“Are you all right?” he asked as he turned, grabbing hold of her to keep her balanced.
“Yes. Grant, I’m...I’m—” A lump of unshed tears lodged in her throat.
He cut her off. “I’m sorry he got near you, that he touched you. I should have been with you.”
She looked up at him in surprise. “You’re...you're sorry?”
“Hell, yes.” He stared down at her with a questioning look.
“I thought...I thought you’d be mad at me.” She finally was able to swallow that lump down.
“Why on earth would you think that?” His hands moved to her shoulders, keeping her from turning away from him.
“He approached me and I—”
“Woman, you're out of your right mind if you think that way.” He smiled at her and squeezed her shoulders gently. “Come on, we’ve got a lead in our investigation.”
Confused and at a loss as to where the first clue came from, she followed him into the jail.
CHAPTER NINE
“Now will you tell me what’s going on?” Maggie demanded, settled in a chair next to Grant’s desk, a cup of coffee in hand. She'd waited, rather impatiently, as he poured them both some hours-old brew.
He carefully lowered himself into his chair, the throb in his leg almost gone, but he still wanted to be careful. He took a sip of his coffee but blanched as he looked at the black swill. He couldn’t imagine how long ago it had been made, and it could certainly put hair on a person’s chest. Before she could put her mug to her mouth, he took it from her.
“Dalton’s behind the whole thing.” He smiled, just thinking about how much fun it would be to arrest the bastard.
“What?” She shook her head as if to shake a thought loose. “How do you know that?”
“First, I want to thank you for being outside at the Mercantile earlier.” She continued to stare, but she nodded absently, so he continued. “Your little encounter with Dalton gave us all the information we needed to get this mystery solved.”
He was so pleased with the turn of events, he could kiss her. Hell, any reason would do to feel those lips beneath his again. And he just might do that. He smiled like a randy teenager at the thought. He was still hard from that morning.
“Will you take that silly look off your face and tell me what’s going on?” She strummed her fingers on the desk. She looked so appealing with her feathers all ruffled. A long tendril of hair had fallen down and stuck to the damp skin at the side of her neck. It was amazing how one dark curl could sidetrack his thoughts.
“Dalton knew you were an eyewitness to the robbery.”
She blinked. No other sign of understanding appeared in her dark eyes. She still hadn’t pieced it together.
“I didn’t tell anyone you were on the stage.”
Confusion turned to clarity in a matter of seconds. Tilting her head back, she laughed out loud, in a deep, rich tone. “So someone must have told him, and the only other person who knew I was there was the man who killed your friend and kidnapped me.” She stood up, paced the room a few times as she rubbed her small hands together. “Dalton has no idea he let that slip.”
“Nope.” He shook his head and smiled. Her enthusiasm was catching. He stood up as well, too antsy to sit any longer.
“Now what do we do?” she asked, pacing directly in front of him. Close. Almost too close.
He looked down at her and saw the sparkle in her green eyes. “We need to tell Miss Lorena you won’t be staying with her.”
One of her pretty brows lifted. “Why?”
“You’re the only one who can connect the robbery and murder back to Dalton. He wants you.”
And I want you too, he wanted to say, but didn’t. His eyes darted to her full pink lips and remembered what they felt like. “He probably wants you dead.”
She paled so quickly, he became scared. He pulled her into his arms and looked down into her eyes. She felt good there. A perfect fit. He tried not to think about how her full breasts pressed into him. “I’m sorry I was so blunt, but it’s the truth. The only way I can protect you is if you stay with me. If you’re with me at all times.”
“But—”
Sure she was going to say something about it not being appropriate, he cut her off. “No buts. I'm sure Dalton knows by now he slipped up, but he's hoping my anger kept me from hearing. He's already set about to make sure the whole town knows you're the witness. No one's going to think twice about the extra protection.”
“Do I have any say in the matter?” she asked as she worried her lower lip.
He watched, enthralled with her straight white teeth against her plump lower lip. “No.”
“But—”
The only way he could think to silence her was to kiss her. And he did just that. It wasn’t a mere peck of a kiss, it was an all-out assault. His tongue delved into her mouth as soon as their lips made contact. She was as sweet as he remembered. He wanted her to forget about everything, including Tom, with this kiss. Jealousy flooded through him at even thinking of his brother, which fueled the kiss from hot to scorching.
Barely, just barely, he was able to remember they stood inside the jail. Not the place for romance.
His bed. Once he got her there, he was never letting her out. Reluctantly, he lifted his head and looked down at her closed eyes. Slowly, they fluttered open, blurred with passion.
“You’re staying with me.” To hell with Tom and his proposal.
***
Grant locked the door to the jail behind them. The small building had clapboard siding, faded white from the elements. It held one cell, iron bars keeping the lawless from the lawmen. With no one being held, no townspeople needing his help, he appeared content to be done for the day.
After putting the key in his shirt pocket, he smiled down at her. That kiss would be burned into her memory until her dying day. The heat that had engulfed her when his lips had touched hers, when his tongue had slipped in to mate with hers, still lingered. She had no idea a meeting of mouths could be so...carnal. Tom hadn't kissed her like that. No man had. Until him. She felt a flush heat her cheeks at his continued scrutiny.
“Let’s get going. Miss Lorena serves dinner promptly at six. We’ll tell her you won’t be staying there,” he said. His voice took on a very pleased quality. Had she pleased him? Had the kiss affected him, too?
Leading her by the elbow, they turned in the direction of the boardinghouse. The searing kiss had turned her brain to the consistency of the oatmeal she’d had for breakfast. Thankful for his guiding hand, she probably would’ve gone off in the wrong direction. Her lips tingled still from the intensity of his mouth upon hers. As his hands had wrapped around her, pulling her into his cocoon of strength, she'd succumbed. He was solid. He was safety. He was... Lost in thought, she bumped into someone on the narrow boardwalk. “Oh, excuse me.”
Blood rushed from her head as she looked up into William Hunt's face. He'd tracked her down.
“Margaret! I cannot believe it. I've found you!” William touched her arm. She flinched at his clammy touch and jumped back, her heart pounding as if it would escape her chest. Deep down, she knew he would someday find her, but had hoped, prayed even, it would be far in the future. Unfortunately, it was not to be.
He was here. To claim her. To take her. There was too much money at stake for him to let her go. He would travel to the ends of the earth to find her. And he had. Cranston was as close to that as one could come.
Her worst fears were finally realized. Bile rose in her throat thinking of his evil plans. William hadn't known she’d eavesdropped on a random conversation he'd had with his mistress. Now, he was playing the worried fiancé instead of the premeditated killer she knew him to be.
“Hello,” she whispered, finding it difficult to get words past the fear clogging her throat. What was she going to do? William was here to take her home, marry her and then kill her. She felt Grant's hand move to her shoulder. She’d all but forgotten he was there. His touch w
as a protective move she had come to recognize, to need. And he'd be snatched away from her like everything else in her life that was ever good and kind.
***
Grant was quickly aware Maggie knew this man. But how? From his dress, he wasn't from the area. What had come over her? Why did she look petrified? Protective anger churned in his gut.
The man took her hand and pulled her toward him. Grant didn’t like the stranger’s possessiveness and kept a firm grip on her shoulder. It was as if she was in a tug-of-war.
“What are you doing in this God-forsaken town?” He raised his free hand in the air. “Why on earth did you run away?” he demanded. Furious, bright red colored on his cheeks.
Maggie didn't want to see this man. He could see it on her face, her stance, her lack of color. She was so pale, he thought she might faint.
“William, I...well...I'm sorry.”
“That's all you have to say?” The man yelled it in her face. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his mouth, his anger making him spit as he spoke. “You disappear one night, not telling anyone where you were going and you say you’re sorry? I traveled almost two thousand miles to find you. To bring you home. To protect you. Have you gone insane? It seems to me I'm going to have to protect you from yourself.”
This definitely was the William of Maggie’s nightmares. Now Grant understood her reasons for wanting to marry Tom. After years of telling the difference between the bad and the good, it was clear in which camp this man belonged. Hatred emanated from his pores. As Maggie’s fiancé, he didn’t appear to have an affectionate, loving bone in his body. So why then, did he travel so far to find her? If he didn't care for her personally, which would be obvious even to a blind man, what did she have that he wanted? Millions of dollars. And that made a man do crazy, desperate things.
“Hunt, let go of the lady and apologize to her,” he commanded.
William did let go of her, but turned his anger to him. Good. At least the man’s wrath was focused on him, not Maggie. “I beg your pardon?”
“Apologize to the lady,” he repeated, his tone stern and intense, belying, along with his star, his role as Sheriff.
She scooted behind him once again. It pleased him to know she consistently went to him when she needed help and protection.
“Who the hell are you?” William growled, spittle flying again.
Grant pulled her deeper into his side and put his arm around her waist. Her slight frame fit against him perfectly. No chance this man, any man, was going to lay a finger on her. It was time to stop this once and for all. “I'm her husband, and I think you owe her an apology.”
William's mouth dropped open. So did Maggie's. Out of the corner of his eye, Grant saw her staring at him, and he squeezed her side in reassurance.
“You married this man?” William sputtered. It was his turn for his pallor to turn as white as snow.
“I am...I mean...I...,” she fumbled, swallowed. “Yes.”
Marriage was the first thing that had popped into his head when he saw Hunt grab Maggie and yell at her as if she were a child. If she planned to marry Tom to escape Hunt’s clutches, why not marry him, instead? She needed protection right now, not next week.
“Maggie, don't you think you should introduce me to your friend?” Grant asked. The two men’s glares held.
Quickly pulling herself together, she replied, “This is William Hunt. He is...I mean was, a friend from Philadelphia. It was nice of him to check on me, but I’m sure he was just leaving.” Grant felt Maggie straighten up, become bold and confident in her stature, as well as her words.
“Friend? Friend!” William yelled. “I'm your fiancé!”
She flinched, but didn’t step away. “Were, William. You were my fiancé.”
“Why are you talking as if our engagement is in the past tense? The last time I saw you, we were discussing our future together.”
She shook her head. “No, we were not talking about anything. You were doing the talking. I never accepted your proposal, you assumed and you made plans.”
Grant felt a shiver run through her.
“Not me,” she continued. “Never me and now, you’re too late.”
Grant couldn’t add a thing to her response to Hunt. She’d summed her feelings up fairly well. All he could offer her was his muscle, his protection, and he did that by placing one hand on his gun. No one misinterpreted a man with a gun.
“I’m going to get to the bottom of this,” William hissed, realizing there was nothing else he could do. “I’ll be staying in town until this is resolved.”
William stalked off and left them standing there, both stunned by what had just happened. Grant tightened his hand on Maggie’s waist and quickly led her away from the jail as they’d originally intended. Before Hunt appeared and changed their lives forever.
“Where are we going?” she asked as they approached the town church.
“We’re going to get married.”
CHAPTER TEN
“Married?” Margaret stopped in her tracks, rooted to the spot like a Ponderosa pine. Had he really said that? Married?
“Yes.”
“Married?” she repeated, her voice sounded frantic, even to her own ears. Well, she was! The sheriff had clearly lost his mind.
Grant nodded. “We told Hunt we were married and we can't change our story now.”
“I didn’t start this ruse and tell the man we were married, you did.” She poked a finger at his rock hard chest. “I don't want to marry you. I don't lo—” Furious, she fell silent, pursing her lips together. She didn't want to marry a man she didn't love.
“What? Love me? But you love Tom? You love my brother enough to marry him?”
She offered no reply as she stared at the star pinned to his shirt. She couldn’t, because he was right.
“Hunt looked at you as if you were a possession. You’re telling me you want to marry him instead?” He didn’t let her answer. “Not with everything you told me and quite a bit you didn't. Besides, you’re willing to marry Tom without love, so what’s the difference?”
The difference was obvious, at least to her. Tom was kind, gentle, thoughtful. Grant was stubborn and brash, made her feel things she didn't understand, and above all, was now forcing her into marriage.
“Marriage seemed like the best and only way out that would be permanent. It was you who planted the idea in my head.”
Her gaze shot up to meet his.
“Besides, I don’t think Hunt will wait until next Sunday for Tom to marry you. Once he finds out the truth, it’s only a matter of time before he makes you marry him instead.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “He will, too. He's come this far. He wants your money and he won't stop until he gets it.” Grant tilted her chin up with one finger. “I can’t let that happen.”
One minute he could infuriate her, the next minute he did something so nice, so good, she didn’t know whether to continue to argue with him or hug him. She couldn’t wait until next week to marry Tom, so he’d lied for her. It must have gone against every code, every moral he believed in. Besides, marriage was until death parted.
Regardless of his unusual generosity, she was wary at the prospect of being his wife. He fueled her anger, he fueled her spirit, he fueled her passion. And that scared her. Now, faced with an impending marriage—marriage!—she had to come to terms with the fact that he was the first person to actually make her feel. It was as if she'd gone through life numb until she'd met him.
She stuck her heels in the dirt one last time. “We don't have to get married though. Maybe he’ll leave now that he believes we’re married.”
“Oh yes, we do!” He took her by the elbow and led her toward the church steps. “Half the town probably knows by now he’s your fiancé. Your former fiancé. We can't fake a marriage for an entire town.”
“What happens when a woman down the road catches your eye, and is everything you're looking for in a wife? I can't sit back and watch my husband take up
with another woman”
He didn't respond right away. His gaze raked over her, from head to toe, spending quite a bit of time on her mouth and then her breasts. “Sweetheart, you've got everything I'm looking for, and then some.”
The way he stared at her, she was at a loss for words. She let him all but drag her into the church as she considered his words. As much as she tried, she could think of no alternative. It was quite possible she didn't want one.
***
Grant left Maggie at the church in the company of the minister and his wife while he went and bought a simple gold ring from the Mercantile. For a moment, he stood outside the doors, blocking the entrance, considering his options. He could flee, escape the parson's noose that was quickly tightening about his neck. This predicament was no one's fault but his own.
Marriage.
He was getting married. Today. But thinking of Maggie, he knew there was no other choice. Remembering how she felt beneath him only hours before, hearing her soft pants of desire, the way she said his name when he touched a spot on her silky skin that was arousing, had sealed his resolve. She'd be his. And soon. He headed in to make the most important purchase of his life.
When he returned to the church, he handed her a bouquet of wildflowers, fresh cut from the rectory garden. The minister and his wife, kind and reassuring, had spent the time while he was gone sharing stories about his youth and recounting how kind and generous he was to the community. They probably saw the fear and insecurity written all over Margaret’s face and tried to ease her mind. Hell, he could see it, plain as day. But he looked forward to their wedding night—tonight—when he could put a completely different look on her face.
***
Throughout the ceremony, Margaret stood next to Grant, numb, not believing how relaxed he was. He wasn't nervous? Her palms were wet and clammy. Taking her hand, he had to have noticed, but he placed the smooth ring on her finger without blinking an eye. When it was time for her to speak her vows, he smiled at her with reassurance. How could he be so cool and collected while she was still trying to come to grips with what was happening to her? To them?
The Lady and the Lawman Page 13