She glanced around the room, grateful for the man who nodded in her direction. At over six feet, two hundred pounds, his masculine frame seemed to make Neville look like a runt. She was grateful that he had effectively silenced the man.
“Ten dollars,” Tucker called.
What was he doing? Neville had dropped out; he was no longer bidding. Yet Tucker seemed intent on getting her basket. Didn’t he realize that by continuing to raise the bid, he was causing more speculation about the two of them?
His mother was sitting there smiling as though she was on top of the world. And Sarah only knew she didn’t need to spend more time with Tucker. They wanted different things in life. They had no future together; yet the attraction was there, and it was hard to resist.
“That’s the most the church has received for any basket, Sarah,” her grandfather said. “You should be proud.”
“Of what? The fact that Tucker is driving the price up? I know that’s what he’s doing,” she whispered back.
“Eleven dollars.”
A gasp went through the crowd. Sarah felt tiny prickles tingle along her spine. Whoever this man was, he was serious about winning her basket of food and her company at lunch. Maybe she would be eating with him after all.
“Twelve,” Tucker called.
Sarah widened her eyes, trying to signal to Tucker to stop his bidding, to let the man win.
“Fifteen dollars,” the man said, and he stood up and looked at Sarah. “I hope your cooking is as good as your doctoring.”
She smiled. He was nice looking with dark hair and bright green eyes. Suddenly she had mixed emotions. Part of her wanted Tucker to win her basket, and part of her knew that this man should be the one to claim her and the lunch she had prepared.
So why was Tucker continuing the bidding war? Why didn’t he just let the man win?
“Twenty dollars,” Tucker said, an impish grin on his face.
Sarah felt her heart plummet as the crowd applauded. The gossips would be feasting on them today. She knew there was no way that they had squelched any rumors regarding the two of them.
A quiet hush fell on the room as they waited for the other man to respond.
He shook his head, a frown on his full lips. “Maybe next time, but right now the price has gotten a little too steep, even for your cooking, darlin’.”
Tucker grinned. “No hard feelings, Brad.” Then he turned to Sarah.
“Sarah, I hope you brought something good,” Tucker said, aloud to the crowd, drawing their laughter.
“Pigs’ slop would be too good for you,” she said, under her breath. The fool had done considerable damage today and given his mother’s beliefs credibility. Sarah felt the urge to berate him unceasingly for acting recklessly in front of these people. For believing he was invincible to the death of a bullet. For making her feel things she had tried her best to forget.
Tucker walked across the room, his steps steady, his swagger secure as he made his way to her. She took a deep breath. He had a commanding presence in the room that seemed to fill the space and leave her breathless. Damn, why did only Tucker seem to alert her senses to the point all she could think about was the way his hands made her feel.
She wanted to forget Tucker, but he seemed ingrained in her soul.
She watched as he tweaked Lucas on the nose. The boy smiled at him with the exact same dimples before he buried his face in his grandfather’s shirt. Tucker shook hands with her grandfather. “How are you, Mr. Kincaid?”
"Doing great. Excuse me while I take Lucas over and show him off to several of my friends.”
Sarah watched her grandfather walk away and felt a moment of unease at being alone with Tucker. He stared at her, a sheepish grin on his face. It had been three days since she had seen him. Three days since their argument. Three days, and his image had never once left her mind.
“Hello,” he said, a smile still gracing the hard planes of his face.
“Are you crazy?” she said, and clenched her fist “Why did you keep upping the bid? Now everyone here is speculating about the two of us,” she hissed.
Tucker shrugged a careless lift of his shoulders, the gold of his eyes twinkling in merriment as he held out his arm. “I have the basket and you owe me a lunch.”
“I owe you nothing but a good kick in the pants.” He smiled at her, his mischievousness oozing from his laugh. “You know, I thought about giving up and letting Brad have your lunch basket but then I knew this would be your reaction. And I hadn’t had the pleasure of your flashing blue eyes for the last few days. I kind of missed seeing them.”
“We’re supposed to be squelching rumors regarding the two of us, not starting any,” she said.
He leaned down close to her. “Then, I suggest you take my arm, because if you don’t, I’m going to lean down and kiss those soft lips of yours, and that will really get the rumors flying.”
She gasped. “Why?”
“Just because I know it would feel good,” he whispered in her ear. “And your mouth has always been hard to resist.”
Sarah moved away from the feel of his breath tickling her ear, sending chill bumps down her arms. “What’s gotten into you?”
He smiled. “It’s spring, and I feel ornerier than a bull in a meadow full of cows.”
She turned toward the door in the need to escape the room full of people. “Good, we’re having Rocky Mountain oysters for lunch. I hope you enjoy them.” Tucker shook his head, his cheeks dimpling. “That’s what I like about you, Sarah. You always speak openly and honestly. There’s no fancy ladies’ talk coming out of your mouth even after that impressive school you went away to.”
She glared at the man, her mouth suddenly as dry as the desert in a drought, her stomach fluttering at the thought of his mouth on hers. What was it about Tucker that always managed to trigger her senses into overload? What aspect of this man seemed to send her body into a state of constant awareness? It was hopeless and could only lead to more heartache.
“I need to talk to you about candidate number two, and I’m going to do it over lunch. Now.”
Wasn’t it just like Tucker to escalate her expectations and then plunge them into despair? Candidate number two didn’t have a chance.
Tucker didn’t know what had gotten into him. But when the bidding started on Sarah’s basket, he couldn’t resist the urge to outbid Brad. Yes, his mother had suggested he bid on Sarah’s basket, though he could have stopped long before the schoolteacher dropped out. But he had wanted to continue. The urge to win that basket from Brad had taken over, and he had been unable to resist.
Since the argument with Sarah on the ride home three days ago, he had avoided her; but seeing her here today with her grandfather had made him want to rile her just a little, and the lunch basket auction had provided the perfect opportunity.
Sarah walked beside him now, past the area where his family was gathered and out the door.
“Where are we going?” she asked. “I have to take care of Lucas.”
“Your grandfather is watching him,” he replied. He refused to release her arm, and they continued on out into the courtyard and the bright Texas sunshine. “It’s a pretty day, and I didn’t want to eat in there with all those people staring at us.”
“You should have thought about that before you made us the center of attention,” she remarked.
“Why? Then the auction wouldn’t have been near as much fun.”
She turned toward him. “Nor would it have created the amount of speculation about the two of us.” “Relax, Sarah, we’re going to take care of that little problem right now.” He stopped at a table nestled behind some evergreen shrubs, set the basket on the table and seated Sarah. Then he sat down across from her and stretched out his long legs.
“Now you can serve me the lunch I bought, while I tell you about candidate number two.”
“If I weren’t a healer, I would serve you a dose of strychnine. Guaranteed to cure a rogue like you,” she retorted.<
br />
He couldn’t help but smile at her. This was exactly what he had missed these last few days. Her biting sense of humor, her scathing retorts. He watched as she leaned over the table, spreading a cloth and setting out the various plates and silverware.
Her dress dipped dangerously low, giving him a brief glance at the tops of her breasts. At the sight of her luscious mounds, he felt as if he had fallen off of his horse and had the air knocked out of him. He gasped and hid it behind a cough.
She glanced at him. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” he managed to choke out.
“There’s no need to tell me about candidate number two, because I’ve decided I’m not going to do this again. The last man you arranged for me to meet was enough to last a lifetime.”
“You can’t back out now. Not after I bought your basket in there,” he said, sitting straight up.
“You should have thought of that earlier,” she said, setting out their lunch on the tablecloth. “Before you decided to outbid that handsome cowboy.”
“Who, Brad? He just wanted to taste your cooking,” Tucker replied. “We won’t tell him the truth, that you’re a lousy cook.”
“You know, that strychnine sounds better and better. Like the perfect dessert to top off my lousy cooking.” She sat down across from him, irritated at herself for letting her emotions and her dreams surface regarding Tucker. She had to quit thinking about this man. He would never settle down, though, the attraction was strong between them.
He was going to have to do some fast talking to convince her to have dinner with the banker.
“Candidate number two runs the local bank, he’s looking for a wife, and he has money. This is the perfect opportunity for you.”
“No. There’s no reason for me to do this. I’m not looking for a husband, and I don’t care whether he has money or not. I have my son, my practice, what else do I need?”
“But you agreed to do this for me.”
“Well, now I’ve changed my mind.”
“Look, I know that Neville was a mistake, but just give my plan a second chance. If you don’t, my mother is going to be on us like ants at a picnic since I bought your basket.”
“Yes, well, if you hadn’t made such a spectacle over my basket, then we wouldn’t be in this mess. Would we?” she said.
He grinned. “I aim to please.”
She stared at him. “'You know, I really shouldn’t help you out anymore. You’re obstinate and hard- headed I should just let your mother continue with her prying. Eventually she’ll give up on me.”
“I know. But you’re the one she’s trying to fix me up with. And she’s going to be bothering you just as much as me.”
Sarah shook her head at him. “Maybe it’s time you and your mother realized I can’t be pushed. Maybe it’s time you had a frank discussion with her on her interfering.”
“Sarah, Mother doesn’t call it interfering. She calls it matchmaking.”
“I don’t care what she calls it. I’m not participating.” She handed him his plate.
“Come on, don’t do this to me.”
She shook her head. “I’m going to pass on this, Tucker. There’s no reason for me to continue seeing anyone, because just as soon as Doc Wilson is feeling better, I’m going home.”
Chapter Eight
Sarah looked up just as Eugenia burst through the door to the church, a panicked look on her face. “Sarah, come quickly. Something’s wrong with Lucas.”
Her heart almost stopped before it began a mad race as she sprang up, her legs not moving fast enough. She ran into the church searching for her son. A sense of panic sent her headlong into people who were laughing and enjoying themselves. She pushed them aside and found her grandfather sitting with the gasping child on his lap.
Lucas’s breathing was raspy and shallow, as if he struggled for each breath. His face was red and splotchy. The part of her that was a trained doctor told her to evaluate the situation, while the mother in her just wanted to grab the child and make him better.
“What happened?” Sarah asked, kneeling down in front of her son, who sat lethargic on her grandfather’s lap.
The old man’s face wore a worried frown. “I don’t know. We were playing, and suddenly he crawled up on my lap. I thought he was tired; but then he started breathing funny, and I noticed him breaking out in a rash.”
Big red welts splotched his small face and hands. Sarah knew without raising his shirt that there would be more. It appeared he was having a reaction, but from what?
Tucker came running up beside her, and she gave him a quick glance before she returned her attention to the boy.
“Where has he been? Has he gotten into something he shouldn’t?” Sarah asked.
“Not that I know of” her grandfather said worriedly. “He was right here with me the entire time.”
“Tucker, my medical bag is in Grandfather’s wagon. Would you get it for me?” she asked.
“Sure.” He ran toward the door, his boots making a hollow sound on the wooden floor.
“Momma,” Lucas said, holding his arms out to her. At his desperate cry the mother in her could not resist his plea. She took him in her arms, cradling him against her chest.
Her grandfather stood, and she sat down, setting the boy on her lap. She ran her hand across his forehead, but he wasn’t hot.
“What could have caused this?” she asked, as she ran her hands over the small bones in his chest searching for any clues regarding his shallow breathing.
“He’s been right here playing beside us,” Eugenia said, watching the boy. “Something about this seems familiar.”
Tucker ran back in with her medical bag. Unfortunately, she didn’t know what to treat him for, but she felt better just having the bag nearby in case she needed it.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes never leaving Lucas.
His lips were beginning to swell, and she was frightened for her child. He was having some kind of reaction, and whatever triggered the event must have entered his body through his mouth.
“What did you eat, Lucas?” she asked, wishing the child were older.
“Hurts,” he said.
“Did you put something in your mouth, son?” she asked, again fearing he had put some poisonous plant in his mouth.
He looked up at her, his eyes so much like Tucker’s, growing wide with confusion. “Pretty berry.”
Berry? What kind of berry? She wondered, her mind going over the poisonous plants with brightly colored berries that grew in this area.
Eugenia hovered around Sarah and the distressed child. “You know, Tucker used to break out like this whenever he ate strawberries.”
Sarah thought her neck would pop as she jerked her gaze back toward Eugenia. “What did you just say?”
“Tucker could never eat strawberries or he would break out all over. The first time he reacted that way, it scared me to death,” Eugenia said. “I didn’t know what was wrong with that child.”
The old man grimaced. “I gave him strawberries. Ed Green had brought some in from the hill country, and I let him have several.”
“Whenever Tucker broke out like this, the only thing I could do was just wait it out. In about twenty- four hours he’d be back to normal.”
Sarah felt panic gripping her throat and for a moment was afraid that she would break out in red welts. Lucas was having a reaction to the strawberries. While it was a serious condition that should be watched carefully, the worst was probably over. Even now his breathing seemed to be returning to normal.
But Lucas could never eat strawberries again. And she feared Eugenia or even Tucker would realize the truth of Lucas’s parentage.
“Do you think it’s the strawberries, Sarah?” Tucker asked.
“I don’t know,” she evaded, almost certain that the berries were the problem. “His symptoms are common with a food reaction.”
Her son looked terrible—his face was red and splotchy, his lips were swollen
wherever the berry had touched his skin—and she was afraid. If it was only a food reaction, he should start to clear up soon, but she didn’t need to give Eugenia Burnett any reason to believe that the strawberries were the culprits.
“Young man, I think we need to take you home. You’ve had enough excitement for one day,” she said, leaning over the boy.
Tucker glanced into her eyes, his earthy brown ones serious for a change. “Do you want me to help you get him home?”
“No, I think we can manage, but thanks for the offer,” she said, unable to let him take her home, afraid he would finally realize the truth.
“Well, at least let me carry him out to the wagon for you.” He took the boy from her arms, and the child only glanced up at him through swollen, half-lidded eyes.
She clenched her hands as she watched Tucker carrying her son. Why did she worry that he would recognize some small part of himself in the child? He had not even considered for a moment that the boy was his.
“Come on, young man, let’s get you home so your momma can take care of you,” Tucker said, gazing down at Lucas.
Sarah followed Tucker out the door of the church, her grandfather right behind her as they walked to the waiting wagon. She climbed up into the buckboard, and Tucker lifted Lucas and put him in her arms. She felt a sense of relief once her son was in the security of her embrace. She noticed Eugenia standing in the doorway of the church, watching them.
“Thanks, Tucker. I appreciate your help,” Sarah said, suddenly wishing he knew the truth and that they were a family. She pushed the feelings aside. There was no sense spending time yearning for things that were never going to happen.
“No problem,” he said, gazing at her, his brown eyes warm and concerned.
Sarah sighed. She glanced back to the door of the church where Eugenia stood studying them and then back at Tucker. He knew just how to get to her.
“And tell candidate number two that I will have dinner with him,” she said, the sight of his mother watching them suddenly changing Sarah’s mind. Eugenia’s remembering that Tucker had reacted to strawberries could only cause trouble. Sarah had to do something to divert Eugenia’s attention from Lucas.
The Marshal Takes A Bride Page 11