Cautiously she made her way across the room until she encountered the desk. She located the lamp, then felt around until she found the matches. Once the lamp was lit, a sense of exhilaration settled over her. She was so close.
She glided behind Wesley’s desk and carefully tried all the drawers. Locked. But she’d come prepared. She withdrew a sharp kitchen knife from her skirt pocket and inserted it in the top seam of the top middle drawer and began working the knife back and forth.
She had no idea where the blasted notes were, and she’d never forced open a drawer before, but she refused to be discouraged. She’d do it. She had to. Suddenly there was the slight crackling noise of wood splintering, then a click. Eagerly she pulled the drawer open and searched. No notes. Bitter disappointment swept through her.
God, please let me find them.
She turned to the side drawers and repeated the process on the top two drawers without any luck.
But the bottom side drawer yielded bounty — a ledger. There’d been whispers around town about a ledger that Wesley was desperate to find. Could this be it? Perhaps if she couldn’t find the notes, she could take the ledger and use it to force Wesley to give her the notes. She pulled the book from its safe resting place and thumbed through it. Numbers, dates, names, none of it meant anything to her, but perhaps — The notes! Miraculously the pages had parted to the center to reveal her father’s notes.
Anna closed her eyes and said a prayer of thanks.
She counted the notes to make sure they were all there, then placed them back in the ledger and closed it. She’d take the ledger and look it over later when she had the chance.
She turned the lamp’s key until the light was extinguished and tiptoed out of the study.
It was over. At last, it was over.
She stepped out onto the porch, drew in a deep breath of fresh air, and closed the front door behind her.
Wes sat straight up in bed. Had he just heard a door shut? He slid off the bed, reaching for his gun, and moved silently to the door leading to the hall. Downstairs, he searched every room, lighting lamps as he went. Nothing.
He walked into the study and paused in the darkness. A faint smell of lilacs seemed to hang in the air.
God, my imagination needs a rest. First Anna in his bedroom, now in his study.
He put a match to the lamp’s wick. Christ. His desk had been broken into. The bottom side drawer stood open. Empty.
Wes sank into the chair, feeling sick.
Damn you, Sloan Lassiter.
Anna had almost reached the emporium when she heard the hoofbeats. Fear washed the warmth from her body. If Wesley caught her, he mustn’t find the notes and the ledger.
Quickly she looked around. Just off the path was a broken-down wagon sitting on its axles. The wheels were gone and weeds grew up around it. The wagon had been in that exact spot for as long as she could remember. She lifted up the seat, thrust the ledger into the box beneath, and closed it.
By the time she reached the safety of her back door, all she could hear was the hammering of her heart. She paused and searched in the darkness for the horse she had heard. She could see no one.
“I can’t believe Lassiter managed to steal that ledger back,” Mahoney said as he walked out the door of Wes’s office. “He seemed dead to the world when I was in his room last night.”
Wes joined him on the boardwalk. As usual on a Saturday afternoon, Main Street was clogged with buck- boards and riders, and dust and noise filled the air. “Maybe it wasn't Sloan. Maybe it was Brianne. But it doesn’t matter who it was. We’re going to get that damned ledger back once and for all and then we’re going to make Sloan sorry he ever thought of tangling with me.”
“What d’ya want me to do?”
“Find the — ” He broke off as he caught sight of Anna coming out of the emporium across the street. She smiled at two ladies who passed, then began sweeping down the boardwalk. She exchanged greetings with various people, but not once did she so much as glance his way. How could she not be interested in whether or not he was at his office, he wondered half angrily. They had shared passion that few people ever knew. She was carrying his baby as a result of that passion.
Why didn’t she look at him, dammit!
Why the hell hadn’t she come to him on Thursday night?
Could it be that she had managed somehow to shut herself off in a world apart from him? How could she do that? God. She didn’t even have to be close for him to think of her. Just last night … He stiffened with shock as his gaze narrowed on Anna’s face.
Lilacs.
A hand covered her mouth. Anna awoke instantly to darkness and terror.
A figure was beside her bed, looming over her, his hard hand suffocating her. A scream pushed up from her chest but was trapped in her throat. Her heart slammed against her ribs.
“Stop struggling.”
At the sound of the low, harsh voice, she went limp. Wesley.
Slowly he eased the pressure of his hand. “I want the notes. Where are the notes?”
“What are you doing?” she whispered, frantic. “Papa will hear — ”
“Do you think I care anymore?”
“For God’s sake, be quiet.” Lord, she had thought it was over. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a dream. “I don’t know what you’re doing here,” she whispered. “But whatever it is, we can talk about it tomorrow.”
“The notes, Anna. Where are the notes?”
She couldn’t give them up. She couldn’t. And somehow she had to get him out of there before her father woke up.
“Wesley, go home.”
“The notes and the ledger.”
So the ledger was important. Now she had something with which to fight him.
“Anna,” he whispered. “Do you want your father to know you’re carrying my child?”
Oh, God. She closed her eyes as a wave of pure fear washed over her. Somehow he’d figured out that she was pregnant. What was she going to do?
“Anna?”
“You really wouldn’t tell him, would you?”
“Try me.” His hand closed around her arm and he pulled her upright. “Get up and put on your robe and slippers.”
She had no choice but to do as he said, she thought dully. His knowledge of her pregnancy gave him yet another weapon to hold over her. And soon he would have the notes back too.
While she was slipping into her robe, he asked, “Where did you hide them? In here?”
She shook her head and pointed toward the window. She stepped into her slippers, then turned to him. “Be as quiet as you can. Please. ”
“Why? Your father’s going to know sooner or later. Haven’t you figured that out yet, Anna?”
“No, he doesn’t have to — ” She broke off. “This is no time to discuss it.” She moved toward the door.
The night was surprisingly warm for this time of the year, but Anna felt cold and miserable. Silently she led the way to the wagon and indicated the box beneath the seat.
Quickly Wes retrieved the ledger and checked to make sure the notes were in it. Then he turned to face her. “Why did you take the ledger?”
“For the same reason you took my father's notes.”
With directness she met his gaze. “I wanted to destroy you before you had a chance to destroy me.”
A look of shock crossed his face; then a bittersweet smile curved his lips. “You’ll have to get more experience in the business of destruction, Anna. You’re sure as hell not very good at it.” He wheeled abruptly away. “Let 's go.”
Anna turned to retrace her steps along the path, but about halfway to the emporium, Wes grasped her arm. “No, this way.”
“What?” Anna looked around, confused. He was leading her toward the woods. “Wesley — ”
“There’s no need to worry,” he said mockingly. “I’m not going to take you back to the glade. We’re going to Moran.”
“Moran?” She remembered that Moran was a town sever
al miles west of Chango. Bewildered and frightened, she dug in her heels and jerked her arm out of his grasp. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Yes, you are. I checked around and found out that the traveling preacher is in Moran right now.” He paused, and in the moonlight his face appeared fierce and stern. “We’re going to be married tonight.”
Panic struck at her like a cold blast of wind. “No!”
“Don't fight me on this, Anna.”
Her hands tightened into fists. “I’ll never stop fighting you.”
“Maybe not, but you're pregnant with my baby. You have no choice but to marry me.” He paused. “Unless you plan to get rid of it.”
“I — ” She swallowed hard and felt pain. “Do you think I didn’t think about it? I couldn’t … ”
Cold horror washed through Wes as he stared at her for a long moment. For Anna to actually have considered taking the life of a child growing inside her, she must have felt driven, desperate. He had done this to her. When he finally spoke, his words were soft but implacable. “Anna, even my name is better than no name at all.”
She lowered her head, defeated, then she slowly nodded.
He lifted her into the saddle in front of him so that she was sitting across his thighs, and he kicked the horse into a fast-paced run. She grabbed for the saddle horn with both hands. His arms held her close, and his strong chest was at her back. Against the wind they raced through the dark night.
The town of Moran was asleep, but that didn't bother Wes. At the livery stable he pounded on the door until an old man appeared. “Yeah?”
“I hear there’s a preacher in this town. Where is he?”
The old man's sleep-filled eyes widened with outrage. “How the hell should I know? Do you know what time it is?”
Wes fixed him with a steely stare. “I’m going to ask you one more time. Where is the preacher?”
The old man shifted uneasily. “He stays at the Fairgates when he’s in town,” he mumbled, “but I’d try the saloon if I were you.”
Wes nodded. “Have a fresh horse ready for me in about thirty minutes and take care of this one.”
He walked back and lifted Anna down from the horse. Her bare feet touched the ground, and suddenly her knees gave way. With an exclamation he swept her into his arms. “Where the hell are your slippers?”
“They fell off.” Her head dropped to his shoulder. “Wesley, I can’t appear before a preacher looking like this. I’m wearing a gown and a robe, for heaven’s sake, and my hair — ”
“Looks fine,” he said in a voice low as a growl, “and don’t worry about what the preacher’s going to think. If he’s at the saloon this time of night, he may not be thinking much at all.”
Her first impulse was to try to put some order to the long gold, tangled length of her hair. Then she changed her mind. Why bother, she wondered wearily.
She was about to be married, something every woman dreams of from the time she is very young. But her wedding would not be as other women’s. Her wedding would be taking place in the secret of the night. Perhaps even in a saloon. Her bridegroom was a man who did not love her. And she would stand beside him, barefoot, in an old nightgown and robe, with knotted and tangled hair.
Wes used his back to push open the doors of the saloon. Smoke hazed the air, stinging Anna’s eyes, and the pungent smell of liquor and cigarettes made her feel queasy. She turned her face into his chest.
Just for a moment his arms tightened around her. Then he set her on her feet.
“Is the preacher here?” Wes asked in a loud voice. All eyes turned toward the two of them. The laughter and the talk died away.
In the center of the room a poker game was in progress. One man was passed out in the corner. At the bar a bleary-eyed bartender was pouring drinks for a heavily powdered woman dressed in red.
The woman pointed to the tall, gangly man next to her. “This here’s the preacher.”
The man she had indicated reached for his glass and took a deep swig of whiskey.
Wes crossed the room with long strides, grasped the man by the shoulder, and spun him around so fast, most of the remaining whiskey in the glass he was holding sloshed onto the sawdust of the floor. “Are you?”
The man straightened and looked at Wes with indignation. “I’m Reverend Ezekiel Thomas.”
“I’m Wes McCord, and” — he indicated Anna with a nod of his head — “she’s Anna Nilsen. I want you to marry’ us.”
“Tomorrow, in the church — ”
“Now. Here.”
“I’m otherwise engaged.” The reverend threw a crooked smile at the bar girl, who responded by suggestively rubbing her full breasts against his arm. Thomas was reaching for her when Wes pulled out a wad of money and peeled off several bills.
Thomas paused and raised a bushy black brow.
“Well, I think I could be persuaded. … ” He took the money and pushed himself away from the bar. “The bride?”
Wes held up his hand and motioned for Anna to join them.
I can’t do this, she thought with sudden panic. Yet she found herself taking a step forward. And another. Then she stopped. A burst of drunken laughter sounded in the background. Smoke curled around her, cutting off her air. Suddenly Wes was there beside her, his gaze concerned. He rubbed her hand between both of his. I can’t feel anything, she thought. He put his arm around her and led her to the bar.
“Join hands,” the preacher said, his breath strong with whiskey, the woman in red hanging on to him as if she were a colorful, obscene growth. He smiled at the woman, then glanced at Anna. “Do you take this man?”
I can’t say it.
Wes gently squeezed her hand. “Anna,” he murmured.
“Yes,” she said.
“Do you take this woman?” the preacher asked Wes.
“Yes.”
“Put the ring on her finger.”
A startled look crossed Wes's face, but he recovered quickly and pulled a signet ring off his finger. Lifting her left hand, he slipped it on the third finger. The big ring hung loosely on her slender finger.
It’s not going to stay on, she thought numbly.
“You’re married.” Reverend Thomas turned his attention to the saloon hall woman’s voluptuous figure. One hand fastened onto her breast, the other skimmed its way under the red skirt.
I’m going to be sick, Anna thought.
“Not so fast, preacher man,” Wes snapped, tapping Thomas on the shoulder. “I want our marriage certificate.”
“Dammit, I’d have to get my saddlebag.” Irritated, Thomas angled his head around. As soon as he met Wes's gaze, he disentangled himself from the woman. “Be glad to.”
The old man at the livery stable had given him a good horse, Wes thought with satisfaction. The bay was covering the distance back to Chango with long, clean strides, and they would easily reach town by dawn.
Christ, the ride had been hard on Anna. She was lying slumped back against him, her lashes shadowing her cheeks like dark bruises. She hadn’t uttered a word since she’d murmured “yes” in the saloon. He wondered if she was asleep.
With a naturalness that took him by surprise, he slid his hand down over her stomach.
Mine.
Where had that thought come from? And had he been thinking of the child or of her?
The child. The child was his, with the same blood running in his veins, and now with the same name.
Anna. She’d never been his, and the few terse words they had spoken didn’t change that fact. Anna was something he had stolen, taken, and was surely more remote from him now than she'd ever been before.
No, it must be the child who was causing this strong, warm river of emotion flowing through him. His palm moved gently, caressingly, over Anna’s abdomen. Soon there would be the stirring of life there, a life they had created together. The thought was wonderfully amazing to him.
Creation …
The sky was beginning to lighten with the new dawn when
Wes carefully lifted Anna down from the horse.
She blinked sleepily. “Where are we?”
“You’re back home.”
“Home?” She turned to see that they were behind the emporium. Confused, she looked back at Wes.
He swung into the saddle and rode away, without a word, without a backward glance.
Chapter 8
When Anna awoke, sunlight was streaming through her window. Disoriented, she rolled over on her back and gazed around her. She had a vague memory of her father shaking her shoulder and asking her if she was all right. That had been sometime earlier, she realized dazedly. She’d fallen back into so deep a sleep that now she felt drugged.
Had last night really happened?
Yes, amazingly it had. Wesley had married her and given her his name. Then he had left her at her father’s home, as if she were an unwanted package, and ridden away. Obviously he had felt he had done his duty by her.
What a strange man he was, full of moods she was certain she would never understand and mysteries she would never solve. Time was simply not on her side, as they would soon be going their separate ways. But it was just as well. She wasn't sure she wanted to solve those mysteries anyway. She’d always loved the sunlight, and he was such a dark man.
She raised her left hand and looked at his gold signet ring, her wedding ring. She was vaguely surprised that it hadn’t fallen off on the ride back to Chango. Now she slipped it off her finger and cradled it in her palm. The ring was like Wesley, strong, bold.
She suddenly pushed back the covers and got out of bed. Her father would already be back from church by this time and down in the store working on the inventory. She should go help him, but she didn't want to face his questions right now. She walked across the room to gaze out the window. A beautiful spring day with a robin’s-egg-blue sky greeted her. Abruptly she turned away from the window and began to dress. For once Papa could take care of the inventory alone. She needed time to gather herself together, a time free of strife and deceptions.
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