Hero For Hire

by Sheridon Smythe

  As ludicrous as it seemed, Mac understood his grandmother's sage cliché far better now, at this moment with Savannah poised above him. There was no guarantee that Hawk's plan would work, true. Savannah was a woman—a unique woman, granted—but she didn't think like a man. Yet what did Mac have to lose by trying to tempt her into marriage by any means possible—including the strong lure of desire?

  Last night she'd caught him off-guard, climbing into bed naked and rattling his brain by taking the initiative. But he was alert now, on his guard against her persuasive treachery.

  Or so he thought.

  He gazed into her bewildered face, her raw, natural beauty silhouetted in the dawn's early light. Her breasts were full, yet firm, her waist tiny, her hips flaring gently. A ball of pain and regret formed in his throat, preventing speech. Helplessly, he watched her luscious lips move.

  "Mac ... what's wrong? Why can't we do it one last time?"

  Mac swallowed hard, quivering from the effort of holding her away from his pulsing need. “And afterward?” he rasped almost angrily. “Do we then go back to being friends?” Voicing the burning question escalated Mac's anger. “We pass each other on the street as if this never happened? Can you truly do that, Savannah?” She squirmed restlessly. Mac gasped and gripped her hips tighter to hold her still, to keep her from swallowing him, and to stop himself from plunging savagely into her.

  Despite his anger, he wanted her no less than before.

  "Do you truly think that I can waltz back into Angel Creek, stand before your father, and look him in the eye knowing I've taken advantage of his daughter? He expected me to protect you, to bring you home safely!"

  There was an answering spark of anger in Savannah's eyes as she said, “We made love by mutual agreement, Mac. You did not take advantage of me! If anything, I tempted you, so if you insist on bringing guilt into it, then I'm just as guilty.” She tossed her head, sending her hair flying over her shoulders. Her chin thrust forward, nearly bumping his own. Contrary to her expression, her voice lowered to a familiar, seductive whisper. “If you're going to feel guilty, Mac, then at least do something to feel guilty about."

  She kissed him then, smothering any further protests, and scattering Mac's resistance to the wind. With their mouths locked together, she took his hands from her hips, braced her own hands upon the mattress, and slowly enveloped his manhood with her heat. She took all of him inside her in one single earth-shattering stroke.

  Mac was lost. He made a puny, half-hearted effort to dislodge her, but she held fast to his hips.

  She began to rock against him, slowly at first, revealing her uncertainty, reminding Mac of her innocence. Her hesitancy struck a tender cord in Mac. With a moan of surrender, he twined his fingers with hers and began to guide her forward strokes.

  He watched her abandonment, awed and amazed at the sexuality that literally seeped from her luscious body. She was a goddess to love ... and he was her slave.

  "You are beautiful,” he murmured.

  She gave him a heart-stopping smile as she rode him good and proper. “So are you, Mac. So are you.” Her breath hitched, her face began to grow taut. Her grip on his hands tightened. “You—you fill me so completely,” she added breathlessly.

  "You enjoy this ... very much,” he observed, his breath quickening as his own release drew near.

  "Yes."

  "If we were married,” he gasped out desperately. “You and I could enjoy it often."

  He'd waited too late; Savannah didn't hear him. She arched her back, her movements frenzied now, her mind not on his words, but on the pleasure that was engulfing her. A keening moan rose in her throat. Her grip became a death grip.

  "Maaaaac!"

  She stiffened, and Mac could feel her inner muscles convulsing around him. It was the catalyst that toppled him after her. He spilled his seed into her with a low growl of primitive satisfaction, bringing her forward to cover her mouth with a savage kiss of gratitude and love.

  The sound of their harsh breathing filled the room for several moments. Mac rolled sideways, cuddling her close as they continued to catch their breath. He swept her damp hair away from her face and planted a tender kiss on her forehead.

  "Marry me,” he said. She buried her face in his neck, but he heard her muffled ‘no’ clearly. Instead of asking why and getting the same painful answer, he argued. “Yes. You will marry me."

  "No, Mac. I won't marry you, and you know why."

  He did. But he'd rather forget it, and he didn't agree. “What if we've made a baby? What then? Will you still say no?” It was a nasty thrust, but Mac was a desperate man.

  She shrugged, lifting her face slightly away from his throat. But she didn't look at him, leaving him to wonder what she might be hiding.

  "If I discover that I'm going to have a baby, then when I reach Jamestown, I'll be the sad widow Carrington,” she said evenly. “Nobody will be the wiser. Anyone who remembers me, will also believe I was married to you."

  If she had slapped him, Mac could not have been more insulted and hurt. Savannah would rather live a lie than to marry him. She couldn't have said it any plainer. She didn't want him—couldn't bear the thought of marriage to him. What she felt for him was nothing more than friendship ... and lust.

  He had lost.

  A pounding on the door saved Mac from further humiliation. It was Roy.

  "Get up, you sleepy heads! They're serving breakfast, and our train leaves in an hour!” Without waiting for them to respond, Roy pounded on the door a second time. “Mac? Mrs. Cord? You two up yet?"

  "We're up!” Mac shouted, cursing as he flung back the covers. The brat was as irritating as a mosquito sometimes.

  Savannah caught his shoulder before he could rise. He looked into her luminous, crystal blue eyes and waited, knowing it was useless to hope she had changed her mind.

  "We'll have to explain to Roy before we reach Angel Creek,” she said softly.

  Roy believed they were married. Of course. Mac managed a smile, although it felt tight and insincere. “I'll speak to him.” Her brow furrowed, and Mac successfully fought the urge to kiss her troubles away. Was there nothing the woman could do to make him hate her, to help ease his pain?

  "Do you think he'll understand? He saw us in the forest ... and he's so young."

  "He already loves you.” As I do. “He'd never think badly of you."

  She clutched the covers to her chest, sighing. “I hope you're right, because I've grown fond of him, as well."

  Mac rose from the bed and began to dress. Gruffly, he said, “You could always tell him what you told me, that you never intend to marry."

  "I never said that I wouldn't marry, Mac. If I could find someone like—"

  When she bit off the words with suspicious haste, he turned a narrow-eyed gaze on her. Jealousy nearly ripped his heart in two. “Like who, Sav?” he demanded softly. Her bright gaze slid away from his. Barlow, perhaps?

  "Never mind."

  "Sav—"

  "I'm starving out here, people!” Roy thundered, pounding on the door again. “I've lost ten pounds just standing here!"

  Mac scowled at the door, tempted to jerk it open, haul Roy up by the seat of his pants and shake him until his teeth rattled. “Go ahead without us!” he snarled. He turned back to Savannah. His breath froze in his lungs.

  She had risen from the bed in all her naked glory, unaware that he watched her as she began to get dressed. God, she was so beautiful, so achingly beautiful.

  Resolutely, Mac dragged his gaze away and finished dressing. It didn't matter how wonderful, how talented, how sweet and unselfish, how beautiful, how lusty Savannah was. She wasn't his and never would be. What made him think God would allow him such an angel for his own?

  Ten minutes later, Mac opened their hotel door and stepped into the hall with Savannah on his arm. He reached behind him to close the door just as the door down the hall opened. A couple stepped out, a younger woman with an older man who looked vague
ly familiar.

  "Mackenzy Cord? Is that you?” the older man called out, a huge, welcoming grin on his face. “I haven't seen you in church in ages."

  Mac remembered the face, then, and he knew by the way Savannah gasped and tried to hide behind him that she had recognized the preacher too. The younger woman with him was Mattie Owens, his daughter.

  "Mac!” she whispered fiercely. “It's Preacher Owens! Do something!"

  For the first time in his life, Mac couldn't think of a quick, convincing lie. There wasn't much chance that the preacher and his daughter hadn't noticed them emerging from their room.

  Together.

  What could he say? Savannah was a young, unattached female with a pristine reputation. Her father was a pillar of the community, her family name one well remembered and revered in the small town of Angel Creek.

  He was a bounty hunter, and although he was well liked by most, he was a bachelor, and most likely considered dangerous to unattached females due to his unusual occupation. Being seen in public with Mac might raise a few eyebrows, generate a few whispers; getting caught coming out of a hotel room was quite another matter entirely.

  Mentally bracing himself as Preacher Owens and his daughter sauntered toward them, Mac grabbed Savannah's arm and yanked her to his side. Didn't she realize that hiding behind him would only deepen suspicions?

  When Mattie saw Savannah, her eyes widened. She wasn't a pretty woman, but she had an interesting, lively face that went a long way is detracting from her sallow skin and lack-luster hair.

  "Savannah Carrington! Imagine bumping into you here!” Mattie cried. “And that is Mackenzy Cord, Father. Larger than life."

  The preacher noticed what his daughter had overlooked, Mac saw. The older man's gaze strayed from Savannah, to Mac, then to the hotel door they had just emerged from. When a suspicious frown settled on the preacher's lined face, Mac's heart sank. He felt Savannah's grip on his arm tighten to a painful degree.

  "Miss Carrington,” Preacher Owen's acknowledged with a brief nod as he reached them. His frown deepened into open disapproval. “I hope you're on your way home. Your father has worried himself sick since your ... disappearance."

  Mattie's mouth formed a perfect O. “I'd forgotten!” she blurted out, then blushed furiously. “Sorry, Savannah. Father says I don't think before I speak sometimes."

  Mac heard a tiny squeak from Savannah, but nothing more. Apparently she was speechless. He didn't blame her. “As a matter of fact, we are on our way home,” Mac informed him cordially.

  "Ah, yes, George mentioned that he'd sent someone to fetch her.” Preacher Owens gazed at him with such intensity that Mac had to fight the urge to squirm like a naughty school boy caught peering up the teacher's dress. “I trust you've taken good care of her?"

  His gaze strayed to the hotel door, leaving Mac in no doubt of his meaning. Resigned to play out yet another charade, Mac said, "Very good care of her, sir. In fact, you and Miss Owens might as well be the first to hear our good news.” He took a deep breath and prayed that he was doing the right thing. Surely Savannah could see that there was no other way?

  "What good news is that, pray tell?"

  "Savannah and I got married,” Mac announced, pasting a proud smile on his face.

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  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The moment she heard Mac say the words, Savannah began to pray she'd heard him wrong.

  "Got married?” Preacher Owen's repeated as if he, too, couldn't believe his ears.

  Unfortunately, he confirmed Savannah's worst fears; Mac had said the damning words! She moaned and buried her face in his shoulder. Did Mac have the slightest idea what he'd done? This wasn't a nameless face they'd never see again—this was her pastor!

  Forcing a chuckle, Mac gave her trembling back a comforting pat. Savannah wanted to snatch up his lying hand and sink her teeth into it.

  "You'll have to excuse my wife,” Mac said cheerfully. “She's rather tired from last night."

  Savannah risked a peek from between her fingers, and what she saw made her groan again. The preacher's face had suffused with embarrassed color. Mattie stood with her mouth agape, her eyes round saucers of maidenly shock.

  Mac had gone too far! Rousting herself, Savannah lifted her face from Mac's shoulder and faced the couple in front of her. She knew her face was flaming, but there was nothing she could do about the tell-tale color. With what little dignity she could muster, she sought to undo the damage Mac's wicked remark had caused. “What Mac meant was that I spent most of the night rehearsing my speech to Daddy. He's going to be understandably surprised when he hears the news."

  Mattie snapped her mouth shut, looking disappointed. “Oh."

  Preacher Owen's drew in a relieved breath and beamed at her. “Of course, of course! I knew what he meant. And it's good that you're preparing what to say before you arrive. George expected you to marry Jon Paul DeMent, didn't he?"

  Savannah spoke hurriedly to cover the sound of Mac's ominous growl. “Yes, he did, but he knows that I've changed my mind, and he's always thought very highly of Mac. Once he adjusts, I know he'll be pleased."

  Preacher Owen's nodded thoughtfully. “He'll want to arrange a proper wedding, of course, in our church."

  Oh ... dear ... God! Savannah's knees went weak. She clutched Mac's strong arm for support, when what she really yearned to do was close her hands around his neck and strangle him! “Yes ... yes, of course.” What more could she say without arousing suspicion ... thanks to Mac?

  "What brings you to Paradise?"

  It was Mac who asked the question, Mac looking disgustingly happy about the entire miserable charade. Savannah shot him a murderous look that he ignored.

  "We were on our way home from Richmond when Judith developed one of her sick headaches,” Preacher Owens explained. “We disembarked from the train ... the noise, the smoke.” He clucked his tongue in sympathy. “This episode is particularly bad. We've been in Paradise for two days now, but we hope to leave out in the morning. Mattie and I were going downstairs for bite to eat. Would you care to—"

  "What in the hell is keeping you two so long?” a familiar voice bellowed from the stairwell. Footsteps pounded along the hall as Roy came trotting toward them, his coat flapping against his legs. He had a firm hand planted on top of his hat to keep it from sailing backward.

  Savannah froze, wishing the floor would open up and swallow her. She had not thought it could get any worse!

  "I'm starving, waiting on you two, and what are you doing?” Roy panted, reaching them. “Chatting it up with this old—"

  Mac very casually reached out and clamped a hand over the Roy's mouth. "Preacher Owens, Miss Owens, meet our new friend, Roy Hunter. He'll be going home with us, and you will most definitely see him in church."

  Not even Roy, who was known to be a little slow about hints, failed to understand Mac's threat. His eyes widened above Mac's hand. Mac slowly took his hand away.

  "Um, sorry preacher. I didn't know you was a preacher.” When Mac elbowed him, he hastily bowed to Mattie. “Sorry, ma'am."

  Preacher Owens squeezed Roy's shoulder hard enough to make him wince. He smiled at the boy, his eyes glinting with amusement. “No harm done, son. I'll look forward to seeing you in church."

  "Yes—yes sir,” Roy stammered, gulping hard.

  * * * *

  They'd been on the train for two hours before Mac lost his patience with Savannah. She wouldn't speak to him, not one single word. In fact, she wouldn't look at him, either.

  "Go get something to eat, Roy,” Mac ordered the restless boy in a voice that brooked no argument.

  But, of course, Roy argued anyway.

  "But I'm not hungry!"

  "Then go pester the engineer."

  Roy perked up at this. “Really? He won't mind?"

  Mac didn't care if he did. “Go.” Maybe he'd get lucky and the engineer would throw Roy from the train.

  When Roy had gone, M
ac sat next to Savannah, who had shown him nothing but her profile since the train pulled out of Paradise. He eyed the angry thrust of her jaw and sighed. Of course she was furious, but dammit, what else could he have said to Preacher Owens?

  He folded his arms and studied his boots. Finally, he asked, “Would you have preferred that I let the preacher assume the worst about you?"

  She didn't blink, or move a muscle. She continued to sit with her hands clenched tightly in her lap, staring out the window as if the scenery was the most awe-inspiring sight she'd ever witnessed. It was beautiful country, full of rich green forestry and majestic hills. But they'd been seeing the same scenery for two hours, so Mac knew she wasn't that interested...

  Mac tried again. “Your reputation would have been ruined. Your father would have been devastated. I had no choice.” He felt a flash of hope when she stirred slightly; that hope turned to anger when he realized that she'd turned more fully away from him.

  "Is it such a horrible thought, being married to me, Sav?” he prompted softly, attempting to quell his rising anger. Stubborn minx!

  Still, she didn't answer.

  He reached out and cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him. His eyes blazed into hers, all pretense of patience gone now as he ground out. “Have you forgotten how good we are together? Because if you have, I can certainly remind you."

  "I have no intentions of marrying you just to protect my reputation ... or because we please each other in bed,” she stated bluntly.

  So bluntly Mac winced. “And what of our friendship? You can't deny that friendship is an added boon to any relationship."

  She gave him a pitying look. “Mac, none of those reasons are enough to convince me to marry you."

  "What about love?” Mac declared recklessly. If he'd lost anyway, what harm would it do to confess his true feelings? At least Savannah would know how he felt.

  A tender, rueful smile curved her mouth. “I wondered how long it would take you to get around to claiming you loved me.” She shook her head, her eyes shimmering with tears. “Oh, Mac. You are the sweetest, most honorable man I know. That's exactly why I don't believe you. You'd say or do anything to convince me, just to protect me.” She pulled from his grasp and presented him her profile again.