Renegade Wife

by Charlene Sands

  Kane tipped his hat and backed down off the porch steps. “I’m obliged to you. Do you have any idea where she was headed?”

  Mrs. Rose’s face reddened like a ripe cherry pie. “Oh dear. I didn’t think to warn her about Miss Tulip’s house. You don’t suppose she’d have gumption enough to head over there, do you? I mean if anyone’s got to know about the comings and goings of young men, it’s those…fallen flowers.”

  Kane held his tongue. Only Penelope Rose would call the town’s prostitutes fallen flowers. “I’d best check it out.”

  The older woman followed him, making her way down the steps. “Maybe I should speak with the sheriff. Wouldn’t want one of my boarders to meet with trouble.”

  Kane stopped her with a glare. “I won’t let anything happen to Miss McGuire.” The words rushed out of his mouth easily, but with firm resolve. Kane blinked and swore an oath silently. The truth was, he’d protect Molly with his life. He had nothing to do with her coming to Bountiful but now that she was here he held himself responsible for her safety. Foolishly letting his guard down had cost one woman her life. Kane wouldn’t allow that to happen again.

  Mrs. Rose’s eyes went wide. “What are your intentions with that gal?”

  “I have no intentions but to see her safe.”

  “Well then, off you go. Find her.”

  Kane turned to leave, then a thought struck. He faced Mrs. Rose again. “My grandfather sends his regards. He’s taken ill, but I’m sure a visit from you might improve his spirits.”

  Penelope Rose’s mouth dropped open. She stood there, speechless, a truly memorable sight in Kane’s estimation. Not too much managed to quiet that woman.

  He strode down the street wearing a crooked grin. Sometimes, being “the devil” had its just rewards.

  Molly stood at the edge of town, summer heat beating down on her, creating beads of perspiration to pool in places she’d rather not think about. She’d shed her petticoats while dressing this morning, in favor of a lightweight cream skirt and white blouse. Of course, a lady had to wear at least one undergarment for decency’s sake, but as her hair stuck to the sides of her neck and those pools of perspiration puddled up even more, Molly wished she hadn’t decided to abide by propriety.

  Seemed Texas and propriety didn’t make a good fit.

  She swiped at her brow, determined not to give in to her disappointment. She’d spent the last three hours marching into establishments, showing Charlie’s picture in hopes of gathering some information. It would be too much to hope that Charlie actually lived in Bountiful somewhere but she had thought that perhaps someone might have seen him in his travels.

  No one had. Not the surly Mr. Gruber, who ran the general store, or Mr. Wilcott the freight operator, who had been quite friendly but of no help. Burt Baker at the livery hadn’t seen Charlie, either, although he’d made quick work in offering Molly his aid, in return for her favors. Molly hadn’t an ounce of patience left so, unfortunately, the young man had gotten a heavy dose of her ill will along with a slap in the face, for good measure.

  After approaching the barber, the café owner, the attorney at law and the newspaper journalist, Molly had almost exhausted all of her options. Almost.

  There was still Miss Tulip’s house.

  She gazed out, sighting the house far off in the distance just beyond a sweeping meadow laden with wildflowers and wild grass alike. The meadow stood between Molly and that dot on the horizon. But though she’d been warned by more than a few townsfolk not to venture there, Molly knew she wouldn’t rest until she’d inquired about her brother.

  Her feet ached, her head pounded. She’d missed her noon meal and now her stomach grumbled. The dauntless Texas sun seemed to swoop down upon her like a bold eagle to suddenly sap her strength. Yet, she moved forward, spurred on by nothing more than stubborn will, keeping her head up and her eyes focused solely on the house. She found a narrow path that seemed to cut the meadow in half and followed it.

  Molly had never met a prostitute before. She’d read about them once in a book not meant for a young girl, and what she’d read hadn’t been at all pleasant. The tale was one of debacle, infamy and heartache. It didn’t seem possible that anything that distasteful could possibly occur in that pretty house set in the boundaries of such a lovely meadow. Why, Miss Tulip’s name alone lent itself to something of fanciful whimsy.

  Molly continued on slowly as her legs grew weaker and weaker. Her mouth parched, she wished she had stopped at the café for a soda punch. Or better yet, she wished that she wouldn’t have had to search alone. If things had gone as she’d been promised, as she was rightfully due, she’d be readying to marry now and Kane Jackson would be her husband.

  Last night, he’d been willful and strong-minded in refusing to marry her. He had offered her every other compensation for her trouble, except the one she really wanted. He thought to frighten her with his tales of hardship, to expose his past in hopes of shocking her away. And she knew Kane Jackson didn’t offer up that information lightly. He was a man who held his privacy to heart, certainly not inclined to share his thoughts and feelings with anyone, much less a stranger, a woman he’d only just met.

  But Molly had known something of hardship herself, having been abandoned by a selfish father, having lost her mother at far too young an age and having been left alone in a world of near poverty. Only her skill with needle and thread kept food on the table as Molly took in sewing and mending. In those days just after Mama’s death, when loneliness and heartache lulled her into a restless sleep, she often dreamed of having a family of her own. Of marrying and having babies. Of having a good decent man by her side, so that she could provide a home for her brother as well. But last night, Kane Jackson had whisked all of her dreams away.

  “Keep going,” Molly muttered as she placed one foot in front of the other on the dry, dirt path leading straight for Miss Tulip’s house. The thought of a cool drink and a spot of shade once she reached her destination gave her a measure of hope. Certainly Miss Tulip would offer her some hospitality. Molly closed her eyes for a moment relishing that very thought and her lips curved up in a smile.

  But once Molly reopened her eyes, she froze instantly. Panic stopped her cold. And a high-pitched shriek tumbled from her blistered mouth as she peered down at a black-and-yellow snake, not three feet away, making menacing whirring sounds and shaking its black tail like a baby’s rattle.

  Oh, dear God.

  “Don’t move, Molly. Not an inch.”

  Kane? He spoke from somewhere behind her, his voice firm and commanding. Molly would take heed. She wouldn’t move an inch.

  And then, as quick as lightning the glistening blade of a knife whizzed by her and sliced through the rattler’s throat. The snake’s head flew forward landing on the tip of her right boot, looking very much like a golden shoe ornament. Molly gasped in horror. She stared at the snake’s severed head. Her legs buckled, the sun lost its shine and her very last fleeting thought was that she never much cared for fancy shoes.

  With care, Kane lowered Molly’s limp body down under the shade of a mesquite tree, cushioning her head with his rolled up buckskin shirt. She’d fainted from the sight of a snake as any greenhorn would, but he couldn’t rouse her. “Molly, Molly, wake up.” He tapped her cheek gently, but she only stirred slightly.

  Her once rosy mouth parched and swollen and her small body limp, Kane knew she’d been outdoors too long without benefit of rest or water. Both intense heat and exhaustion had added to her unconscious state now. He bent down and touched her forehead, feeling the burn of her heat on his palm.

  Kane walked the distance to a free running creek and dipped his bandana in, soaking it with fresh cold water. As he made his way back to Molly, he wondered what she’d done with his other bandana, the one that had so expertly covered her sweet little behind yesterday.

  Molly looked so peaceful lying there under the shade of the tall tree, but Kane wouldn’t fool himself. She needed tending. She
wasn’t used to Texas and the wild nature of the land. Kane bent to dab her face with the moist cloth, pressing it to her mouth, hoping she would part her lips to take some of the water in. When that didn’t work, he used his own finger to separate her lips and drizzled a few drops onto her tongue.

  Molly was pretty with her perfect mouth, petite body and fiery green eyes—too pretty to become a mail-order bride for a stranger and too pretty to venture out alone in search of her mischievous brother. He closed his eyes, stifling a curse at the stubborn woman. Without his help, surely trouble would find her every step of the way.

  Kane sighed as he dabbed a little lower, patting her throat, then lower still as he unbuttoned her dress to the waist, pushing away the material.

  “Molly.”

  She didn’t stir at all.

  Kane rose then and glanced at her boots. He made quick work of removing them, then the dress. He peeled it off gently, noting the creamy softness of her bare skin. He left on only her undergarment, then once he tossed his own boots aside, he picked Molly up in his arms and walked straight into the rushing creek.

  Kane stood there with Molly in his arms, turning about, wondering about the wisdom of what he was about to do. He knew one thing for certain. Molly needed rousing.

  This was the only way.

  He kept Molly tight in his arms and down they both went, under the flowing current into the chilly waters. Only seconds ticked by and when Kane rose up the female he held sputtered, waving her arms wildly. She gasped for air again and again, until finally her breathing slowed to normal, her body settled against him and she stared straight into his eyes.

  “Kane.” She sighed his name; the sound so pure, so soft and so darn arousing, Kane’s body grew tight.

  He set Molly on her feet, making sure she found her footing on the creek bed. Water glistened on her bare skin. White material clung like sheer gauze to her wet body exposing every tempting curve the woman possessed. The cold from the creek pebbled her pink nipples until they seemed to come right through the chemise, reaching up toward the sun.

  Foolishly, Kane took his time studying Molly as his manhood grew harder and harder with each breath she took, each movement she made. Bravely, maybe foolishly, Molly stared back at him, her gaze flowing from his damp hair to study his mouth, and finally her eyes lit on his dripping bare chest, taking her sweet time in her perusal. Kane thought to explode. Molly’s innocence mingled with her unabashed curiosity was enough to set any man’s body on fire.

  “You saved me,” she said softly.

  “You’re a fool, Molly McGuire. You shouldn’t have gone out without a chaperone. You can’t just waltz into an unknown situation, pretty as you please without a thought in your head. The land itself can kill you, if another kind of trouble doesn’t get you first. I won’t always be there to rescue you.”

  Molly’s face fell. She dipped her head down, her body trembling. Kane had set out deliberately to chastise her, but he hadn’t expected to see such hurt in her eyes. He hadn’t expected his words to cause such injury. He regretted speaking so harshly to her. She’d been through enough already today.

  Molly bent down and Kane thought she was ready to faint again. He reached out, but water splashed his chest and the cold liquid bounced up to hit his face. He sputtered in stunned surprise.

  “You’re the fool, Kane Jackson.”

  Molly splashed him again.

  “Do you think I have a choice?”

  Again, more water landed on his chest.

  “I honor my vows,” she said decidedly, her chest heaving with indignation. In between splashes, he’d caught quite a tantalizing view. “I promised my mama to find Charlie. And I’ll do it, with or without your help.”

  She bent to splash him again, but Kane caught her wrist. He tugged her forward, water dripping between them. Her breasts pressed tight against his skin, the lush feel of her creating a terrible ache in his groin. He gazed down into the green fire of her eyes.

  “With.” He pulled Molly’s arms around him, placing them at his waist. Then he took her face in his hands, bent his head, giving her no time to deny this pleasure and he pressed his lips to hers, unwilling and unable to stop.

  “With,” he said again, kissing her full out this time, wrapping his arms fully around her petite waist and drawing her up against his tormented body giving her full knowledge of his arousal. She responded with a tiny moan, affirmation that he’d hadn’t forced her. Affirmation that she enjoyed the kiss as much as he had.

  Their lips touched gently at first with slow building heat, then more fervently. Kane tasted the sweetness of her mouth, carefully caressing the lips that had been scorched by an unmerciful sun. He kissed her again and again, his hands roaming over her moist skin, weaving through her tangled red curls. She returned his kisses with a steady stream of passion that surprised him. Molly responded to him without fear, which might be a foolish thing on her part. Kane hadn’t known such desire in years. It pulled at him, tugging at his barren heart in ways that could only lead to disaster.

  He broke off the kiss and stared into the soft glow of Molly’s eyes. Instinctively, Kane knew he’d unfairly put that look there.

  “You’ll help me find my brother, Kane?” she breathed out. “You’ll marry me?”

  Kane drew in a deep breath, partly to regain his composure and partly to figure a way out of this. He hadn’t planned on marrying Molly. He’d vowed never to marry again. But he’d also found out from Doctor Beckman this morning that his grandfather wasn’t expected to make a full recovery. The good doctor seemed to think Bennett Jackson’s days were numbered. More than anything Bennett wanted Kane to marry—and he’d handpicked Molly McGuire, a woman who’d place herself in danger in order to honor her pledge to her mother.

  “Molly, I’ll help you find your brother.”

  “But—”

  “There they are, Sheriff! They’re in the creek over…oh, my!” Mrs. Rose’s shrill voice barreled across the meadow. They were some distance away, but close enough to see Molly in her state of undress locked in Kane’s arms, dripping wet in the middle of the creek.

  Molly closed her eyes.

  Kane swore an oath.

  He thought fast. “Listen, Molly. I’ll make you a bargain. I’ll help you find your brother and you help me ease my grandfather’s mind. We’ll get married…temporarily.”

  Molly blinked then her eyes grew wide. “Temporarily?”

  “I’ll explain later. Right now, your reputation is at stake. Mrs. Rose won’t keep this quiet.”

  Riding in her buggy, Mrs. Rose approached swiftly with the sheriff on horseback alongside of her.

  Dumbfounded, Molly asked, “Mrs. Rose won’t keep what quiet?”

  Kane shook his head and pointed at her attire, or rather lack of attire. “This looks bad for you, Molly. We’re both nearly naked. I doubt they’re thinking we’re out here for an innocent swim.” He waited until she frowned, fully comprehending. “Say you’ll marry me until we find your brother and my grandfather passes. Do we have a deal?”

  “Oh, dear God!” Mrs. Rose’s shriek vibrated through the thick humid air. “Miss McGuire, has he harmed you?”

  Kane stood in front of Molly covering her body with his, protecting her from curious eyes as the waters flowed against their legs.

  “Molly?” Kane asked again. Seconds ticked by as Mrs. Rose’s buggy drew closer.

  More impatiently, Kane asked, “Molly, make your decision. Do we have a deal?”

  “We have a deal, Kane,” Molly whispered from behind.

  Kane peered at the sheriff and Mrs. Rose in turn as they stopped along the edge of the creek. The sheriff appeared slightly amused, but the scowl on the older woman’s face could bring down the devil himself. “She’s fine, Mrs. Rose. No need to worry.”

  Mrs. Rose nearly toppled off her buggy seat, pointing her accusation. “You’ve ruined her!”

  “That’s probably true,” Kane responded, feeling the same sentiment, but
for an entirely different reason. “Molly has just agreed to become my wife.”

  Chapter Four

  Fighting rushing waters that slapped at her thighs, Molly made her way to the bank of the creek, fighting another battle in her head. She didn’t think anything could have equaled her eventful day yesterday, learning about her fate at the hands of a sly old man, but today’s events had far outweighed her first day in Bountiful. Today, she’d nearly been nearly bitten by a venomous snake before fainting dead away, only to find herself unclothed then dunked into the creek like yesterday’s wash. And then to her mortification, Mrs. Rose and the sheriff had been privy to the lusty encounter she’d had with Kane Jackson.

  Her betrothed.

  The man she would marry.

  Temporarily.

  Molly shook her head, clearing water out of her ears and attempting to free her thoughts enough to make some sense out of all this.

  Molly was engaged to marry just as she’d hoped. But the proposal had been less than inspiring, coming from a man who had moments ago kissed the stuffing out of her. A man who would rather send her back home than make her his wife.

  Kane had been trapped by his own sense of nobility. He’d offered her marriage to protect her reputation and perhaps ease a dying man’s last days. He’d agreed to help her find Charlie, and Molly believed Kane would honor that promise. At least, Molly had that. At the very least, she would have aid in locating her wayward brother and then, perhaps she and Charlie could start life all over again here in west Texas.

  Molly crossed her arms over her chest, mindful that Kane watched her from behind. He’d already seen what there was to see, but the keen sense of propriety her mama had instilled in her while Molly was growing up had her covering up the best she could, betrothed or not.