, laughter lifting her voice.
But she pressed against him, hard enough that he could feel the sweet curve of her rump against his upper thigh, and his blood, hot, demanding, pumped in his veins.
“We’re not going to be able to get married if you make me have a heart attack first,” he said, low, only half-kidding.
“So get me out of here.”
“What?” He distractedly shook the hands of two men in severe black, who mouthed good wishes while glowering at him, and spun. He grabbed Laura by the shoulders, turning her to face him.
“It’s not as if we’re going to get one second alone together if you don’t,” she told him. “My father might have approved our marriage, but he’ll still ensure that we’re properly chaperoned every single second until we’re properly wed.” People mouthed words around them, but they faded into an unintelligible murmur. She inclined her head toward the door to her father’s study. “See?”
Hamilton leaned against the wall, consolingly patting his wife’s shoulder, scrutinizing their every move as a storm cloud gathered between his brows.
“Damn,” he said, and he’d never meant it more.
“So kidnap me.”
“What?”
Her eyes sparkled with mischief and happiness. “Kidnap me. You’ve done it before, and this is for a good cause.”
He scanned the swelling throng waiting to congratulate them—just how many people did Hamilton employ?—the broad sweep of staircase and the tall, open doors at the top of it.
“Up there. Does that room open onto the terrace?”
She nodded.
“Are you afraid of heights?”
“Nope.”
“All right, then.” He swept her up and dropped her over his shoulder. Her hands dangled at his butt, and her delighted laughter bubbled above the crowd.
Sam charged up the grand staircase. “You ready for this?” he said, putting his own hand on the sweet curve of her rump to hold her safe, ignoring the yells behind him. He would bring her back soon enough, after he’d had her naked and alone for a while.
“Ready if you are,” she said, and squeezed his rear.
Maybe not so soon, he amended quickly, and ran toward their future.
About the Author
A former science geek, SUSAN KAY LAW turned to romance writing as a career because it was the perfect excuse to avoid housework and continue spending all her time doing what she really loved: reading and daydreaming. Also because she was really bad at sitting in a swamp at 5 A.M. in forty-degree weather and tracking bird behavior.
Winner of the Romance Writers of America’s Golden Heart Award and a Waldenbooks Bestseller Award, twice nominated for a Rita Award, she confesses that the biggest surprise of her career was when this smalltown Midwestern preacher’s kid was named to New Woman magazine’s list of “the steamiest writers of women’s fiction.” Her greatest joy, however, is spending her days thoroughly outnumbered by four of the best males on the planet—her husband and three sons. She currently lives in Minnesota, and plans to be a ski bum in her next life. You can visit her website at www.susankaylaw.com.
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Avon Romantic Treasures by
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Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A WANTED MAN. Copyright © 2004 by Susan Kay Law. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Mobipocket Reader July 2007 ISBN 978-0-06-149708-7
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