Justin's Bride (17 page)

He leaned over toward her. “Thank you for making them accept her,” he whispered, ducking to avoid being slapped by her ridiculous feather-covered hat. “I don't suppose you'd tell me why?”

She gave him a knowing smile and patted Bonnie's shoulder. “I always said you were handsome as sin, Justin Kincaid. I might be old enough to be your grandmother, but I'm not dead or blind. Besides, I like the child. Now, hush and pay attention to the preaching.”

By the time the sermon ended, Justin's legs were cramped and his back ached from the uncomfortable pew. “No chance of falling asleep here, is there?”

Mrs. Dobson laughed. “No, Gene wouldn't like that one bit.” She rose and tapped her foot impatiently. “Hurry up, Justin, we've got a social to get to. You're the guest of honor, you shouldn't be late.”

He stood up and waited in the center aisle. People flowed around him, some giving him greetings, others simply smiling politely, but no one daring to ignore him or Bonnie. Not while they were under the protection of the formidable widow.

Mrs. Dobson moved past him to speak to one of her friends. He waited until Megan made her way to the center aisle.

“Good morning,” he said.

Megan mumbled something he couldn't hear, then ducked her head. He saw the faint blush on her cheek. Only when he noticed her biting her lower lip did he realize the reason for her shyness.

Today she looked different than she had just a few nights before. Her blond hair was pulled up into an elaborate coiffure, with a small straw and ribbon hat perched on her crown. Her pink silk dress outlined her curves enough to help him remember what he'd seen, touched and tasted. As if he could forget. He didn't even have to close his eyes to recall exactly what had happened between them, and how much more he'd wanted. This morning she was every inch the respectable lady. He missed the mussed young woman more than he would have imagined. He missed her easy smile and teasing, he missed the sense that she was approachable. This Megan Bartlett was as remote as her sister.

He glanced down the center aisle to the entrance of the church. Gene Estes and his wife stood greeting parishioners. Colleen was in an overstarched green dress that looked stiff enough to hold up a building. Her tightly pursed lips and military posture made him shudder. Perhaps he'd been hasty in comparing Megan to her sister.

“What are you smiling about?” Megan asked.

“The fact that you don't look much like Colleen anymore. There was a time people had trouble telling you two apart.”

“You always knew.”

He stared into her almond-shaped hazel eyes. He could smell the scent of roses from her hair and feel the seductive warmth of her body. She swayed toward him. There was a time he'd thought he would marry Megan Bartlett. When he'd proposed and she'd accepted, he hadn't believed his luck or the fact that a woman like her would want a man like him. She'd promised to be his bride back when the most he'd been able to offer was the hope that one day he would be able to buy the old livery stable in town.

None of his dreams had come true. He'd been forced from town, and when he'd asked her to go with him, she'd refused, lashing out viciously so he wouldn't make the mistake of asking again. Now he was back in Landing, back where he never thought he would be, and Megan still had the ability to bring him to his knees.

“Bonnie and I made a cold dinner yesterday for the picnic. Would you like to sit with us?” she asked.

He raised his eyebrows. “You know what sitting with me at the social will mean?”

She nodded slowly.

“Colleen won't approve.”

“I don't need her approval.”

Brave words, if he didn't look too closely and see her lips quivering at the corners. “All right, Miss Bartlett, I would be honored to join you.” He bent his arm and offered it to her. She took it with one hand and with the other pulled her skirt train out of the pew. With Bonnie walking in front of them, they made their way outside.

Families had already collected on blankets spread under the many trees around the freshly painted church. Megan led him to a basket she'd left in the shade. Before they could find a place to settle, Mrs. Dobson called to them from where she was already reclining. “Megan, Justin, I've saved room.”

Megan looked at him and shrugged. “She means well.”

“I don't mind.”

“I'm surprised.”

“Why? Mrs. Dobson thinks I'm handsome as sin.”

Megan ducked her head as she chuckled.

By the time everyone had been seated and served, Justin was growing more comfortable with the crowd. He was aware of the stares sent their way, but no one had said anything bad to Bonnie. The little girl sat next to Mrs. Dobson and ate from her own plate, all the while prattling on about secrets her doll told her.

“If you're here having fun, Justin, who's on duty?” Megan asked, pouring him a tin cup of lemonade.

“Wyatt said he'd keep an eye on things, but everyone in town has come to the social so if there's going to be trouble, I'll be in the middle of it.”

“You usually are.” She made the statement casually, as if stating a fact. He had to agree she was right. He always had been in the middle of trouble.

She sat up against a tree, most of her weight resting on one hip, with her legs bent under her. The pink dress brought out the color in her face, and again and again he found his attention wandering to her mouth.

“What are you staring at?” she asked quietly enough so that neither Mrs. Dobson nor Bonnie could hear.

“You. You look lovely today.” He cleared his throat. “Your dress is pretty,” he said a little louder.

“She's got a prettier one,” Bonnie said, raising herself on her knees. “It's white with flowers here.” She motioned to the top of her chest. “And there's ribbons down the back with a big bow.”

Mrs. Dobson picked up a chicken leg and waved it in the air. “It sounds wonderful, Megan. Why didn't you wear that one?”

“It's not appropriate,” she answered, then turned to Bonnie. “You weren't supposed to say anything about that dress.”

“Oh.” Bonnie covered her mouth with her hand. “I forgot.”

Justin stretched out on the blanket at Megan's feet and rested his head on his hand. “What
is
it appropriate for?”

Megan glared at him and took a bite of potato salad.

He watched her, knowing this must be another of her guilty secrets. His gaze flickered to her bodice and he wondered what she wore underneath. Satin and lace? Perhaps silk whispering against her creamy skin. Instantly, his blood heated and he pulled at the collar of his shirt. He forced his mind to consider less appealing questions. It wouldn't do for anyone to notice his physical reaction to Megan's closeness. There would be a scandal the likes of which this town had never seen.

“What's so special about this dress?” he asked.

She set her fork down. “Nothing. It's fancy, that's all. Not something I would wear to an outdoor social.”

A small bird fluttered low and captured Bonnie's attention. The girl squealed and pointed. Mrs. Dobson stared at the tiny winged creature, then leaned closer to tell Bonnie what kind of bird it was. Justin took advantage of their momentary distraction. He raised his eyebrows.

“Another secret then?”

Megan surprised him by smiling. “One of many, I'm afraid.”

“Don't apologize. Your secrets are intriguing.”

“Are they?”

There was something odd about the light in her eyes. Something that made him want to pull her close and kiss her. Or hold her at arm's length and force her to tell him what she was thinking. In the seven years he'd been gone, Megan had changed. The shy young woman he'd given his heart to had grown up. She was still too easily swayed by the concerns of others, but she'd managed to rebel enough to wear French lace.

His good humor fled as he reminded himself French lace wasn't enough. He sat up slowly. Passionate kisses and soft female curves wouldn't be enough to allow him to forget the past.

“Justin, did you see the bird? Mrs. Dobson says I can take some bread to the woods and leave it for him to eat!” Bonnie bounced on her knees and clasped her hands together as if she'd been given the most wonderful gift. Her blue eyes glowed with happiness.

He reached out his hand and tweaked her nose. “I'm sure the bird will enjoy his meal.”

Bonnie threw herself into his arms. “I like church, and I like socials more!”

Small hands held on to his coat. Her face burrowed into his chest. He could feel the two women watching him, but he didn't look up. He just held Bonnie close and stroked her hair.

Inside of him, in the place he'd ignored so long he'd been sure it had died, a flicker of feeling stirred his heart. He cared about this child. Almost as much as he'd once foolishly allowed himself to care about Megan.

“I can't believe this is the same little girl you brought to the store almost two weeks ago,” Megan said. “She's blossomed under your care.”

Her praise embarrassed him. And pleased him. “We understand each other,” he said.

Bonnie tilted her head back and smiled at him. “We're going to be together forever.”

“Yeah.” He tapped her nose. He hadn't been faithful to all his promises, but this was one he was determined to keep. She was just a little girl, yet she'd been the one to show him how empty his life was and how hard it had become to spend it alone. The child wasn't enough to fill up the hole inside, or take away the bitterness from the past, but she blurred the edges enough that he could forget what had happened and ignore the taunting of what should have been.

* * *

“All right, children. Line up here for the egg race,” Mr. Greeley called from across the clearing.

“Can I? Can I?” Bonnie asked eagerly. She looked from Megan to Justin and back.

Justin grinned. “Go on. But if you get covered with broken eggs, don't expect me to wash your dress.”

Bonnie sprang to her feet. “I'll be extra, extra careful.”

She raced toward the children milling around the butcher. Megan watched her go, waiting tensely to see what would happen when she arrived. Mr. Greeley glanced at the girl, then handed her a spoon. Several of the children stared curiously. Colleen's daughter sniffed imperiously, just like her mother, then one redheaded boy, about seven or eight, elbowed the girl in the ribs and grinned at Bonnie.

Megan relaxed against the tree. “I think she's going to be all right with the children.”

“Good.” Justin stretched out on the blanket at her feet. As the temperature had climbed, he'd taken off his jacket. His long-sleeved white shirt contrasted with his tanned face and hands. He closed his eyes as if preparing to doze. Mrs. Dobson had gone off to talk with some of her friends, so the two of them were alone on the blanket, surrounded by the rest of the town. It was the most public of privacies.

Megan stared at Justin, at his familiar features. His mouth relaxed into a faint smile. She could see the tail of the scar under his lower lip, and the lines beside his eyes. His jaw had always been square, but his face had grown leaner in his time away. His breathing slowed. She admired the length and breadth of his chest, remembering how it had felt when she'd touched him there. Her fingers tingled, as did her breasts and between her—

She swallowed hard, trying to ignore her lascivious thoughts. She still couldn't believe what they'd done, what she'd
allowed
him to do. It wasn't right. Not just because they weren't even courting, let alone engaged, but because Justin would be leaving Landing. What if she continued to allow him liberties? Wouldn't she then be risking more than her body and reputation? Wouldn't she be risking her heart? She couldn't. If it was broken again, it wouldn't mend.

But it was difficult to ignore the handsome man stretched out before her. She rose to her knees and began collecting plates and placing them in the basket she'd brought. Silverware clinked as she tossed it on top of the dishes. She left out their tin cups in case anyone wanted more lemonade. She picked up the chocolate cake she'd brought and was lowering it into the basket, when something grabbed her ankle. She almost dropped the platter.

Half turning, she saw Justin's arm sticking out from the hem of her dress. She could feel his warm fingers against her skin. His thumb moved slowly back and forth over her anklebone.

“What are you doing?” she asked softly, then darted a glance around to see who had noticed. The children were lining up for their race and everyone seemed to be watching them.

“You're making too much noise,” Justin said without opening his eyes. His words were slow and lazy, his voice so low her mouth watered. “I couldn't sleep.”

“You could have told me to be quiet instead of accosting me.”

“Darlin', you don't know the first thing about being accosted.”

His hand moved a little higher up her calf. Megan froze in place, awkwardly stretched out on her knees, one hand supporting herself, the other holding a half-eaten chocolate cake. Her arm cramped up, but she didn't move. A delicious lethargy swept over her. Justin Kincaid had his hand on her leg. In front of the entire town. And no one had noticed. Then his fingers moved again and she didn't care about the town or her muscles. She didn't care about anything but the stroking against her skin and the heat that spiraled up her thighs and higher to her female place. Her breathing increased.

Then his hand was gone. Despite the burning protest in her arm and bent leg, Megan stayed in her position, hoping his magic touch would return. When that didn't happen, she glanced at Justin. Both his hands lay on his chest. His expression hadn't changed at all.

She placed the cake in the basket, then humphed loudly and sat back against the tree. Irritation fed the passion inside of her until she was overheated. She wanted to scream at him, or kiss him. She contented herself with glaring at him.