Julianne MacLean

by Prairie Bride

  “Back to see George. I want a lawyer’s advice, and I want it now.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Drenched to the core with cold rain, Sarah and Briggs pulled into George’s yard. They had not spoken a word since Briggs turned the wagon around. Sarah felt the tension surrounding her shivering body like a cloak of ice.

  Without waiting for Briggs to assist her, she climbed down and hurried toward the front door to escape the downpour. Her arm ached with every move she made, but the ache in her heart was more painful by a long shot.

  She pulled the front door open, and shivering, entered the warm, dry house. George walked into the foyer. “Sarah, you’re soaked. Come in by the fire.” He led her into the kitchen. “Where’s Briggs?”

  The front door squeaked open and she heard her husband’s boots tap against the step. George immediately went to meet him. “What’s wrong with you?” he demanded. “Sarah could have caught her death out there.”

  As much as she could tell from the kitchen, Briggs didn’t answer. She wondered if he even cared. He walked into the room and didn’t waste a single moment on civilities. “George, we have a legal problem and we need your help.”

  George followed behind Briggs and gave Sarah a questioning glance. “Maybe we should go into the parlor.”

  Briggs gestured for Sarah to lead the way. She went in and sat on the sofa in front of the window, but the two brothers stood.

  “I suppose you should be the one to explain it,” Briggs said. “You know what happened better than I do.”

  She hesitated, wondering how she would ever get through this. Her stomach felt like it was bleeding fire. “It’s something very private, I’m afraid.”

  George removed his spectacles.

  “I have a problem—we have a problem,” she said softly.

  “You have my utmost discretion,” George assured her.

  “Thank you.” This was proving more difficult than she had expected. She kept her eyes lowered. “I—I made a mistake before I married Briggs and now I’m afraid it’s going to ruin everything.”

  “What kind of mistake?”

  She stood and walked to the fireplace, staring numbly at the empty white china vase on the mantel. How could she say this to George, her brother-in-law, who had always made her feel so welcome? But if she was going to set things right with her husband, she had to find a way.

  Closing her eyes, she began. “I was involved with another man before Briggs and I were married, and the involvement progressed to the point of—” Hearing Briggs clear his throat, she stopped, unable to go on.

  Sarah tried to find the right words, but gave up, deciding there was no respectable way to put it. “I married him.”

  She heard George whistle in shock. “You’re divorced?”

  “No, George. That’s the problem. I’m not divorced.”

  She faced the two brothers. George merely stared, his mouth open. Briggs stood in angry silence.

  “Sarah, I don’t understand,” George said.

  “I didn’t get the divorce because I never believed my first marriage was legal. I still don’t, but I’m not certain. If only I’d had the courage to seek legal advice right away, but I was afraid I’d be arrested.”

  George stopped pacing and shot her a horrified look. “Arrested! Why?”

  “Because he—he already had a wife.”

  George sank into the rocking chair by the fireplace and rested his forehead in his hand. “My God. This is unbelievable. You mean he never divorced his first wife before marrying you?”

  “No.”

  “And he wasn’t a widower?”

  “No.”

  “You’re telling me you married a bigamist?”

  “Yes.”

  He buried his forehead in his hand again. “Briggs knew nothing of this?”

  She gazed apologetically at her husband.

  “I knew nothing about it until today,” Briggs said, his voice flat.

  “At first I didn’t tell him because I was ashamed and afraid he would turn me away. I had no idea what I was getting into when I met Garrison. He was charming in the beginning, then he turned cruel. I had to escape the marriage.” Sarah was desperate to salvage what was left of George’s opinion of her. “I had no idea he was already married, and now he’s followed me to Dodge and wants me back. I’m afraid of what he might do if I don’t do what he wants. He told me he’d never let me go, and now he knows I’m married to Briggs. You should have seen the way he looked today when I told him I didn’t love him. It was as if I’d plunged a knife into his chest.”

  George sat forward. “He’s here? You spoke to him? Did anyone see you?”

  Briggs finally spoke up. “George, you’re missing the point. Are any of her marriages legal?”

  His detached tone made Sarah shudder inwardly.

  George scratched his head. “I’m not sure.”

  “What do you mean, you’re not sure?” Briggs shouted. “You’re a lawyer.”

  “I don’t know everything! Bigamy law isn’t my expertise. I’ve never dealt with it before. I’ll have to look it up.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “I’m not sure. If I don’t have the information in my library, I may have to wire a colleague.”

  “Wonderful,” Briggs whispered, heading for the door.

  “Where are you going?” Sarah asked, feeling the remaining fragments of courage rush out of her.

  Without looking back, he replied, “For a walk.”

  “Can I come with you? We could talk about this.”

  “I want to be alone.” He walked out and slammed the door behind him.

  Briggs sloshed through the mud in town, hardly aware of how deeply he was sinking. The rain had stopped, but the dark-gray sky prevailed. He could still smell moisture in the air, feel its coolness on his skin.

  Looking up at a passing cowboy atop an impressive black horse, Briggs realized with some despair that he’d walked all the way from George’s house, stepped up onto a boardwalk and couldn’t remember anything he’d seen along the way. His head was pounding with tension, his muscles stiff. It pained him to remember the nights he’d spent with Sarah when she had been hiding a part of herself and keeping secrets. Why hadn’t she trusted him enough to tell him? Had he been that much of an ogre in the beginning?

  He supposed with some regret that he had.

  Just then, someone called his name. That voice. That singsong voice…

  “Briggs? Is that you?”

  He stopped dead on the boardwalk. His heart leaped into his throat, and he wanted to thrash it for doing so. Slowly turning, he did his best to appear relaxed. “Hello, Isabelle.”

  She smiled and moved toward him. Hesitantly, he did the same, staring, trying to think of something other than the fact that they had once been engaged.

  “Hello, Briggs. It’s wonderful to see you.”

  “You, too,” he replied, working hard to hide the turmoil in his throbbing head.

  “I heard you were married last month. I had no idea it would make you even more handsome than you already were.”

  He looked around, wondering how many gossips were feeding on this. “Her name is Sarah.”

  “I know. George told me. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.”

  The twinkle in her blue eyes slowly disappeared. “I suppose he told you about my—” she paused, then whispered “—my situation.”

  Briggs nodded. “Yes. I was sorry to hear it.”

  “And I was sorry that…” She stopped herself, and his desire to hear her finish was disturbing, to say the least. He swallowed the urge to prompt her on, but she did so anyway. “I was sorry that I left without saying goodbye to you.”

  Briggs tore his gaze away from her face and stared over her head at nothing in particular. “It’s in the past now.”

  “I hope you don’t have any hard feelings toward me, Briggs.”

  “Of course not. Like I said, it’s in the p
ast.”

  “Yes, you’re right. So much has happened since then. I’m glad you were able to get on with your life.”

  He thought he heard her voice quaver. What would he do if she began to weep here in the street? He stared down at his boots, refusing to acknowledge it if it was happening.

  “What’s she like? George told me she was the exact opposite of me. Dark hair, dark eyes, rather short.”

  “She is a tiny little thing, yes,” Briggs said, wishing she was here.

  “You must be happy, then, Briggs. Is she everything you’ve always wanted?”

  He stood for a moment, pondering that question, realizing Sarah was not what he’d always wanted. Until recently, Isabelle had held that position. “She’s what I want now,” he answered truthfully.

  Isabelle’s smile faded. “I do hope we can be friends.”

  “Of course.”

  Her eyes darted to something in the street. Briggs turned to see George approaching in his buggy with Sarah beside him.

  “That’s your wife, is it?” Isabelle asked.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Then I must go. I wouldn’t want her to catch us together.”

  He turned to tell her to stay and be introduced, but she was already walking away. He stared after her, watching that familiar gait.

  He turned again, back toward George and Sarah. The buggy pulled up alongside the boardwalk. “What are you two doing here?”

  Neither one answered. George stared at him, his lips pressed into a tight line. Briggs looked back to see Isabelle disappear around a corner and realized uneasily that Sarah was watching her, too.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Briggs stared into his wife’s dark, wounded eyes and chastised himself for feeling the urge to explain himself. He’d done nothing wrong.

  George jumped down from the buggy. “Sarah needed some fresh air so we thought we’d go for a drive and look for you.” He frowned with disapproval, then spoke to Sarah. “I’ll head over to the office now. Briggs will drive you home.”

  Slowly, not knowing what to expect, Briggs walked toward her and climbed into the driver’s seat. Without a word, he flicked the reins and turned them around. His palms were clammy and it irritated him that he should feel so guilty about a simple conversation. It wasn’t as if his wife hadn’t done the same thing less than an hour ago, with far worse implications….

  A few minutes later, they pulled up in front of George’s house. Briggs set the brake and hopped down. Sarah didn’t wait for him to come around and help her. She began to climb out by herself, wincing at the pain in her arm.

  “Wait,” he said, hurrying around the horse. “Let me help you.”

  He wrapped his hands around her tiny waist and gently lowered her to the ground. She looked up into his eyes as if asking a question.

  “It was a chance meeting,” he said, his hands still gripping her waist. “I didn’t plan it.”

  He saw the hurt lingering in her eyes just before she turned and walked toward the house.

  “Sarah, wait.”

  She climbed the steps. “You don’t have to explain. I believe you.” She let the door snap shut behind her. Briggs whipped it open, following.

  “Just listen, please? I bumped into her. It couldn’t have been helped.”

  Sarah went into the kitchen, poured water into the teakettle and set it on the stove.

  “I wanted to introduce you, but she walked away before I got the chance.”

  Saying nothing, Sarah set a china cup on the small pine table, then went looking for the sugar bowl.

  Briggs couldn’t take it anymore. He reached out, grabbed her around the waist, and whirled her to face him. “Sarah, you have to believe me—I don’t want Isabelle. Anything I might have felt for her is long dead.”

  Eyes wide with shock, she stared up at him and nodded.

  He pulled her into him, felt her soft, heaving breasts flatten against his abdomen, and suddenly wondered why he was the one trying to explain himself when she was the one who had been married to two men in the same month.

  But none of this made sense, he realized, feeling his body grow warm with an insurmountable need for her. The only thing that mattered was that she was his now. She belonged to him and he to her. He wanted no one else, and if he had anything to say about it, no man would ever touch her again.

  He dropped his mouth to hers and felt her lips part with longing. Their fiery heat turned his muscles to liquid.

  She would not go back to Garrison. She would not.

  Her hands slid inside his coat…he had to get it off….

  Tearing it from his body, he dropped it onto the wood floor. He scooped Sarah into his arms and carried her up the stairs, taking two at a time while she clutched at his neck, kissing his cheek and whispering his name. He kicked the bedroom door open with his boot. It slammed and bounced off the inside wall.

  He carried her to the bed and gently laid her down. Her bodice—it had to come off. One button, two buttons…his fingers trembled uncontrollably, and he felt an odd mixture of desire and a disturbing, confusing impulse to weep.

  Trying to ignore his jumbled emotions and concentrate on what he was doing, he tugged at her corset hooks and slid her chemise off her shoulders until her beautiful breasts were bare and calling to him. She pulled his head down and he took what he could into his hungry mouth, more than willing to give her as much pleasure as he was capable of giving.

  At her urging, he ripped his own shirt from his body, kicked off his boots and pulled off his trousers.

  As he came down upon her, she whispered, “I need you so much, Briggs….”

  With one swift thrust of his hips, he entered her. Heavy rain pelted the roof over their heads, roaring steadily.

  They moved together, Sarah digging her nails into his back, while Briggs raised himself up on his arms to look down at her—her face so exquisitely beautiful in the murky light of the afternoon rain. Soon she reached her peak and cried out as lightning flashed in the window. Clenching his jaw, Briggs felt his seed explode into her.

  For a moment, he could not breathe. All he wanted was to remain here in this bed forever while time stood still around them.

  But time would not stand still, he knew with regret. Life didn’t work that way. There was so much left to resolve between them, so many secrets he needed to understand. How long would that take? he wondered, breathing deeply and feeling Sarah also take a deep breath beneath him. His heart tugged painfully and he hugged her in his arms, then wondered when he would ever feel certain of anything again.

  With that old familiar urge to protect himself, Briggs rolled off her and sat up. Damp air chilled his skin and he shivered. He could barely speak. What was the right thing to say?

  “I have to go,” was all he could come up with. It was all he could ever come up with.

  He dropped his feet to the floor and pulled on his trousers, then his shirt.

  Sarah reached for the quilt to cover herself. “Where are you going?”

  “Nowhere. Just downstairs. I need to think about things.” He touched her on the forehead, gently brushed her hair away from her eyes with his thumb, then walked out of the room to leave his wife to dress alone.

  As the lace curtain billowed inward from the open window, a rain-scented breeze blew inside the bed-chamber where Sarah lay on the bed, clutching the quilt at her neck and knowing in anguish that Briggs had needed to be away from her.

  What had just happened? she wondered hopelessly—and in the middle of the afternoon, no less? But after seeing Briggs with Isabelle, the idea of losing him made her need him more than ever. The desire to touch him and be touched by him had been overpowering. She simply had to have him.

  That was her motivation. In a way, she needed to stake her claim. What was his? He’d pulled her against him with all the force of a winter gale, and she’d seen the arousal in his green eyes. He, too, had wanted her in a way that was different from the other times in their sod house.
Why? Had he closed his eyes and imagined he was with Isabelle?

  That thought sent a hot current of jealousy through her and she had to force herself to banish it from her heart.

  Suddenly aware of the excruciating pain in her arm, she rose from the bed and clumsily buttoned her shirt with one hand. She hobbled to the window and pulled it closed, shutting out the noisy rain, then she stood in front of the mirror and straightened her tousled hair and wrinkled bodice.

  Sarah jumped at the sound of the front door opening. Was Briggs leaving the house? she wondered anxiously. Gathering her skirt in her fist, determined to stop him, she charged out of the room, only to look down from the top stair and see George hanging his overcoat on the hook behind the door.

  He looked up and removed his fogged spectacles. “Sarah, are you all right? Your cheeks are flushed.”

  Embarrassed, she touched each of them with her good hand. “I’m fine. I was just resting.” She started down the stairs. “Did you learn anything about the marriage?”

  Briggs appeared from the kitchen, holding a cup of water in his hand. Sarah stopped halfway down the stairs, but he did not look up at her. “What did you find out?” he asked.

  George folded his spectacles and slid them into his breast pocket. “Why don’t we go into the kitchen?”

  All three of them went in, and Sarah sat at the table. Pockets of dread burst like spasms under the surface of her skin. All she could do was grit her teeth and prepare herself for the worst. “Please tell us, George. I can’t stand this any longer.”

  He stood just inside the door, looking down at her, his hands cupped in front of him as if he were about to recite the Lord’s Prayer. “Well, you’re married. There’s no question there.”

  “To whom?” she whispered.

  George nodded at his brother. “To Briggs.”

  Sarah leaned back in the chair. “Oh, thank God.”

  “But there’s more.”

  “More?”

  “Yes. I think Briggs should sit down.”

  Briggs set his cup on the table and sat down across from her, never once making eye contact.