by Debra Cowan
His allegiance was to her brother, not her. For just an instant, she wished Gideon felt that kind of devotion to her, but his loyalty to Smith could work in her favor.
Palms clammy, she shifted so that her back was to the sun and she could see his face, fully gauge his reaction.
“Mr. Black?”
“Yeah?”
“Could you help me?”
“Sure. What do you need?”
“I want—need... Oh, dear.” She took a deep breath, her gaze locking with his.
Suddenly, he stiffened, eyeing her as if she were a coiled rattler.
She almost lost her nerve, but she forged on. “Would you marry me?”
Chapter Seven
His jaw dropped. “What?”
He’d heard her; he just wasn’t sure he’d heard right.
“I need this loan. If I don’t marry, I can’t get it.”
“I understand that part. What I want to know is why ask me?”
“You don’t want a wife any more than I want a husband.”
“That’s true. Why is that?”
“What?” Her gaze shot to his.
“Why don’t you want a husband?” He cocked his head, studying her. “You just asked me to marry you, and I know it’s about the money, but I think I have a right to know why you’re so dead set against marrying again.”
She hesitated a long time. He stayed quiet, fascinated with the play of uncertainty then determination then stubborn refusal across her beautiful face.
Maybe she didn’t want to go through the pain of losing someone so close to her again. But some of her past comments made Gideon think maybe there had been a problem between her and Tom.
Smith had never said anything about that, but Gideon could see why Ivy might not have told her brother if there were problems in her marriage. She was one independent woman. Besides, what could Smith have done? Fetched her home? Gideon didn’t see Ivy walking away from a commitment she’d made, no matter how much she might want to do just that.
“Let’s just say my marriage wasn’t ideal.”
“Because he drank?”
Her eyes narrowed. “How do you know about that?”
“Josh told me.”
She hesitated. “Yes. It was bad because he drank. And I would rather not say more about it. Please.”
Which was fair enough. It wasn’t as if they would be marrying for love or even forever. “We’d be legally wed?”
“Yes.” Ivy frowned, looking troubled. “The bank will expect you to sign the loan papers. That means you’ll be responsible for half the loan. I don’t like asking you to do that.”
He wanted to smooth the furrow of worry between her brows. “Is there another way you can get the money?”
She shook her head then stilled, her midnight gaze weighing him. “You said you wanted a place like this someday.”
“I can’t buy it.”
“In exchange for marrying me, I’ll deed half of the farm to you.”
“What? No.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “I have nothing else to give you.”
She had herself, but he knew better than to say it.
“This is a chance for you to get what you want. For both of us to get what we want.”
He’d never thought about getting it this way. “What happens when we figure out who’s causing problems and it’s time for me to leave?”
For a moment, she looked startled, almost as if she’d forgotten his stay was temporary. “Well, you can either deed it back to me or you can hold on to it.”
“If I kept it, I’d want to stay. You’d let me do that?”
“I owe you a great debt, plus we work well together.” She shrugged. “We don’t get in each other’s way.”
He found himself wanting to get in her way more every day.
“And I know you won’t expect anything from me.” She looked down.
“Anything like what? Something physical?”
“Yes.” She swallowed hard, her face flushed. “That.”
Gideon shouldn’t push her, but he couldn’t help it. His gaze dropped to her mouth. He wanted to kiss her, had been wanting to for a while. “What happens if one of us decides we want...that? A true marriage?”
“We’ll renegotiate,” she said.
He nearly swallowed his teeth. He’d expected her to shoot the idea to hell. “You are desperate.”
“Yes, and you’ve got me over a barrel, Mr. Black. You can just about name your terms.”
“Really?” He liked the sound of that. From what he’d seen, she wasn’t often backed into a corner. Another man might take advantage. Or a man who didn’t know how good she was with a pistol.
Her gaze flicked to his mouth then away. She turned bright pink. “Within reason.”
She was offering him his own place, roots. Everything he’d ever wanted except... Gideon realized with a sudden jolt that she was what he wanted. And if he let on, she’d run faster than a six-legged jackrabbit.
“Are you sure about this?”
“Not really, but I need to do something, and right now this seems to be the only option. I know I’m asking a lot for you to give up your freedom.”
He noted again her attitude about wedlock. There was no denying she didn’t have much use for it.
He knew she wouldn’t ask him to marry her if she didn’t absolutely have to. She had no gauzy pink hopes of happily ever after.
Like Eleanor, Ivy wanted to use him for something, but that was the only similarity. This situation with Ivy was straightforward, no manipulation.
“If you help me out, there’s a lot of responsibility involved,” she said. “I don’t want or intend for you to pay this loan, regardless of you signing the papers, but if something happens to me—”
“It won’t,” he said fiercely, determined not to let her get hurt again.
“If it does,” she went on quietly, “I want the record to show half the farm is yours. My half will go to my family.”
“Nothing’s going to happen.”
“Someone’s already tried to hurt me twice. I’ll feel better if things are handled this way.”
“All right.” He wanted to touch her, but didn’t know if he should.
She put a hand on his arm. “If you want time to think about it, I don’t mind.”
“I don’t. I said I’d do it, and I will.”
“Are you sure?”
“Are you trying to talk me out of it?”
“No. I just want you to understand there’s a risk here.”
“I understand.”
He was quiet for a long moment. She held his gaze, her fingers tangling in her skirts. Uncertainty and hope mingled in her midnight eyes.
She’d been attacked, refused a loan from the bank and had her last hope squelched by her family’s inability to help her financially. Hell, he’d had better days than this in prison.
“If we’re gettin’ hitched, I guess you’ll have to start callin’ me Gideon.”
Shocking him and maybe even herself, she jumped into his arms, hugging him around the neck. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”
He froze, holding her tight, feeling every inch of her down his body. Especially against his arousal. He wanted to kiss her so badly that his mind blanked for a moment.
Her loose inky-black hair slid over his wrists to the middle of her back. His face was buried in the silky, fragrant mass, his mouth so close to her neck that he could almost taste her. And he wanted to. He wanted to run his hands, his mouth all over her.
He should let go of her, but he couldn’t make himself.
She drew back to look at him. She must have seen the desire in his face because her eyes widened, yet she didn’t
pull away. All he had to do was dip his head to brush his lips against hers.
For a heartbeat, she went soft against him then pain etched her features. “Oh, my head,” she groaned.
He cursed. “It was the jumping.”
“Maybe so.” Her face was suddenly wan, her voice faint.
Still holding her, he walked into the house and eased her onto the couch. “What can I do? Get a headache powder? Will a cool rag help?”
“I think I just need to sit for a minute.”
Gideon went to the cupboard. Taking out a square of linen, he wet it with water from the pitcher covered with cheesecloth to keep out dirt and bugs.
Sitting beside her, he laid the damp cloth across her forehead.
“Thank you.” A faint smile traced her lips, but her eyes were still closed.
She looked so fragile. He wanted to settle her in his lap and just hold her.
So that he wouldn’t, he rose and walked to the window. “Want me to pull the shade?”
“That’s all right.”
Compelled to do something, he lowered the isinglass anyway. Though the light dimmed, Gideon could still see her just fine. He wasn’t leaving her like this. Not until some color came back into her cheeks.
After a moment, she opened her eyes, saying sheepishly, “Sorry.”
“Is it better?”
“It will be.”
“Do you still want to marry?”
“You haven’t changed your mind, have you?” Her expression alarmed, she sat straight up, wincing.
“No.” He closed the distance between them, holding up a hand. “Be still.”
“Okay,” she breathed in plain relief.
The soft smile she gave him sent his pulse into a jerky rhythm. Hell.
He returned to the end of the sofa. “When do you want to do this?”
“Now. The sooner, the better.”
“What about your head?” He didn’t like the idea of putting her in the wagon when she was in obvious pain.
“If I don’t feel better in a bit, we’ll put it off until tomorrow.”
He nodded. Her eyes opened slowly, thick dark lashes fanning her cheeks. One dainty hand went to the cloth on her forehead. He could still feel the burn of her fingers against the scar on his neck. She hadn’t acted as if she’d even noticed the ugly puckered flesh.
After a couple of minutes, her gaze cleared of pain. “I already feel better.”
He didn’t think they should go to town today, but he knew she wouldn’t settle inside until they did. “Sit tight and I’ll hitch up the wagon.”
“All right. Thank you.”
“Be right back.”
On his way out the door, she stopped him. “If you’d said no, I don’t know what I’d do. I know you don’t want to marry any more than I do.”
Maybe it hadn’t been his idea, but he was nowhere near as opposed to it as she was. Although when he’d vowed to stick close to her, he’d sure never imagined this.
Gideon could hardly take it in. Ivy was going to be his wife.
Wife.
The word stunned him like a kick to the gut.
His deal with her brother hadn’t touched on anything like marriage. He hadn’t accepted her proposal because he’d promised Smith he would protect her. Or because he wanted to keep her safe. Gideon had said yes because he wanted her.
* * *
Thank goodness he’d said yes. Ivy’s relief was overwhelming. If they found the preacher quickly enough, they could marry and make it to the bank before closing.
No one could’ve foreseen that she would need to marry, but Gideon hadn’t blinked. Not for the first time, she was glad Smith had sent his friend.
As they drove to town, the ache in her head dulled. Lush pasture and trees flashed by, broken occasionally by the small purple flowers hidden among the alfalfa. They entered Paladin, and she directed him to the white clapboard church.
After braking the wagon under a leafy oak, Gideon came around to help her down. Big hands wrapped around her waist, sending a jolt of sensation through her. Her gaze locked with his as he set her on her feet. His blue eyes were deep, intense, hot. Rattling her composure for a moment.
The man set off a flutter inside her entire body. Or maybe that was caused by her delight over being able to get the loan.
Across the way, the school yard was quiet, the children back inside after their noon break. The rest of Paladin hummed with voices as people conducted business, punctuated every so often by the ring of the blacksmith’s hammer against iron.
Reverend Simmons wasn’t at the church, so Ivy led Gideon to the pastor’s house situated behind the small building and up a slight rise.
Gideon’s knock on the door was answered by the preacher, Haywood Simmons. The slight man with his warm blue eyes and ever-present smile invited them inside.
Gideon palmed off his hat, looking serious and slightly uneasy. Was he having second thoughts? Ivy hoped not.
Anxious to get to the bank, she introduced the two men then explained to the reverend what they needed. A smile wreathed his ruddy face, his eyes twinkling.
He gave her a quick hug. “Congratulations, my dear. I had no idea you were considering remarriage.”
Turning to Gideon, he pumped his hand. “You’re new here.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And evidently smarter than most of the men in Paladin, if you’ve already seen how special our Ivy is.” Haywood gave her another squeeze. “I didn’t know anyone was courting you. Dot will be tickled.” He smiled at Gideon. “Dot’s my wife.”
The big man nodded, his expression still uncertain.
“I bet your family is happy. You’re much too young to remain a widow. How did y’all meet?”
“Gideon is a friend of my brother’s.” She hadn’t considered that people might take this for a love match. It didn’t matter. She and Gideon knew what it was. “Haywood, can you marry us now?”
He chuckled, sharing a conspiratorial look with Gideon. “Don’t want to waste time, eh?”
“No, sir,” her intended said quietly.
Did he think she should set the preacher straight? She didn’t care what the older man believed as long as they got on with it. “Haywood?”
“Yes, yes.” The older man’s bushy white brows drew together. “And who’s to stand up with the two of you?”
Oh, bother. Ivy didn’t want anyone standing up with her. Finding someone would only delay things.
Next to her, Gideon shifted. “I don’t know nobody—” He broke off, clearly frustrated. “Can’t you be the witness for us both?”
The preacher ran a hand through his shock of white hair. “I guess there’s nothing says I can’t.”
“Oh, good.” Ivy exhaled in relief, her patience stretching thin.
Her friend motioned at them. “Come into the parlor, then.”
They followed him into a room off to the side. On the back wall, white muslin curtains fluttered at the window, hanging over a raised oilskin shade. A small sofa and crocheted rug gave a cozy feel to the space. In one corner sat two chairs angled toward each other with a table between.
Reaching around the kerosene lamp there, Haywood picked up a Bible and motioned them over to stand in front of him.
Ivy’s stomach fluttered. She was really getting married after she’d sworn she never would again. But this would be nothing like her marriage to Tom. It certainly wouldn’t end the same.
As she replayed the night he died, a sudden frisson of guilt rippled through her. She pushed it away. No, her second marriage certainly wouldn’t end like her first one.
The preacher flipped through the Bible, glancing at Gideon. “Do you have a ring?”
“No, sir.” Looking taken
aback, his gaze shot to Ivy’s.
She hadn’t thought about a ring, either. She and Gideon were joining forces, not their hearts.
“That’s all right,” she said quickly. “I don’t need one.”
“Very well,” the preacher said. “Let’s begin.”
Beaming, he began to speak the words that would make them husband and wife. Ivy barely heard him.
This was so different from her first wedding. Back then, she’d been married in a fancy white dress that reflected her hope and anticipation for a bright future, which had ultimately disappointed.
Her sister-in-law, Caroline, had stood up with her back then, and Smith had stood with Tom. She and Tom had been a love match, though it hadn’t lasted long.
Today, she wore red calico. Tidy and practical. Just as her marriage to Gideon would be.
Reverend Simmons jolted her out of her thoughts when he firmly put her hand in Gideon’s. Her intended’s fingers closed over hers. His grip was gentle, but she felt it like a brand. Her pulse skipped.
She stared down at their joined hands. Hers was tiny next to his, pale against the sun-burnished darkness of his skin.
Haywood’s voice dimmed, and Ivy became increasingly aware of the man beside her. He exuded a leashed power, a barely contained intensity. Unwavering control.
She turned to face him, suddenly realizing that he had washed up before leaving the farm. My, he looked nice. His dark hair was slightly damp, and he wore a clean shirt and trousers. The sleeves of his blue work shirt were rolled back to reveal corded forearms dusted with dark hair. She caught a whiff of soap and leather.
Her gaze moved over his broad shoulders, his strong neck, finally meeting his blue eyes. The molten heat there disconcerted her, forcing her attention back to the ceremony. Soon, she would sign the loan papers and have the money to keep the farm going.
After the preacher said a few more words and a short prayer, he smiled at Gideon. “Young man, you may kiss your bride.”
Kiss? Ivy froze. She hadn’t considered that at all. From the shock on Gideon’s face, he hadn’t, either. She inwardly groaned. This was what she got for letting her friend believe she had feelings for Gideon.