Reclaiming His Past (21 page)

“Everyone?” One brow quirked. “No one's said anything to me about it. Why would that upset you? Word of mouth is good for business.”

Upset without knowing why, Jessica dropped her arms and, not paying attention, placed her hands on the railing on either side of his. “You think I'm going to fail.”

His head reared back. “That's the exact opposite of what I'm thinking.”

“I don't believe you.”

“Are you calling me a liar?” His voice was steel cloaked in silk. His hands shifted, imprisoning hers against the weatherworn wood. His face was close enough that his coffee-scented breath puffed across her lips. His beautiful, glittering eyes delved deep into hers. Was he angry for the same reason as her?

This wasn't about cake. This wasn't about rumors. Inside, the truth burned. She loved him...and she craved his love in return.

“I happen to be of the opinion that you can succeed at anything you set your mind to, Jessica O'Malley.”

His sure hands slowly skimmed her bare arms, creating chilled bumps in their wake, curving around her shoulders until finding her nape. He gave a gentle tug. Anchoring her against his chest, the railing an inconvenient barrier between them, Grant brought his mouth down on hers. Branding her as his.

She slid her hands up the muscles of his back, reveling in his strength, the broadness of his chest cradling her, the taut security of his arms enfolding her.

I love you.

The words coursed through her, begging to be uttered. His lips were firm and searching. Warmth against the coolness of the night.

It was of dire importance that she memorize every detail of this experience. On the lonely days and nights to come, she'd wrap this memory around her like a toasty blanket warding off the chill of his absence.

His lifted his head a fraction, eyes ablaze.
“Jessica.”

The way her name rolled off his lips made her shiver. His fingertips skimmed her hairline at her temple. “When I saw you tonight, I thought I was dreaming. Your beauty has no equal.”

While his words brought her pleasure, they weren't the ones she yearned for him to say.

She stroked his shaven cheek. “There's something I need to tell you.”

His brows drew together even as he brushed another kiss across her sensitive mouth. “I'm listening.”

Her pulse out of control, she gathered her courage. She opened her mouth to speak.

“Grant?” Caleb's distinctive growl split through the night. “The competition's about to start.”

Gasping softly, Jessica jerked away.

A muscle ticked in Grant's jaw. Coming around to her side, he hesitated.

Caleb prowled closer. Grant moved so that his body blocked hers. “Don't take your anger out on her. Say whatever it is you have to say to me.”

She braced herself for her cousin's blast of temper, but it never came.

“I've made my feelings plain—getting involved is a dumb idea at this point. You're both mature adults, however. I can't stop you from pursuing this course.”

Grant's sigh seemed to be jerked from the depths of his being. Jessica squeezed his upper arm and stepped out of his shadow. “Go on to your competition. I'll speak to Caleb alone.”

His gaze delved into hers, seeking reassurance. Appearing satisfied, he murmured, “We'll talk later.”

“Okay.”

With a parting glance at Caleb, Grant strode away, disappearing into the darkness.

“I'm worried about you, Jess.”

She wished she could make out Caleb's exact expression. “I'm not that little girl who trailed you around anymore. I'm not your responsibility.”

“No matter how old you get, I'll never stop trying to protect you.”

Without a father or older brothers to look out for them, her uncle and cousins had stepped in to do the job. She understood his actions were born of love.

She touched his shirtsleeve. “I appreciate your concern, Caleb.”

“But you're not going to heed my warnings.”

“You've warmed to Grant. I know you have.”

“He's not a bad person,” he agreed. “It's his history, his situation I'm concerned about.”

“I'm aware of the risks. Let me do this my way.”

He was silent awhile. “Just be careful, okay?”

She hugged him and, craving a few moments to regain her composure before facing the guests, slipped inside the silent house. Upstairs in her aunt and uncle's bedroom, she checked her appearance. Not a hair was out of place. Only her heightened color and feverishly bright eyes bore testament to her high emotions. Returning to the living room, she lingered as sounds of merriment filtered through the windows.

When she finally went outside, the first round of competition was over. People were cheering and clapping. From her vantage point on the porch, she saw Nathan and Josh clapping Grant on the back.

“Did he win?” she asked the elderly woman beside her.

“No, but he found a red ear of corn.”

Flutters erupted in her middle. Tradition held that the gentleman who found a rare red ear of corn got to kiss the woman of his choosing.

She watched as her cousins explained. Grant's lips parted in surprise. He searched the crowd, stilling when his gaze landed on hers. He started forward.

Anticipation pulsed inside her, along with a heavy dose of caution. The young men whistled. Everyone in attendance tracked his progress, which seemed to her painfully slow. Was he really planning on kissing her right here in front of her neighbors and family?

He neared the porch, and his attention broke from her. Stopping before a group of older women, he extended the corncob and, with a wink and a playful grin, kissed her ma's wrinkled cheek. Clapping filled her ears. Good-natured laughter, too.

Jessica joined in, able to see her ma's fiery blush from her position. Grant spared Jessica a long glance, communicating with his eyes whom he truly would've liked to kiss. Happiness suffused her. He was ever mindful of her reputation. He put her needs above his own.

Surely he felt something deeper than friendship for her.

The sound of a fast-approaching rider thundered along the lane. The gaiety dissipated as the sheriff's form became distinguishable. He didn't dismount. Instead, he located Grant and beckoned him over.

“I need for you to come with me.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

N
umb to the activity around him, Grant approached the sheriff on wooden legs. Jessica rushed to join him.

“What's happened?” The question was directed toward Shane.

Not one emotion flickered in his somber features. “Not here, Jessica.”

Apprehension slithered along Grant's spine, wrapping around his ribs and squeezing the life out of him. That old familiar panic beast pounced. Sweat popped out on his forehead. This was it. He'd been found out. He was guilty. Doomed to a life behind bars.

No. I can't accept that. Dear Lord, please. I can't...

Jessica's hand found his. It wasn't easy meeting her gaze. The tremulous smile she gave him lessened the turmoil roiling inside him. She had faith in him. In his goodness.

Grant couldn't bear to see that faith blasted to pieces. Squeezing her hand, he said, “Maybe you should stay here.”

“I'm coming with you.” Her tone brooked no argument.

He looked to Shane, who nodded his acquiescence. Nathan brought a horse for him to borrow. “Take this one.”

“Thanks.”

The O'Malleys gathered around, forming a human barrier in an effort to afford him a modicum of privacy. With his arm slung about his wife's shoulders, Caleb looked serious. Mary wore a frown.

Alice patted his shoulder. “Everything will be fine. You'll see.”

Nodding, he turned to Jessica. “You're sure about this?”

“I'm sure.”

With everyone watching, Grant climbed into the saddle and, holding out a hand, assisted Jessica onto the horse's back. She settled in behind him, one arm going about his waist. Shane turned his horse around, and Grant's trotted after him.

Mingled with the worry about his own future were worries about Jessica's. Would scandal and gossip follow her long after he was gone?

That kiss—on another isolated porch, no less—never should've happened. But he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

The ride into town passed in a blur. Tension radiated from Jessica's body.

Maybe he should've insisted on coming alone. He had no clue what or who was awaiting him at the jail.

A lone horse stood hitched to the post, one that had traveled a great distance if the amount of gear attached to its saddle was anything to go by. As Shane slid to the ground, Grant contemplated bolting for parts unknown. Instead, he guided his mount beside the sheriff's.

“Who's inside, Shane?” Grant stopped the man outside the door.

“Someone who claims to know you.”

“Male or female?”

“A man.” Sighing, Shane glanced between them. “Let's go in and let him explain.”

Grant took one final look at Jessica, searing her face into his memory. After tonight, she may never look at him the same again.

His throat tight and dry, he nodded. “All right.”

Shane led the way into his office. Grant and Jessica followed. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a figure turning from the window. Looking to be in his fifties, the man was tall, reed-thin, and sported thick auburn hair and a mustache.

His narrowed gaze raked Grant from head to toe. His mustache wobbled as his mouth broke into a grin. “Parker! It truly is you.” Striding over, he grasped Grant's shoulders and pulled him in for a quick hug and hearty slap on the back. Grant was stunned into silence.

Jessica edged closer. “You know Grant?”

Belatedly, he noticed the silver star. This man was a US marshal.

Stepping back, the other man spared Jessica a quick glance. “Know him? We've only served our country together for the last six years. I was friends with his father.” He twirled his mustache ends, a gesture that struck Grant as familiar. “His legal name is Garrett Sebastian Parker.”

The name ricocheted through his skull.

“I think I need to sit.” Using his foot, he scooted over a chair and sank into it before his knees gave way.

Shane tossed his hat on his desk and, using the corner as a seat, motioned for Jessica and the marshal to follow suit. “Grant, I've apprised Marshal Taylor of your situation. He knows everything.”

“You don't remember me, do you?” Taylor's sunburned face looked sad. “I can see the lack of recognition in your eyes.”

“I'm afraid not.”

“I'm Winston Taylor. You call me Taylor.” His mouth quirked. “Or Skinny.”

“How did you find me?”

“We've been searching for weeks. The prisoner you were transporting to Arlington, Wayne Thacker, was captured just over the mountains near Asheville. His cohorts ambushed you and left you for dead. In fact, we were beginning to fear that was the case. Aaron's been going out of his mind with worry.”

“Aaron?”

Jessica's eyes were huge in her pale face. “Isn't that the name of the marshal those people in Maryville mistook you for?”

“Aaron. Your younger brother.” Taylor's frown turned thoughtful. “It's no wonder someone thought you were him. The two of you bear a strong resemblance to your father.”

“Can you describe this prisoner? Wayne Thacker?” Grant said.

Taylor's description matched the first man Grant had remembered in a dream. The angry one. All this time, he'd believed he was on the wrong side of the law. When in reality, he'd been the one enforcing it. “I'm a marshal.”

“That's right. A good one, too.”

Grant turned his attention to Shane, who'd been listening intently to their exchange. “Did you tell him about the jewels?”

“Yes. It's likely you hid them in your bag on the off chance Thacker's gang attempted a rescue. Your instincts proved useful.”

Taylor snorted. “There's a jewelry store in Chicago that will attest to it being far more than merely useful.”

Grant was silent, trying to absorb the details of a life he didn't remember. He had a brother. And a father. He flexed his left hand. What else didn't he know?

Jessica caught the movement. Sitting rigidly in the chair, she looked fragile. “Are there any more family members Grant—I mean, Garrett—should know about?”

“Apart from aunts and uncles scattered about, he has no other immediate family members.”

Grant shifted on the hard seat. This was weird, asking a stranger about personal details. “So I'm not married?”

Understanding lit Taylor's gaze. Stroking his mustache, his voice dipped in sympathy. “You were married once. About five years ago.”

Jessica's soft gasp punctuated his own shock.

“Were?”
he grated.

“Susannah died before your first anniversary.”

Pushing to his feet, Grant wandered to the window overlooking Main Street, his mind and heart numb, as if pumped full of laudanum. How? How could he have had a wife and not known it? Questions pelted his brain from all sides. What was she like? Had he loved her?

Pivoting, he avoided looking at Jessica. Did she suspect him of lying? Or toying with her emotions?

“How did she die?” he demanded.

Taylor didn't answer at first. “Perhaps we should discuss this in private.”

Jessica started to rise. Grant threw out a hand. “No. Please stay.” Still looking at the marshal, he said, “Whatever you have to say can be said in front of them.”

He licked his lips. “Susannah was expecting. She died of complications related to her pregnancy.”

* * *

Jessica felt as if a part of her had died. The shock and disbelief etched on Grant's face rent her heart into pieces. She longed to go to him, to try to ease his suffering. She didn't feel free to do so. Hearing about this whole other life, a noble, exciting life as a marshal, with friends and family who cared about him, opened her eyes to how foolish she'd been.

She'd known he could never be hers. The knowledge that he'd courted, loved and married another woman crushed her. Made her feel crazy jealous and ashamed at the same time. The poor woman was dead. And his lost baby... Tears welled up and spilled over onto her cheeks.

Wiping at them surreptitiously, she wished she could disappear. A handkerchief was dropped on her lap. Lifting her head, she met Shane's sympathetic regard. There was no condemnation in his eyes. Thinking back, there hadn't been any all those months ago when she'd given him her account of events surrounding Lee's death. Oh, there'd been frustration. But that had stemmed from his concern, hadn't it?

“If it's any consolation, you weren't there when it happened.”

Grant stared at the older marshal. “Where was I?”

“You were protecting a judge whose life had been threatened.”

He looked haggard. “Let me get this straight. I left my pregnant wife alone so I could go gallivanting about the country protecting a judge who likely had been taking bribes in exchange for leniency? She suffered and died with no one around to help her?”

Taylor stood, hands out in a placating gesture. “You were doing your duty, Parker. Serving your country as you've done faithfully since you pinned on the badge.”

Shoulders sagging, Grant's head bent low.

The auburn-haired man went and grasped his shoulder. “I'm sorry you're having to relive this all over again, my friend.”

Jessica gained her feet. “Shane, would you mind taking me home? They have much to catch up on.”

Nodding, he snatched his hat. “Before we go, I have one more question.”

“What's that?”

“If Grant found Thacker in Kentucky, what was he doing here? Gatlinburg wouldn't have been on his route to Arlington.”

“You're right.” Hefting a huge leather satchel onto the desk, Taylor rifled through the contents and brought out a sheaf of papers. “He was making a stop here to inquire about another case.” Licking his fingertips, he flipped through the papers until he found what he was looking for. “Ah. Here it is. The case is about two years old. Involves a bank robbery. Five men dead, including the banker and one female clerk. Our information led us to believe the perpetrator traveled here.”

Shane took the proffered paper. Through the thin parchment, Jessica could see the bold letters describing the criminal and bounty. She couldn't make out the photograph.

Shane suddenly stiffened, nostrils flaring. His gaze shot to hers.

“You know him?” Taylor asked.

A sense of foreboding filling her, she moved to stand beside the sheriff. There, staring up at her, was a photograph of Lee. A small cry of protest escaped her lips. She covered them with shaking hands. Her stomach roiled.

Grant came and snatched the wanted sign, his mouth going slack when he read the name. “Jessica, I'm sorry. I didn't know.”

Shane said something to the marshal. Jessica couldn't make sense of it through the roaring in her ears.

Grant had come to Gatlinburg in search of a murderer. In search of Lee, the man she'd trusted and loved and lost.

Whatever respect he'd had for her must surely be gone. Grant was a man whose job it was to uphold the law and punish those who broke it. She had aided a federal criminal. How would he ever look at her as anything other than a fool?

“I—I have to go.”

“Don't,” he intoned as she bolted onto the boardwalk. “Jess!”

Behind her, she heard the scuffle of boots on wood. Heated words between the sheriff and Grant.

She didn't stop. Didn't slow down.

She couldn't face US Marshal Grant—Garrett—Parker again.