One Day, My Prince, page 14
“Never.”
“I know, logically, that there have been other women in your life,” she said softly. “I suppose I secretly hoped they were all ugly and … and forgettable.” She pinned her eyes accusingly on him. “But Miss Sheppard is a stunning beauty, and a sweet woman with a bright smile. I’m sure your time together was not forgettable.”
“Actually, it was,” he admitted. “I’d had too much to drink, and it had been a very, very long day.” He didn’t want to tell her that he’d gone to the saloon to drown his sorrows after killing a man. A lawman shouldn’t be so achingly sentimental. “Besides,” he reached up to touch her face, to stroke her soft cheek. “She’s not as beautiful as you.”
Most women would have smiled at such a compliment. Not Sarah. In fact, his well-meant words seemed to anger her. “Don’t lie to me,” she said hoarsely. “I know you’re just trying to make me feel better and your heart is most likely in the right place, but do not lie to placate me.”
“I’m not lying.”
She shook her head, forcing his hand away from her face. “All my life, I’ve been surrounded by women who look like your Miss Sheppard. They have perfectly shaped faces, and golden or sable-dark hair, and pert noses, and lovely smiles.”
“She’s not my Miss Sheppard—” Joe began. He got no further before Sarah interrupted.
“All my life, I heard the whispers. What a shame that Sarah doesn’t look more like her mother. Oh well, at least she seems to be intelligent, and she is a pleasant enough girl. I was taught early on that I didn’t have to worry about my less-than-perfect physical attributes. Father’s money and Mother’s social standing assured me a good marriage.”
“They’re crazy,” Joe whispered.
“When I was fifteen years old,” Sarah said angrily, “I endured a shopping expedition with my mother and her good friend, Barbara, and Barbara’s two spoiled, beautiful daughters. They were already filling out, and there I was, flat as a pancake. They were graceful and ladylike and composed, and I was nothing but gangly arms and legs. I kept running into things and knocking them over, and after a while they were all looking at me with pity, shaking their heads, bemoaning the fact that I take after Father’s side of the family instead of Mother’s. One of the little twits actually called me a giraffe, when I tried on a dress that made my neck look a mile long. And another thing—”
Joe had heard enough. He reached out, grabbed Sarah, and dragged her from the bed. She squealed once, but didn’t fight him as he carried her across the room and set her on her feet before the dresser. He kissed her quickly, and then, with his hands on her shoulders, spun her about so she could see her reflection and his in the mirror above the dresser.
“What do you see?” he whispered in her ear.
She pulled against him in an obvious effort to escape, but he held tight.
“Know what I see?” He held the sides of her head and made her look, forced her to gaze upon their reflection in the mirror. All they could see from this distance was her body before his from the waist up, but it was enough. “I see a beautiful face.” He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. “Smoldering dark eyes, a lush mouth, and a perfect nose.”
“It’s too long…. “she whispered.
“It’s perfect,” he insisted lowly. “Regal and lightly freckled.”
“And look at this hair,” he said, spearing his fingers through the red waves. “God, I love your hair. I love the smell, and the silky feel of it in my hands, and the way it flames in the light of the sun. Look, Sarah, and see what I see.”
At last, she willingly lifted her eyes to their reflection.
“And this neck,” he whispered. “This is the perfect neck.” He kissed the side of her neck. “Pale and soft and elegant, with lots of freckles that need to be kissed away. That girl who called you a giraffe probably has a stumpy little neck. Or did her head rest directly on her shoulders?”
Sarah smiled, and in that moment he knew that everything was going to be all right.
“And honey, you might have been flat-chested at fifteen, but as far as I’m concerned these are perfect.” He cupped her breasts in his hands, then watched in fascination the reflection of his dark fingers moving against her pale skin, caressing the globes of her breasts and the nipples that became hard at his touch. “As a matter of fact, your entire shape is perfect.” He skimmed his hands to her waist, over her hips, and down her thighs.
He wanted her more than he ever had, and that was saying something. The overwhelming need was alarming. It wasn’t right, wasn’t natural. He’d never stayed with a woman this long before. Had never wanted to. He moved fast and frequently, no ties, no obligations.
What had happened between him and Sarah went much deeper than satisfying her virgin curiosity. What drew him to her now was more than simple physical need, and that knowledge terrified him.
But it didn’t terrify him enough to make him walk away.
She turned in his arms and lifted her face to kiss him, deeply, passionately. He could take her this instant, hard and fast, where they stood or on the floor. He didn’t care.
She wrapped her arms around him, holding on tight, pressing her breasts against his chest. A deep tremor worked through her body and he felt it as if the tremble of desire were his own.
He carried her to the bed and dropped her onto the mattress. She spread her thighs, and as he fell to the bed to cover her he guided himself inside her, sheathing himself in her wet heat.
He forced himself to love her slowly, to savor every long, slow stroke, to hold back until she began to fall apart in his arms. As her inner muscles squeezed him he allowed completion to overcome him, to rule his body and his mind for a few moments of complete, powerful consummation. Beneath him Sarah lifted her hips, and moaned, and wrapped her arms around his neck.
And then she ruined it all, stealing the moment of perfection from him. She whispered, “I love you,” as the last waves of completion wracked her body.
Joe doused the lamp before joining her under the quilt. As he slipped into the bed she sidled against him and took a deep breath. This was her place at night; at his side, in his arms.
How could she ever thank him for making her feel, for the first time in her life, beautiful?
She hadn’t meant to whisper I love you, but the soft words had come to her lips unbidden. Words so soft, so unintelligible even to her own ears, he surely hadn’t heard them. In a way, she wished she’d shouted the words, taken his face in her hands, looked him in the eye, and said I love you, Joe White. Love me.
He was tense tonight. Usually she melted into his arms and fell asleep, but tonight he was stiff, unyielding as she tried to cuddle against him.
Of course, he was worried about telling the littlest girls that he was not really their father. She wasn’t looking forward to that moment, herself.
“Everything will be all right,” she whispered.
“No, it won’t.”
He sounded so dismal, so lost. She came up on her elbows to look into his face. With the light doused she could see very little. She saw enough to know that he was truly miserable.
“I want to take care of you,” he said.
In the dark, Sarah smiled. “Do you?”
“After the judge comes through, and everything’s sorted out with the girls, I’ll get back on the trail of those outlaws. There’s a hefty reward for Lockhart, and for some of his men, too. Raising seven little girls, you’re going to need all the money you can get, I imagine.”
Her blood went cold. “You’re talking about sending me money, after you leave?”
“Sure,” he said softly.
“I don’t want your money.” Did he think he could buy what they had? That what she wanted from him was cold, hard cash?
“Sarah, I think maybe … maybe…” Joe began, faltering. “I think maybe I need to get out the extra bedding and start sleeping on the floor again.”
“Why?”
“There are ways to prevent babies, Sarah darlin’, but we haven’t been using any one of them.”
“I’ve thought of that,” she whispered. “It’s unlikely that our few nights will result in a child, don’t you think?”
Joe took a deep breath and sighed. “Many a baby has been made in the echo of those very words, honey. Besides”—he shifted in the bed as if he couldn’t quite get comfortable—“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about us, Sarah. I do like you, more than I’ve ever liked any other woman, but—”
“You heard me, didn’t you?”
He sighed, deep and forlorn. “Like I said, I want to take care of you, check on you now and again, but … but…”
“You heard me say ‘I love you,’ but you don’t love me … so now you’re running scared,” she said, her voice amazingly calm. It seemed her heart grew smaller, drier, colder. She’d known all along that Joe didn’t love her, so why did this hurt so much?
“I do want to take care of you,” he added quickly. “Send money when I can, maybe come through and see you and the girls now and again. I can—”
“No,” she said, her voice strong and unwavering. “I won’t have you riding in and out of my life as it suits you. Welcoming you every time you get lonely and decide to warm my bed for a few days, crying my heart out when you leave again.” Her eyes had adjusted to the dark. She saw his forlorn face well. Too well. She reached out and took his face in her hands and looked him in the eye. “I love you, Joe White,” she said clearly. “But I deserve better than that.”
He rolled from the bed and reached for his trousers. “Yeah,” he said as he stepped into them and headed for the door. “You do.”
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Chapter Fifteen
It was easy to avoid Sarah throughout the day. The barn needed a good cleaning, the animals needed tending to, and the large garden behind the house … that needed a lot of work. Weeds were decimated, rocks were dug up and flung aside, clumps of hard dirt were pounded into grains of yielding soil. This was work the girls couldn’t possibly do. They’d worked around the unmanageable areas, skirting the rocks and the clumps of hardest dirt.
Joe had almost forgotten what it was like to work the land. Almost. By the time the girls returned from school his shoulders and back were aching. He’d worked Tess’s garden, after she’d married Sheriff Harvey Draper. Harvey had been the one to survey and assess Joe’s work, always finding fault, always finding something he’d missed. Nothing was ever quite good enough for Draper—nothing he did, and nothing Tess did.
Still Joe couldn’t make himself hate Harvey, even though there were times he truly disliked the man. His brother-in-law had taught him to shoot, given him his first job in law enforcement, and introduced him to Marshal Webb. Harvey hadn’t purposely set out to make Tess miserable. In fact, there were times when Joe was sure Harvey loved his wife, in his own way. He just had a hell of a time showing it.
He sighed.
The only time he’d seen Sarah today, except for the occasional glimpse through an open window, was when she’d stepped out the back door to call him in to lunch. After he’d washed up and stepped into the kitchen, he’d found his meal waiting on the table. And no Sarah. She didn’t even want to sit at the same table with him, and in a way he was glad. He couldn’t possibly make idle conversation with her and pretend nothing had happened between them.
But for the evening meal she sat in her usual place. Better not to disturb the girls’ routine, he supposed. With seven children seated around them and chattering about their day, it was … easier.
“I don’t like Mrs. Handy,” Glory said, pouting as she poked her fork at a pile of butter beans. “She made me stand in the corner.”
“And why was that?” Sarah asked calmly as she passed a bowl of corn to Clara.
Faith piped up. “Mrs. Handy said that Glory is a little chatterbox and she needs to learn to mind her manners.”
“I am not a chatterbox!” Glory insisted. “Poppy, you go to town tomorrow and tell Mrs. Handy that I’m not a chatterbox. I do mind my manners! Sarah never made me stand in the corner when she was my teacher.”
Joe started to tell Glory that he didn’t have time to go to town and confront her teacher about making her stand in the corner, but he never got the chance.
“Mrs. Handy does have a mean face,” Dory said as she cut a bite of ham off the slab on her plate. “She always looks like she’s mad at somebody.”
“She’s an old grouch,” Clara added.
All the girls jumped in at once, each of them voicing their unflattering opinion of the new schoolteacher.
Sarah silenced the children with her soft, commanding voice. “We should show compassion for poor Mrs. Handy. She’s a widow, and from what I’ve seen has no friends or family. I’m sure her sour disposition stems from the fact that she’s lonely.”
“Of course she’s lonely,” Becky said unkindly. “Who would want to be friends with that sour old battle-ax?”
“Becky,” Sarah said. “That’s unkind of you.”
Becky was unrelenting. “But it’s true. Should I not tell the truth because it’s unkind?”
“Besides,” Alice added. “She has friends and family. I see her with the mayor all the time, and she has a son who comes to town now and again to visit her. I think the sheriff checks in on her now and again. Her husband was sheriff, before he was killed.”
“How did he die?” Joe asked.
“He was murdered,” Becky said brightly. “Shot in the back not long after we moved here. They never did find the man who did it.”
“Murdered?” Joe repeated, his interest in the subject of the evil Mrs. Handy rising.
“This is not suitable dinner-table conversation,” Sarah said primly. Her statement was followed by a long moment of silence, while the girls dug into their meal. Sarah had done a good job, he had to admit. She was getting the hang of working around the house. He heard fewer and fewer “blasts!” from her during the day.
“You know,” she added. “I might just go to town myself tomorrow. We need a few things from the general store, and I’ve been meaning to see the dressmaker about purchasing a new bolt of fabric. Alice, you need a new dress. You all do, but we’ll have to manage one garment at a time, I suppose.” She glanced at Joe out of the corner of her eye. “I’ve been meaning to check out the new café that’s being built, and while I’m there I might as well have a word with Mrs. Handy and see how things are going for her. Perhaps she needs my help settling in.”
“Hooray!” Glory said brightly.
“Besides,” Sarah said softly, ignoring Glory’s outburst, “There should be word by now on the judge’s exact date of arrival in Jacob’s Crossing. We’ll want to be prepared.” It seemed her spine stiffened, her chin lifted stubbornly, and some of the color drained from her face.
Sarah hid in the kitchen as long as possible. With Clara and Dory’s help she made quick work of cleaning up after the evening meal.
With any luck, she’d go to town tomorrow and find that the judge would arrive before the end of the week. The sooner this was over and Joe was gone the better off she’d be. It was going to be impossible to move forward as long as Joe was living in the house and they had to pretend to be married.
It would be easy if she didn’t love him. If she just liked him, perhaps cared for him a little, she could look at their pretend marriage and their nights of passion as an experience, a slice of the life she’d always known she was missing, an experiment of sorts.
She’d wondered about love for years, and now she knew the truth. Love hurt. It was uncontrollable, reached deep inside and grabbed her heart, filled every waking hour and her dreams, and blast it was painful.
Maybe when Joe was gone the hurt would go away. Maybe she would be able to forget this terrible aching feeling when she didn’t have to look at him every single day.
Clara and Dory hurried up the stairs to join their younger sisters in getting ready for bed. Only Alice remained downstairs, washing down the dining room table and straightening the chairs.
As the oldest girl headed for the stairway, Joe stopped her with a softly spoken, “Alice, we need to have a word.”
Sarah’s heart stopped. Oh, she didn’t want to be a part of this, she didn’t. It was going to be ugly, and painful, and she just wanted to hide in her room they way she’d hid in the kitchen.
And leave Alice to deal alone with Joe’s anger? Not likely.
Joe sat down in the wide rocking chair he seemed to prefer, and Alice stood before him, her hands clasped demurely. Oh, she looked so small and defenseless next to Joe, so fragile. Sarah stood back and to the side, where Joe could see her—in case he even thought of losing his temper with the child.
“Alice,” he said, his voice stem but controlled. “We have a problem.”
Alice said nothing. Her spine was stiff, her head held high. She waited for Joe to continue. Maybe she knew what was coming.
“Glory thinks I’m her father. Her real father,” Joe said softly “Why is that?”
Darn his hide, he could be a little more compassionate, his eyes softer, his posture less … less threatening. How could a man seated in a rocking chair look so intimidating?
Alice glanced over her shoulder to Sarah. Tears already filled her eyes. Sarah left her post at a safe distance and came to stand beside Alice. “It’s all right. We just need to know.”
Alice looked down at a seated Joe. “Only Faith and Glory think you’re really our father. They didn’t remember him, and I was afraid they’d … they’d…” Her voice cracked.
“How are we going to tell them the truth?” Joe asked quietly, just a touch of anger in his voice. “Did you ever think of that?”
Alice’s lower lip trembled, and her shoulders slumped. “No. I made a mistake.” A few silent tears ran down her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I try not to make any mistakes, but sometimes I just don’t know what to do. I’m sorry.”
Joe’s anger softened. Sarah could see the change in his eyes, the pain he took on himself. “Everybody makes mistakes,” he said. “There’s no reason to … to cry.” It was obvious the prospect dismayed him, but his words only made matters worse. Alice’s few tears turned into a flood.
