The Widow′s Little Secret
The Widow's Little Secret
Judith Stacy
Mills & Boon Historical
Mattie Ingram–the love of his life and the mother of his child–was the most stubborn, independent, contrary woman in Nevada. And in the lonely months since he'd seen her, he'd discovered he needed her more than breath itself. But Mattie was having nothing to do with him!A baby coming, her business failing… What else could possibly happen? Mattie wondered. Well, the father of her child could insist on becoming a permanent part of her life. But if Jared McQuaid thought that one night of passion gave him the right to a lifetime commitment, he had better think again!
“I won’t marry you!”
Halfway across the churchyard, Mattie heard Jared calling her name. She didn’t stop until she heard his footsteps behind her. She turned to find him towering over her.
“Listen to me, Mattie. We’re going back into that church and we’re—”
“No!”
“You can’t raise this baby by yourself!”
“Yes, I can!” She looked up into his face and saw that Jared was as angry as she.
“Listen to me—”
“No, you listen to me,” she told him. “I have a home and a business. I have friends to help me. I’m perfectly capable of raising this baby myself. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t know what you’re up against.”
Mattie reined in her temper. “This doesn’t concern you. Everyone thinks this baby is my husband’s, and that suits me fine.”
“Well, it doesn’t suit me at all!”
The Widow’s Little Secret
Harlequin Historical #571
Praise for Judith Stacy’s recent works
The Blushing Bride
“…lovable characters that grab your heartstrings…a fun read all the way.”
—Rendezvous
The Dreammaker
“…a delightful story of the triumph of love.”
—Rendezvous
The Heart of a Hero
“Judith Stacy is a fine writer with both polished style and heartwarming sensitivity.”
—Bestselling author Pamela Morsi
#572 CELTIC BRIDE
Margo Maguire
#573 THE LAWMAN TAKES A WIFE
Anne Avery
#574 LADY POLLY
Nicola Cornick
The Widow’s Little Secret
Judith Stacy
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Available from Harlequin Historicals and
JUDITH STACY
Outlaw Love #360
The Marriage Mishap #382
The Heart of a Hero #444
The Dreammaker #486
Written in the Heart #500
The Blushing Bride #521
One Christmas Wish #531
“Christmas Wishes”
The Last Bride in Texas #541
The Nanny #561
The Widow’s Little Secret #571
To David, Judy and Stacy—the greatest family
Contents
Chapter One (#u8bc9b272-ff98-5167-b244-9ecbd1252d5f)
Chapter Two (#ud90f135e-0003-52ae-af9f-2df760736e25)
Chapter Three (#ue4fb0ebc-e717-5af1-9f90-b9007810ce97)
Chapter Four (#uc71ea7c4-ca31-5fb6-94f6-f3b16ed216a1)
Chapter Five (#u1b8045ab-061e-55ea-bf5e-204f25d5b071)
Chapter Six (#ud7afb579-c8dd-52bb-baaa-8e65d3a3a167)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
Nevada, 1887
It just wasn’t right, being envious of a dead man. Still, that’s how Jared McQuaid felt sitting on the hotel porch, watching the funeral procession roll by.
He glanced down at the Stanford Gazette on his lap. The headline announced the untimely death of Del Ingram, and the front page article extolled the man’s many virtues.
A knot formed in Jared’s stomach. What were the chances? He’d showed up in this town just today and read the obituary of a man he’d grown up with miles and miles from here. A man he hadn’t thought of in years.
According to the newspaper, Ingram had died from a fall. Jared had figured ol’ Del was more likely to have been killed by a jealous husband, an irate wife or a poker player with an eye for cheaters.
Not so, according to the newspaper. Del had made something of himself here in Stanford. Owner of a restaurant, a solid citizen with a sterling reputation, he’d had a life any man would envy.
Jared touched his hand to the U.S. Marshal’s badge pinned to his vest beneath his coat. Seemed he and his boyhood friend had taken very different roads when they’d parted company some fifteen years ago. This wasn’t the man Jared remembered. But maybe Del had changed.
Jared sure as hell had.
The rocker creaked as Jared leaned back and watched from beneath the brim of his black Stetson as the funeral procession passed by. Matched sorrels pulled the wagon bearing the coffin, their hoofs stirring up little swirls of dust. Two dozen mourners followed, all dressed in black, their somber faces flushed red from the raw March wind.
Jared glanced west. Charcoal clouds hung over the Sierra Nevadas, blocking out what was left of the day’s sunlight. He had nothing to do, no place to go, no one to talk to until morning when he would relieve Stanford’s sheriff of his two prisoners and head to Carson City. Jared may as well pay his respects to Del Ingram, even though he’d never especially liked him.
A few people glanced at Jared as he fell into step behind the mourners. One woman eyed the Colt .45 strapped to his hip and the badge on his chest when the wind whipped open his coat. She chanced a look at his face, then turned away, wondering, he was sure, who he was and why he was here.
Jared found himself on the receiving end of a hundred such looks nearly every time he came to a town like this. Not that he blamed anyone, of course. He’d arrive one day, eat supper alone in some restaurant, sleep in a nameless hotel, then take custody of his prisoners the following morning and disappear.
And those were his good days. Most of the time he was on the trail, sleeping in the saddle, eating jerky and cold beans, hunting down some rabble-rouser who’d broken the law.
He was used to both—the life and the looks he got. Jared had been a marshal for nearly ten years now.
At the cemetery on the edge of town, six men unloaded the coffin from the wagon. Del Ingram’s final resting place was deep; freshly turned earth lay beside it.
Reverend Harris stepped to the foot of the grave, yanked his black, wide-brimmed hat over the tufts of his gray hair and struggled to hold open the fluttering pages of his Bible. The townsfolk gathered in a close knot, straining to hear the reverend’s words. Jared moved off to one side, uncomfortable among the mourners.
As was his custom, Jared’s gaze moved from face to face, sizing up each person assembled there. He was good at it. It had saved his life a time or two.
From all appearances, everyone who was anyone in the town of Stanford was assembled to mourn Del’s passing. They all looked prosperous, in dress and in manner. Jared spotted the mayor and his wife; he’d met the man earlier in the sheriff’s office. Sheriff Hickert wasn’t present, but Jared hadn’t expected him to be. He was nursing a nasty leg wound from the shoot-out that had garnered the two prisoners Jared was transporting tomorrow.
The gathering shifted as Reverend Harris reached for the woman standing in front of him. Jared’s stomach bottomed out.
“Damn…”
The widow. Del’s widow. Jared felt like he’d been sucker-punched in the gut.
He didn’t know how Ingram had acquired a prosperous business, a good home, a sterling reputation—and he sure as hell couldn’t imagine how he’d found himself such a fine-looking wife.
Even in her mourning dress she looked fit and shapely. She’d draped a black lace scarf over her head, but tendrils of her brown hair escaped in the wind and blew across her pale cheeks. She stood stiff and straight, her full lips pressed tightly together as she gazed past the reverend to some point on the distant horizon.
Jared thought she looked brave, determined not to break down. He wondered if she’d fully accepted the sudden loss of her husband, dead not quite two days now. He’d seen that happen before, where a long time passed before reality set in—and only then did loved ones fall to pieces.
Who would be there to hold Mrs. Del Ingram when that happened? Jared wondered. He wondered, too, why the thought bothered him so much.
He recalled the newspaper article he’d read, and remembered no mention of Ingram having any children. Indeed, no little ones hung on Mrs. Ingram’s skirt, sniffling, reaching up to her. Jared found that troubling. The widow was truly alone now, it seemed, without even a child to comfort her.
“Let us pray,” Reverend Harris called.
As heads bowed, Jared pulled out the newspaper, which he’d crammed into his pocket, and searched for the widow’s name. Matilda. “Mattie,” the mayor’s wife had called her in a quote.
He turned to her again. His breath caught. Mattie Ingram hadn’t bowed her head for the prayer. She was looking straight at him.
Their gazes met and held. She didn’t blink, didn’t falter, didn’t hesitate, just looked at him long and hard, with the biggest, brownest eyes he’d ever seen.
Heat flared in Jared’s belly, spreading outward, weakening his knees and making his heart thump harder in his chest.
“Amen,” the reverend intoned.
“Amen,” the gathering echoed.
Only then did Mattie turn away. Flushed, Jared pushed back his coat to welcome the chilly wind.
He watched her, silently willing her to turn toward him again. But she didn’t. Rigid, restrained, Mattie accepted condolences, then headed back toward town, with the other mourners crowded around her.
Standing beside the mound of dirt at Ingram’s grave, Jared followed her with his gaze, the bustle under her dark dress swaying, the vision of her deep brown eyes still boring into him. Finally, she disappeared from sight. Jared headed for the closest saloon.
Almost nobody was inside the Lady Luck when Jared passed through the bat-wing doors. Two men stood at the bar; the gaming tables were empty.
“Pretty quiet in here,” Jared said to the bartender.
“Everybody’s paying their respects,” he said, and nodded outside, “down at Mrs. Ingram’s place.”
Jared should have known that. The mourners would gather at the widow’s house, eat the food they’d brought, and talk one final time about the departed.
Jared leaned his elbow on the bar. Had he been on the trail so long he’d forgotten how civilized people acted?
Over the next few hours the saloon filled with men, drinks flowed and the noise level rose. Everybody who came in had something to say about Del Ingram. Jared stood at the bar sipping his drink, trying to block it out. By the time he’d finished his fourth beer he’d heard all the tributes he could stand to hear about the man he remembered to be a first-rate scalawag, the man these townsfolk admired so much.
Outside, the cold wind whipped around Jared as he headed down the boardwalk toward the hotel. It was dark now. The town had closed up for the night.
But when he reached the hotel, Jared kept walking. He didn’t stop until he got to the edge of town, to the sturdy house with the picket fence he’d read about in the newspaper. The Ingram home.
And a fine home it was. Neat, clean, well built. A house fit for one of Stanford’s most prosperous citizens.
The front door opened and a woman stepped onto the porch, outlined by the glowing lamplight behind her. Jared’s heart lurched. Was it her? Was it Mattie?
The woman pulled two small children out of the house behind her and shut the door. Disappointment caused Jared’s shoulders to sag a little. He nodded politely to the woman when she passed him on her way back to town.
Minutes dragged by while Jared stood at the end of the boardwalk, looking at the Ingram home. He didn’t want to go inside and hear anyone else talk about what a fine man Del was; Jared had had his fill of that already.
He muttered a little curse directed at himself. What kind of man was he, thinking ill of the dead? Had he forgotten all the good manners he’d once prided himself on?
Slowly, he nodded in the darkness. His solitary life on the trail, hunting down criminals, hauling them in for trial, had taken its toll.
The decent thing to do was go pay his respects to the widow of the man he’d grown up with. Del had made something of his life and he deserved all the things being said about him. Jared would go into that house and say something nice about him. It was the right thing to do.
And he’d get to see Mattie Ingram again.
Jared crossed the road, passed through the little gate outside the house and stepped up onto the porch. He paused for a moment before he knocked and brushed off his trousers, then took off his hat and smoothed down his dark hair, glad he’d taken a bath and gotten a haircut this afternoon.
He rapped his knuckles against the door, then waited, waited and waited some more before it opened. He’d expected to find the reverend’s wife greeting mourners, but instead Jared found himself face-to-face with the widow herself. A long moment dragged by while he just looked at her. When Jared finally came to his senses, he clasped his hat against his chest and tried to think of something to say.
“Mrs. Ingram? My name is Jared McQuaid. I’m—I’m real sorry about your husband.”
She stepped back without really looking at him, and opened the door wider. “Won’t you come in?”
He followed her down the little hallway, past a neat parlor, to the kitchen at the rear of the house. The room was warm and comfortable. A cookstove and cupboards were at one end, a sideboard and a table and chairs at the other. All manner of food—or what was left of it—covered the table. Jared’s steps slowed. No one else was in the house. Had he intruded, when he’d intended to comfort?
“Is it too late to come calling?” he asked.
“No,” she said simply, and turned toward the cupboard. “I’ll get you something to eat.”
Jared watched her skirt swirl, and glimpsed her white ruffled petticoat, then studied her backside as she stretched up and retrieved a plate from the top shelf of the cupboard.
He muttered a silent curse at himself for admiring Del’s widow.
“Your husband and I grew up together,” Jared said, as he shrugged out of his coat and laid his hat aside.
Mattie didn’t answer, just turned again and began filling the plate from the dishes on the table.
“We went to school together,” Jared said, feeling the need to say something. He took a step closer. “I’m a U.S. Marshal, just in town for today. I’m leaving in the morning. I read about Del in the newspaper.”
Silence filled the house as Mattie heaped food on the plate, and Jared pulled on the back of his neck.
“So, while I was here I wanted to tell you how sorry I am that Del’s passed on,” he said. “He was a good man. Everybody in town speaks highly of him.”
Though Jared didn’t understand it, it was true. And regardless of what he thought about Del Ingram, this was his wife, the woman who loved him. She’d married him, lain with him, walked through life with him. The least Jared could do was think of something nice to say.
“Fact is,” Jared said, “I never heard so many kind things said about one man before. I was down at the Lady Luck just now and Del was all anybody talked about.”
A little gasp echoed in the kitchen, and Jared saw Mattie press a hand against her lips. Damn it, what was he thinking, mentioning that he’d been at the saloon? That wasn’t what women liked to hear from strangers in their home.
Jared pushed his fingers through his hair. “The mayor…the mayor had nice things to say, too.”
She dropped the plate she’d been preparing and leaned forward, bracing her hand on the table. Little sniffles filled the room.
Good Lord, he’d made her cry. Jared stared at her slumping shoulders as she tried bravely to stand upright. He wanted to go to her, take her in his arms, comfort her. But should he? He didn’t even know her.
He wasn’t sure what to do but keep talking.
“The newspaper article about Del was just about the most glowing report I’d ever read. And that eulogy, that was something, all right.”
A sob tore from her lips and her whole body quivered. Jared stepped closer until he stood mere inches away.
He wanted to hold her. Oh, he wanted to hold her like he’d never wanted to hold another thing in his life. She looked so frail and helpless; her sobs sounded so pitiful. He wanted to press her against his chest and let her cry, keep her in his arms until her tears stopped.
“Your husband was a good man. He was well respected, and honest, and hardworking,” Jared said softly. “You’ve every right to be upset, Mrs. Ingram.”
“Don’t call me that!”
Mattie swung around, hot anger boiling inside her. She drew back her fist and struck Jared in the chest.
“Don’t ever call me by that name again!” she screamed. “He was a bastard! A lying, conniving bastard!”
Mattie braced one hand against the table to keep herself up, unable to hold the words inside any longer. She’d done that for nearly two days now, and she couldn’t contain them another minute.
“I’ve had to pretend since he died—pretend that he was a good man, pretend that everything said about him was the truth.” A sob tore from her lips. “But none of it is true. None of it!”
“Mrs. Ingram—Mattie—maybe you should—”
She batted away Jared’s hand when he reached for her. “It was all a lie. Right from the beginning. Del never loved me.”
Jared eased closer. “Things might seem that way now because you’re upset, but—”
“He told me! Just before he died!” Another wave of tears poured down Mattie’s cheeks.
Jared frowned. “He told you he never loved you?”
Mattie nodded, the hurt and humiliation throbbing in her chest. “He fell off the roof and was injured badly. He knew he was going to die. So he told me. He told me everything. How he followed another woman here to Stanford because he was in love with her. How he couldn’t have her because she was marrying someone else. How he married me because I had a restaurant, a good home, a good reputation, money.”
“Son of a…”
Mattie gulped, her strength draining away. She latched on to Jared’s arms, gazing up at him. “He just used me,” she whispered.
Mattie fell against him, sobbing, the pain too great to bear alone. She felt big arms close around her. She snuggled deeper against his hard chest.
With a sharp, ragged breath she lifted her head and gazed up at Jared. “I went by the bank today. My account was nearly empty. He’d taken my money, gambled it away, most likely. Lord knows he never worked a day since I married him. I had to use the last dollar I have in this world to bury him!”
She fell into racking sobs again and slumped against Jared’s chest. Gently, he stroked his fingers down her back, fearing Mattie was on the verge of all-out hysteria.
“You need the doctor,” he said. “He can—”
“No!” Mattie pulled away. “No, don’t get the doctor. Don’t get anyone. I don’t want people to know how stupid I was, how I let myself be swept off my feet by a man I hardly knew. Everyone said I shouldn’t marry him, but I wouldn’t listen. I believed that he loved me. I don’t want the whole town to know what a fool I was.”
Jared shook his head. “Mattie, you’re too upset. You need—”
“—to forget,” she said, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. “I need to forget.”
Jared froze as she gazed up at him. The look on her face sent a warm tremor through him.
“Make me forget,” she whispered.
Mattie came fully against him and rose on her toes, pressing her lips to his throat. “Please…make me forget.”
“Now, just a minute.” Jared caught her arms and tried to ease her away. “You’re not thinking clear.”
“I don’t want to think clear. I don’t want to think at all,” she said, and slid her palm across his chest.
He backed up, but she moved with him. “You don’t mean that.”
She meant it. With all her heart and soul she meant it. She ached deep inside. She wanted it to go away. She wanted to feel something different.
And who better to do that with than this stranger, who’d be gone in the morning?
Mattie circled her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. He pulled away.
“We were married for nearly a year, but he hadn’t touched me in months—months!” she said. “Please, I can’t lie alone in that bed tonight. I just can’t.”
Jared hesitated, studying her in the dim light.
“You can do it, can’t you?” she asked. “You can make me forget?”
“Damn right I can,” he said. “But that’s not the point.”
“What’s wrong with it?” she asked. “I’m not a married woman…not anymore.”
“I know, but—”
“I want this,” she whispered. “Don’t make me plead with you.”
“But…”
Mattie stepped away and held out her hand to him. “Please, just make me forget.”
He didn’t move, not for a long minute. Then, finally, Jared reached for her hand.
Chapter Two
Morning sunlight filtered through the window, illuminating what had to be the dressing table of the widow Mattie Ingram.
Jared, his eyes just opened, studied it as he lay curled on his side at the edge of the soft feather bed. Lace, doilies, fancy bottles, all belonging to the woman who at this very moment slept behind him…
He relaxed against the pillow, his body spent but humming with the contentment only a night with a woman can bring.
Make her forget, she’d said. He’d obliged her numerous times during the night, the last just before dawn. Now, still, he wanted to take her in his arms, do it all again—which didn’t make Jared feel particularly proud of himself.
Last night had been different. Standing in the kitchen, Mattie had looked alone and vulnerable. She’d needed somebody—him.
Jared had thought he could just hold her in his arms and comfort her, and she’d fall asleep. Once in her bedroom, though, Mattie had made it clear that wasn’t what she wanted from him.
True, he could have told her, flat out, “No.” But she was already feeling bad enough. Spurning her seemed cruel, making her beg intolerable.
Still, he’d tried to convince her otherwise, but she would have no part of it. Del might not have touched her in months, but Mattie knew what she was doing, and Jared had been on the trail too long to resist her considerable charms.
So he’d accommodated her. Given the widow what she’d asked for at her most vulnerable moment.
Why did that leave his gut churning this morning?
Jared didn’t rise from the bed, though he thought he should. Instead, he lay still, recalling the last time he’d awakened in bed with a respectable woman. His thoughts swept back, and when the memory came he played it over in his mind a few times, something he’d forbidden himself to do in years past. Surprisingly enough, it didn’t hurt so bad. Not now, not this morning.
Not with Mattie in the bed behind him.
In that instant, it all seemed surreal. Jared didn’t move, didn’t stir on the mattress, didn’t roll over to curl against her. If he did, would it all shatter? Would last night and this moment prove to be a dream? The dream that had crept into his sleep so often lately?
He remained where he was for a while longer, on the linens that smelled like Mattie, gazing at as much of her room as he could see—the lace, the figurines, the pictures on the walls. Their clothes scattered across the floor.
No, it hadn’t been a dream, he decided. None of it. Jared rolled over, anxious to have her in his arms again.
But the sheets were cold and the bed was empty.
Mattie was gone.
A dozen things needed doing—no, a hundred things.
Mattie darted to the cupboard in the kitchen of the restaurant she owned on Main Street and pulled down a serving platter. The room was silent except for the crackling fire she’d just laid in the cookstove, struggling now to take the morning chill out of the air.
No one else was in the restaurant—not Mrs. Nance, who did the cooking, or the Spencer girls, who served the guests, or Billy, who washed the dishes. None of them had probably even considered that Mattie would open for business today.
She gripped the platter tightly. None of them knew how desperately she needed to open the restaurant today.
And no one would ever know.
Another wave of humiliation washed over Mattie, bearing down on her painfully, bringing the memory of her husband into her mind. How could she have been so stupid?
When Del Ingram had arrived in Stanford a year ago, he’d taken one look at her and sworn he’d fallen desperately in love. And Mattie had believed him. He’d been so convincing, how could she not? He’d been kind and thoughtful. He’d brought her gifts, praised her every move. He’d been mannerly, well dressed, wise and worldly. He seemed like a godsend.
Mattie had been lonely since both her parents had died the year before Del’s arrival. She’d stayed in the house they built and taken over the restaurant they started, and she’d done well for herself. In fact, the restaurant had improved considerably under her ownership.
It helped that her mother was no longer around to do the cooking. Mama, bless her heart, wasn’t the best of cooks. Mattie had hired Mrs. Nance and business really picked up.
With pride, Mattie gazed around the kitchen, through the door to the dining room. She’d made other changes as well. Blue checkered linens on the tables, vases with fresh flowers from Mrs. Donovan’s garden. She improved the menu to offer heartier meals.
As a result, the restaurant looked so inviting and the food tasted so delicious diners appeared often and regularly, including the mayor and the reverend with their wives and children, out-of-town guests and dignitaries. The town’s businessmen had made the Cottonwood Café their spot for breakfast almost every morning. She sent a wagon over to the train depot to bring in diners during their layover. Almost no one commented on the modest price increase she’d made.
All of her changes had paid off handsomely. Everything was going wonderfully. And still seemed to be when Del arrived in town.
Mattie sighed in the empty kitchen remembering how lonely she’d been back then. Even with the restaurant keeping her busy day and night, she’d led a solitary life.
She’d longed for family, wished for her house to come alive with voices and laughter as it had when her parents were alive. She’d caught herself watching enviously as women in town strolled the streets with new babies in their arms. After all, she was twenty-one years old, certainly of sufficient age to have a family of her own.
Del had come along, seemingly just the sort of man she’d prayed for. Then, everything had changed.
After their marriage, which many in town had cautioned her against simply because no one really knew him at the time, another side of her husband emerged. Lazy, shiftless, domineering. He’d insisted on taking over her finances. He’d shouted at her when she questioned what he was doing with her money. He began to spend more and more time away from home. Some nights he hadn’t come home at all.
Mattie sagged against the worktable, holding the serving platter against her stomach. She’d never known where she’d gone wrong as a wife. She’d lain awake nights wondering what to do. She hadn’t wanted anyone to know the state of her marriage, or how she was treated by her husband—a man the town admired because he was so good at deceiving everyone, as he’d deceived her. She couldn’t admit how wrong she’d been in marrying him.
Mattie pinched the bridge of her nose, her mind spinning. It seemed that now, this morning, she could hardly stand up under the weight of it.
If only she could forget.
She bolted upright. Oh, heavens. Last night.
The kitchen door burst open with a gust of cold wind, and a man filled the doorway, his hat pulled low, his long coat whipping around him.
The serving platter slipped from Mattie’s hand and shattered on the floor.
Oh, heavens. Last night.
He slammed the door and crossed the kitchen, his gaze sharp and penetrating beneath the brim of his hat. Mattie gulped and backed up a step.
Stopping in front of her, the shattered platter on the floor between them, he gave her a long, grim look.
“I woke up and you were gone,” he said, and his tone told her he was none too happy about it.
“I had to leave,” she said.
“Why?” His gaze hardened. “Because you were done with me?”
Heat bloomed across Mattie’s face, reddening her cheeks as a deeper wave of humiliation swept through her. She’d thrown herself at him—a perfect stranger. She’d asked him to make love to her—practically begged him to do it.
How could she have done such a thing? Never in her life had she even imagined doing such a reckless thing.
Mattie turned away, unable to look him in the eye. “Last night…last night was a mistake, Mr….” She glanced back at him. “I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?”
“McQuaid,” he growled. “Jared McQuaid.”
Mattie gulped, trying to force down her embarrassment. “Oh, well, yes of course. I remember.” She cleared her throat. “As I said, Mr. McQuaid, last night was a mistake.”
“You didn’t seem to think so just before dawn.”
She winced, remembering what they’d been doing at that particular moment, and her cheeks burned anew. “Well, no, I suppose I didn’t. But still, it shouldn’t have happened.”
“Why not?” he asked. “Seemed to me you needed it.”
She moaned with humiliation and squeezed her eyes closed for a moment, clasping her hand to her chest.
“Why wouldn’t you?” he asked. “Your husband hadn’t made love to you in months.”
She gasped and spun to face him again. “How did you know that?”
“You told me.”
“I told you that?” she wheezed.
“Yeah. You said it somewhere between ‘make me forget’ and ‘don’t stop now.”’ Jared leaned closer. “Sound familiar?”
“Oh, heavens…” Mattie spun away, unable to tolerate the heat of his gaze, or the heat burning inside her.
She stalked to the cupboard at the rear of the kitchen and pulled out the broom and dustpan, desperate for something to do. But when she started sweeping up the broken serving platter she felt even more conspicuous with Jared scrutinizing her every move.
Her skin tingled where his gaze touched her. Memories of last night sprang into her mind. She’d never experienced such a night—never imagined it was possible to do some of the things they’d done. Even on his best night, Del, her own husband, had been woefully lacking in comparison.
Mattie cast a furtive glance at the man towering over her, then focused her gaze on her chore. Jared McQuaid was ruggedly handsome. Well over six feet tall; she remembered brushing her legs against his longer ones during the night.
He had big shoulders and arms; he’d rolled her around the bed with considerable ease. A hard chest; her fingers had raked over it a good portion of the night. Thick, black hair; she’d yanked on it more than once.
Now, this morning in the light, she saw that his eyes were blue. The very last secret the man held.
Thanks to her wanton behavior last night.
Mattie cringed, a deeper heat crackling inside her.
But he’d made her forget, just as he’d boasted he could. She’d forgotten all her troubles. And how welcome that had been, even for those few hours.
His strength went beyond the physical. In her kitchen last night she’d seen it. Jared McQuaid could carry the weight of his own troubles, plus hers and dozens more.
Another shudder passed through Mattie and her cheeks heated again. Embarrassment. Humiliation.
What else could it be?
Mattie made tiny strokes with the broom, trying to make the chore last as long as possible. If he saw she was busy maybe he would simply go away.
She wanted him to go away. Good gracious, how she wanted him to leave. She never wanted to lay eyes on this Jared McQuaid again, or to be reminded of last night.
She’d propositioned a stranger. Wrestled him like a wild bear. And liked it.
A little whimper slipped through Mattie’s lips at the thought. She dashed to the trash bin with the dustpan full of broken china, and took her time emptying it.
Closing her eyes for a moment, she said a silent prayer that when she turned around, Jared McQuaid would be gone.
“Why are you here today?” she heard him ask.
With a sigh she turned and saw him wave his big hand around the kitchen.
“Nobody expects you to be open for business,” he said. “Not today.”
Mattie stuffed the broom and dustpan into the cupboard, a little peeved that he wouldn’t take the hint, do the decent thing and leave her alone with her humiliation.
“Since you’re brimming over with my personal information, and have such an excellent memory of everything I said last night, perhaps you’ll recall that my husband left me penniless? I have to open for business today.”
“No, you don’t,” he said softly. “What you’ve been through isn’t easy to bear. You need some time.”
“I hope you won’t think I’m rude, Mr. McQuaid, when I point out that this is none of your business.”
“You made it my business,” he told her. “Last night.”
She faltered and touched her hand to her throat. “I know you feel…used…under the circumstances.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Circumstances?”
“Yes.” Mattie tried to look at him, but failed. “The circumstances in which I…used you.”
She felt his gaze burn hotter against her skin, and Mattie wished with all her heart that she could simply disappear in a puff of smoke. It was too much. All of it. Everything she’d been through in the past three days was simply too much to bear.
Seeing Del fall from the roof, one of the very few times he’d done something useful at the house.
Realizing that her husband was dying before her eyes.
Hearing his confession.
Knowing what a fool she’d been.
Thinking how disappointed her parents would have been in her.
Imagining what everyone would say about her, if they found out.
Pretending, in front of the whole town.
And now this.
A lump rose in Mattie’s throat, closing it off, bringing a mist of tears to her eyes. She looked up at Jared and knew she owed him an apology. But somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to say she was sorry.
“Mr. McQuaid—” Her voice broke. Mattie gulped down the knot of emotion and tried again. “Mr. McQuaid, I realize you owe me nothing and I have no right to ask anything else of you, but I would appreciate it if you would leave.”
He didn’t leave. Instead, he studied her for a long moment, then eased closer until she could feel the heat of his body.
“You’re going to have to figure out a way to deal with your husband’s betrayal, Mattie,” he said. “But don’t be sorry you reached out for help last night. Don’t be sorry you needed somebody.”
He touched her chin and brought her face around.
“Don’t be sorry it was me,” he whispered.
And with that, Jared McQuaid walked out the kitchen door of the Cottonwood Café.
As he stalked down the boardwalk, people got out of his way. Jared strode into the newspaper office, then went to the jail. The sheriff was there, limping on his makeshift crutch, cursing the pain of his gunshot wound.
Jared signed the paperwork, took custody of the prisoners and marched them to the train station at gun-point. He loaded them into the baggage car, chained their leg irons to the floor and went back out to the platform.
The wind snapped his coat around his knees as he stared down Main Street. Prosperous businesses, likable people; this was a good town.
His gaze landed on the Cottonwood Café, the sign barely visible at the other end of town.
Mattie Ingram.
Yeah, he’d made her forget, all right.
Now, how was he going to manage it?
Chapter Three
“Two months? Two months gone by since you were here the last time?” Mayor Rayburn asked.
“Almost three,” Jared said.
“Well, if that don’t beat all…”
Standing with the mayor inside the sheriff’s office, Jared could hardly believe how quickly the time had passed since his first visit to Stanford.
Or how much had happened.
“Where does the time go?” the mayor lamented, stroking his gray side whiskers. “Anyway, take it from me and the town council, we’re plum tickled to have you here in Stanford, to stay this time.”
Jared looked down at the mayor, dressed in his cravat and the rumpled suit that hung loosely on his thin frame. “Too bad about Sheriff Hickert.”
“Yep. A damn shame, all right. Tricky thing about them gunshot wounds. Don’t heal right, sometimes. He tried to handle his duties, but just couldn’t manage anymore.” The mayor clasped Jared’s arm. “But I know you’re going to do us a fine job in his place. Stanford is a good town, full of good people. We want to keep it that way.”
The mayor and the men of the town council had said those exact words to Jared shortly after he’d arrived on the train this morning, when they’d sworn him in to office at the mayor’s house. In fact, Jared had heard those words three times now.
“You can count on it,” he declared.
“Just what I like to hear.” The mayor rubbed his palms together. “Let me know if there’s anything you’re needing.”
“I’ll do that,” Jared said, and followed him outside.
“Me and the missus will have you over for supper some night,” Mayor Rayburn said, and headed off across the street.
Jared stood on the boardwalk watching the horses, wagons and buggies move along Main Street. Miners, women and children, gentlemen in suits and cowboys wearing guns went about their business.
Jared’s chest swelled a little.
Stanford. His town.
He glanced down his vest. Gone was the U.S. Marshal’s badge he’d worn for nearly ten years. In its place was the tin star declaring him Stanford’s sheriff.
When last here, he’d signed up for a subscription to the Stanford Gazette on his way out of town. Despite the sporadic mail service and the duties that had kept him on the trail, he’d actually received a few issues. Enough for him to follow the story of Sheriff Hickert, who’d never fully recovered from his gunshot wound. Enough to learn that Stanford needed a new lawman. Jared had telegrammed, asking for the job, and within a few weeks got the answer he’d hoped for.
It hadn’t taken much for Jared to make the life-changing decision. Hunkered down by a feeble camp-fire one cold night, with the wind biting his ears, Jared had thought about why he’d been so envious of Del Ingram, a dead man.
Ingram had everything Jared didn’t have—a town, a home, a family, the respect of decent people. In that moment, Jared had realized that’s what he wanted for himself.
True, he’d had no desire for any of those things for a long time, for a lot of reasons. But that was behind him now. Jared knew where his future lay.
So here he was.
Jared rested his thumbs in his gun belt and scanned Main Street one final time before going into the sheriff’s office. His office.
Not only did he have an office, he had a deputy who, at this very minute, was out keeping an eye on the streets of Stanford. He’d met Drew Tanner at the mayor’s house this morning. Tanner looked a little young and seemed a little green, but he had some experience and he was eager.
As sheriff’s offices went, this one was as good as any. Jared surveyed his desk, his racks of rifles, Wanted posters nailed to the walls, the little stove in the corner with the rocking chair next to it. Down the hallway were two cells, both empty at the moment.
Jared’s living quarters were there, too. The room was small, but it held everything he needed: a bunk, a washstand, a bureau. A place he could hang his hat every single night.
No more meals around a campfire. No more cold nights on the trail. No more hunting down lawbreakers who would knife him in the back or blow his head off given a second’s opportunity. He’d never have a daily dose of those kind of men again.
Jared smiled in the quiet office. The town of Stanford was peaceful as a Sunday morning, tame as a speckled pony. He could do his sheriff duties in his sleep.
Jared drew in a deep, satisfied breath. Yep, he was going to like it here in Stanford.
Pausing at the little mirror beside the stove, Jared straightened his badge and pulled his hat a little lower over one eye. He gave himself a brisk nod, then walked out into the streets of his town.
Spring had come to Stanford and should have been gone by now, but the pleasant weather hung on. The morning was warm. A hint of a breeze stirred.
Citizens crowded the boardwalks and the streets, going about their business. Jared strolled along, looking things over, watching for trouble, getting the lay of the place.
And looking for Mattie Ingram.
He stopped abruptly outside the Stanford Mercantile, realizing that his first walk-through of the town had taken him directly to the Cottonwood Café.
Well, why shouldn’t he head here first? It was the heart of the business district, he told himself. Nearby was the bank, the assay office and most of the shops. Places likely to draw criminal activity. Mattie and her Cottonwood Café didn’t have anything to do with it.
Jared pulled on his chin. No sense in lying to himself.
Mattie had been on his mind—and in his dreams—almost continually since he’d laid eyes on her. Since their night together.
Mattie was a widow, Jared reminded himself, her husband dead not quite three months yet. Of course, after what she’d told him about Ingram, Jared doubted she’d done too much grieving over him.
But after her proper period of mourning, dare he hope to court her himself? A little smile pulled at Jared’s lips. Yep, that’s exactly what he could do.
In the meantime, he’d have to settle for looking at her. Of course, he could talk to her, too. Have supper at her restaurant.
Think about rolling around in bed with her.
Heat rushed through Jared, pumping his blood faster. Damn, after all this time, thoughts of making love to Mattie still had the same affect on him.
He walked a little faster, trying to push those images out of his mind before he gave the townsfolk an impression of their new sheriff he didn’t want them to have.
But, as if he didn’t have a will of his own, Jared’s feet carried him across the street to the Cottonwood Café. He peered through the window. Only one table was occupied.
Good, he thought. If the restaurant wasn’t busy, that meant Mattie would have time to talk to him. But he didn’t want their reunion to take place in front of an audience. Jared circled the building.
As he walked he allowed himself to indulge in a little fantasy. On those long, lonely nights on the trail he’d often found himself thinking about how Mattie might react when she saw him again.
His favorite conjured-up scene was the one where she took one look at him, shucked off her clothes and jumped into bed with him.
Jared pulled on his chin. A hell of a nice vision—one he’d about worn out—but not likely to happen.
Next was the one where she confessed that she’d pined endlessly for him, prayed for his return, then shucked off her clothes and jumped into bed with him.
He’d even imagined that she said she loved him—then shucked off her clothes and jumped into bed with him.
“Damn…”
Jared shook his head, getting himself under control. Fact was, the best he could hope for when Mattie saw him was a smile on her face. That would be plenty. A smile would mean she was happy to see him. A smile meant…everything.
Rounding the corner of the restaurant, Jared stopped. His heart thundered in his chest.
Mattie stood on the back steps, holding on to the railing, gazing up at the sky. His insides seemed to melt.
Lord, what a pretty woman she was. At times over the past months he’d wondered if his imagination had turned her into something she wasn’t. But seeing her now, he knew that wasn’t true. Mattie was as pretty as he remembered.
She had on a gray dress with a black lace collar and cuffs. Proper mourning attire for a widow, but it did nothing to hide her swells and curves.
Jared headed toward the back steps, anxious to see her up close, talk to her. What the hell? Maybe she would shuck off her clothes and jump into bed with him.
“Mattie?” he called.
She spun around. Only a second passed before recognition bloomed on her face. Her eyes widened.
A little whimper slipped from Mattie’s lips. She splayed her fingers across her stomach.
“Surprise,” he said.
Mattie slapped her hand over her mouth and raced to the outhouse.
Jared frowned as he pushed his hat back on his head and watched the outhouse door bang shut behind her.
“Well, damn…” he muttered. Never ever had he imagined the sight of him would send her running to the privy.
The restaurant door opened and a gray-haired woman stepped outside, wiping her hands on a linen towel.
Jared looked at her hopefully. “Something she ate?”
Mattie slumped against the door of the outhouse, the coarse wood digging into her forehead. She had to get out of this airless little shed. The smell, the heat…
Her stomach rolled. Mattie swallowed quickly, fearful she’d be sick again.
But she didn’t want to go outside. He was there.
Her heart banged in her chest. What was he doing here? Why had he come back? And why did it have to be now?
Did he know? Had he somehow found out?
Mattie touched her palm to her stomach. Flat, still. No outward sign of the baby—his baby.
No, he couldn’t know, she decided. He couldn’t possibly know.
What should she do? Mattie thought frantically. Tell him?
Weeks ago when she’d found out she was carrying his child, she’d decided not to contact him. His presence would only complicate things.
Mattie twisted her fingers together. But now he was here. Did that change things?
Drawing in a deep breath, Mattie fought off the nausea that had plagued her for weeks, her spirits lifting a little as she realized that, like before, Jared McQuaid would be in town for only a day or so to pick up prisoners, probably. Then he’d be gone. All she had to do was keep her condition a secret from him—which would be a snap, since she didn’t intend to speak to the man—and by tomorrow he’d be gone, none the wiser.
And her baby’s future would be safe again.
Mattie gulped a few times, fighting off another wave of nausea and an unsettling nudge from her conscience.
“Mattie?” Mrs. Nance called from outside.
Bless her, the dear woman had been such a comfort—her only comfort, really.
Slowly, Mattie opened the door to Mrs. Nance’s smile. The woman was stout, with a lifetime of lines on her face.
“Feeling better?” she asked.
“Well, no…not really.”
Mrs. Nance patted her hand. “All perfectly normal. Come along, dear.”
Mattie didn’t move. “Is—is that man still out there?”
“The new sheriff, you mean?” Mrs. Nance asked.
“The—what?”
“Jared McQuaid. The new sheriff,” she explained. Mattie’s stomach heaved. She fought it down, along with a rising wave of panic. “We have a new sheriff?”
“You hadn’t heard?” Mrs. Nance nodded. “I guess not. You’ve had your mind on other things lately.”
Yes, that was certainly true. Her queasy stomach—on top of all her other problems.
“He’s the new sheriff? Stanford’s sheriff?” Mattie asked. “Here permanently?”
“Just arrived this morning, and here to stay, he says.”
Mattie clamped her lips together to hold in her groan.
“You need to get off your feet for a while,” Mrs. Nance said, and led her from the outhouse.
Mattie’s gaze fell on Jared McQuaid, standing across the yard. He was big, tall, sturdy. His sheriff’s badge glinted in the morning sun.
Her heart thumped in her chest and her stomach squeezed into a knot again, making her footsteps drag. She watched as Jared’s gaze touched her face, then dropped to her belly and hung there.
Mattie froze. He knew.
The world suddenly tilted and Mattie swayed. In the next heartbeat, she felt Jared beside her, holding her upright, bracing her against his chest—that chest…that night.
How familiar he felt. How comfortable. Part of Mattie wanted to melt against him, soak up his strength—goodness knows, the man had plenty to go around. But something inside her warned her to get away as fast as she could.
“I’ll take you to the doctor,” Jared said.
“No.” Mattie pushed away from him. “No. There’s nothing he can do, and besides I—”
She didn’t finish the sentence. It was none of Jared’s business that she couldn’t afford another visit to the doctor.
“I’ll take her home,” Mrs. Nance said, as if reading Mattie’s thoughts.
“I’ll handle it,” Jared told her in a tone that brooked no disagreement. He dipped his chin toward his badge. “It’s my duty. Besides, don’t you have to look after the café?”
“The restaurant is my responsibility,” Mattie insisted. She tried to pull away, but Jared’s long fingers remained folded around her arm and splayed across her back. “I need to stay here. The noon rush will start soon.”
Mrs. Nance shook her head sympathetically, but didn’t say anything. There was no need. Both of them knew how foolish Mattie’s claim was.
“Let the sheriff take you home for a while, dear,” Mrs. Nance said. “He…understands.”
With that, Mattie realized Mrs. Nance had told Jared about her condition while she’d been in the outhouse.
How much more humiliation could she bear in front of this man?
“I can get myself home just fine,” Mattie announced, though really, she hardly felt up to it.
Jared never gave her a chance to prove her words. With a little pressure at her back, he escorted her away from the restaurant.
When they got to the street, Mattie glanced at the people passing by on the boardwalk and pulled away from Jared.
“I will not be paraded through town like a circus train,” she told him.
Mattie looked up to see a frown on his face. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t put his hand on her again.
When they reached her house, Mattie expected Jared would leave. He didn’t. He walked inside as if he belonged there. Mattie was too tired, too nauseated to protest. She went straight to her bedroom with him on her heels.
Heat flushed Mattie’s cheeks. This room. That night. Him.
“Do you need help with your dress?” Jared asked, his gaze traveling over her, lingering on her belly.
He’d already seen her naked. Suddenly, Mattie felt that way again. Vulnerable, exposed, but not in a sexual way. More like a bug in a jar.
“Stop looking at my stomach!” She slammed the door in his face, then dropped onto the bed and fell asleep.
When she awoke some time later, Mattie felt only marginally better. She splashed her face at the washstand, then took down her hair and pinned it up again. Leaning closer to the mirror, she took stock of her features. Pale, dark circles under her eyes…She looked terrible.
Almost as terrible as she felt.
With a deep sigh, Mattie went to the kitchen. Her stomach jolted again when she found Jared standing at her cookstove.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
He spun around. A moment passed while his gaze traveled the length of her, dipped to her belly for only a second, then landed on her face.
“I heard you stirring around in the bedroom,” he said. “I made you something to eat.”
“You’ve been here all this time?” she asked. He’d stayed? Gone through her cupboards? Sat in her chairs? Made himself comfortable in her house? Had he peeked into her bedroom while she slept?
Jared took a biscuit from the warmer and poured tea into one of her china cups. “You don’t have much here to eat.”
“I own a restaurant, remember? I usually eat there.”
Jared pulled back a chair for her. When she glared at him instead of sitting down, he circled the table and eased into a chair across from her, then picked up the newspaper and began reading.
How casual and comfortable he’d made himself, sitting at her table. Honestly, the gall of this man.
Another minute passed before Jared spoke as he turned the page of the newspaper. “The tea and biscuit will settle your stomach, make you feel better.”
He was right, of course, but it didn’t particularly suit Mattie that he’d said it. Or that he’d prepared it for her. Or that he was sitting at her table, in her house.
But the tea did smell good, while so few things did these days. Mattie sat down and took little sips as she ate the biscuit. Jared kept reading the newspaper, his silence unnerving.
When she finished, he dropped the paper and laid his hand lightly on her wrist, keeping her in the chair.
“We need to talk,” he said.
Mattie pulled away and got to her feet. “There is nothing we need to discuss.”
His gaze dipped to her belly. “Are you sure you’re pregnant?”
It was pointless to deny it. Mrs. Nance had told him. Her illness had confirmed it.
Mattie clenched her fists at her sides. “Three times in one night! How could I not be pregnant?”
Jared rose and stood beside her, his expression grim. “It’s mine, isn’t it?”
She raised her chin. “It’s my husband’s.”
“It’s mine.” Jared’s eyes narrowed. “Unless you had some other man in town making you forget after I left.”
She slapped him. Hard, on the cheek with her open palm. Jared didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away, didn’t move. Finally, he nodded, satisfied.
“It’s mine,” he declared.
“It’s my husband’s,” Mattie told him again. “That’s what the whole town thinks and that’s what I’m letting them believe.”
“Just your little secret. Is that it?”
Mattie gazed up at Jared and jerked her chin. “Yes, my little secret.”
This baby could have been Del’s, if they’d had a normal husband-wife relationship. The town didn’t know any differently, and Mattie had decided to let them believe it.
After all, telling the truth would label her baby a bastard. What kind of choice was that?
“Did you ever intend to tell me?” Jared asked.
She turned away. “No. I was never going to tell you.”
Jared drew in a big breath, then let it out slowly, as if he’d come to terms with everything she’d said, made some sort of decision about it.
“Let’s go,” he said.
Mattie frowned. “Go? Go where?”
“To the church.”
“Whatever for?” she asked.
“We’re getting married.”
Chapter Four
“Married?”
“Yes. Married,” Jared said. He took her hand. “Right now.”
She pulled away from him. “I’m not going to marry you.”
“Yes, you are.” He eased closer, crowding her. “You’re carrying a baby. My baby. I’m taking responsibility for what I did and we’re getting married.”
“Nobody knows it’s your baby. I told you, the whole town thinks it’s Del’s.”
“I know it’s mine.” Jared tapped his finger against his chest. “I’m not turning my back on you, or this baby.”
Mattie lifted her chin. “I don’t want your help.”
“Maybe you don’t want it but you sure as hell need it,” Jared told her. He looked her up and down. “You’re sick as a dog. You’re pale. You’ve lost weight. You can’t keep anything down.”
For a lawman, he certainly knew a lot about having babies. Or he was just observant.
“Yes,” Mattie admitted. “I’ve been sick. But that will pass.”
“And you’re dead tired, aren’t you? You can’t make it through the day without lying down.”
“If I have time I lie down, but I’m usually too busy at the restaurant.”
“And what effect do you think that’s having on the baby?” he challenged.
Mattie turned away from those fierce blue eyes of his, uncomfortable under his gaze. She tried to think of a reasonable response, but couldn’t.
Finally she said, “Just because I’m sick and I need to take a nap is no reason for us to get married, of all things.”
“Yes, it is,” Jared told her. “It’s the best reason. The only reason. I’m marrying you so I can take care of you, and make sure our baby comes into this world healthy.”
“But—”
“It’s the right thing to do.” Jared gave her a brisk nod. “And you know it.”
She’d worried about all those things. Dr. Whittaker, Mrs. Nance at the restaurant—along with most every other woman in town—had cautioned her over and over again to take it easy.
She did feel terrible. She was worn out by midafternoon. Was she being thoughtless? Was she being a bad mother? Was she jeopardizing her unborn child?
More than anything, she wanted her baby to be healthy. Nothing was more important.
Jared seemed to read those feelings in her expression. He pulled on his hat and opened the back door. “Let’s go.”
Mattie hesitated a moment. “But—”
“This isn’t about you and me,” Jared told her. “It’s about the baby.”
What could she say to that? Mattie walked out ahead of him.
Just beyond the gate in the white picket fence that surrounded her house, Mattie slowed, gazing toward Main Street. Jared was a few paces ahead of her. He stopped and turned back.
“What about the Cottonwood?” Mattie asked. “What about my restaurant?”
“Close it.”
“Close it?” Mattie shook her head, stunned by the thought. “How am I supposed to support myself? What am I supposed to do for money?”
“I’ll take care of you.”
Her gaze roamed once more to the Cottonwood Café. Close it? Walk away? It had belonged to her parents. She’d worked there with them, side by side, with so many wonderful memories. She’d turned the place around and built it into the most popular eatery in Stanford.
But that was before.
Images of Del Ingram floated in Mattie’s mind. He’d drained every cent from her bank account without her knowing it. Had left her penniless. He’d also run up some sizable debts around town, debts she was saddled with.
With no money, she’d been unable to buy meat and poultry to serve to her diners. It hadn’t taken long before her soups and vegetable platters lost favor with her customers. With no sausage or bacon on the menu, the businessmen who’d made the Cottonwood their spot for breakfast stopped coming.
She’d had to let her serving girls and dishwasher go, and take on those chores herself. She held on to Mrs. Nance by a thread, paying her salary with what little money she took in; if the Silver Bell Restaurant on the other end of town hired her away, Mattie would be lost for sure.
Her business had spiraled downward for months, since Del’s death. For a moment, Mattie considered doing as Jared said, closing it. Free herself from the work, the worry. Could she do that?
Mattie shook her head. “I can’t close the Cottonwood. I just can’t.”
Jared’s brows drew together; obviously he was unhappy with her decision. “Then let Mrs. Nance run it. Or open it only part of the day. Hire more help. You can keep it open, but you’re not going to be over there all the time.”
Mattie’s back stiffened. “I made the restaurant what it is. I can’t just turn it over to hired help.”
A little frown creased Jared’s forehead. “Anybody can run that restaurant, Mattie, but only you can have this baby.”
She wished he’d stop making so much sense. Jared clasped her elbow and they walked to the church.
As they crossed the yard beneath the trees, Mattie’s steps slowed again until he was nearly pulling her along. At the bottom of the stairs, she stopped completely, with Jared on the step above her, glaring down. The door stood open and Reverend Harris’s voice drifted out. He was rehearsing his sermon, it seemed.
“We don’t even know each other,” Mattie said.
Jared raised an eyebrow at her. “We know each other well enough.”
Mattie’s cheeks flushed, remembering the extent of their intimacy. She’d spent many a night thinking about U.S. Marshal Jared McQuaid in the weeks after he’d left Stanford, left her bed. Their one night together had been like no other.
Then she’d found out she was pregnant.
Mattie lifted her chin. “Don’t think that just because we’re married that you and I are going to…well, you know.”
“What?” He looked a little confused, but Mattie saw the grin pulling at his lips.
“You know what I mean,” she informed him, crossing her arms in front of her.
“Oh.” Jared nodded broadly. “You mean make love.”
Mattie flushed bright red. “Shh. Keep your voice down. We’re at the church, for heaven’s sake.”
“It won’t hurt the baby, you know,” Jared said. His grin turned into a full smile. “And after that one night we were together, I figured you’d be anxious to—”
“Just hush!” Mattie pushed past him and stomped into the church.
Her bravado disappeared when she stepped inside. Where she was and what was about to happen smacked her in the face. Mattie backed up and bumped into the solid wall of Jared McQuaid standing behind her.
“Jared, I—I don’t know—”
“Reverend Harris!” Jared’s voice boomed over her head, carrying through the church and startling Reverend Harris, who was standing at the altar.
The reverend adjusted his spectacles and squinted at them, then smiled.
“Ah, yes, good afternoon,” he called, closing his Bible and stepping into the aisle.
Jared’s big, strong body pressed against Mattie’s back, easing her between the rows of pews toward the front of the church.
“Jared, I’m not sure—”
“We want you to marry us,” Jared called out.
Reverend Harris looked as stunned as Mattie felt, hearing the words spoken aloud. Jared splayed his hand over her back, urging her down the aisle. Mattie dug in.
Jared moved to her side and looked down at her. “This is for the baby, Mattie. Not you. Not me. The baby.”
He’d said it softly so only she could hear.
“It’s the only sensible thing to do,” Jared said.
Sensible. Yes, it was that. And Mattie had been sensible her whole life. Well, most of it, anyway.
“Let’s get this over with,” he said.
Jared pulled her down the aisle behind him, clutching her arm with one hand, offering his other to Reverend Harris. His palm felt rough, his fingers strong. Jared held tight to her as if he feared she’d bolt for the door.
Maybe she should.
“This is quite a surprise,” Reverend Harris said, looking back and forth between the two of them.
“Like I said, Reverend,” Jared said, “I want you to marry us. Right now.”
Reverend Harris’s eyebrows bobbed toward his hairline. “Well, now, this is sudden. You’ve just arrived in town, Sheriff, only this morning.”
Jared leaned forward slightly and lowered his voice. “I guess you heard about Mrs. Ingram’s…condition.”
The reverend glanced at Mattie. His cheeks flushed. So did hers.
“Well, yes, I’d heard,” he said. “But still, I don’t understand. You want to marry her?”
“A woman alone? Having a baby?” Jared shook his head. “A woman can’t raise a child by herself. It’s not right. Not natural.”
“Yes, that’s true enough,” the reverend agreed. “A woman needs a man to take care of her.”
“Damn right—excuse me, Reverend—of course she does.”
“But still…” the reverend said.
“It’s my duty to do the right thing by her.”
Reverend Harris frowned. “Your duty?”
Jared drew in a breath. “Del Ingram was my friend. We grew up together. Del saved my life. I owe it to his memory to take care of his wife and baby.”
“Oh, I see.” Reverend Harris nodded thoughtfully. “Saved your life, did he?”
“He did,” Jared said.
The reverend mulled it over for a moment, stroking his chin, then nodded. “Well, all I can say is what a good man you are, Sheriff McQuaid, taking on this responsibility.”
Reverend Harris smiled at Mattie. “You’re a mighty lucky young gal to have this man stepping in the way he is. I hope you appreciate what he’s doing.”
“I want you to marry us right away,” Jared said. “Today. Now.”
“Well, all right. Can’t see any point in waiting…considering.” Reverend Harris glanced at Mattie’s belly. “I’ll go get the missus for a witness.”
Anxious to get the ceremony over and done with, Jared grumbled under his breath as he watched the reverend leave the church. Beside him, Mattie stood rigid. A little pink blush highlighted her pale cheeks, emphasizing the dark circles under her eyes. He knew she didn’t feel well.
He knew she might turn and run at any minute.
Mattie seemed docile enough right now, but he didn’t know how long his luck would hold. He wanted this service over and done with before she changed her mind.
“Is it true?” Mattie asked softly.
She looked up at him, her eyes wide and hopeful.
“Is what true?” he asked.
“About Del. He really saved your life?”
“Hell, no.” Jared snorted. “The bastard nearly got me killed twice.”
“Oh.”
Mattie turned away, disappointment turning down the corners of her mouth. Maybe he should have lied to her, confirmed the story he’d told the reverend. Surely she’d like to think there was something honorable in the man she’d chosen to marry, that there was some kernel of goodness in him.
Especially after the way things had turned out.
“Where’s that reverend?” Jared mumbled, craning his neck to see out the window.
“Were you and Del—”
“There he is—about damn time.” Jared strode to the doors of the church and escorted the reverend and Mrs. Harris to the altar.
Mrs. Harris, still wearing her apron, giggled behind her hand. “Oh, a wedding. How lovely. Why, I just love a wedding. Don’t you want some flowers, dear? I can get you some from the garden. Oh, and let me play something on the piano for the occasion. How about—”
“We don’t have time for flowers or music,” Jared said.
Mrs. Harris’s tittering stopped and she looked properly admonished. “Oh, well, all right.”
Jared waved toward the reverend. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
Reverend Harris opened his Bible. “Very well, let’s see now…”
Jared glanced down at Mattie. She inched away from him. He latched on to her elbow and stepped closer.
“Reverend, you want to speed it up here?”
“Oh, yes, certainly.” Reverend Harris adjusted his spectacles and held his Bible out in front of him. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today—”
“We don’t need that part,” Jared said.
“Hmm? What?”
“We don’t need that part,” Jared repeated. “Move it along.”
“Well, then, let’s see.” Reverend Harris cleared his throat. “Do you, Jared McQuaid, take this woman—”
“Yeah, yeah, sure I do.” Jared felt Mattie glaring up at him, but he refused to look at her. He made a spinning motion with his fingers. “Keep going, will you?”
The reverend adjusted his Bible. “And do you, Mattie Ingram, take this man to be your lawful—”
“We know all that stuff,” Jared said. “Jump ahead.”
The reverend exchanged a troubled look with his wife. “Very well. Mattie, will you marry this man?”
“Sure she will,” Jared insisted. “Go on, pronounce us married. Now.”
Miffed, Reverend Harris closed his Bible. “She must answer the question herself, Sheriff.”
“Look, Reverend, she’s here, isn’t we? She agrees. Just say we’re married and—”
“Mattie?” the reverend asked. “Do you agree to this marriage?”
Jared gave her arm a little shake. “Say yes.”
Reverend Harris and his wife exchanged another look, then leaned a little closer to Mattie.
“Well…” Mattie gulped.
Mrs. Harris smiled gently at her. “Are you not sure, Mattie?”
“Of course, she’s sure,” Jared insisted. “Answer him, Mattie. Let’s get this thing over with.”
Reverend Harris smiled kindly. “Perhaps I can say a few words here that will help.”
“Just say we’re married!”
The reverend went on as if Jared’s words weren’t echoing off the church ceiling.
“Mattie,” Reverend Harris said, “I admit I wasn’t in favor of your marriage to Del Ingram. But look how well that turned out. I’m sure this marriage will be just as wonderful as your last.”
Mattie gasped and went white.
Jared winced. He slapped his palm over his eyes, then dared to look at Mattie.
Her cold, sharp gaze impaled him. Her breath came heavier, causing her shoulders to rise and fall.
“Mattie,” Jared said. “We talked about this. We agreed—”
He turned back to the reverend, his jaw set. “Hurry up. Say we’re married. Say it.”
“But she hasn’t answered. I can’t pronounce you two married unless—”
“Damn right you can,” Jared told him. “Just get on with it before—”
“But—”
“Do it!”
“No!” Mattie shouted.
Mrs. Harris gasped. The reverend’s eyes widened.
“No. That’s my answer.” She looked up at Jared. “No, I won’t marry you.”
“Now look here, Mattie, you know—”
“No!” Mattie wrestled away from him. “I won’t marry you! Not now, not ever! No!”
She spun away from him and ran out of the church, slamming the door behind her.
Halfway across the churchyard, Mattie heard Jared calling her name. She didn’t stop until she heard his footsteps behind her. She turned to find him towering over her.
“Listen to me, Mattie, we’re going back into that church and we’re—”
“No!”
“You can’t raise this baby by yourself!”
“Yes, I can!” She looked up into his face and saw that Jared was as angry as she.
“Listen to me—”
“No, you listen to me,” she told him. “I have a home and a business. I have friends to help me. I’m perfectly capable of raising this baby myself. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t know what you’re up against.”
Mattie reined in her temper. “This doesn’t concern you. Everyone thinks this baby is Del’s and that suits me fine.”
“It doesn’t suit me at all!”
“I don’t care if it does or not,” Mattie told him. “You have no say in the matter. This baby is mine to take care of. Mine. Not yours.”
A flash of pain came over Jared’s face. Mattie looked away and softened her voice. “From now on, you are to stay away from me. That’s my final word.”
A minute dragged by, and Jared didn’t speak. She knew it would be hard on him to accept her decision, but it was for the best.
Finally, she lifted her gaze to his face. His features burned with an intensity she’d never seen before.
“Like hell I will.” He ground out the words in a low voice.
Mattie nearly buckled under the weight of his pronouncement. She forced her chin up a notch. “I insist you respect my wishes,” she said.
“I don’t give a damn about your wishes,” he told her. “That baby is mine and I don’t care who knows it.”
A deep, sickening fear rushed through her. “You can’t mean that. You can’t poison this baby’s future by telling everyone the truth.”
“I’m going to have a say in everything that goes on with you and this baby. Get used to it.”
Jared gave her a curt nod and walked away.
Chapter Five
The lantern light flickered as the night breeze blew through the open window, sending shadows dancing across the kitchen. Elbow deep in the washtub, doing the dishes, Mattie hardly noticed.
The restaurant was quiet now, closed for the evening. Mrs. Nance had gone home some time ago. She’d offered to stay, of course, and help Mattie finish up the day’s dishes, but Mattie had told her no. She was lucky to still have Mrs. Nance working for her; she wouldn’t impose any more than necessary.
Mattie didn’t mind the solitude of the kitchen, but she sorely missed Billy Weaver. Billy had been her dishwasher…before.
With a jerk of her chin, Mattie sent unkind thoughts in the direction of Jared McQuaid. If not for him, she’d have been at the restaurant all day and could have done these dishes a little at a time, rather than standing here all night, doing them now, to ready the kitchen for tomorrow’s business.
Instead, he’d taken her home to rest. Then hauled her to the church to marry him. Mattie shuddered at the thought. Good gracious, what had she been thinking, agreeing to the marriage? Luckily, she’d come to her senses in time.
She scrubbed the next plate in the tepid water, dipped it in the rinse tub and stacked it with the others. Maybe she should march to the jail and insist Jared come over and wash these dishes himself. Yes, that would serve him right.
For an instant the vision of Jared standing at her washtub bloomed in her mind. Sleeves rolled up, dark hair spread over flexing forearms, legs braced wide apart. So big, so strong. Unlike Mattie, he no doubt could work for hours and not even breathe hard.
Of course, Jared McQuaid didn’t have another person riding around inside of him.
Mattie smiled to herself. The baby. Growing within her right now, this very moment. What did it look like? she wondered. Would it be a boy? A girl?
More sobering thoughts came to Mattie then, taking the smile from her face. She had so much to do before the child was born. Pay off Del’s old debts. Build up her bank account. Get her business back on track. Prepare for the baby’s arrival. Then insure the child’s future.
“Well, gracious…” Mattie muttered, the sloshing of water muting her words.
So much to do. So much to do…alone.
She sighed, dipping the last plate into the rinse tub. Better to do things alone than to depend on someone who wouldn’t come through for her. She didn’t need to learn that lesson twice.
True, her future was a tall order, but Mattie was confident she could handle it. The only question concerned Jared. And she intended to settle that tonight.
Mattie dried the dishes and stacked them in the cupboard, then dumped the wash water and took off her apron. This afternoon in the churchyard, Jared had threatened to make it known that he was the father of her baby. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow that to happen.
Slipping her shawl around her shoulders, Mattie gathered her handbag, blew out the lanterns and locked up. But instead of heading home, she went the other way.
The good thing about the day wearing on was that the nausea that marked her mornings faded. The bad thing was that fatigue took its place.
Bone weary, Mattie walked along the darkened street. Most of the businesses had closed long ago. Just a few windows glowed with lamplight. The only noise came from the Lady Luck Saloon at the other end of town.
Mattie stopped as she neared the jail, and glanced around. No one was about, but that didn’t mean she might not be seen. Surely, word would spread that the new sheriff had offered to marry her and she’d turned him down. Mattie didn’t want to add any more fuel to the gossip by being seen entering the jailhouse this late at night.
She cut through the alley to the rear of the jail. Glancing around, she opened the door and stepped inside.
From a doorway to her left, light spilled into the hallway, illuminating two empty cells. Straight ahead, through another opened door, lantern light burned in the sheriff’s office.
Mattie paused, listening. She heard nothing. Maybe Jared wasn’t here. He could be out walking rounds.
She ventured farther down the hallway, wanting to make certain. Mattie wanted to talk to him tonight, get this issue settled once and for all.
A shadow crossed her path and Jared leaped in front of her. Startled, she froze.
Good gracious, his chest was bare.
Which was an odd thing to notice, she realized a second later, given that he had a Colt .45 pointed at her head.
“What the hell are you doing, sneaking in here?” Jared demanded. “I nearly shot you.”
Mattie pointed lamely down the hall. “You shouldn’t have left your door unlocked. How thoughtless.”
Jared grumbled and lowered his pistol. “Nobody breaks into a jail, Mattie.”
“Oh.”
“What are you doing here?” he asked, frowning. Mattie twisted her fingers together, unsure where to start. Of course, it would be much easier to think if he weren’t standing only a foot away with no shirt on.
Dark, crinkly hair covered his chest and arrowed down his muscled stomach, disappearing into his trousers. His arms bulged as he shifted his wide shoulders.
The sleeves of his long johns and his suspenders hung at his sides; the top button of his trousers was unfastened.
“Change your mind about getting married?” he asked.
The question shocked her back to reality. “No, of course not. I need to talk to you.”
Jared stepped into the room and turned a cane bottom chair toward her. “Sit down,” he said.
A tingle swept up her spine. This was his bedroom. She couldn’t waltz inside and sit down. It wasn’t decent.
“You’ve been on your feet all evening. Sit down.” When she still hesitated, Jared gestured toward the bunk in the corner. “Unless you’d rather hop into bed?”
Mattie jerked her chin at him and plopped into the chair. He shoved the pistol into the holster that dangled from a row of pegs on the wall. His shirt hung beside it. He’d probably been getting ready for bed when she walked in. Her gaze bounced to the tidy bunk, then to Jared. He was already watching her. Mattie’s cheeks burned. She busied herself straightening her skirt, refusing to look at him again.
“How are you feeling?” Jared asked.
“Fine.”
He stopped in the center of the floor and sighed heavily. “How are you really feeling?”
She wasn’t sure if the frown on his face meant he was angry or genuinely concerned. “Tired. A little tired.”
“Did you eat a proper supper?”
She huffed. “That’s really none of your concern.”
His chest swelled and his frown deepened. “Did you eat a proper supper?”
“Yes,” she told him. No sense in annoying him further, given the reason she was here tonight.
Jared nodded, apparently satisfied, then shoved his arms into his long johns and pulled them over his shoulders.
“What do you need to talk about?” he asked.
How odd, sitting in a chair in Jared’s bedroom, watching him dress. Mattie couldn’t recall any such moment with her husband.
Obviously, Jared thought nothing of her being there. He buttoned his long johns and slipped on his shirt, completely comfortable with her presence.
His long fingers fastened the shirt, then dipped into his trousers, tucking the tail inside. Mattie sat mesmerized by the simple action, the intimate details he shared so casually.
“Mattie?”
“Oh.” She shifted on the chair. “I have to know if you’ll keep my secret.”
“You mean about the baby really being mine?”
“You can’t be serious about telling everyone the truth. Can you imagine the scandal?”
“You’d rather live a lie than be gossiped about?”
Mattie rose from the chair. “I don’t care so much for myself. I’m worried about the baby. This will throw a shadow over his whole life.”
“His whole life? You think it’s a boy?” His gaze dipped to her belly.
She touched her hand to her stomach. “I don’t know.”
“I want a girl,” Jared said, pulling up his suspenders. “It’ll be a girl.”
“All the more reason not to jeopardize her future,” Mattie said. “Surely you can see that.”
Jared shrugged into his vest and fastened his gun belt on his hips. “I’m more concerned that she’ll turn out as stubborn as her mama.”
Mattie sighed heavily. “Jared, please—”
“You need to get home,” he said, and put on his hat.
She pulled away when he reached for her arm. “Not until you give me your answer. I have to know this is settled. Surely you can understand that.”
He leaned down, just a little, just enough to make her draw back. “And surely you can understand that, for a man, agreeing to give up his child isn’t a decision to be made lightly.”
The depth of his gaze held her captive for a moment, and in that moment she saw something unreadable in Jared. Something deep. Something old and timeworn. It touched her, frightened her a little.
“I can walk home myself,” she said to him. He sighed irritably. “I’m walking you home, Mattie, and that’s that.”
Jared strode out of the room, leaving her no choice but to follow.
A ray of morning sunlight streaming through the window bored into Jared’s eyes, waking him. He sat up, groggy, looked around and finally remembered where he was after his first night in his new room.
He scrubbed his hands over his face and pushed his fingers through his hair. Then he tossed back the covers.
It had been a hell of a night….
His wedding night, or should have been. If Mattie hadn’t been so hardheaded at the church yesterday, he’d have spent the night in bed with her. Jared didn’t need to look down to be reminded of the missed opportunity. It had kept him tossing and turning for hours.
What the hell was wrong with that woman? Naked, Jared rose from the bed and poured water from the pitcher into the basin at the washstand. Every other woman in the whole country was champing at the bit to get married. Hell, most of them were tracking men down, dragging them to the altar.
Jared braced his arms on the corner of the washstand and squinted into the mirror. Sure, he looked a little ragged this morning, hair sticking up, eyes red, heavy whiskers, but he was a good catch, as husbands went.
He had a respectable job that paid well. He worked hard, had money put away. He was handsome enough. He knew how to treat a woman, take care of her needs…her womanly needs.
Jared groaned aloud as his body tightened, remembering how he’d taken care of Mattie’s needs their night together—all three times. The ache worsened, just thinking about it.
She’d come here last night to talk to him, but all he’d been able to think about was getting her into bed again. He’d walked her home, but she hadn’t let him come inside with her.
He’d told her he’d let her know his decision about telling everyone the truth about the baby. But that was just an excuse to get to see her again; he’d never poison his child’s future by branding him a bastard.
Jared groaned softly, remembering the night the baby was conceived. Before, when he’d been a marshal riding the trail, thinking of her, and this happened, he’d just waited it out, concentrated on his job. But now that he was in the same town with her, seeing her, touching her, almost marrying her, his condition had grown worse, much worse.
It just wasn’t right, wanting one woman this much, but he did. If he didn’t do something about it soon…
“Damn stubborn woman,” Jared muttered.
When he’d come to Stanford he’d wanted to make himself a home here, court Mattie, get to know her. Many a night on the trail he’d wondered if he’d fallen in love with her.
Jared gazed into the mirror, but it wasn’t his reflection he saw, it was the past. Ten years. Ten long years of loneliness, hurt and painful memories. Somehow, all of that had gone away after one night with Mattie.
Hell, maybe he did love her.
No matter what, Jared didn’t intend to let her out of his life. He liked being around her, liked the way she looked, the way she smelled. He even liked that spirit of hers, though he’d have to find a way to control it.
And she was having his baby. A little grin pulled at his lips every time he thought of it. Him, a papa. Mattie, sweet Mattie, the mama.
He dipped his hands into the basin and splashed icy water on his face. He shuddered.
Mattie might think she could order him out of her life, or wish him away, or scare him away, but that wouldn’t happen. Jared wasn’t about to turn his back on her. And he certainly wasn’t going to abandon his child. Not when he was this close to having so many of the things he wanted.
Jared sighed in the silent room. Hell, he did love her. He loved her and he wanted her. He’d figure a way to have her.
But that would be so much easier to do if he could just get himself under control enough to make it through the day without embarrassing himself in front of the whole town.
Jared ground his teeth together, picked up the pitcher and poured it down his front.
He sucked in a quick breath as the icy water splashed over him. His chest heaved from the shock. His body shuddered.
But at least it took care of one problem.
Until the next time he laid eyes on Mattie.
Chapter Six
Jared needed breakfast, but didn’t dare go to the Cottonwood Café for it. He wasn’t exactly Mattie’s favorite person right now. He was liable to get the bowl of oatmeal he ordered dumped over his head.
And even that, he feared, would make him want her again.
He headed to the Silver Bell Restaurant at the other end of town to have his meal. After that, he’d get down to work. This was a quiet town, but he needed to learn his way around, make himself known, check for trouble spots. He didn’t intend to let things get out of hand in his town.
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Judith Stacy
Mills & Boon Historical
Mattie Ingram–the love of his life and the mother of his child–was the most stubborn, independent, contrary woman in Nevada. And in the lonely months since he'd seen her, he'd discovered he needed her more than breath itself. But Mattie was having nothing to do with him!A baby coming, her business failing… What else could possibly happen? Mattie wondered. Well, the father of her child could insist on becoming a permanent part of her life. But if Jared McQuaid thought that one night of passion gave him the right to a lifetime commitment, he had better think again!
“I won’t marry you!”
Halfway across the churchyard, Mattie heard Jared calling her name. She didn’t stop until she heard his footsteps behind her. She turned to find him towering over her.
“Listen to me, Mattie. We’re going back into that church and we’re—”
“No!”
“You can’t raise this baby by yourself!”
“Yes, I can!” She looked up into his face and saw that Jared was as angry as she.
“Listen to me—”
“No, you listen to me,” she told him. “I have a home and a business. I have friends to help me. I’m perfectly capable of raising this baby myself. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t know what you’re up against.”
Mattie reined in her temper. “This doesn’t concern you. Everyone thinks this baby is my husband’s, and that suits me fine.”
“Well, it doesn’t suit me at all!”
The Widow’s Little Secret
Harlequin Historical #571
Praise for Judith Stacy’s recent works
The Blushing Bride
“…lovable characters that grab your heartstrings…a fun read all the way.”
—Rendezvous
The Dreammaker
“…a delightful story of the triumph of love.”
—Rendezvous
The Heart of a Hero
“Judith Stacy is a fine writer with both polished style and heartwarming sensitivity.”
—Bestselling author Pamela Morsi
#572 CELTIC BRIDE
Margo Maguire
#573 THE LAWMAN TAKES A WIFE
Anne Avery
#574 LADY POLLY
Nicola Cornick
The Widow’s Little Secret
Judith Stacy
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Available from Harlequin Historicals and
JUDITH STACY
Outlaw Love #360
The Marriage Mishap #382
The Heart of a Hero #444
The Dreammaker #486
Written in the Heart #500
The Blushing Bride #521
One Christmas Wish #531
“Christmas Wishes”
The Last Bride in Texas #541
The Nanny #561
The Widow’s Little Secret #571
To David, Judy and Stacy—the greatest family
Contents
Chapter One (#u8bc9b272-ff98-5167-b244-9ecbd1252d5f)
Chapter Two (#ud90f135e-0003-52ae-af9f-2df760736e25)
Chapter Three (#ue4fb0ebc-e717-5af1-9f90-b9007810ce97)
Chapter Four (#uc71ea7c4-ca31-5fb6-94f6-f3b16ed216a1)
Chapter Five (#u1b8045ab-061e-55ea-bf5e-204f25d5b071)
Chapter Six (#ud7afb579-c8dd-52bb-baaa-8e65d3a3a167)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
Nevada, 1887
It just wasn’t right, being envious of a dead man. Still, that’s how Jared McQuaid felt sitting on the hotel porch, watching the funeral procession roll by.
He glanced down at the Stanford Gazette on his lap. The headline announced the untimely death of Del Ingram, and the front page article extolled the man’s many virtues.
A knot formed in Jared’s stomach. What were the chances? He’d showed up in this town just today and read the obituary of a man he’d grown up with miles and miles from here. A man he hadn’t thought of in years.
According to the newspaper, Ingram had died from a fall. Jared had figured ol’ Del was more likely to have been killed by a jealous husband, an irate wife or a poker player with an eye for cheaters.
Not so, according to the newspaper. Del had made something of himself here in Stanford. Owner of a restaurant, a solid citizen with a sterling reputation, he’d had a life any man would envy.
Jared touched his hand to the U.S. Marshal’s badge pinned to his vest beneath his coat. Seemed he and his boyhood friend had taken very different roads when they’d parted company some fifteen years ago. This wasn’t the man Jared remembered. But maybe Del had changed.
Jared sure as hell had.
The rocker creaked as Jared leaned back and watched from beneath the brim of his black Stetson as the funeral procession passed by. Matched sorrels pulled the wagon bearing the coffin, their hoofs stirring up little swirls of dust. Two dozen mourners followed, all dressed in black, their somber faces flushed red from the raw March wind.
Jared glanced west. Charcoal clouds hung over the Sierra Nevadas, blocking out what was left of the day’s sunlight. He had nothing to do, no place to go, no one to talk to until morning when he would relieve Stanford’s sheriff of his two prisoners and head to Carson City. Jared may as well pay his respects to Del Ingram, even though he’d never especially liked him.
A few people glanced at Jared as he fell into step behind the mourners. One woman eyed the Colt .45 strapped to his hip and the badge on his chest when the wind whipped open his coat. She chanced a look at his face, then turned away, wondering, he was sure, who he was and why he was here.
Jared found himself on the receiving end of a hundred such looks nearly every time he came to a town like this. Not that he blamed anyone, of course. He’d arrive one day, eat supper alone in some restaurant, sleep in a nameless hotel, then take custody of his prisoners the following morning and disappear.
And those were his good days. Most of the time he was on the trail, sleeping in the saddle, eating jerky and cold beans, hunting down some rabble-rouser who’d broken the law.
He was used to both—the life and the looks he got. Jared had been a marshal for nearly ten years now.
At the cemetery on the edge of town, six men unloaded the coffin from the wagon. Del Ingram’s final resting place was deep; freshly turned earth lay beside it.
Reverend Harris stepped to the foot of the grave, yanked his black, wide-brimmed hat over the tufts of his gray hair and struggled to hold open the fluttering pages of his Bible. The townsfolk gathered in a close knot, straining to hear the reverend’s words. Jared moved off to one side, uncomfortable among the mourners.
As was his custom, Jared’s gaze moved from face to face, sizing up each person assembled there. He was good at it. It had saved his life a time or two.
From all appearances, everyone who was anyone in the town of Stanford was assembled to mourn Del’s passing. They all looked prosperous, in dress and in manner. Jared spotted the mayor and his wife; he’d met the man earlier in the sheriff’s office. Sheriff Hickert wasn’t present, but Jared hadn’t expected him to be. He was nursing a nasty leg wound from the shoot-out that had garnered the two prisoners Jared was transporting tomorrow.
The gathering shifted as Reverend Harris reached for the woman standing in front of him. Jared’s stomach bottomed out.
“Damn…”
The widow. Del’s widow. Jared felt like he’d been sucker-punched in the gut.
He didn’t know how Ingram had acquired a prosperous business, a good home, a sterling reputation—and he sure as hell couldn’t imagine how he’d found himself such a fine-looking wife.
Even in her mourning dress she looked fit and shapely. She’d draped a black lace scarf over her head, but tendrils of her brown hair escaped in the wind and blew across her pale cheeks. She stood stiff and straight, her full lips pressed tightly together as she gazed past the reverend to some point on the distant horizon.
Jared thought she looked brave, determined not to break down. He wondered if she’d fully accepted the sudden loss of her husband, dead not quite two days now. He’d seen that happen before, where a long time passed before reality set in—and only then did loved ones fall to pieces.
Who would be there to hold Mrs. Del Ingram when that happened? Jared wondered. He wondered, too, why the thought bothered him so much.
He recalled the newspaper article he’d read, and remembered no mention of Ingram having any children. Indeed, no little ones hung on Mrs. Ingram’s skirt, sniffling, reaching up to her. Jared found that troubling. The widow was truly alone now, it seemed, without even a child to comfort her.
“Let us pray,” Reverend Harris called.
As heads bowed, Jared pulled out the newspaper, which he’d crammed into his pocket, and searched for the widow’s name. Matilda. “Mattie,” the mayor’s wife had called her in a quote.
He turned to her again. His breath caught. Mattie Ingram hadn’t bowed her head for the prayer. She was looking straight at him.
Their gazes met and held. She didn’t blink, didn’t falter, didn’t hesitate, just looked at him long and hard, with the biggest, brownest eyes he’d ever seen.
Heat flared in Jared’s belly, spreading outward, weakening his knees and making his heart thump harder in his chest.
“Amen,” the reverend intoned.
“Amen,” the gathering echoed.
Only then did Mattie turn away. Flushed, Jared pushed back his coat to welcome the chilly wind.
He watched her, silently willing her to turn toward him again. But she didn’t. Rigid, restrained, Mattie accepted condolences, then headed back toward town, with the other mourners crowded around her.
Standing beside the mound of dirt at Ingram’s grave, Jared followed her with his gaze, the bustle under her dark dress swaying, the vision of her deep brown eyes still boring into him. Finally, she disappeared from sight. Jared headed for the closest saloon.
Almost nobody was inside the Lady Luck when Jared passed through the bat-wing doors. Two men stood at the bar; the gaming tables were empty.
“Pretty quiet in here,” Jared said to the bartender.
“Everybody’s paying their respects,” he said, and nodded outside, “down at Mrs. Ingram’s place.”
Jared should have known that. The mourners would gather at the widow’s house, eat the food they’d brought, and talk one final time about the departed.
Jared leaned his elbow on the bar. Had he been on the trail so long he’d forgotten how civilized people acted?
Over the next few hours the saloon filled with men, drinks flowed and the noise level rose. Everybody who came in had something to say about Del Ingram. Jared stood at the bar sipping his drink, trying to block it out. By the time he’d finished his fourth beer he’d heard all the tributes he could stand to hear about the man he remembered to be a first-rate scalawag, the man these townsfolk admired so much.
Outside, the cold wind whipped around Jared as he headed down the boardwalk toward the hotel. It was dark now. The town had closed up for the night.
But when he reached the hotel, Jared kept walking. He didn’t stop until he got to the edge of town, to the sturdy house with the picket fence he’d read about in the newspaper. The Ingram home.
And a fine home it was. Neat, clean, well built. A house fit for one of Stanford’s most prosperous citizens.
The front door opened and a woman stepped onto the porch, outlined by the glowing lamplight behind her. Jared’s heart lurched. Was it her? Was it Mattie?
The woman pulled two small children out of the house behind her and shut the door. Disappointment caused Jared’s shoulders to sag a little. He nodded politely to the woman when she passed him on her way back to town.
Minutes dragged by while Jared stood at the end of the boardwalk, looking at the Ingram home. He didn’t want to go inside and hear anyone else talk about what a fine man Del was; Jared had had his fill of that already.
He muttered a little curse directed at himself. What kind of man was he, thinking ill of the dead? Had he forgotten all the good manners he’d once prided himself on?
Slowly, he nodded in the darkness. His solitary life on the trail, hunting down criminals, hauling them in for trial, had taken its toll.
The decent thing to do was go pay his respects to the widow of the man he’d grown up with. Del had made something of his life and he deserved all the things being said about him. Jared would go into that house and say something nice about him. It was the right thing to do.
And he’d get to see Mattie Ingram again.
Jared crossed the road, passed through the little gate outside the house and stepped up onto the porch. He paused for a moment before he knocked and brushed off his trousers, then took off his hat and smoothed down his dark hair, glad he’d taken a bath and gotten a haircut this afternoon.
He rapped his knuckles against the door, then waited, waited and waited some more before it opened. He’d expected to find the reverend’s wife greeting mourners, but instead Jared found himself face-to-face with the widow herself. A long moment dragged by while he just looked at her. When Jared finally came to his senses, he clasped his hat against his chest and tried to think of something to say.
“Mrs. Ingram? My name is Jared McQuaid. I’m—I’m real sorry about your husband.”
She stepped back without really looking at him, and opened the door wider. “Won’t you come in?”
He followed her down the little hallway, past a neat parlor, to the kitchen at the rear of the house. The room was warm and comfortable. A cookstove and cupboards were at one end, a sideboard and a table and chairs at the other. All manner of food—or what was left of it—covered the table. Jared’s steps slowed. No one else was in the house. Had he intruded, when he’d intended to comfort?
“Is it too late to come calling?” he asked.
“No,” she said simply, and turned toward the cupboard. “I’ll get you something to eat.”
Jared watched her skirt swirl, and glimpsed her white ruffled petticoat, then studied her backside as she stretched up and retrieved a plate from the top shelf of the cupboard.
He muttered a silent curse at himself for admiring Del’s widow.
“Your husband and I grew up together,” Jared said, as he shrugged out of his coat and laid his hat aside.
Mattie didn’t answer, just turned again and began filling the plate from the dishes on the table.
“We went to school together,” Jared said, feeling the need to say something. He took a step closer. “I’m a U.S. Marshal, just in town for today. I’m leaving in the morning. I read about Del in the newspaper.”
Silence filled the house as Mattie heaped food on the plate, and Jared pulled on the back of his neck.
“So, while I was here I wanted to tell you how sorry I am that Del’s passed on,” he said. “He was a good man. Everybody in town speaks highly of him.”
Though Jared didn’t understand it, it was true. And regardless of what he thought about Del Ingram, this was his wife, the woman who loved him. She’d married him, lain with him, walked through life with him. The least Jared could do was think of something nice to say.
“Fact is,” Jared said, “I never heard so many kind things said about one man before. I was down at the Lady Luck just now and Del was all anybody talked about.”
A little gasp echoed in the kitchen, and Jared saw Mattie press a hand against her lips. Damn it, what was he thinking, mentioning that he’d been at the saloon? That wasn’t what women liked to hear from strangers in their home.
Jared pushed his fingers through his hair. “The mayor…the mayor had nice things to say, too.”
She dropped the plate she’d been preparing and leaned forward, bracing her hand on the table. Little sniffles filled the room.
Good Lord, he’d made her cry. Jared stared at her slumping shoulders as she tried bravely to stand upright. He wanted to go to her, take her in his arms, comfort her. But should he? He didn’t even know her.
He wasn’t sure what to do but keep talking.
“The newspaper article about Del was just about the most glowing report I’d ever read. And that eulogy, that was something, all right.”
A sob tore from her lips and her whole body quivered. Jared stepped closer until he stood mere inches away.
He wanted to hold her. Oh, he wanted to hold her like he’d never wanted to hold another thing in his life. She looked so frail and helpless; her sobs sounded so pitiful. He wanted to press her against his chest and let her cry, keep her in his arms until her tears stopped.
“Your husband was a good man. He was well respected, and honest, and hardworking,” Jared said softly. “You’ve every right to be upset, Mrs. Ingram.”
“Don’t call me that!”
Mattie swung around, hot anger boiling inside her. She drew back her fist and struck Jared in the chest.
“Don’t ever call me by that name again!” she screamed. “He was a bastard! A lying, conniving bastard!”
Mattie braced one hand against the table to keep herself up, unable to hold the words inside any longer. She’d done that for nearly two days now, and she couldn’t contain them another minute.
“I’ve had to pretend since he died—pretend that he was a good man, pretend that everything said about him was the truth.” A sob tore from her lips. “But none of it is true. None of it!”
“Mrs. Ingram—Mattie—maybe you should—”
She batted away Jared’s hand when he reached for her. “It was all a lie. Right from the beginning. Del never loved me.”
Jared eased closer. “Things might seem that way now because you’re upset, but—”
“He told me! Just before he died!” Another wave of tears poured down Mattie’s cheeks.
Jared frowned. “He told you he never loved you?”
Mattie nodded, the hurt and humiliation throbbing in her chest. “He fell off the roof and was injured badly. He knew he was going to die. So he told me. He told me everything. How he followed another woman here to Stanford because he was in love with her. How he couldn’t have her because she was marrying someone else. How he married me because I had a restaurant, a good home, a good reputation, money.”
“Son of a…”
Mattie gulped, her strength draining away. She latched on to Jared’s arms, gazing up at him. “He just used me,” she whispered.
Mattie fell against him, sobbing, the pain too great to bear alone. She felt big arms close around her. She snuggled deeper against his hard chest.
With a sharp, ragged breath she lifted her head and gazed up at Jared. “I went by the bank today. My account was nearly empty. He’d taken my money, gambled it away, most likely. Lord knows he never worked a day since I married him. I had to use the last dollar I have in this world to bury him!”
She fell into racking sobs again and slumped against Jared’s chest. Gently, he stroked his fingers down her back, fearing Mattie was on the verge of all-out hysteria.
“You need the doctor,” he said. “He can—”
“No!” Mattie pulled away. “No, don’t get the doctor. Don’t get anyone. I don’t want people to know how stupid I was, how I let myself be swept off my feet by a man I hardly knew. Everyone said I shouldn’t marry him, but I wouldn’t listen. I believed that he loved me. I don’t want the whole town to know what a fool I was.”
Jared shook his head. “Mattie, you’re too upset. You need—”
“—to forget,” she said, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. “I need to forget.”
Jared froze as she gazed up at him. The look on her face sent a warm tremor through him.
“Make me forget,” she whispered.
Mattie came fully against him and rose on her toes, pressing her lips to his throat. “Please…make me forget.”
“Now, just a minute.” Jared caught her arms and tried to ease her away. “You’re not thinking clear.”
“I don’t want to think clear. I don’t want to think at all,” she said, and slid her palm across his chest.
He backed up, but she moved with him. “You don’t mean that.”
She meant it. With all her heart and soul she meant it. She ached deep inside. She wanted it to go away. She wanted to feel something different.
And who better to do that with than this stranger, who’d be gone in the morning?
Mattie circled her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. He pulled away.
“We were married for nearly a year, but he hadn’t touched me in months—months!” she said. “Please, I can’t lie alone in that bed tonight. I just can’t.”
Jared hesitated, studying her in the dim light.
“You can do it, can’t you?” she asked. “You can make me forget?”
“Damn right I can,” he said. “But that’s not the point.”
“What’s wrong with it?” she asked. “I’m not a married woman…not anymore.”
“I know, but—”
“I want this,” she whispered. “Don’t make me plead with you.”
“But…”
Mattie stepped away and held out her hand to him. “Please, just make me forget.”
He didn’t move, not for a long minute. Then, finally, Jared reached for her hand.
Chapter Two
Morning sunlight filtered through the window, illuminating what had to be the dressing table of the widow Mattie Ingram.
Jared, his eyes just opened, studied it as he lay curled on his side at the edge of the soft feather bed. Lace, doilies, fancy bottles, all belonging to the woman who at this very moment slept behind him…
He relaxed against the pillow, his body spent but humming with the contentment only a night with a woman can bring.
Make her forget, she’d said. He’d obliged her numerous times during the night, the last just before dawn. Now, still, he wanted to take her in his arms, do it all again—which didn’t make Jared feel particularly proud of himself.
Last night had been different. Standing in the kitchen, Mattie had looked alone and vulnerable. She’d needed somebody—him.
Jared had thought he could just hold her in his arms and comfort her, and she’d fall asleep. Once in her bedroom, though, Mattie had made it clear that wasn’t what she wanted from him.
True, he could have told her, flat out, “No.” But she was already feeling bad enough. Spurning her seemed cruel, making her beg intolerable.
Still, he’d tried to convince her otherwise, but she would have no part of it. Del might not have touched her in months, but Mattie knew what she was doing, and Jared had been on the trail too long to resist her considerable charms.
So he’d accommodated her. Given the widow what she’d asked for at her most vulnerable moment.
Why did that leave his gut churning this morning?
Jared didn’t rise from the bed, though he thought he should. Instead, he lay still, recalling the last time he’d awakened in bed with a respectable woman. His thoughts swept back, and when the memory came he played it over in his mind a few times, something he’d forbidden himself to do in years past. Surprisingly enough, it didn’t hurt so bad. Not now, not this morning.
Not with Mattie in the bed behind him.
In that instant, it all seemed surreal. Jared didn’t move, didn’t stir on the mattress, didn’t roll over to curl against her. If he did, would it all shatter? Would last night and this moment prove to be a dream? The dream that had crept into his sleep so often lately?
He remained where he was for a while longer, on the linens that smelled like Mattie, gazing at as much of her room as he could see—the lace, the figurines, the pictures on the walls. Their clothes scattered across the floor.
No, it hadn’t been a dream, he decided. None of it. Jared rolled over, anxious to have her in his arms again.
But the sheets were cold and the bed was empty.
Mattie was gone.
A dozen things needed doing—no, a hundred things.
Mattie darted to the cupboard in the kitchen of the restaurant she owned on Main Street and pulled down a serving platter. The room was silent except for the crackling fire she’d just laid in the cookstove, struggling now to take the morning chill out of the air.
No one else was in the restaurant—not Mrs. Nance, who did the cooking, or the Spencer girls, who served the guests, or Billy, who washed the dishes. None of them had probably even considered that Mattie would open for business today.
She gripped the platter tightly. None of them knew how desperately she needed to open the restaurant today.
And no one would ever know.
Another wave of humiliation washed over Mattie, bearing down on her painfully, bringing the memory of her husband into her mind. How could she have been so stupid?
When Del Ingram had arrived in Stanford a year ago, he’d taken one look at her and sworn he’d fallen desperately in love. And Mattie had believed him. He’d been so convincing, how could she not? He’d been kind and thoughtful. He’d brought her gifts, praised her every move. He’d been mannerly, well dressed, wise and worldly. He seemed like a godsend.
Mattie had been lonely since both her parents had died the year before Del’s arrival. She’d stayed in the house they built and taken over the restaurant they started, and she’d done well for herself. In fact, the restaurant had improved considerably under her ownership.
It helped that her mother was no longer around to do the cooking. Mama, bless her heart, wasn’t the best of cooks. Mattie had hired Mrs. Nance and business really picked up.
With pride, Mattie gazed around the kitchen, through the door to the dining room. She’d made other changes as well. Blue checkered linens on the tables, vases with fresh flowers from Mrs. Donovan’s garden. She improved the menu to offer heartier meals.
As a result, the restaurant looked so inviting and the food tasted so delicious diners appeared often and regularly, including the mayor and the reverend with their wives and children, out-of-town guests and dignitaries. The town’s businessmen had made the Cottonwood Café their spot for breakfast almost every morning. She sent a wagon over to the train depot to bring in diners during their layover. Almost no one commented on the modest price increase she’d made.
All of her changes had paid off handsomely. Everything was going wonderfully. And still seemed to be when Del arrived in town.
Mattie sighed in the empty kitchen remembering how lonely she’d been back then. Even with the restaurant keeping her busy day and night, she’d led a solitary life.
She’d longed for family, wished for her house to come alive with voices and laughter as it had when her parents were alive. She’d caught herself watching enviously as women in town strolled the streets with new babies in their arms. After all, she was twenty-one years old, certainly of sufficient age to have a family of her own.
Del had come along, seemingly just the sort of man she’d prayed for. Then, everything had changed.
After their marriage, which many in town had cautioned her against simply because no one really knew him at the time, another side of her husband emerged. Lazy, shiftless, domineering. He’d insisted on taking over her finances. He’d shouted at her when she questioned what he was doing with her money. He began to spend more and more time away from home. Some nights he hadn’t come home at all.
Mattie sagged against the worktable, holding the serving platter against her stomach. She’d never known where she’d gone wrong as a wife. She’d lain awake nights wondering what to do. She hadn’t wanted anyone to know the state of her marriage, or how she was treated by her husband—a man the town admired because he was so good at deceiving everyone, as he’d deceived her. She couldn’t admit how wrong she’d been in marrying him.
Mattie pinched the bridge of her nose, her mind spinning. It seemed that now, this morning, she could hardly stand up under the weight of it.
If only she could forget.
She bolted upright. Oh, heavens. Last night.
The kitchen door burst open with a gust of cold wind, and a man filled the doorway, his hat pulled low, his long coat whipping around him.
The serving platter slipped from Mattie’s hand and shattered on the floor.
Oh, heavens. Last night.
He slammed the door and crossed the kitchen, his gaze sharp and penetrating beneath the brim of his hat. Mattie gulped and backed up a step.
Stopping in front of her, the shattered platter on the floor between them, he gave her a long, grim look.
“I woke up and you were gone,” he said, and his tone told her he was none too happy about it.
“I had to leave,” she said.
“Why?” His gaze hardened. “Because you were done with me?”
Heat bloomed across Mattie’s face, reddening her cheeks as a deeper wave of humiliation swept through her. She’d thrown herself at him—a perfect stranger. She’d asked him to make love to her—practically begged him to do it.
How could she have done such a thing? Never in her life had she even imagined doing such a reckless thing.
Mattie turned away, unable to look him in the eye. “Last night…last night was a mistake, Mr….” She glanced back at him. “I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?”
“McQuaid,” he growled. “Jared McQuaid.”
Mattie gulped, trying to force down her embarrassment. “Oh, well, yes of course. I remember.” She cleared her throat. “As I said, Mr. McQuaid, last night was a mistake.”
“You didn’t seem to think so just before dawn.”
She winced, remembering what they’d been doing at that particular moment, and her cheeks burned anew. “Well, no, I suppose I didn’t. But still, it shouldn’t have happened.”
“Why not?” he asked. “Seemed to me you needed it.”
She moaned with humiliation and squeezed her eyes closed for a moment, clasping her hand to her chest.
“Why wouldn’t you?” he asked. “Your husband hadn’t made love to you in months.”
She gasped and spun to face him again. “How did you know that?”
“You told me.”
“I told you that?” she wheezed.
“Yeah. You said it somewhere between ‘make me forget’ and ‘don’t stop now.”’ Jared leaned closer. “Sound familiar?”
“Oh, heavens…” Mattie spun away, unable to tolerate the heat of his gaze, or the heat burning inside her.
She stalked to the cupboard at the rear of the kitchen and pulled out the broom and dustpan, desperate for something to do. But when she started sweeping up the broken serving platter she felt even more conspicuous with Jared scrutinizing her every move.
Her skin tingled where his gaze touched her. Memories of last night sprang into her mind. She’d never experienced such a night—never imagined it was possible to do some of the things they’d done. Even on his best night, Del, her own husband, had been woefully lacking in comparison.
Mattie cast a furtive glance at the man towering over her, then focused her gaze on her chore. Jared McQuaid was ruggedly handsome. Well over six feet tall; she remembered brushing her legs against his longer ones during the night.
He had big shoulders and arms; he’d rolled her around the bed with considerable ease. A hard chest; her fingers had raked over it a good portion of the night. Thick, black hair; she’d yanked on it more than once.
Now, this morning in the light, she saw that his eyes were blue. The very last secret the man held.
Thanks to her wanton behavior last night.
Mattie cringed, a deeper heat crackling inside her.
But he’d made her forget, just as he’d boasted he could. She’d forgotten all her troubles. And how welcome that had been, even for those few hours.
His strength went beyond the physical. In her kitchen last night she’d seen it. Jared McQuaid could carry the weight of his own troubles, plus hers and dozens more.
Another shudder passed through Mattie and her cheeks heated again. Embarrassment. Humiliation.
What else could it be?
Mattie made tiny strokes with the broom, trying to make the chore last as long as possible. If he saw she was busy maybe he would simply go away.
She wanted him to go away. Good gracious, how she wanted him to leave. She never wanted to lay eyes on this Jared McQuaid again, or to be reminded of last night.
She’d propositioned a stranger. Wrestled him like a wild bear. And liked it.
A little whimper slipped through Mattie’s lips at the thought. She dashed to the trash bin with the dustpan full of broken china, and took her time emptying it.
Closing her eyes for a moment, she said a silent prayer that when she turned around, Jared McQuaid would be gone.
“Why are you here today?” she heard him ask.
With a sigh she turned and saw him wave his big hand around the kitchen.
“Nobody expects you to be open for business,” he said. “Not today.”
Mattie stuffed the broom and dustpan into the cupboard, a little peeved that he wouldn’t take the hint, do the decent thing and leave her alone with her humiliation.
“Since you’re brimming over with my personal information, and have such an excellent memory of everything I said last night, perhaps you’ll recall that my husband left me penniless? I have to open for business today.”
“No, you don’t,” he said softly. “What you’ve been through isn’t easy to bear. You need some time.”
“I hope you won’t think I’m rude, Mr. McQuaid, when I point out that this is none of your business.”
“You made it my business,” he told her. “Last night.”
She faltered and touched her hand to her throat. “I know you feel…used…under the circumstances.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Circumstances?”
“Yes.” Mattie tried to look at him, but failed. “The circumstances in which I…used you.”
She felt his gaze burn hotter against her skin, and Mattie wished with all her heart that she could simply disappear in a puff of smoke. It was too much. All of it. Everything she’d been through in the past three days was simply too much to bear.
Seeing Del fall from the roof, one of the very few times he’d done something useful at the house.
Realizing that her husband was dying before her eyes.
Hearing his confession.
Knowing what a fool she’d been.
Thinking how disappointed her parents would have been in her.
Imagining what everyone would say about her, if they found out.
Pretending, in front of the whole town.
And now this.
A lump rose in Mattie’s throat, closing it off, bringing a mist of tears to her eyes. She looked up at Jared and knew she owed him an apology. But somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to say she was sorry.
“Mr. McQuaid—” Her voice broke. Mattie gulped down the knot of emotion and tried again. “Mr. McQuaid, I realize you owe me nothing and I have no right to ask anything else of you, but I would appreciate it if you would leave.”
He didn’t leave. Instead, he studied her for a long moment, then eased closer until she could feel the heat of his body.
“You’re going to have to figure out a way to deal with your husband’s betrayal, Mattie,” he said. “But don’t be sorry you reached out for help last night. Don’t be sorry you needed somebody.”
He touched her chin and brought her face around.
“Don’t be sorry it was me,” he whispered.
And with that, Jared McQuaid walked out the kitchen door of the Cottonwood Café.
As he stalked down the boardwalk, people got out of his way. Jared strode into the newspaper office, then went to the jail. The sheriff was there, limping on his makeshift crutch, cursing the pain of his gunshot wound.
Jared signed the paperwork, took custody of the prisoners and marched them to the train station at gun-point. He loaded them into the baggage car, chained their leg irons to the floor and went back out to the platform.
The wind snapped his coat around his knees as he stared down Main Street. Prosperous businesses, likable people; this was a good town.
His gaze landed on the Cottonwood Café, the sign barely visible at the other end of town.
Mattie Ingram.
Yeah, he’d made her forget, all right.
Now, how was he going to manage it?
Chapter Three
“Two months? Two months gone by since you were here the last time?” Mayor Rayburn asked.
“Almost three,” Jared said.
“Well, if that don’t beat all…”
Standing with the mayor inside the sheriff’s office, Jared could hardly believe how quickly the time had passed since his first visit to Stanford.
Or how much had happened.
“Where does the time go?” the mayor lamented, stroking his gray side whiskers. “Anyway, take it from me and the town council, we’re plum tickled to have you here in Stanford, to stay this time.”
Jared looked down at the mayor, dressed in his cravat and the rumpled suit that hung loosely on his thin frame. “Too bad about Sheriff Hickert.”
“Yep. A damn shame, all right. Tricky thing about them gunshot wounds. Don’t heal right, sometimes. He tried to handle his duties, but just couldn’t manage anymore.” The mayor clasped Jared’s arm. “But I know you’re going to do us a fine job in his place. Stanford is a good town, full of good people. We want to keep it that way.”
The mayor and the men of the town council had said those exact words to Jared shortly after he’d arrived on the train this morning, when they’d sworn him in to office at the mayor’s house. In fact, Jared had heard those words three times now.
“You can count on it,” he declared.
“Just what I like to hear.” The mayor rubbed his palms together. “Let me know if there’s anything you’re needing.”
“I’ll do that,” Jared said, and followed him outside.
“Me and the missus will have you over for supper some night,” Mayor Rayburn said, and headed off across the street.
Jared stood on the boardwalk watching the horses, wagons and buggies move along Main Street. Miners, women and children, gentlemen in suits and cowboys wearing guns went about their business.
Jared’s chest swelled a little.
Stanford. His town.
He glanced down his vest. Gone was the U.S. Marshal’s badge he’d worn for nearly ten years. In its place was the tin star declaring him Stanford’s sheriff.
When last here, he’d signed up for a subscription to the Stanford Gazette on his way out of town. Despite the sporadic mail service and the duties that had kept him on the trail, he’d actually received a few issues. Enough for him to follow the story of Sheriff Hickert, who’d never fully recovered from his gunshot wound. Enough to learn that Stanford needed a new lawman. Jared had telegrammed, asking for the job, and within a few weeks got the answer he’d hoped for.
It hadn’t taken much for Jared to make the life-changing decision. Hunkered down by a feeble camp-fire one cold night, with the wind biting his ears, Jared had thought about why he’d been so envious of Del Ingram, a dead man.
Ingram had everything Jared didn’t have—a town, a home, a family, the respect of decent people. In that moment, Jared had realized that’s what he wanted for himself.
True, he’d had no desire for any of those things for a long time, for a lot of reasons. But that was behind him now. Jared knew where his future lay.
So here he was.
Jared rested his thumbs in his gun belt and scanned Main Street one final time before going into the sheriff’s office. His office.
Not only did he have an office, he had a deputy who, at this very minute, was out keeping an eye on the streets of Stanford. He’d met Drew Tanner at the mayor’s house this morning. Tanner looked a little young and seemed a little green, but he had some experience and he was eager.
As sheriff’s offices went, this one was as good as any. Jared surveyed his desk, his racks of rifles, Wanted posters nailed to the walls, the little stove in the corner with the rocking chair next to it. Down the hallway were two cells, both empty at the moment.
Jared’s living quarters were there, too. The room was small, but it held everything he needed: a bunk, a washstand, a bureau. A place he could hang his hat every single night.
No more meals around a campfire. No more cold nights on the trail. No more hunting down lawbreakers who would knife him in the back or blow his head off given a second’s opportunity. He’d never have a daily dose of those kind of men again.
Jared smiled in the quiet office. The town of Stanford was peaceful as a Sunday morning, tame as a speckled pony. He could do his sheriff duties in his sleep.
Jared drew in a deep, satisfied breath. Yep, he was going to like it here in Stanford.
Pausing at the little mirror beside the stove, Jared straightened his badge and pulled his hat a little lower over one eye. He gave himself a brisk nod, then walked out into the streets of his town.
Spring had come to Stanford and should have been gone by now, but the pleasant weather hung on. The morning was warm. A hint of a breeze stirred.
Citizens crowded the boardwalks and the streets, going about their business. Jared strolled along, looking things over, watching for trouble, getting the lay of the place.
And looking for Mattie Ingram.
He stopped abruptly outside the Stanford Mercantile, realizing that his first walk-through of the town had taken him directly to the Cottonwood Café.
Well, why shouldn’t he head here first? It was the heart of the business district, he told himself. Nearby was the bank, the assay office and most of the shops. Places likely to draw criminal activity. Mattie and her Cottonwood Café didn’t have anything to do with it.
Jared pulled on his chin. No sense in lying to himself.
Mattie had been on his mind—and in his dreams—almost continually since he’d laid eyes on her. Since their night together.
Mattie was a widow, Jared reminded himself, her husband dead not quite three months yet. Of course, after what she’d told him about Ingram, Jared doubted she’d done too much grieving over him.
But after her proper period of mourning, dare he hope to court her himself? A little smile pulled at Jared’s lips. Yep, that’s exactly what he could do.
In the meantime, he’d have to settle for looking at her. Of course, he could talk to her, too. Have supper at her restaurant.
Think about rolling around in bed with her.
Heat rushed through Jared, pumping his blood faster. Damn, after all this time, thoughts of making love to Mattie still had the same affect on him.
He walked a little faster, trying to push those images out of his mind before he gave the townsfolk an impression of their new sheriff he didn’t want them to have.
But, as if he didn’t have a will of his own, Jared’s feet carried him across the street to the Cottonwood Café. He peered through the window. Only one table was occupied.
Good, he thought. If the restaurant wasn’t busy, that meant Mattie would have time to talk to him. But he didn’t want their reunion to take place in front of an audience. Jared circled the building.
As he walked he allowed himself to indulge in a little fantasy. On those long, lonely nights on the trail he’d often found himself thinking about how Mattie might react when she saw him again.
His favorite conjured-up scene was the one where she took one look at him, shucked off her clothes and jumped into bed with him.
Jared pulled on his chin. A hell of a nice vision—one he’d about worn out—but not likely to happen.
Next was the one where she confessed that she’d pined endlessly for him, prayed for his return, then shucked off her clothes and jumped into bed with him.
He’d even imagined that she said she loved him—then shucked off her clothes and jumped into bed with him.
“Damn…”
Jared shook his head, getting himself under control. Fact was, the best he could hope for when Mattie saw him was a smile on her face. That would be plenty. A smile would mean she was happy to see him. A smile meant…everything.
Rounding the corner of the restaurant, Jared stopped. His heart thundered in his chest.
Mattie stood on the back steps, holding on to the railing, gazing up at the sky. His insides seemed to melt.
Lord, what a pretty woman she was. At times over the past months he’d wondered if his imagination had turned her into something she wasn’t. But seeing her now, he knew that wasn’t true. Mattie was as pretty as he remembered.
She had on a gray dress with a black lace collar and cuffs. Proper mourning attire for a widow, but it did nothing to hide her swells and curves.
Jared headed toward the back steps, anxious to see her up close, talk to her. What the hell? Maybe she would shuck off her clothes and jump into bed with him.
“Mattie?” he called.
She spun around. Only a second passed before recognition bloomed on her face. Her eyes widened.
A little whimper slipped from Mattie’s lips. She splayed her fingers across her stomach.
“Surprise,” he said.
Mattie slapped her hand over her mouth and raced to the outhouse.
Jared frowned as he pushed his hat back on his head and watched the outhouse door bang shut behind her.
“Well, damn…” he muttered. Never ever had he imagined the sight of him would send her running to the privy.
The restaurant door opened and a gray-haired woman stepped outside, wiping her hands on a linen towel.
Jared looked at her hopefully. “Something she ate?”
Mattie slumped against the door of the outhouse, the coarse wood digging into her forehead. She had to get out of this airless little shed. The smell, the heat…
Her stomach rolled. Mattie swallowed quickly, fearful she’d be sick again.
But she didn’t want to go outside. He was there.
Her heart banged in her chest. What was he doing here? Why had he come back? And why did it have to be now?
Did he know? Had he somehow found out?
Mattie touched her palm to her stomach. Flat, still. No outward sign of the baby—his baby.
No, he couldn’t know, she decided. He couldn’t possibly know.
What should she do? Mattie thought frantically. Tell him?
Weeks ago when she’d found out she was carrying his child, she’d decided not to contact him. His presence would only complicate things.
Mattie twisted her fingers together. But now he was here. Did that change things?
Drawing in a deep breath, Mattie fought off the nausea that had plagued her for weeks, her spirits lifting a little as she realized that, like before, Jared McQuaid would be in town for only a day or so to pick up prisoners, probably. Then he’d be gone. All she had to do was keep her condition a secret from him—which would be a snap, since she didn’t intend to speak to the man—and by tomorrow he’d be gone, none the wiser.
And her baby’s future would be safe again.
Mattie gulped a few times, fighting off another wave of nausea and an unsettling nudge from her conscience.
“Mattie?” Mrs. Nance called from outside.
Bless her, the dear woman had been such a comfort—her only comfort, really.
Slowly, Mattie opened the door to Mrs. Nance’s smile. The woman was stout, with a lifetime of lines on her face.
“Feeling better?” she asked.
“Well, no…not really.”
Mrs. Nance patted her hand. “All perfectly normal. Come along, dear.”
Mattie didn’t move. “Is—is that man still out there?”
“The new sheriff, you mean?” Mrs. Nance asked.
“The—what?”
“Jared McQuaid. The new sheriff,” she explained. Mattie’s stomach heaved. She fought it down, along with a rising wave of panic. “We have a new sheriff?”
“You hadn’t heard?” Mrs. Nance nodded. “I guess not. You’ve had your mind on other things lately.”
Yes, that was certainly true. Her queasy stomach—on top of all her other problems.
“He’s the new sheriff? Stanford’s sheriff?” Mattie asked. “Here permanently?”
“Just arrived this morning, and here to stay, he says.”
Mattie clamped her lips together to hold in her groan.
“You need to get off your feet for a while,” Mrs. Nance said, and led her from the outhouse.
Mattie’s gaze fell on Jared McQuaid, standing across the yard. He was big, tall, sturdy. His sheriff’s badge glinted in the morning sun.
Her heart thumped in her chest and her stomach squeezed into a knot again, making her footsteps drag. She watched as Jared’s gaze touched her face, then dropped to her belly and hung there.
Mattie froze. He knew.
The world suddenly tilted and Mattie swayed. In the next heartbeat, she felt Jared beside her, holding her upright, bracing her against his chest—that chest…that night.
How familiar he felt. How comfortable. Part of Mattie wanted to melt against him, soak up his strength—goodness knows, the man had plenty to go around. But something inside her warned her to get away as fast as she could.
“I’ll take you to the doctor,” Jared said.
“No.” Mattie pushed away from him. “No. There’s nothing he can do, and besides I—”
She didn’t finish the sentence. It was none of Jared’s business that she couldn’t afford another visit to the doctor.
“I’ll take her home,” Mrs. Nance said, as if reading Mattie’s thoughts.
“I’ll handle it,” Jared told her in a tone that brooked no disagreement. He dipped his chin toward his badge. “It’s my duty. Besides, don’t you have to look after the café?”
“The restaurant is my responsibility,” Mattie insisted. She tried to pull away, but Jared’s long fingers remained folded around her arm and splayed across her back. “I need to stay here. The noon rush will start soon.”
Mrs. Nance shook her head sympathetically, but didn’t say anything. There was no need. Both of them knew how foolish Mattie’s claim was.
“Let the sheriff take you home for a while, dear,” Mrs. Nance said. “He…understands.”
With that, Mattie realized Mrs. Nance had told Jared about her condition while she’d been in the outhouse.
How much more humiliation could she bear in front of this man?
“I can get myself home just fine,” Mattie announced, though really, she hardly felt up to it.
Jared never gave her a chance to prove her words. With a little pressure at her back, he escorted her away from the restaurant.
When they got to the street, Mattie glanced at the people passing by on the boardwalk and pulled away from Jared.
“I will not be paraded through town like a circus train,” she told him.
Mattie looked up to see a frown on his face. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t put his hand on her again.
When they reached her house, Mattie expected Jared would leave. He didn’t. He walked inside as if he belonged there. Mattie was too tired, too nauseated to protest. She went straight to her bedroom with him on her heels.
Heat flushed Mattie’s cheeks. This room. That night. Him.
“Do you need help with your dress?” Jared asked, his gaze traveling over her, lingering on her belly.
He’d already seen her naked. Suddenly, Mattie felt that way again. Vulnerable, exposed, but not in a sexual way. More like a bug in a jar.
“Stop looking at my stomach!” She slammed the door in his face, then dropped onto the bed and fell asleep.
When she awoke some time later, Mattie felt only marginally better. She splashed her face at the washstand, then took down her hair and pinned it up again. Leaning closer to the mirror, she took stock of her features. Pale, dark circles under her eyes…She looked terrible.
Almost as terrible as she felt.
With a deep sigh, Mattie went to the kitchen. Her stomach jolted again when she found Jared standing at her cookstove.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
He spun around. A moment passed while his gaze traveled the length of her, dipped to her belly for only a second, then landed on her face.
“I heard you stirring around in the bedroom,” he said. “I made you something to eat.”
“You’ve been here all this time?” she asked. He’d stayed? Gone through her cupboards? Sat in her chairs? Made himself comfortable in her house? Had he peeked into her bedroom while she slept?
Jared took a biscuit from the warmer and poured tea into one of her china cups. “You don’t have much here to eat.”
“I own a restaurant, remember? I usually eat there.”
Jared pulled back a chair for her. When she glared at him instead of sitting down, he circled the table and eased into a chair across from her, then picked up the newspaper and began reading.
How casual and comfortable he’d made himself, sitting at her table. Honestly, the gall of this man.
Another minute passed before Jared spoke as he turned the page of the newspaper. “The tea and biscuit will settle your stomach, make you feel better.”
He was right, of course, but it didn’t particularly suit Mattie that he’d said it. Or that he’d prepared it for her. Or that he was sitting at her table, in her house.
But the tea did smell good, while so few things did these days. Mattie sat down and took little sips as she ate the biscuit. Jared kept reading the newspaper, his silence unnerving.
When she finished, he dropped the paper and laid his hand lightly on her wrist, keeping her in the chair.
“We need to talk,” he said.
Mattie pulled away and got to her feet. “There is nothing we need to discuss.”
His gaze dipped to her belly. “Are you sure you’re pregnant?”
It was pointless to deny it. Mrs. Nance had told him. Her illness had confirmed it.
Mattie clenched her fists at her sides. “Three times in one night! How could I not be pregnant?”
Jared rose and stood beside her, his expression grim. “It’s mine, isn’t it?”
She raised her chin. “It’s my husband’s.”
“It’s mine.” Jared’s eyes narrowed. “Unless you had some other man in town making you forget after I left.”
She slapped him. Hard, on the cheek with her open palm. Jared didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away, didn’t move. Finally, he nodded, satisfied.
“It’s mine,” he declared.
“It’s my husband’s,” Mattie told him again. “That’s what the whole town thinks and that’s what I’m letting them believe.”
“Just your little secret. Is that it?”
Mattie gazed up at Jared and jerked her chin. “Yes, my little secret.”
This baby could have been Del’s, if they’d had a normal husband-wife relationship. The town didn’t know any differently, and Mattie had decided to let them believe it.
After all, telling the truth would label her baby a bastard. What kind of choice was that?
“Did you ever intend to tell me?” Jared asked.
She turned away. “No. I was never going to tell you.”
Jared drew in a big breath, then let it out slowly, as if he’d come to terms with everything she’d said, made some sort of decision about it.
“Let’s go,” he said.
Mattie frowned. “Go? Go where?”
“To the church.”
“Whatever for?” she asked.
“We’re getting married.”
Chapter Four
“Married?”
“Yes. Married,” Jared said. He took her hand. “Right now.”
She pulled away from him. “I’m not going to marry you.”
“Yes, you are.” He eased closer, crowding her. “You’re carrying a baby. My baby. I’m taking responsibility for what I did and we’re getting married.”
“Nobody knows it’s your baby. I told you, the whole town thinks it’s Del’s.”
“I know it’s mine.” Jared tapped his finger against his chest. “I’m not turning my back on you, or this baby.”
Mattie lifted her chin. “I don’t want your help.”
“Maybe you don’t want it but you sure as hell need it,” Jared told her. He looked her up and down. “You’re sick as a dog. You’re pale. You’ve lost weight. You can’t keep anything down.”
For a lawman, he certainly knew a lot about having babies. Or he was just observant.
“Yes,” Mattie admitted. “I’ve been sick. But that will pass.”
“And you’re dead tired, aren’t you? You can’t make it through the day without lying down.”
“If I have time I lie down, but I’m usually too busy at the restaurant.”
“And what effect do you think that’s having on the baby?” he challenged.
Mattie turned away from those fierce blue eyes of his, uncomfortable under his gaze. She tried to think of a reasonable response, but couldn’t.
Finally she said, “Just because I’m sick and I need to take a nap is no reason for us to get married, of all things.”
“Yes, it is,” Jared told her. “It’s the best reason. The only reason. I’m marrying you so I can take care of you, and make sure our baby comes into this world healthy.”
“But—”
“It’s the right thing to do.” Jared gave her a brisk nod. “And you know it.”
She’d worried about all those things. Dr. Whittaker, Mrs. Nance at the restaurant—along with most every other woman in town—had cautioned her over and over again to take it easy.
She did feel terrible. She was worn out by midafternoon. Was she being thoughtless? Was she being a bad mother? Was she jeopardizing her unborn child?
More than anything, she wanted her baby to be healthy. Nothing was more important.
Jared seemed to read those feelings in her expression. He pulled on his hat and opened the back door. “Let’s go.”
Mattie hesitated a moment. “But—”
“This isn’t about you and me,” Jared told her. “It’s about the baby.”
What could she say to that? Mattie walked out ahead of him.
Just beyond the gate in the white picket fence that surrounded her house, Mattie slowed, gazing toward Main Street. Jared was a few paces ahead of her. He stopped and turned back.
“What about the Cottonwood?” Mattie asked. “What about my restaurant?”
“Close it.”
“Close it?” Mattie shook her head, stunned by the thought. “How am I supposed to support myself? What am I supposed to do for money?”
“I’ll take care of you.”
Her gaze roamed once more to the Cottonwood Café. Close it? Walk away? It had belonged to her parents. She’d worked there with them, side by side, with so many wonderful memories. She’d turned the place around and built it into the most popular eatery in Stanford.
But that was before.
Images of Del Ingram floated in Mattie’s mind. He’d drained every cent from her bank account without her knowing it. Had left her penniless. He’d also run up some sizable debts around town, debts she was saddled with.
With no money, she’d been unable to buy meat and poultry to serve to her diners. It hadn’t taken long before her soups and vegetable platters lost favor with her customers. With no sausage or bacon on the menu, the businessmen who’d made the Cottonwood their spot for breakfast stopped coming.
She’d had to let her serving girls and dishwasher go, and take on those chores herself. She held on to Mrs. Nance by a thread, paying her salary with what little money she took in; if the Silver Bell Restaurant on the other end of town hired her away, Mattie would be lost for sure.
Her business had spiraled downward for months, since Del’s death. For a moment, Mattie considered doing as Jared said, closing it. Free herself from the work, the worry. Could she do that?
Mattie shook her head. “I can’t close the Cottonwood. I just can’t.”
Jared’s brows drew together; obviously he was unhappy with her decision. “Then let Mrs. Nance run it. Or open it only part of the day. Hire more help. You can keep it open, but you’re not going to be over there all the time.”
Mattie’s back stiffened. “I made the restaurant what it is. I can’t just turn it over to hired help.”
A little frown creased Jared’s forehead. “Anybody can run that restaurant, Mattie, but only you can have this baby.”
She wished he’d stop making so much sense. Jared clasped her elbow and they walked to the church.
As they crossed the yard beneath the trees, Mattie’s steps slowed again until he was nearly pulling her along. At the bottom of the stairs, she stopped completely, with Jared on the step above her, glaring down. The door stood open and Reverend Harris’s voice drifted out. He was rehearsing his sermon, it seemed.
“We don’t even know each other,” Mattie said.
Jared raised an eyebrow at her. “We know each other well enough.”
Mattie’s cheeks flushed, remembering the extent of their intimacy. She’d spent many a night thinking about U.S. Marshal Jared McQuaid in the weeks after he’d left Stanford, left her bed. Their one night together had been like no other.
Then she’d found out she was pregnant.
Mattie lifted her chin. “Don’t think that just because we’re married that you and I are going to…well, you know.”
“What?” He looked a little confused, but Mattie saw the grin pulling at his lips.
“You know what I mean,” she informed him, crossing her arms in front of her.
“Oh.” Jared nodded broadly. “You mean make love.”
Mattie flushed bright red. “Shh. Keep your voice down. We’re at the church, for heaven’s sake.”
“It won’t hurt the baby, you know,” Jared said. His grin turned into a full smile. “And after that one night we were together, I figured you’d be anxious to—”
“Just hush!” Mattie pushed past him and stomped into the church.
Her bravado disappeared when she stepped inside. Where she was and what was about to happen smacked her in the face. Mattie backed up and bumped into the solid wall of Jared McQuaid standing behind her.
“Jared, I—I don’t know—”
“Reverend Harris!” Jared’s voice boomed over her head, carrying through the church and startling Reverend Harris, who was standing at the altar.
The reverend adjusted his spectacles and squinted at them, then smiled.
“Ah, yes, good afternoon,” he called, closing his Bible and stepping into the aisle.
Jared’s big, strong body pressed against Mattie’s back, easing her between the rows of pews toward the front of the church.
“Jared, I’m not sure—”
“We want you to marry us,” Jared called out.
Reverend Harris looked as stunned as Mattie felt, hearing the words spoken aloud. Jared splayed his hand over her back, urging her down the aisle. Mattie dug in.
Jared moved to her side and looked down at her. “This is for the baby, Mattie. Not you. Not me. The baby.”
He’d said it softly so only she could hear.
“It’s the only sensible thing to do,” Jared said.
Sensible. Yes, it was that. And Mattie had been sensible her whole life. Well, most of it, anyway.
“Let’s get this over with,” he said.
Jared pulled her down the aisle behind him, clutching her arm with one hand, offering his other to Reverend Harris. His palm felt rough, his fingers strong. Jared held tight to her as if he feared she’d bolt for the door.
Maybe she should.
“This is quite a surprise,” Reverend Harris said, looking back and forth between the two of them.
“Like I said, Reverend,” Jared said, “I want you to marry us. Right now.”
Reverend Harris’s eyebrows bobbed toward his hairline. “Well, now, this is sudden. You’ve just arrived in town, Sheriff, only this morning.”
Jared leaned forward slightly and lowered his voice. “I guess you heard about Mrs. Ingram’s…condition.”
The reverend glanced at Mattie. His cheeks flushed. So did hers.
“Well, yes, I’d heard,” he said. “But still, I don’t understand. You want to marry her?”
“A woman alone? Having a baby?” Jared shook his head. “A woman can’t raise a child by herself. It’s not right. Not natural.”
“Yes, that’s true enough,” the reverend agreed. “A woman needs a man to take care of her.”
“Damn right—excuse me, Reverend—of course she does.”
“But still…” the reverend said.
“It’s my duty to do the right thing by her.”
Reverend Harris frowned. “Your duty?”
Jared drew in a breath. “Del Ingram was my friend. We grew up together. Del saved my life. I owe it to his memory to take care of his wife and baby.”
“Oh, I see.” Reverend Harris nodded thoughtfully. “Saved your life, did he?”
“He did,” Jared said.
The reverend mulled it over for a moment, stroking his chin, then nodded. “Well, all I can say is what a good man you are, Sheriff McQuaid, taking on this responsibility.”
Reverend Harris smiled at Mattie. “You’re a mighty lucky young gal to have this man stepping in the way he is. I hope you appreciate what he’s doing.”
“I want you to marry us right away,” Jared said. “Today. Now.”
“Well, all right. Can’t see any point in waiting…considering.” Reverend Harris glanced at Mattie’s belly. “I’ll go get the missus for a witness.”
Anxious to get the ceremony over and done with, Jared grumbled under his breath as he watched the reverend leave the church. Beside him, Mattie stood rigid. A little pink blush highlighted her pale cheeks, emphasizing the dark circles under her eyes. He knew she didn’t feel well.
He knew she might turn and run at any minute.
Mattie seemed docile enough right now, but he didn’t know how long his luck would hold. He wanted this service over and done with before she changed her mind.
“Is it true?” Mattie asked softly.
She looked up at him, her eyes wide and hopeful.
“Is what true?” he asked.
“About Del. He really saved your life?”
“Hell, no.” Jared snorted. “The bastard nearly got me killed twice.”
“Oh.”
Mattie turned away, disappointment turning down the corners of her mouth. Maybe he should have lied to her, confirmed the story he’d told the reverend. Surely she’d like to think there was something honorable in the man she’d chosen to marry, that there was some kernel of goodness in him.
Especially after the way things had turned out.
“Where’s that reverend?” Jared mumbled, craning his neck to see out the window.
“Were you and Del—”
“There he is—about damn time.” Jared strode to the doors of the church and escorted the reverend and Mrs. Harris to the altar.
Mrs. Harris, still wearing her apron, giggled behind her hand. “Oh, a wedding. How lovely. Why, I just love a wedding. Don’t you want some flowers, dear? I can get you some from the garden. Oh, and let me play something on the piano for the occasion. How about—”
“We don’t have time for flowers or music,” Jared said.
Mrs. Harris’s tittering stopped and she looked properly admonished. “Oh, well, all right.”
Jared waved toward the reverend. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
Reverend Harris opened his Bible. “Very well, let’s see now…”
Jared glanced down at Mattie. She inched away from him. He latched on to her elbow and stepped closer.
“Reverend, you want to speed it up here?”
“Oh, yes, certainly.” Reverend Harris adjusted his spectacles and held his Bible out in front of him. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today—”
“We don’t need that part,” Jared said.
“Hmm? What?”
“We don’t need that part,” Jared repeated. “Move it along.”
“Well, then, let’s see.” Reverend Harris cleared his throat. “Do you, Jared McQuaid, take this woman—”
“Yeah, yeah, sure I do.” Jared felt Mattie glaring up at him, but he refused to look at her. He made a spinning motion with his fingers. “Keep going, will you?”
The reverend adjusted his Bible. “And do you, Mattie Ingram, take this man to be your lawful—”
“We know all that stuff,” Jared said. “Jump ahead.”
The reverend exchanged a troubled look with his wife. “Very well. Mattie, will you marry this man?”
“Sure she will,” Jared insisted. “Go on, pronounce us married. Now.”
Miffed, Reverend Harris closed his Bible. “She must answer the question herself, Sheriff.”
“Look, Reverend, she’s here, isn’t we? She agrees. Just say we’re married and—”
“Mattie?” the reverend asked. “Do you agree to this marriage?”
Jared gave her arm a little shake. “Say yes.”
Reverend Harris and his wife exchanged another look, then leaned a little closer to Mattie.
“Well…” Mattie gulped.
Mrs. Harris smiled gently at her. “Are you not sure, Mattie?”
“Of course, she’s sure,” Jared insisted. “Answer him, Mattie. Let’s get this thing over with.”
Reverend Harris smiled kindly. “Perhaps I can say a few words here that will help.”
“Just say we’re married!”
The reverend went on as if Jared’s words weren’t echoing off the church ceiling.
“Mattie,” Reverend Harris said, “I admit I wasn’t in favor of your marriage to Del Ingram. But look how well that turned out. I’m sure this marriage will be just as wonderful as your last.”
Mattie gasped and went white.
Jared winced. He slapped his palm over his eyes, then dared to look at Mattie.
Her cold, sharp gaze impaled him. Her breath came heavier, causing her shoulders to rise and fall.
“Mattie,” Jared said. “We talked about this. We agreed—”
He turned back to the reverend, his jaw set. “Hurry up. Say we’re married. Say it.”
“But she hasn’t answered. I can’t pronounce you two married unless—”
“Damn right you can,” Jared told him. “Just get on with it before—”
“But—”
“Do it!”
“No!” Mattie shouted.
Mrs. Harris gasped. The reverend’s eyes widened.
“No. That’s my answer.” She looked up at Jared. “No, I won’t marry you.”
“Now look here, Mattie, you know—”
“No!” Mattie wrestled away from him. “I won’t marry you! Not now, not ever! No!”
She spun away from him and ran out of the church, slamming the door behind her.
Halfway across the churchyard, Mattie heard Jared calling her name. She didn’t stop until she heard his footsteps behind her. She turned to find him towering over her.
“Listen to me, Mattie, we’re going back into that church and we’re—”
“No!”
“You can’t raise this baby by yourself!”
“Yes, I can!” She looked up into his face and saw that Jared was as angry as she.
“Listen to me—”
“No, you listen to me,” she told him. “I have a home and a business. I have friends to help me. I’m perfectly capable of raising this baby myself. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t know what you’re up against.”
Mattie reined in her temper. “This doesn’t concern you. Everyone thinks this baby is Del’s and that suits me fine.”
“It doesn’t suit me at all!”
“I don’t care if it does or not,” Mattie told him. “You have no say in the matter. This baby is mine to take care of. Mine. Not yours.”
A flash of pain came over Jared’s face. Mattie looked away and softened her voice. “From now on, you are to stay away from me. That’s my final word.”
A minute dragged by, and Jared didn’t speak. She knew it would be hard on him to accept her decision, but it was for the best.
Finally, she lifted her gaze to his face. His features burned with an intensity she’d never seen before.
“Like hell I will.” He ground out the words in a low voice.
Mattie nearly buckled under the weight of his pronouncement. She forced her chin up a notch. “I insist you respect my wishes,” she said.
“I don’t give a damn about your wishes,” he told her. “That baby is mine and I don’t care who knows it.”
A deep, sickening fear rushed through her. “You can’t mean that. You can’t poison this baby’s future by telling everyone the truth.”
“I’m going to have a say in everything that goes on with you and this baby. Get used to it.”
Jared gave her a curt nod and walked away.
Chapter Five
The lantern light flickered as the night breeze blew through the open window, sending shadows dancing across the kitchen. Elbow deep in the washtub, doing the dishes, Mattie hardly noticed.
The restaurant was quiet now, closed for the evening. Mrs. Nance had gone home some time ago. She’d offered to stay, of course, and help Mattie finish up the day’s dishes, but Mattie had told her no. She was lucky to still have Mrs. Nance working for her; she wouldn’t impose any more than necessary.
Mattie didn’t mind the solitude of the kitchen, but she sorely missed Billy Weaver. Billy had been her dishwasher…before.
With a jerk of her chin, Mattie sent unkind thoughts in the direction of Jared McQuaid. If not for him, she’d have been at the restaurant all day and could have done these dishes a little at a time, rather than standing here all night, doing them now, to ready the kitchen for tomorrow’s business.
Instead, he’d taken her home to rest. Then hauled her to the church to marry him. Mattie shuddered at the thought. Good gracious, what had she been thinking, agreeing to the marriage? Luckily, she’d come to her senses in time.
She scrubbed the next plate in the tepid water, dipped it in the rinse tub and stacked it with the others. Maybe she should march to the jail and insist Jared come over and wash these dishes himself. Yes, that would serve him right.
For an instant the vision of Jared standing at her washtub bloomed in her mind. Sleeves rolled up, dark hair spread over flexing forearms, legs braced wide apart. So big, so strong. Unlike Mattie, he no doubt could work for hours and not even breathe hard.
Of course, Jared McQuaid didn’t have another person riding around inside of him.
Mattie smiled to herself. The baby. Growing within her right now, this very moment. What did it look like? she wondered. Would it be a boy? A girl?
More sobering thoughts came to Mattie then, taking the smile from her face. She had so much to do before the child was born. Pay off Del’s old debts. Build up her bank account. Get her business back on track. Prepare for the baby’s arrival. Then insure the child’s future.
“Well, gracious…” Mattie muttered, the sloshing of water muting her words.
So much to do. So much to do…alone.
She sighed, dipping the last plate into the rinse tub. Better to do things alone than to depend on someone who wouldn’t come through for her. She didn’t need to learn that lesson twice.
True, her future was a tall order, but Mattie was confident she could handle it. The only question concerned Jared. And she intended to settle that tonight.
Mattie dried the dishes and stacked them in the cupboard, then dumped the wash water and took off her apron. This afternoon in the churchyard, Jared had threatened to make it known that he was the father of her baby. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow that to happen.
Slipping her shawl around her shoulders, Mattie gathered her handbag, blew out the lanterns and locked up. But instead of heading home, she went the other way.
The good thing about the day wearing on was that the nausea that marked her mornings faded. The bad thing was that fatigue took its place.
Bone weary, Mattie walked along the darkened street. Most of the businesses had closed long ago. Just a few windows glowed with lamplight. The only noise came from the Lady Luck Saloon at the other end of town.
Mattie stopped as she neared the jail, and glanced around. No one was about, but that didn’t mean she might not be seen. Surely, word would spread that the new sheriff had offered to marry her and she’d turned him down. Mattie didn’t want to add any more fuel to the gossip by being seen entering the jailhouse this late at night.
She cut through the alley to the rear of the jail. Glancing around, she opened the door and stepped inside.
From a doorway to her left, light spilled into the hallway, illuminating two empty cells. Straight ahead, through another opened door, lantern light burned in the sheriff’s office.
Mattie paused, listening. She heard nothing. Maybe Jared wasn’t here. He could be out walking rounds.
She ventured farther down the hallway, wanting to make certain. Mattie wanted to talk to him tonight, get this issue settled once and for all.
A shadow crossed her path and Jared leaped in front of her. Startled, she froze.
Good gracious, his chest was bare.
Which was an odd thing to notice, she realized a second later, given that he had a Colt .45 pointed at her head.
“What the hell are you doing, sneaking in here?” Jared demanded. “I nearly shot you.”
Mattie pointed lamely down the hall. “You shouldn’t have left your door unlocked. How thoughtless.”
Jared grumbled and lowered his pistol. “Nobody breaks into a jail, Mattie.”
“Oh.”
“What are you doing here?” he asked, frowning. Mattie twisted her fingers together, unsure where to start. Of course, it would be much easier to think if he weren’t standing only a foot away with no shirt on.
Dark, crinkly hair covered his chest and arrowed down his muscled stomach, disappearing into his trousers. His arms bulged as he shifted his wide shoulders.
The sleeves of his long johns and his suspenders hung at his sides; the top button of his trousers was unfastened.
“Change your mind about getting married?” he asked.
The question shocked her back to reality. “No, of course not. I need to talk to you.”
Jared stepped into the room and turned a cane bottom chair toward her. “Sit down,” he said.
A tingle swept up her spine. This was his bedroom. She couldn’t waltz inside and sit down. It wasn’t decent.
“You’ve been on your feet all evening. Sit down.” When she still hesitated, Jared gestured toward the bunk in the corner. “Unless you’d rather hop into bed?”
Mattie jerked her chin at him and plopped into the chair. He shoved the pistol into the holster that dangled from a row of pegs on the wall. His shirt hung beside it. He’d probably been getting ready for bed when she walked in. Her gaze bounced to the tidy bunk, then to Jared. He was already watching her. Mattie’s cheeks burned. She busied herself straightening her skirt, refusing to look at him again.
“How are you feeling?” Jared asked.
“Fine.”
He stopped in the center of the floor and sighed heavily. “How are you really feeling?”
She wasn’t sure if the frown on his face meant he was angry or genuinely concerned. “Tired. A little tired.”
“Did you eat a proper supper?”
She huffed. “That’s really none of your concern.”
His chest swelled and his frown deepened. “Did you eat a proper supper?”
“Yes,” she told him. No sense in annoying him further, given the reason she was here tonight.
Jared nodded, apparently satisfied, then shoved his arms into his long johns and pulled them over his shoulders.
“What do you need to talk about?” he asked.
How odd, sitting in a chair in Jared’s bedroom, watching him dress. Mattie couldn’t recall any such moment with her husband.
Obviously, Jared thought nothing of her being there. He buttoned his long johns and slipped on his shirt, completely comfortable with her presence.
His long fingers fastened the shirt, then dipped into his trousers, tucking the tail inside. Mattie sat mesmerized by the simple action, the intimate details he shared so casually.
“Mattie?”
“Oh.” She shifted on the chair. “I have to know if you’ll keep my secret.”
“You mean about the baby really being mine?”
“You can’t be serious about telling everyone the truth. Can you imagine the scandal?”
“You’d rather live a lie than be gossiped about?”
Mattie rose from the chair. “I don’t care so much for myself. I’m worried about the baby. This will throw a shadow over his whole life.”
“His whole life? You think it’s a boy?” His gaze dipped to her belly.
She touched her hand to her stomach. “I don’t know.”
“I want a girl,” Jared said, pulling up his suspenders. “It’ll be a girl.”
“All the more reason not to jeopardize her future,” Mattie said. “Surely you can see that.”
Jared shrugged into his vest and fastened his gun belt on his hips. “I’m more concerned that she’ll turn out as stubborn as her mama.”
Mattie sighed heavily. “Jared, please—”
“You need to get home,” he said, and put on his hat.
She pulled away when he reached for her arm. “Not until you give me your answer. I have to know this is settled. Surely you can understand that.”
He leaned down, just a little, just enough to make her draw back. “And surely you can understand that, for a man, agreeing to give up his child isn’t a decision to be made lightly.”
The depth of his gaze held her captive for a moment, and in that moment she saw something unreadable in Jared. Something deep. Something old and timeworn. It touched her, frightened her a little.
“I can walk home myself,” she said to him. He sighed irritably. “I’m walking you home, Mattie, and that’s that.”
Jared strode out of the room, leaving her no choice but to follow.
A ray of morning sunlight streaming through the window bored into Jared’s eyes, waking him. He sat up, groggy, looked around and finally remembered where he was after his first night in his new room.
He scrubbed his hands over his face and pushed his fingers through his hair. Then he tossed back the covers.
It had been a hell of a night….
His wedding night, or should have been. If Mattie hadn’t been so hardheaded at the church yesterday, he’d have spent the night in bed with her. Jared didn’t need to look down to be reminded of the missed opportunity. It had kept him tossing and turning for hours.
What the hell was wrong with that woman? Naked, Jared rose from the bed and poured water from the pitcher into the basin at the washstand. Every other woman in the whole country was champing at the bit to get married. Hell, most of them were tracking men down, dragging them to the altar.
Jared braced his arms on the corner of the washstand and squinted into the mirror. Sure, he looked a little ragged this morning, hair sticking up, eyes red, heavy whiskers, but he was a good catch, as husbands went.
He had a respectable job that paid well. He worked hard, had money put away. He was handsome enough. He knew how to treat a woman, take care of her needs…her womanly needs.
Jared groaned aloud as his body tightened, remembering how he’d taken care of Mattie’s needs their night together—all three times. The ache worsened, just thinking about it.
She’d come here last night to talk to him, but all he’d been able to think about was getting her into bed again. He’d walked her home, but she hadn’t let him come inside with her.
He’d told her he’d let her know his decision about telling everyone the truth about the baby. But that was just an excuse to get to see her again; he’d never poison his child’s future by branding him a bastard.
Jared groaned softly, remembering the night the baby was conceived. Before, when he’d been a marshal riding the trail, thinking of her, and this happened, he’d just waited it out, concentrated on his job. But now that he was in the same town with her, seeing her, touching her, almost marrying her, his condition had grown worse, much worse.
It just wasn’t right, wanting one woman this much, but he did. If he didn’t do something about it soon…
“Damn stubborn woman,” Jared muttered.
When he’d come to Stanford he’d wanted to make himself a home here, court Mattie, get to know her. Many a night on the trail he’d wondered if he’d fallen in love with her.
Jared gazed into the mirror, but it wasn’t his reflection he saw, it was the past. Ten years. Ten long years of loneliness, hurt and painful memories. Somehow, all of that had gone away after one night with Mattie.
Hell, maybe he did love her.
No matter what, Jared didn’t intend to let her out of his life. He liked being around her, liked the way she looked, the way she smelled. He even liked that spirit of hers, though he’d have to find a way to control it.
And she was having his baby. A little grin pulled at his lips every time he thought of it. Him, a papa. Mattie, sweet Mattie, the mama.
He dipped his hands into the basin and splashed icy water on his face. He shuddered.
Mattie might think she could order him out of her life, or wish him away, or scare him away, but that wouldn’t happen. Jared wasn’t about to turn his back on her. And he certainly wasn’t going to abandon his child. Not when he was this close to having so many of the things he wanted.
Jared sighed in the silent room. Hell, he did love her. He loved her and he wanted her. He’d figure a way to have her.
But that would be so much easier to do if he could just get himself under control enough to make it through the day without embarrassing himself in front of the whole town.
Jared ground his teeth together, picked up the pitcher and poured it down his front.
He sucked in a quick breath as the icy water splashed over him. His chest heaved from the shock. His body shuddered.
But at least it took care of one problem.
Until the next time he laid eyes on Mattie.
Chapter Six
Jared needed breakfast, but didn’t dare go to the Cottonwood Café for it. He wasn’t exactly Mattie’s favorite person right now. He was liable to get the bowl of oatmeal he ordered dumped over his head.
And even that, he feared, would make him want her again.
He headed to the Silver Bell Restaurant at the other end of town to have his meal. After that, he’d get down to work. This was a quiet town, but he needed to learn his way around, make himself known, check for trouble spots. He didn’t intend to let things get out of hand in his town.
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Judith Stacy
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Зарубежные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: Mattie Ingram–the love of his life and the mother of his child–was the most stubborn, independent, contrary woman in Nevada. And in the lonely months since he′d seen her, he′d discovered he needed her more than breath itself. But Mattie was having nothing to do with him!A baby coming, her business failing… What else could possibly happen? Mattie wondered. Well, the father of her child could insist on becoming a permanent part of her life. But if Jared McQuaid thought that one night of passion gave him the right to a lifetime commitment, he had better think again!