Sweet Surrender (Mercers of Montana Book 1) (6 page)

"You needed help. I helped." She shrugged. "Does it really matter that I'm a female?"

She was courageous, leaping in to help with minimal thought to her own well-being. The instinct to protect her pounded through his veins. He wanted to berate her for it, but his gnawing need triumphed as he swept his arms around her slender waist and pulled her tight.

His lips crushed hers. She gasped, but her mouth fell open, letting him taste her. His blood turned molten as their lips seared each other. Encouraged by her soft whimpers, he pulled her still closer, their pounding hearts blocking out everything.

Everything except Lady Dubuque's polite cough. "I believe dinner will be served shortly. Come along."

O
livia was surprised
when Jackson remained at the ranch. He had avoided her since their embrace in the garden, and she was certain the incident had sealed her fate. While the shocking heat of his kiss still sprang to her lips whenever she saw him, his gloomy demeanor told her he didn't feel the same. A frown knit his forehead, and his blue eyes darkened—not the face of a man in love.

Love? Olivia asked herself. Surely she was not so foolish a young woman to feel love.

Far across the world in the wide stretches of Montana and waiting for a stranger to decide to marry her or not, it was not the time to even think of love. Instead, Olivia set about schooling Charlotte. She hoped even if the marriage plan failed, she could stay on as the young Mercer's governess. Such work would send something home to cover her father's debts, even if her unmarried state made it impossible for her sisters to wed.

"This is ludicrous!" Charlotte crossed her eyes and tugged at her tangled needle and thread.

Olivia smiled calmly and reached to pick the knot in the embroidery. "Your leaves are coming along nicely."

"Liar," muttered Charlotte and tossed her handiwork on to a side table. "I still don't see the point of this … this frippery."

"It's a lady's job to add beauty and grace to a home. Besides, embroidery keeps idle hands busy."

"I don't have idle hands." She shook her hands in Olivia's face. “These hands should be helping deliver a calf in the north pasture right about now."

"Your mother asked for me to turn you from a cowhand into a lady." She tossed her head. "While we wait for our tea, we sew." Charlotte sighed and picked up her sewing.

J
ackson stood
in the doorway watching his sister calling for help to untangle her embroidery once again. Olivia sat next to her and looked on with the patience of an angel. Her hair was swept up into a perfect top knot, and he longed to loosen it and watch the curls escape. Seeing Olivia in her high-necked dress with perfect posture and demure manners made him frown.

Was last night a dream then?

The woman he saw was fearless, running to the aid of another without a second thought for her own safety. Then there was the bright glow of action on her rosy cheeks, the spark of triumph in her eyes, followed by the soft spreading of her lips as he kissed her.

He knew what he had to do. He had to get her out of his mind, and no one could stop him.

J
ackson cleared
his throat and both ladies jumped. Charlotte ran to him and clung to his arm with both hands.

"You've come to take me for a morning ride?" Her eyes pleaded her need for escape.

He shook his head. "Sorry, kitten, I've come to say goodbye."

Olivia's heart sang at the sight of him, but she refused to let it affect her. If Jackson Mercer was going to reject her, she wouldn't let herself feel anything for him.

Olivia cleared her throat. "Does this have anything to do with your friend in the field?"

Jackson set Charlotte aside and narrowed his eyes. "Who was in the field?"

Olivia shrugged. "A thin man, dark. He didn't say much except he was your friend and he was waiting to talk with you."

He knelt in front of her and gathered his betrothed’s hands in his. "Did he frighten you? Are you alright?"

Olivia's chest pounded in indignation. What was this? He thought she was so frail the sight of a stranger would make her retire to her bed with the vapors? Olivia tossed a flippant hand. "Of course not. He was a very polite man…" she rolled her eyes "…unlike some."

Jackson's smile sent a bolt of lightning from her tingling lips to the very core of her being. Olivia wanted to berate him for his misjudgment of her strength, but she felt giddy. Once again, he had cast his abhorrent spell which she could not dodge.

"I'm sorry, Olivia." Jackson squeezed her hands and lowered his gaze. "I have some business to attend to, and I don't know when I will return to the ranch."

Her bright blush drained away, and she searched his face for clues of what was on his mind. "You're leaving before saying goodbye to your mother?"

Jackson nodded. "It's … it's better this way."

He stood up and left the room without another word. She ached to heed the call of his magnetic pull, to run to the window and watch him ride away. Instead, she bit her lip, picked up her embroidery, and worked with vigor.

For the next hour she continued on, stopping only to untangle Charlotte's work and listen to her beg for release. She worried about the work Jackson was leaving to do. With his dark looks and utter disregard for public opinion, it was easy to believe he himself was a highwayman … or worse.

Deep inside though, Olivia knew this was not the truth. What he really did was much harder to define, but she felt a core of justice running through it the way some miners claimed they could sense gold.

How could she prove it? If she revealed the good in him for all to see, would he stop turning away from everyone? Would it stop him running away from her?

C
harlotte's eyes gleamed
. "You love riding, Lady Olivia, I know you do." She batted her short eyelashes in earnest. "Riding is a ladylike activity, especially here on a ranch."

"Excellent idea." Olivia relented, eager to talk to Charlotte about her brother out of the house where they were free of chaperones and censors.

Olivia urged Charlotte to walk her spirited bay, down the long ranch road, racking her brains to come up with a casual way to bring up Jackson. Fortunately, Charlotte broached the subject herself.

"Mother will be very upset when she hears Jackson has left for work." Charlotte stared at Olivia. “You aren't going to tell her, are you?"

She shook her head. "I'm a guest in the house, dear. Family affairs are not a subject of conversation for me."

Charlotte laughed. "But you are going to be family soon."

Olivia almost confessed her doubts to the young woman, but caught herself in time. "Do you know what kind of work your brother does?"

"Joseph says he's like a deputy, but no one knows." She stuck out her lower lip and shrugged. "All Mother says is that sometimes angels need a demon to get the job done. That's why she wants Jackson to stop. He's not a bad man, people just think he is."

Olivia shivered. That was possibly why he kept on the fringes of society. Everything he did was to help others, but the things that needed doing made people fear him. Distracted by hopes of proving his goodness, her mind meandered around the methods she could employ.

Charlotte's raised voice cut through her thoughts. "Race you to the river. Just over that ridge and through the canyon." She kicked her horse into a gallop.

O
livia gave
the dappled gray mare her lead and the horse took off after the bay. They raced up the ridge and through a copse of pine trees. Olivia spun her head around hoping to catch a glimpse of Jackson's cabin in the shadows, but the race was a blur.

As the pines gave way to a steep hill and a canyon pass, Charlotte slowed her pace. The young woman pointed to the horizon where smoke rose above the canyon walls. Too late to turn back, the ladies rode around the bend that led to a mining camp.

The camp conditions were dismal. Olivia's first impulse was to raise a gloved hand to her nose to block the stench, but she kept her hands tight on the reins. The miners here were bond workers, no better than slaves until their time was up. Children that seemed as young as seven were at work, hauling dirty water and buckets of gravel. Families lived in makeshift tents, sometimes with as many as eight people pressed inside.

They rode slowly, no way to go but forward. Every face was clouded by anger, fear, worry, or exhaustion and smudged with dirt. Olivia refused to lower her gaze, meeting each pair of eyes shadowed by dark circles, when she caught a flash of sapphire blue.

The man pulled down the ragged brim of his hat and slouched, but he couldn't hide the width of his shoulders. A lopsided limp concealed his height, but Olivia knew it was Jackson as he disappeared into the crowd. What was he doing amongst the bond workers in a mining camp?

A hoarse voice shouted through the drudgery. "Trespassers will not be tolerated, leave or I'll be forced to shoot your mounts."

Charlotte stopped and crossed her arms. "And how would we leave if you kill our horses?"

The foreman leered. "On foot, if you leave at all."

Olivia knew they should turn around and ride away in all haste, but she heard herself say, "We've come to offer assistance to the sick."

The foreman's beady eyes widened, and he scrubbed a filthy hand across his mouth. "Mighty charitable of you, milady, but I don't be recommending you get down unless you want to dirty the hem of that pretty frock."

Olivia swung down from her horse and landed in the mud without breaking eye contact with the foreman. He frowned, but pointed the way to the sick tents.

"How did you know there were sick people here?" Charlotte whispered, catching up to her on foot.

Olivia lowered her voice. "There are always sick people in camps like this. Too many people too close together and not enough clean drinking water. Whomever is in charge is killing these people."

Charlotte nodded. "But what can we do?"

Olivia unbuttoned her long sleeves and rolled the delicate overlaid material up to her elbows. "We start by boiling water."

Within minutes the hovel was transformed into a sick bay. Charlotte escorted patients to the neat lines of bedrolls, depending on Olivia's assessment. Fevers were closest to the fire where two huge pots of water boiled. A man with his arm in a new, clean sling tended the fire and poured the boiled water into a barrel that had been scoured out with sand and disinfected with the hot water.

"There, dear, just breathe." Olivia dabbed her handkerchief on a pregnant woman's sweaty brow. "Your baby's not coming early. Those contractions are just a warning to slow down. Too much heat, stress, and not enough water."

She clung to Olivia as tears coursed down her dirty cheeks in an endless stream. "I'm scared, milady. I can't have my baby here."

"And you won't." She bent over and whispered in the woman's ear. "When you've rested, I'll take you to town and we'll find something more suitable for you to do until your time comes."

Her eyes widened and she shook her head in a frenzy. "I can't, milady, my bond is not up. I have to work straight through." Her body quivered and Olivia soothed her through another tight contraction.

"I'll speak to the mine owner and come to an agreement."

"Good luck," rasped a familiar voice.

J
ackson turned away
before Charlotte caught sight of him and limped to a nearby bench. He sat with the other sick bond workers, his eyes on Olivia. Never flinching at the injuries or turning away in disgust from the diseased, she worked with what was at hand— mostly distributing comfort and hope.

When it was his turn, Jackson limped forward. The man who was tended to before him wore a sling with a white ruffled edge that had been torn from a lady's petticoat. Awestruck by her compassion, he couldn't find the right words.

"You'll help me find the mine owner, won't you?" she whispered, bending over his bad leg. "I'm going to gather some supplies tonight and come back in the morning, but the owner must be notified. These conditions are atrocious."

Jackson gritted his teeth. "You'll leave here and not come back."

Olivia's eyes narrowed. "Jackson, you cannot be serious. How can you walk amongst these people and not want to help?" She lowered her voice in response to his glare. "Why are you here?"

"Not to play nurse." Jackson clenched his fist. His blood boiled at the thought of Olivia coming back to the mining camp. It was not safe and he wanted her as far away as possible.

She refused to flinch at his hard tone and tipped back his ragged hat to look him in the eyes. After a long moment her lips quirked. "You don't know who the owner is. That's what you are trying to find out. Some nameless devil is getting rich off this suffering, and they sent you here to find out who he is."

Jackson choked down his shock at her bull's-eye assessment. "I certainly wasn't here to play escort to two foolish ladies." He stood up. "My business here is compromised." He pulled her by the elbow. "I'm taking you and Charlotte home now. Meet me at the mouth of the canyon as soon as you can."

Olivia surveyed the full bench of sick and injured, then back at Jackson's furious frown. "We'll meet you there soon, but you won't be escorting me home. I want to see the sheriff now."

T
he sheriff crossed
his arms in front of his chest and rocked on his heels. "I'm afraid my hands are tied, Lady Tarrington."

Olivia stirred in the narrow straight-backed chair from across his desk. Her lip quivered, but she refused to ball her gloved hands into fists. "Come see the conditions in the camp, sir, and I believe you will find a way to help."

He shook his head. "If only it were that simple, milady." The sheriff glanced at Jackson who stood behind Olivia, but he remained silent.

"All I ask is the name of the mine owner," repeated Olivia. "I will speak with him myself."

The sheriff flopped down in his chair and leaned toward her across the desk. "Milady, we do not have the same resources as London. This is Montana and Virginia City might be growing, but it's still just a territory."

"You do not know the owner of the mine?" Olivia raised a well-defined eyebrow. "Is it truly possible for someone to own that much land and buy that many bond workers without a name?"

Sheriff Scotsman’s cheek twitched. "It's not, but this particular mine is owned by a shell company that traces to a larger business, and we have yet to put any name on it."

Olivia pursed her lips. "This cannot be how business is done, even in a territory."

"I'm afraid we'll see more just like this mine, and more camps like the one you came across this morning." The sheriff bit his lip. "Industrial mining is interested in Virginia City, and if individual claim holders sell off their mines, the hills will be covered with operations bigger than that one."

"Sheriff’s right." Jackson laid a hand on Olivia's shoulder. "It's hard for the small claim holders to hang on these days."

The sheriff nodded up at Jackson. "Big operations make it very easy to sell and very hard to keep working independently."

Sheriff Scotsman was using Jackson to jump in and find out who or what was underneath the whole messy business, hoping he could find the right pressure point and lean on it until it hurt. There was no scaring away the big mining operations. All they could do was put up a fight and hope they moved on to easier targets.

"Well." Olivia's mouth was drawn in a tight straight line. "That cruel foreman answers to someone. There has to be a chain of command, why not follow that to the top?"

"Worth considering." The sheriff looked over her shoulder at Jackson. "Until then, I apologize, milady. I'll go right now to the church and suggest their charity be directed toward those bond workers you met this morning."

J
ackson lifted
Olivia into the saddle.

She dropped her head. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" He narrowed his eyes.

"I don't want to cause any upset between you and your mother."

Jackson smiled and swung up onto his big white horse. "I'm sure Charlotte has already told her all about your eventful morning. What happened to the embroidery lesson?"

Olivia smiled back at him. "Exercise is also part of a lady's life, and your sister suggested a brief ride."

"Yes, and Charlotte can be quite persuasive." Jackson tossed his head back and laughed possibly at the thought of his kid sister's many past shenanigans.

Olivia imagined the young woman regaling her mother with the story of their wild ride and visit to the mining camp. She wouldn't be surprised if Abigail Mercer met her at the door with her bags already packed.

The matriarch had agreed to the betrothal, assuming she was getting a demure, sophisticated, and titled lady to help elevate her family. Instead, she would find out Olivia was headstrong, reckless, and the daughter of a wastrel despite his lineage.

As expected, Abigail was on the wide porch of the ranch house when Jackson and Olivia rode up. She waited until Jackson dismounted and helped Olivia to the ground before she spoke.

Abigail’s hands flew to her hips. "Next time you better say goodbye to your mother, Jackson Mercer, or there will be hell to pay."

Jackson caught Olivia's eyes and winked and turned to his mother. "I was out on her ladyship's business. She's teaching Charlotte to care for the less fortunate."

Abigail pressed her lips together. She knew better than to accept Jackson's glossed over version of the morning. Unimpressed with her son's white lies, she turned her back to him and took Olivia's arm and led her up the porch steps.

"Yes, my dear, Charlotte told me all about it. I've arranged for a cart of supplies to be taken to camp. We will need someone trustworthy for distribution. I hear the foreman is not quite up to the task."

Olivia smiled ruefully at the memory. "The sheriff went to ask for volunteers at the church."

"The sheriff?" Abigail whirled back and pinned Jackson with a sharp look. "And how did you find Sheriff Scotsman, dear? He is a capable man, is he not?"

"Yes, yes of course." Olivia swallowed hard at the deep undercurrent between mother and son. "Though I noticed he does not have a deputy."

Abigail’s steps faltered and she brushed the conversation aside. "Well, enough about town, we have more than plenty here to keep us busy, my dear. Lady Dubuque and I need your help this morning. We are planning your engagement party."

Jackson narrowed his eyes. "Engagement party?"

Abigail's tone was matter-of-fact. "Yes, the whole of Virginia City will be coming out here to the ranch to meet your bride-to-be and raise a glass to your upcoming nuptials."

Olivia held her breath, sure this was the moment Jackson would call off the engagement and send her packing. Why would he want a troublesome wife to add to his worries?

He rolled his eyes, his tone was dry. "I'm not one for parties, Mother."

"You will be for this one, in your best suit, and happy to greet our guests." She patted Olivia's hand. "Don't worry, your fiancé will steer you through the circles of society."

Still arm-in-arm, the two ladies strode inside. "The party will keep us quite busy for the next few days. Jackson, you and your brothers will have plenty to do, so you are not to disappear."

He mumbled something about being busy.

They turned around to face him. "Jackson Mercer, did you or did you not hear me?"

He stopped muttering, nodded at his mother with a scowl, and gave Olivia a long look.

Olivia's breath came back in fast pants. Jackson hadn't begged off the engagement. He hadn't rejected her. Was it possible she was right to hope?

O
livia was still reeling
when Lady Dubuque met her and Abigail in the hallway.

Lady Dubuque's eyes twinkled with delight. "My dear, there you are. We have so much to do, but first I must compose a telegram to Lord Tarrington. Come help me and write a few words to your father."

"Excellent idea." Abigail laughed. "I'll go find Cook so we can discuss the menu when you are finished."

Lady Dubuque ushered Olivia into the library, shut the door behind them, and steered Olivia toward a velvet sofa in the far corner.

The old lady placed her hands on hers and looked into her eyes. "Tell me, my dear, what do you think of this match?"

"I'm not certain it's what Mr. Mercer wants." Olivia shook her head from side to side and lowered her gaze. "He seems determined to maintain his free lifestyle on the outskirts of society."

"Nonsense." Lady Dubuque waved her hand as though she was shooing a fly. "Anyone can see he has his face pressed to the window. He wants what his brother has: a happy wife, a strong marriage, and a family to work for."

"But does he want those things with a laced-up stranger?" The words stung, but she had to ask.

"Such doubts and such blindness." Lady Dubuque laughed. "The way you've taken to this place, you are no stranger. And I do believe you feel how he looks at you."

Olivia blushed a deep crimson. "I just worry this marriage is his mother's idea, and I do not want to be an unwanted burden."

Lord Tarrington's voice echoed in her head. "Twenty years old and unmarried, what good are you to me? Your sisters will starve and be spinsters if you have your way."

"I believe Jackson Mercer will marry you, if that is what you want. Shall I send the telegram to your father and tell him as such?"

Olivia swallowed back her worry. "Yes." She was uncertain, having seen too many sides of Jackson to have a clear picture of her future husband. Still, she wouldn't disappoint her father or stand in the way of her sisters' happiness.

Lady Dubuque squealed and crushed her hands in hers. "Then let us go and plan your engagement party!"

Olivia nodded, though try as she might, she still couldn't picture a happy wedding in her future.

T
he night
of the party arrived before Olivia was ready. Abigail had turned the ranch upside down with preparations, and though Olivia knew Jackson was around, she hardly saw him. She was sure in the interim he had come to his senses and would call off the engagement. Why would he marry her and settle down when he was still needed elsewhere?

The work Jackson did was dark and dangerous, but she thrilled at the idea of how he helped bring about justice. The idea of rolling up her sleeves and helping him bring necessary changes to Virginia City sent a chill down her spine, despite the rumors of the ugliness of his methods. If only Jackson saw her as more than a pretty face in a cumbersome dress. He still didn't believe she could be of any assistance outside of embroidery and idle conversation.

So, when Abigail and Jackson arrived to escort her downstairs, Olivia had to prove him wrong. Capable of more than ladylike behavior, she was determined to show him how her skills could bring him back into the community he worked so hard to preserve.

A
fleeting look
of horror crossed Jackson's face, her heart sank at the realization that the last thing he wanted to do was face a room full of people. Here he was at a loss and it was Olivia's skills, bred into her and practiced from an early age that he had to rely on.

"Lady Olivia, you look splendid. What a wonderful couple I have to show off." Abigail beamed. "Our guests are already arriving and they are anxious to meet you, my dear."

She took her betrothed’s arm and smiled, her head tilted back, exuding a confidence that she didn't feel. "I'm thrilled to meet Virginia City society at long last."

For a moment Jackson stared at her arm. Perhaps he couldn't believe she was willing to take his arm, much less descend the stairs and walk beside him. Stepping into the drawing room, heads turned and craned to catch a glimpse of her. People were polite, but the pity in their eyes for the young woman Abigail had bought for her wayward son made Olivia's stomach curl.

Abigail led the way making introductions. “Lady Tarrington, please let me introduce our postmaster, Mr. James, and his wife, Elizabeth."

The bespectacled man swallowed hard at the sight of Jackson and turned away without a word. He directed his attention toward Olivia, eyes twinkling, and took her hand and leaned to kiss it. "So nice to meet you, milady. We were…" he cleared his throat "…shocked and delighted to hear of your arrival."

"Shocked and delighted," echoed his wife, eyes glued on Olivia.

Olivia held Jackson's arm close and nodded. "Nice to meet you." She laughed softly. "Jackson pointed out your charming post office when I arrived. He made sure to show me the improvements you've made, and boasted of your new ideas for efficiency. Very impressive, Mr. James."

A red hue of pleasure crept up to the rims of the postmaster's spectacles, and he gave Jackson a polite nod. "Thank you, milady. I'm glad to hear people have noticed."

"Jackson is proud of Virginia City and all the good work people like yourself are doing."

She steered Jackson on to the next couple, leaving the postmaster and his wife to their whispers. They glided across the room, talking to each guest in turn. The townspeople were fearful and stiff until Olivia's niceties made them give Jackson a second look.

J
ackson was
glad his hand was already on the doorframe when Olivia opened the door. The sight of her in a dazzling gold satin dress made his senses spin. He held on until his balance returned and escorted her down to the party.

His mother, with eyes wet with happiness, let them meander through the guests on their own, and Jackson was surprised that soon people actually smiled at him. Olivia was a magic charm, banishing the darkness of his reputation.

"He's the one that killed that road agent," the dry goods merchant whispered.

His business partner nodded and spoke into his hand. "Mercer caught him in the act of robbing a Swedish family, I heard."

The merchant raised his voice. "Can you believe Sheriff Scotsman still lets him walk free? Taking justice into his own hands, that's an outlaw no matter how his mother tries to clean him up."

Jackson turned away, but was blown away by Olivia's strength when she dragged him over to the dry goods merchant and shocked the man with a bright smile.

"Did I hear you mention Sheriff Scotsman? Jackson just took me to meet him this morning. We had such a nice visit, didn't we, darling?" cooed Olivia.

Jackson snorted as the man shifted his weight from one foot to the other "Yes, we had a nice chat. In fact, there he is …"

"Oh, dear." Olivia's voice was low and ominous. "You'll be in trouble."

The men nudged each other, a knowing smile creeping on to the merchant's face.

Olivia rolled her eyes that sparkled with mischief. "He was supposed to get the sheriff his mother's cider recipe. You'll excuse us? Please, do go back to your pleasant conversation."

The men's mouths flew open as Olivia led Jackson over to the sheriff.

Sheriff Scotsman shook Jackson's hand. "I have to say you two make a beautiful couple."

Jackson smiled. "I am sorry we haven't had a chance to speak."

"Nonsense, boy, go dance with your fiancée. Your mother is determined to see you have some happiness and she's right. You deserve it." The sheriff raised his glass. "To the happy couple!"