The Lady and the Lawman (22 page)

O
ne
minute he could infuriate her, the next minute he did something so
nice, so good, she didn’t know whether to continue to argue with
him or hug him. She couldn’t wait until next week to marry Tom, so
he’d lied for her. It must have gone against every code, every
moral he believed in. Besides, marriage was until death parted.

Regardless
of his unusual generosity, she was wary at the prospect of being his
wife. He fueled her anger, he fueled her spirit, he fueled her
passion. And that scared her. Now, faced with an impending
marriage—marriage!—she had to come to terms with the fact that he
was the first person to actually make her feel. It was as if she'd
gone through life numb until she'd met him.

She
stuck her heels in the dirt one last time. “We don't have to get
married though. Maybe he’ll leave now that he
believes
we’re married.”

“
Oh
yes, we do!” He took her by the elbow and led her toward the church
steps. “Half the town probably knows by now he’s your fiancé.
Your
former
fiancé. We can't fake a marriage for an entire town.”

“
What
happens when a woman down the road catches your eye, and is
everything you're looking for in a wife? I can't sit back and watch
my husband take up with another woman”

He
didn't respond right away. His gaze raked over her, from head to toe,
spending quite a bit of time on her mouth and then her breasts.
“Sweetheart, you've got everything I'm looking for, and then some.”

The
way he stared at her, she was at a loss for words. She let him all
but drag her into the church as she considered his words. As much as
she tried, she could think of no alternative. It was quite possible
she didn't want one.

***

Grant
left Maggie at the church in the company of the minister and his wife
while he went and bought a simple gold ring from the Mercantile. For
a moment, he stood outside the doors, blocking the entrance,
considering his options. He could flee, escape the parson's noose
that was quickly tightening about his neck. This predicament was no
one's fault but his own.

Marriage.

He
was getting married. Today. But thinking of Maggie, he knew there was
no other choice. Remembering how she felt beneath him only hours
before, hearing her soft pants of desire, the way she said his name
when he touched a spot on her silky skin that was arousing, had
sealed his resolve. She'd be his. And soon. He headed in to make the
most important purchase of his life.

When
he returned to the church, he handed her a bouquet of wildflowers,
fresh cut from the rectory garden. The minister and his wife, kind
and reassuring, had spent the time while he was gone sharing stories
about his youth and recounting how kind and generous he was to the
community. They probably saw the fear and insecurity written all over
Margaret’s face and tried to ease her mind. Hell, he could see it,
plain as day. But he looked forward to their wedding
night—tonight—when he could put a completely different look on
her face.

***

Throughout
the ceremony, Margaret stood next to Grant, numb, not believing how
relaxed he was. He wasn't nervous? Her palms were wet and clammy.
Taking her hand, he had to have noticed, but he placed the smooth
ring on her finger without blinking an eye. When it was time for her
to speak her vows, he smiled at her with reassurance. How could he be
so cool and collected while she was still trying to come to grips
with what was happening to her? To them?

She
must have said 'I do,' because the minister pronounced them Man and
Wife. Finishing off the ceremony, he brushed his lips across hers in
a quick, chaste kiss. His warm lips were there and gone so quickly,
it was like a whisper. It wasn’t anything like the kisses they'd
shared that morning, or even an hour before in the jail. She remained
mute through the brief well wishes from the minister and his wife.
She was Mrs. Masterson. She was Grant's
wife
.

Soon
enough, he led her back down the boardwalk, holding her hand to make
sure she didn’t fall in the darkness.

***

It
seemed Maggie's nervousness was only getting worse, her hand shaking
like a leaf in his. He couldn't believe the woman walking next to him
was his wife. His
wife
!
How had he gotten into this? She’d been right, he could have come
up with a better answer than marriage, but now she was safe with him.
Hunt would never touch her again. No man would touch her. She was
his.

His
thoughts turned to the other reason why he'd told Hunt they were
married.

He
wanted her.

He'd
wanted her from the first time he'd seen her at Croft’s. It was as
simple as that. He couldn’t, wouldn't have her without marriage,
and this moved things along quite nicely. He certainly knew this
wasn’t the easiest way to get her into his bed, and he'd still have
to go slowly. Even after all they'd been through, they still didn't
know each other well. But many marriages had been started on less.

He
desperately wanted to awaken the passion he'd seen when he'd held her
in his arms, kissed her senseless. He wanted to hear her call his
name in her first throes of desire. He was getting impossibly hard
just thinking about it.

Approaching
his small house, he stopped and lowered his gaze to hers. “Mrs.
Masterson, welcome home.”

***

He
smiled and dropped a light kiss on her lips before he opened the
door. She knew he was going to want more, to sink deeper into her
with his kiss, but to her disappointment, he didn’t. She was
discovering that kissing Grant was like tasting a sweet treat for the
first time. She’d had her first bite, and now she craved more.

Lifting
her into his arms as if she weighed nothing, she gasped in
surprise
as
he carried her over the threshold.

The
clapboard house was similar in style to Mrs. Daley’s, painted
white, with a cozy front porch. For a bachelor, he kept his home
immaculate.

A
small parlor with comfortable chairs faced a wood stove. A mirror
hung on the wall next to the front door. She supposed he looked into
it as he put on his badge each morning.

“
Hungry?”
he asked as he placed her back on her feet, her body sliding down his
hard, muscular frame as he did so.

She
shook her head no, remaining quiet. She'd lost her voice along with
her senses at his intimate contact.

“
Let
me show you around.”

The
house was small, just three rooms. After the parlor, he showed her
the small kitchen with its table and chairs, then led her into his
bedroom. It was definitely a man's room. The walls were painted a
fresh white and the room was sparsely furnished. There was a dresser
and a chair, both made of a dark wood matching the bed's headboard.
They were plain pieces, but beautifully built. Her eyes drifted back
to the bed with a simple quilt spread across it. The bed they would
be sharing in a short time.

“
It's
getting late. Why don't you get ready, and I'll come back in a bit.”
He walked to the dresser and took the pitcher, turned back to her and
once again, his eyes raked over her. “Um...I’ll bring in fresh
water for you.”

After
returning with the full pitcher and a clean hand towel, he finally
left her alone, offering her the solitude she desperately desired.
The man flustered her. With his heated looks, his mind-melting
kisses, what was she to do? He was her husband now, and she...she
desired him. But he forced her into marrying him! Now, she was going
to have to share a bed with him and...and her body.

She
did like his kisses and his touch, but it didn't mean he could have
his way with her, even now that they were married. Marriage should
have been her choice! Frustrated, she closed the bedroom door and
leaned back against it, willing herself not to cry. She'd fallen from
one predicament right into another. She balled her hands into fists
and hit them against the door in frustration.

Her
anger made her forget the positive reasons for marrying him. She was
now free of William and his quest for her money and status. He would
have no reason to kill her now, since he couldn’t receive a dime of
her fortune. Grant would. Nothing William could do could hurt her
now. She was free from all the dangers that had driven her from home
in the first place.

Then
there was Tom. She felt badly because he was so kind and thoughtful
and now he'd have to be content with her as a sister instead of a
bride. Facing him, then explaining things, would be difficult.
Hopefully he’d understand the dire circumstances she had been in to
marry Grant.

Tired
and ready to sleep, she started to unbutton her blouse and realized
she didn’t have a nightgown to put on. Walking to the dresser, she
opened a drawer and found Grant’s shirts. She pulled one out and
changed her bedraggled skirt and blouse for a soft flannel shirt. As
she pulled back the covers on the bed and climbed in, she wondered
when he would come to her.

Her
answer came ten minutes later by a light rap on the door.

***

Grant
found Maggie with her back propped up against the headboard, quilt
smoothed out across her lap. He recognized that she wore his blue
shirt, and quickly decided it looked better on her. The deep V of the
neck only forced his gaze toward her ample breasts, which thrust out
against the soft material. Trying to stave the desire pulsing through
his veins, he sat down on the bed next to her legs, the bed dipping
beneath his weight.

“
Grant,
I...I think you should leave,” she said, her voice cold. He
wondered why, then it hit him. She was scared of him, of his
presence, his nearness. The look of passion he'd seen earlier when
they'd kissed in the jail was absent now. In its place was a look
akin to when they'd bumped into Hunt. Not a good sign for a
bridegroom.

“
I
don't think I want to leave my wife on our wedding night,” he
replied, his gaze traveling the length of her body. “I didn't get
to explore your body enough this morning in the line shack.”

He
lifted a hand to her
face to brush a wayward curl. She flinched and turned away from his
hand. Sliding across the mattress, she pulled herself up so she
kneeled at the far corner of the bed, pressed against the wall. The
quilt was gripped beneath white knuckles by her chin.

“
I
don't want you here,” she said, her voice frantic. “You forced me
into this marriage, which doesn’t give you the right to share my
bed.”

She
didn't really mean it. He knew it as sure as the sun rose in the
East. She was only afraid of the passion she'd just had a taste of.
She had readily admitted she didn't want to marry Hunt, yet her body
readily admitted her desire for him. Now if her brain would only
catch up with her body, they could have a mighty pleasurable night.

“
God
gave me the right tonight in church.”

She
squealed in frustration and threw a pillow at him, the only weapon
within reach.

He
could see he wasn't going to get anywhere, in bed or out, with her
like this. She’d gotten herself all riled up over being forced into
marriage. But he’d saved her from a man whom she clearly disliked.
The truth was, he was glad he’d married her, for many reasons. The
most important, at least in the past hour, was thinking about how
much he was going to enjoy sharing a bed, and everything done in it,
with her for the rest of his life. But he held up his hands as either
a peace offering or a sign of defeat and stood up, placing the thrown
pillow down on the quilt.

“
I’m
sorry if you didn't want to marry me, but Maggie, I won't ever hurt
you. I will protect you from men like Hunt and Dalton. You have my
promise.” Their eyes met. “I won't lie though, I want you, and
I'll have you, but as I’ve already told you, I never force myself
on a woman.”

He
moved to the doorway, realizing it was going to be a long night
without a bed. Hell, he knew she wanted him, he’d seen it in her
eyes when he’d held her, heard it in her sighs when he’d kissed
her, felt it in her body as she trembled from his touch.