by Jodi Thomas
It couldn’t be. Not this quickly.
She peered out the window and her heart dropped.
Major Delaney. He was looking at the buggy that was still hitched to the horses, at Seth’s horse.
Why? Why now?
She turned to Seth. “You have to hide.”
“Why?”
“Major Delaney is here.”
“I have no reason to hide. The war is over.”
“He wants your brother. He might . . .”
“Might what?”
“Try to hold you for some reason. To get to your brother.”
“I am not going to run.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“He’s dangerous.”
“He and your father are friends. So are you, I understand. I heard he’s calling on you.”
She ignored the contempt in his voice. “It could have been your brother who shot my father—”
“No,” he replied with such conviction that she stepped back. “He didn’t chase your buggy. Neither did any of his friends.”
“How do you know?”
A knock at the door turned into pounding, and she didn’t wait for an answer. “I have to go down,” she said. “He knows someone is here. The horses . . .”
He took a last look at her father. The man was still unconscious. His breathing was labored.
Then Seth started out the door.
She knew she couldn’t stop him.
She also knew what had happened the last time Delaney met a Sinclair.
A frisson of apprehension, of fear, darted down her spine.
He possibly had just saved her father.
Now she had to save him.
Chapter Nine
A QUICK GLIMPSE out the window had told Seth that the Yankee major was alone.
That was fortunate. More than fortunate from Seth’s point of view. It handed him a chance to weigh his opponent. The major was the cause of his father’s death, the loss of the Sinclair home and land, the labeling of his brother as an outlaw, and probably a great deal more. Seth relished the opportunity to meet him.
He led a reluctant Elizabeth to the door, standing beside her.
“Go into the other room,” she commanded.
“No,” he said again. “I’ve been wanting to meet him.”
“Please.”
“I haven’t done a damn thing wrong,” he said.
The pounding on the door increased. “Shouldn’t you open the door?” he asked. “If you don’t, I will.”
Her gaze met his. Worry reflected in her eyes. Worry for him.
“It’s all right,” he said gently. “I’ve been officially pardoned. I even have the papers. There’s nothing he can do.”
She reluctantly opened it.
A man in Union blue stood there, his fist upraised. Hostile curiosity flicked across his face when he saw Seth. The officer’s eyes weighed him, moving slowly from his face down to his Confederate uniform pants.
“You must be Sinclair,” he stated. From the tone of his voice, he might as well have said “rabid dog.” He took his gun from its holster and held it on Seth. “You are trespassing, Sinclair.”
Seth didn’t even look at the gun. “I’ve heard of you as well,” Seth managed in a pleasant voice.
Elizabeth broke in. “He’s not trespassing. I asked him in. He just saved my father’s life. He was here. You were not, nor have you provided any of the protection my father requested.” She paused, then demanded, “What are you doing here?”
Seth was astonished. According to Abe, she was being courted by the major. She and her father depended on his goodwill, yet she didn’t back away.
“Looks like you need to be doing a better job,” Seth said mildly.
Delaney’s hostile eyes held Seth’s. He was a bulky man with a ruddy face and a thin mouth. His uniform was impeccable, the cloth good and the fit even better. Nice goods to conceal bad sins. “I met Howie on the road,” Delaney said, his gaze returning to Elizabeth. “He told me your father had been shot. He went ahead for the doctor. I thought I’d better come right away. It looks like I was right.”
“As you can see, we are being well taken care of,” Elizabeth said, glancing at Seth.
“He’s a rebel,” Delaney shot back. “He is probably in league with his brother. Drat it, Elizabeth, he probably shot your father.”
“No,” she said. “He was with me. We took Marilee for a picnic.”
Pure rage crossed Delaney’s face. “He’s a traitor. If he didn’t shoot your father, then his brother did. Or his friends. You can be sure he knew about it. Anyway, he’s going with me for questioning.”
“Like hell I will,” Seth said. “Of course, you could shoot me here. In the back. I understand that’s your way of doing things. Unfortunately for you, there’s a witness this time.” It was a taunt. He saw Delaney’s fingers tighten on the handle of his pistol.
“If McGuire dies, it’s your kind who did it.”
“My kind?”
“A traitor,” Delaney repeated. “Just like your brother is a traitor.”
“But I’m not a profiteer.”
The gibe struck its mark. Delaney turned several darker shades of red, rage deepening into fury.
He visibly struggled to contain himself as he turned to Elizabeth. “I care about your father . . . and you. Thank God he is still alive. I promise you we will capture those responsible.”
Seth doubted his sudden concern was very convincing to her, especially since it had been secondary to his anger at seeing him here.
“If you are so concerned, then you might ride out to hurry the doctor,” she said sharply.
Neatly done, Seth thought.
“I want to see your father,” Delaney persisted. “I have questions to ask.”
“I don’t think he can answer any now. He needs his strength.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Delaney said. “He might have seen who shot him.” His gaze flickered back to Seth. “In fact, I demand to see him. This man might well have done something to finish the job. You are too trusting, Elizabeth.”
“I am not trusting at all,” she said. “Mr. Sinclair chased off some men trying to run my buggy off the road, and Mr. Sinclair took a bullet from my father’s shoulder. Where were you, Major, and the men my father has been requesting for protection?”
“I have a quarter of the state to patrol, Elizabeth,” Delaney said. Seth noticed that Delaney hadn’t even responded to the news that Elizabeth had been attacked—most likely because it wasn’t news to him.
“You brought us here. Now you’re leaving us to the mercy of outlaws. I’m beginning to wonder why.”
Seth was startled by her candor. Had she also started to question what was happening?
Delaney looked equally startled. “Now, Elizabeth, you know I would do anything for you and your father. I have troops out every day looking for those outlaws. That’s why I can’t keep them at any one ranch.” He nodded toward Seth. “This man is probably here to spy for them.”
“No,” Elizabeth said sharply. “He saved my life earlier, then my father’s. Arrest him for no reason, and I’ll go to your superiors. As far as I have to go. And you will not come any farther inside with that gun in your hand.”
Delaney glared at her, then slowly put his gun in his holster. He kept his hand on it.
“I came to ask you attend our regimental ball with me on Saturday,” he said with a forced smile.
“I cannot attend when my father is wounded,” she said. “But thank you.”
A muscle twitched in his neck. He was not, Seth thought, a man to be refused. An unexpected surge of satisfaction rushed through him. Despite what Abe had said, it was obvious by her cool reception that any feeling Delaney might have for Elizabeth was not reciprocated.
Why did he even care?
He mulled that over as Delaney glanced at him, then back at Elizabeth. Seth wondered whether he detected any of the attraction that ha
d darted between them.
If he had, he chose to ignore it for the moment. “I still insist on seeing your father,” Delaney said.
She reluctantly stepped aside. Delaney brushed by him as if he were an annoying fly and went to McGuire’s bedroom as if he belonged here, had been here often. Seth didn’t like the jealousy that roiled in his stomach as he followed Delaney and Elizabeth to her father’s room. He had no intention of leaving her alone with the man.
Seth entered behind Delaney. Perhaps McGuire’s death was exactly what Delaney wanted. Then he could claim the Sinclair land. And McGuire’s daughter. She would be alone then. Vulnerable.
Or would she be? She was obviously stronger than he’d first thought.
Delaney went to McGuire’s bedside.
“Michael,” he said.
No answer.
He turned to Elizabeth and Seth. “I would see him alone.”
“No,” Elizabeth said again, and in the same flat tone he had heard earlier.
“I don’t think you understand,” Delaney said. “This is official business.”
“Probably I am too simple to understand,” she replied in a dangerous tone.
Seth knew what was coming. He wondered whether Delaney did.
“But someone who loves him should be with him,” she added. “To protect him.” The words could not be mistaken for anything but a warning.
Delaney’s eyes narrowed. “Did he see anything?”
“No. He said his attackers wore masks.”
“Sinclair’s friends,” Delaney said. “One brother shoots. The other saves.”
Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Gratitude. Insinuating himself into your life so he can get back what he feels is his.”
“Is it?”
“Is it what?”
“His land?” Elizabeth asked.
Delaney gave her a quick glance. “Of course not. Your father paid for it. It’s yours.”
“Is it?” she asked again. “Certainly not if we can’t stop the rustling.”
“Talk to your newest friend about that.” Delaney’s voice was harsh. Then he looked at Michael McGuire in the bed.
Seth truly didn’t know if McGuire was awake or not. He found himself caring about him, which surprised him. He shouldn’t care about this carpetbagger, this usurper who had presumed to take his land.
But Elizabeth was an innocent in this, and he didn’t want her to feel the kind of pain that he knew only too well.
Seth leaned against the wall while Delaney tried to arouse McGuire with his voice. Then he started to reach down.
Elizabeth stopped the movement. “Don’t touch him!”
To Seth’s surprise, Delaney withdrew his hand. Retreated.
Elizabeth sat down next to her father. Felt his forehead, then held his hand. She looked up at Delaney defiantly. “He was bleeding badly. If it were not for Mr. Sinclair . . .”
Delaney frowned. “Dillon Sinclair was behind the shootings,” he insisted again. “Make no mistake, the Sinclairs want you gone.”
“I would want me gone as well, were I in their place,” Elizabeth sparred. “Yet he has twice saved me in as many days. Perhaps I’ve been trusting the wrong people.”
Delaney stood straight and faced Elizabeth and away from Seth. “Don’t be misled, Elizabeth. I’ve been a friend to your father. Without me—”
“Without you, the McGuires would probably have a great deal more cattle than they have now,” Seth broke in. “Tell me, what kind of price did you give them for the herd my father had ready for market?”
Delaney spun around, the gun back in his hand, but Seth was just as fast. His was there a fraction of a second faster. “I wouldn’t advise it,” he said softly.
“Threatening an officer is an offense,” Delaney said with satisfaction. “You’re under arrest.”
Elizabeth stood. “I didn’t see anything,” she said. Her eyes met Delaney’s. “I want you to go. Now.”
Delaney stared at her as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re upset, Elizabeth. You don’t know what you’re saying. This man is dangerous. I can’t leave you here alone with him.”
“I have been ‘alone’ with him, and I feel perfectly safe. A lot safer, in fact, than I do with him gone.”
“You heard the lady,” Seth said. His finger was on the trigger. He had sworn not to kill again after the war, but he was willing to make an exception with the man responsible for murdering his father and outlawing his brother. How many others had he killed?
“I’ll get you, Sinclair,” Delaney said. “Just like I’ll get your brother and his friends.”
“I won’t tell you again,” Seth said. “Get the hell out of here before my finger twitches on the trigger.”
Seth saw his eyes darken, his mouth clench in repressed fury.
He also realized his brother was right. Delaney was a dangerous man.
Delaney looked at Elizabeth, then back at him, at the gun pointed at him. “Get out of town, Sinclair. Next time I see you, you won’t be able to hide behind a woman’s skirt.”
“I hardly think I’m doing that, Delaney. And believe me I won’t be as unsuspecting as my father. I watch my back.”
“You’re a dead man.”
“A threat. In front of Miss McGuire at that. I would be more cautious, Delaney.”
The major looked like a coiled rattler poised to strike. His body radiated tension and fury. Both Seth’s gun and Elizabeth’s presence made that impossible.
Seth smiled at him. His Colt didn’t waver in his hand. He was inviting a rash action, hoping for it.
Delaney didn’t oblige. Instead he uttered a barely audible oath, whirled around, and left.
Elizabeth stood. “He will kill you. He will wait until you’re alone, then strike.”
“Worried about me?”
Her gaze met his. The answer was there, soft and trusting in her eyes. It didn’t have to be spoken.
“I thought you two were courting,” he said softly.
“He’s calling only because I’ve rebuffed his advances. He’s not a man to be thwarted.”
Seth suddenly regretted what he had just done. He had wanted to bait the man, to see what he was made of. He had also wanted to prod him into making a mistake. But in doing so, he might have put the McGuires—and his sister—in the line of fire. “He’s been thwarted now by a woman he wants in favor of a man he now hates,” he said. “That’s dangerous too.”
She shivered slightly, and he realized that she knew exactly what she had done.
He reached out and took her hand, closing his big one around it.
Dammit.
He leaned down, touched her lips, and then she seemed to float into his arms. The attraction that had flickered between them from the very beginning flared, its flames licking at every nerve in his body. He reveled in the softness of her body, the slight fragrance from her hair. God, it had been a long time. Such a damned long time since he had touched anyone with gentleness.
His lips explored hers, and he had to force himself not to crush them against hers. Instead, he brushed her cheeks with kisses, feasting on the touch and feel of her, allowing her to get used to him.
There was a wistful vulnerability about her that diminished all his defenses. He wanted her. He wanted to take off her clothes and feel her body under him. Most of all, he wanted to wake up to that wondrous smile she had. . . .
“Liz?”
They both turned at the same time.
His sister stood there, an uncertain look on her face, the puppy contentedly sleeping in her arms. “I . . . I wanted to see Poppy,” she said uncertainly.
Seth took a step backward. God, he hurt inside. Desire was a clawing thing inside him.
Elizabeth looked as dazed as he felt.
Nonetheless, she knelt and gave Marilee the sweetest smile he thought he’d ever seen. “He’s going to be fine, love,” she said softly. “Just fine.”
“Promis
e?”
“I promise,” she said.
He watched them together and felt a tightening in his heart. Love stretched between them.
He was excluded.
How could he take his sister away from Elizabeth or, for that matter, Elizabeth from Marilee?
He could marry her, but why would she want a penniless rebel who’d lost his soul during four long bloody years in the hell of war? How could he even entertain the idea when he had nothing to offer but himself?
And he had just made himself a target for the federal authorities.
Chapter Ten
STILL DAZED BY the kiss interrupted by Marilee, Elizabeth hugged the child.
As Elizabeth fought to bring sense back to her life, she looked into Seth’s blue eyes. It was a mistake.
She found herself swirling in the currents there. Desire. Need. Reluctance.
She was warmed through to her toes. Every nerve ending tingled. She’d never known what the word desire meant before. Now she did.
An ache lodged in the core of her, a craving, a longing that was new to her. It was as if the world had caught fire and she’d been swept into its center.
She had never felt desired before. Had never considered herself desirable.
He might desire her, but he didn’t want her. Or at best he didn’t want to want her.
He did desire her. Need was in his eyes, in the tense set of his body, in the way he had touched her. Kissed her.
The sounds of a buggy rolling to a stop jerked her out of the daze.
She forced her legs to carry her to the window.
The doctor.
That snapped her out of the daze. How could she have stood here, kissing a man, while her father lay ill, possibly dying?
Because she had just realized how precious life was?
She looked toward her father. He was still. Thank God. When he woke he would be in immense pain.
“The doctor,” she told Seth, who was still standing there. Watching her. She brushed by him without another word.
She greeted the doctor and led him to her father. After taking off the bandages and examining the wound, Dr. Pearson looked up from the patient. “Couldn’t have done better myself,” he said. “Give him some of that laudanum I gave him a few months back. If there’s fever, call me.”