One Day, My Prince, page 21
The odor of whiskey and cigar smoke hit her long before he reached the side of the bed.
“Good heavens,” she hissed. “You stink. You smell like a … like a saloon.”
By the light of the moon breaking through the window, she saw him smile. But it wasn’t a true smile, not one of those heartfelt grins that always set her pulse to racing. “Sorry about that.”
At least he didn’t sound drunk. His voice sounded perfectly normal, in fact. “I hope you had an enjoyable evening,” she said tightly, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb the children. “I did not, by the way,” she said without waiting for him to respond. “My parents spent several hours trying to convince me to divorce you.”
His smile faded. “Did you tell them that wouldn’t be necessary?”
Because they weren’t really married. Because one day soon the man everyone knew as Joe Shorter would ride away and disappear for good. “No.”
He glanced down at the girls who slept beside her. “Looks like we’re doubled up for the night to make room for company.”
“You can sleep on the floor,” Sarah said primly.
He didn’t argue, but pulled his old bedding from beneath the bed. She watched while he took off his boots and leather vest and shirt, sniffed the offensive shirt and tossed it aside, then lay down without another word.
She couldn’t stand it. Moving very cautiously, she slipped from beneath the quilt, twisted about gently, lay on her stomach and peered over the end of the bed. Wearing his denims and nothing else, Joe reclined on the floor with his hands behind his head.
“I can’t believe you just … just left me here,” she hissed.
Instead of an argument, Joe muttered a soft “I’m sorry.” Oddly enough, by the tone of his voice, she’d say the apology was sincere.
It was impossible to stay angry with a man who apologized in that way. Sarah rested her chin on her hands and relaxed. “They won’t be here long. As soon as I convince them that I’m not going back to New York under any circumstances, they’ll leave. Mother already hates it here, and Father has business to attend to. I can’t imagine why Hugh is still here, considering the circumstances.”
“Don’t let them rattle you, Miss Priss,” Joe said with a touch of humor. “That’s my job.”
She smiled down at him. In moments like this she could fool herself into thinking he really would stay.
“About this afternoon…” he began.
Sarah’s smile faded. “Oh, I don’t think we should talk about that,” she said quickly and softly.
Even though his face was in shadow, she could tell Joe was looking up at her. He was unsmiling, thoughtful. “You’re probably right about that,” he whispered. “But maybe you could climb down here and sleep with me tonight.”
“I shouldn’t—”
“Just to sleep, Sarah,” he said softly. “I could stand to have someone to hold on to tonight.”
Moving carefully, she slipped from the bed. Glory and Faith immediately readjusted themselves to take up the middle as well as the sides, spreading out, sighing in satisfaction. There would be no going back.
She lay down beside Joe, resting her head on his shoulder, and took a deep, stilling breath. “I wish you’d stayed home tonight,” she whispered as she settled in.
“So do I,” he muttered so softly she barely heard him.
They lay there, together, for a few quiet minutes. Joe seemed to hold her tighter than was necessary, but she liked it. She felt at home, here; by his side, in his arms.
“You know,” he finally whispered. “I’ve risked my life plenty of times and never thought anything of it. It’s part of the job.”
Sarah shifted her head so she could see his face. He sounded so serious. “What happened?” Suddenly she knew he hadn’t left the house simply to escape the confrontation with her parents. Something else had called him out tonight.
“I think maybe I’m in over my head,” he whispered. “For the first time in my life…. “The arm that circled her tightened.
She lifted her head to look him in the eye. “Sounds serious. Want to tell me about it?”
He hesitated, as if he was thinking it over. “No,” he finally answered.
Sarah gave him a quick kiss on his stubbled cheek. “Get some sleep. Maybe whatever is bothering you will look better in the morning.” She settled against Joe again, held on to him as tightly as he held her.
“I don’t think so,” he whispered.
Alice peered into the parlor before entering. Oh, she did not want to run into Sarah’s family, if she could help it! They’d been here two days, and already they’d taken over. Mr. Prince and Mr. Towerson, in particular, always acted as if having children in the house was a nuisance, looking down their noses, demanding silence even from the little ones who were never silent.
From outside of the house, the occasional sound of gunfire broke the unnatural silence. Joe had demanded that Sarah spend more time practicing her marksmanship, that she become comfortable and proficient with both the six-shooter and the rifle. Alice did not take this as a good sign. Obviously, he still planned to leave.
Mrs. Prince sat alone in the parlor, perched on the edge of the settee, flinching with every muffled gunshot. She was a striking-looking woman, the kind of lady who could still turn a man’s head, Alice supposed. But beautiful as Katherine Prince was, she had none of Sarah’s warmth.
As if she knew she was being watched, Mrs. Prince turned her head and looked directly at Alice. There was no escaping now, not without being incredibly rude.
“Would you care for some tea?” Alice asked politely.
“Perhaps later,” Mrs. Prince said, in a distant voice that reminded Alice, a little, of the way Sarah had been when she’d come here. As if there was a wall between her and everyone else, as if she never laughed or cried or screamed. With a nod of her finely coiffed head, Mrs. Prince invited Alice into the room.
“You’re Alicia, isn’t that correct?” Mrs. Prince asked as she waved a slender hand to indicate the chair at her right.
“Alice,” she said as she took her seat.
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Prince said with a touch of distress. “Alice.” Another gunshot rang out, and the woman closed her eyes for a moment and visibly twitched, as if the sound was painful to her.
“So, tell me, Alice,” Mrs. Prince continued when she’d regained her composure. “Can you shed some light on this situation for me? Can you explain to me why my daughter would give up a fine home and a wonderful man who adores her and all the luxury a woman could ask for … for this?”
Alice knew there was no way she could tell Sarah’s family anything. If they knew Joe was not their father, that the marriage was a farce, they’d use the knowledge to steal Sarah away. The very thought gave her chills.
“Love, I suppose,” she said softly.
Even though there was not another gunshot, Mrs. Prince closed her eyes in what appeared to be pain. “I thought I’d taught her better than that,” she murmured. “I certainly tried. To throw away a wonderful life for a man is the worst kind of folly.” She opened her eyes and stared toward the window. “I can see why she might be attracted to that … that husband of hers, but really. He’s handsome, if you like the type, and charming, when he chooses to be. But he’s so vulgar. So common. Years from now Sarah will know I’m right about this, but by then it will be too late.”
Alice decided to open her heart, just a little, in defense of Sarah. “I believe he loves her very much.”
A low sound of disgust formed and died in Mrs. Prince’s throat. “I’ve seen the way he looks at her. Trust me, my dear, it’s not love that man feels for my daughter.”
“What is it, then?” Alice asked quietly. Immediately, she wished she’d left her mouth closed, her question unasked.
Mrs. Prince turned the full force of those oddly cold eyes on her. “You’re too young for this conversation, Alicia.”
Alice didn’t even bother to correct the woman. “Well, I love Sarah.” She didn’t want to cry, she really didn’t, but she felt the sting of tears. “I don’t know what we would’ve done without her these past few months.”
Mrs. Prince seemed to harden. “There will be no tears in my presence,” she said coldly. “Tears are a waste of energy, unproductive, and they make you look very unattractive.”
She tried not to cry, she really did, but a few fat tears slipped out. “My sisters love her, too, especially Faith and Glory. They need a mother, and Sarah—”
“Sarah is not their mother,” Mrs. Prince said sternly, but Alice imagined a softening of her eyes. “Once this unbearable situation is rectified, I’m sure your father will find another woman. She can be your new mother.”
“It’s not that simple,” Alice said, her chin trembling.
“It will have to be,” Mrs. Prince countered. “Now go wash your face and regain your composure, and once you’ve calmed yourself we’ll have that tea.”
A loud bang made the woman jump. Joe and Sarah were apparently working with the rifle, now.
Joe watched in satisfaction as yet another bottle exploded. Sarah wasn’t a bad shot, especially considering that she hadn’t touched a firearm until just a few weeks ago.
She lowered the rifle carefully, and he smiled at her back. Not only had her aim become good, she had proper respect for the power of the weapons she wielded.
“Not bad, Miss Priss,” he said softly. “Not bad at all.”
She turned slowly to face him, no smile on her face, no words of thanks for his praise. “Can we call it a day? My arms and my shoulder ache.”
He reached out and took the rifle from her. “It is a little heavy, isn’t it.”
“A little heavy?” She lifted an expressive eyebrow. “I guess you could say that. And I must confess,” she said, reaching up to rub her right shoulder gently. “I didn’t expect it to strike me quite so vigorously.”
“I warned you this rifle had a kick,” he said.
“Yes, you did.”
Hell, if only she wouldn’t look at him this way. How could a woman be innocent and tempting at the same time? Prim and seductive. Regal and sexy.
And he, damned and determined to bring in Lockhart as well as Butler, had put her in danger. He couldn’t tell her about Tristan Butler’s damned plan. What if she saw Butler in town and gave away her knowledge with something so simple as the expression on her face? She would really be in danger then, wouldn’t she?
“What you need is a derringer,” he said, thinking of sensible solutions. “Something small and light enough to keep in your skirt pocket when the six-shooter and the rifle aren’t close at hand. Maybe Garland has an over-and-under model for sale at his place. That way you’ll have two shots instead of just one. I don’t remember seeing an over-and-under when I bought the other weapons, but he can always special-order one.”
She smiled at him, a wide, clear smile. “My goodness, you’d think I was going to war the way you have me armed. Really, Joe, I don’t think it will be necessary for me to be armed at all times.”
“It can’t hurt,” he said quietly, unable to return her smile.
“I never knew,” she said teasingly, “that you had such a suspicious nature.”
“I’ll check the general store tonight when I go to town.”
Her smile faded. “Back to the saloon?”
He nodded once. It was enough.
“I wish you would stay home,” she said, her voice soft and low. It was intimate here in the middle of a deserted field that had once been filled with Willem Sheridan’s cattle. “Every time my parents get me alone, they start in with their blasted plans for a quiet divorce and my return to New York. They seem to be more well-behaved when you’re around.”
That was a scary thought, considering their treatment of him. “I’ll try not to be gone long, but I have to go.”
“Can I ask why?”
“No.” Stealing and delivering Katherine Prince’s diamond brooch would buy him a few more days, but he could hardly explain that to her. Webb would be here soon with at least a few men, and together they would take Butler and the sheriff into custody—and maybe even Charlie Lockhart.
Sarah didn’t ask “why” again.
Joe reached out, gently grabbed her wrist, and pulled her close. “Maybe you should kiss me, in case any of our guests are watching.”
“We do want to maintain a certain appearance,” she whispered, reaching up to grasp the edge of the vest he wore, Willem Sheridan’s soft, well-worn leather garment, with gentle fingers.
“Yes, we do.”
She came up on her toes, and he leaned down to meet her. Her mouth on his was soft and sweet, tender and exciting.
Sarah released her hold on the vest and slipped her arms around his waist as the kiss quickly became something more than a simple, innocent meeting of their mouths. It was as if he had grown ravenously hungry for her, as if he couldn’t ever get enough.
He had to wonder what she’d think of a detour to the barn before they returned to the house.
“Oh, for pity’s sake,” a miserly, citified voice interrupted. “Do control yourselves.”
Joe released Sarah and turned to face Hugh Towerson; the man who would be Sarah’s husband right now if she hadn’t run away on the day of their wedding.
He despised the man almost as much as he despised Butler and Lockhart and the crooked Sheriff Potter. For different reasons, of course. More personal, gut-wrenching reasons.
Hellfire, he was jealous.
“What do you want, Hughie?”
The man bristled. “It’s Hugh, you barbarian,” he said primly. “Mr. Towerson to you.”
Joe smiled tightly at the man. “What the hell do you want? Can’t a man kiss his wife in peace?”
It was Towerson’s turn to bristle. “Mrs. Prince’s diamond brooch is missing. She’s quite sure she left it on the dresser in her room.” He lifted his nose superciliously into the air. “I suspect one of your ragamuffins has pilfered it.”
Joe took a single step toward the shorter, slighter man. “None of my girls are thieves, Hughie.”
“The fact remains that the brooch is missing,” Towerson said with a wrinkle of his pert nose. “It belonged to Mrs. Prince’s mother, and she’s quite distraught over the disappearance.”
“I’m sure it will turn up,” Sarah said, stepping to Joe’s side. “Mother’s misplaced jewelry before, many times. She can be careless, you know.”
“She’s quite sure—” Towerson began.
“Joe’s right,” Sarah interrupted, a touch of fire in her voice. “None of our girls are thieves.”
He wanted that detour to the barn more than ever. Damn, but Sarah had gumption. She stared Towerson straight in the eye and defied him without a single tremor. He wanted to make sure that she and everyone else knew she was his … even though she wasn’t. Not really. Not completely.
“I’d better go help Mother look for her brooch,” Sarah said, looking up at him and delivering a small, secret smile.
And he let her go, to search for a diamond brooch that rested safe and snug in the inside pocket of the leather vest he wore.
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Chapter Twenty-two
These days Sarah took any opportunity to get away from the house, and this morning was no exception. Her mother was still abed, but her father and Hugh were up and dressed and assaulting her with the full force of their indignity. Mother’s brooch was still missing, and according to them she was a complete fool for marrying a man with seven children, one of whom apparently was a thief. In fact, they made it quite clear that they questioned her sanity. Any woman in the world would be grateful to be in the position she had run away from, in their estimation.
She couldn’t think of the proper words to make them understand. Even if she could come up with just the right explanation, they likely wouldn’t bother to listen.
When they stopped to take a deep breath, she excused herself to head to the kitchen to make coffee—and then slipped out the back door.
It was a glorious morning, clear and still cool, not a cloud in the sky. All was wondrously quiet outside the crowded house; there was no arguing, no badgering, and there were no accusations. Three horses grazed in the large enclosed corral, Joe’s beloved Snowdrop and the two more ordinary horses who so faithfully pulled the wagon. In a separate enclosure the two milk cows grazed. The animals and the beauty of the morning made such a peaceful, enchanting picture.
“Hiding?” a soft voice asked.
She spun around to find Joe so close that she could reach out and touch him, if she had a mind to. Gorgeous as always, he wore one of his charmingly devilish half-smiles.
“I suppose I am,” she confessed.
“Me, too,” he said, taking her hand and leading her away from the house.
She knew this wouldn’t last much longer, that Joe’s time here was not indefinite. But as they walked hand in hand away from the house she felt a fresh wave of love, as if this moment were perfect and the future held endless, wonderful possibilities.
“They do have their good qualities, you know. My parents,” she added as they walked to the other side of the barn where they’d be hidden from prying eyes in any window of the house. “Hugh, too, I imagine.”
“Maybe they left those good qualities back in New York,” Joe muttered.
Sarah smiled as they came to a halt in the shade of the barn. “Perhaps. I know my mother and father are overly protective, and that they only want what’s best for me. I understand that better now, since I’ve taken on the children. I want to protect the girls, and make sure they have a good life—the best I can give them. So I do understand, I just think it’s time my parents allowed me to decide what’s best for myself.”
“What is best for you, Sarah?”
She bit her tongue to keep from blurting out, You, Stumpy. You’re what’s best for me.
For the past several nights they’d shared a room, but not a bed. She had joined him on the floor, twice, but with the children so close it was impossible to allow their passions rein. Just as well, she supposed. It was going to be difficult enough to let Joe go when the time came.
