The Scoundrel's Bride (11 page)

And every damn bit of it was a lie. Angels didn’t play apothecary with unsuspecting fools.

Deliberately returning his attention to those grouped around him, he caught sight of young Patrick Callahan from the corner of his eye. The boy snatched a muffin from a basket on the food table and furtively stashed it in a pocket.

Zach opened his mouth to comment on a statement the editor had made, but a sudden thought stopped him. Did the boy know? Was he part of the scam, too?

He had to be. Patrick had warned him not to eat the miracle bread, so he must have known the loaves were doctored. Zach frowned, his gaze shifting from Patrick to Morality, then back to Patrick again.

So, if the boy were part of it, why that scene between him and Morality in the alley behind the Marstons’? Why all the going on about lies?

Zach shook his head. What did it matter? He shouldn’t waste his time worrying about it. After all, in the grand scheme of his scheme, the answer didn’t matter for beans. He’d gotten what he’d needed from the Church of the Word’s Healing Faith. He’d preached his scam from the pickpocket’s pulpit. It didn’t make one bit of difference what amount of success Harrison and his helpers enjoyed. Zach should be happy to see the townspeople being taken for fools.

Except he couldn’t put the morning-glory seeds from his mind. He couldn’t forget that jig-dancing woman. Zach hated opiates with a passion.

Well, hell. There was no sense stewing about it anymore tonight. The reverend wasn’t going to feed anyone his seeds anytime soon. At the meeting, Harrison had announced he’d conduct a second healing the final night of the revival—ten days from now. Zach figured the timing had something to do with contributions. Anticipation and pent-up demand must add to the weight of the collection plate.

He looked around the room, freezing as lamplight highlighted the glisten of fire in Morality Brown’s tresses. Red hair. That should have clued him in to her true character right off. Angels were never redheaded.

Redheads were Delilahs and Jezebels. Sinners.

Heat pooled low in Zach’s body as his gaze swept over Morality’s curves. Sinners. There was something to be said for sinners. He could do with a little taste of sin right about now. Maybe he’d mosey on over and see if he couldn’t convince the jezebel that she was hungry, too.

Pasting on a smile, he interrupted the
Cottonwood Creek
Clarions editor, who was expounding on the upcoming statewide elections. “Excuse me, but I see my supper companion has arrived. She’s promised me first choice of her fried chicken.”

The group followed his stare. “Miss Brown is your dinner companion?” Eulalie Peabody questioned, a frown deepening the furrows in her brow.

Something in her voice gave Zach pause. “Yes, ma’am. Miss Morality invited me to join her family this evening.”

“I see.” Mrs. Peabody lifted her chin and studied him, her sharp, cornflower-blue eyes seeming to stare into his soul. If he’d had one, Zach realized it would have been in trouble.

“William,” she said to the newspaperman, her gaze still locked with Zach’s. “You’ll check this boy’s story with the railroad office. If you’re able to confirm it, I’ll expect to read the particulars in the
Clarion
.”

“Yes, Mrs. Peabody.” The editor accepted his commission with alacrity.

Well, what the hell was this? The way it looked to Zach, the queen of Cottonwood Creek had tentatively offered him her patronage. But she’d done so only after circumstances had led her to believe he enjoyed the support of the Miracle Girl, Miss Morality Brown.

Wasn’t that a damn coil. He
didn’t
have the preacher’s niece’s support. What he’d gotten was a knee in the groin.

The widow addressed him directly. “Go along now, boy. Don’t keep that sweet little Miss Brown waiting.” As Zach turned to take his leave, he heard her mutter, “The boy even has the Marston teeth. Good teeth, that family.”

Subconsciously running his tongue across his choppers, Zach made his way across the room toward Morality, his mind going to work on how to handle this new development even as he stopped now and again to answer a question concerning the railroad. When he drew near the throng around the reverend, he knew the precise moment Morality noticed his presence. Her spine went stiff as a bois d’arc fence post, and as he offered her a roguish grin, Zach acknowledged the obvious.

He’d have to win her over. Morality Brown was the key. If he could truly gain her support, then his swindle was bound to run like clockwork. So, how best to go about securing her favor?

He could appeal to Morality’s larcenous side, make a deal with her by cutting her into the cash. He hated to do that, however. One of the first lessons he’d learned on the swindle circuit was to keep the number of players in a scheme to a minimum. Besides, he’d need to check with Jess before wringing in a partner, no matter how beautiful that partner proved to be. Plus, he wouldn’t trust ol’ Reverend Reiver as far as he could throw him. The less that man knew about Zach’s true intentions, the better.

There was, however, another possibility. One that appealed to Zach in a basic way. His gaze took a lazy trip across the Miracle Girl’s form, and a red flush climbed her cheeks in answer to the intensity of his stare. Yes, he thought, slowly nodding his head.

He could seduce Morality.

It was the obvious course of action. After all, who wouldn’t trust the man who was the object of the Miracle Girl’s affections? Seduction sounded much more entertaining than taking her as a financial partner, and by taking care of business in this manner, he wouldn’t have to worry Jess with a change in plans.

Yes, seduction would serve his needs quite well.
Literally
, he thought with a grin.

And it wasn’t as if he’d be taking unfair advantage of an innocent. Morality Brown and her damn morning-glory seeds were guilty as sin. That was one more reason this would be a good choice. Maybe if she were smitten with him, he’d find it easier to somehow get rid of those miracle loaves.

Zach drew a deep breath. That was it, then. He’d made his decision. The Burkett Bastard would court Morality— on the front steps of the courthouse, if that’s what it took, he’d make her fall for him, thereby gaining the acceptance and the trust of the citizens of Cottonwood Creek.

After that he’d get their money.

His gaze trailed over the expanse of Morality’s calico-covered bosom, and he shook his head, stifling a smile. The sacrifices a man must make for the cause!

While Harrison conversed with a pair of apparently enamored middle-aged ladies, Zach approached the preacher’s niece, greeting her formally by bowing over her hand. He’d begin his seduction with a little dose of wicked. Morality Brown seemed to respond to that in a man.

“Allow me to thank you once again for inviting me to join your family in your repast,” he said. Then, when her eyes flashed with defiance, he added for her ears alone, “Behave yourself, angel. Remember we’re in public.”

She snatched her hand away as quickly as possible. “Mr. Burkett, I’m surprised to see you. I was under the impression you’d declined my invitation.”

“Wishful thinking?” he goaded softly. Louder, he continued. “No, no, of course not. I’ve been looking forward to that chicken you promised me.”

Morality gestured toward a long, food-laden table and the basket she’d carried through the door. “Have a gizzard, Mr. Burkett. Be my guest.”

“Actually,” he drawled, “I was hoping for a leg. Maybe even a breast.”

Emerald eyes gleamed dangerously. “I know for a fact there’s a liver just waiting to be skewered.”

“No, thanks, Miss Morality. I wouldn’t dream of denying you the pleasure. I’ve the feeling you have a certain tenderness for organ meat.”

It took her a moment to make the connection, and Zach wanted to laugh at the shock that widened her eyes. Before she could recover and shoot her next conversational arrow, Harrison finished his talk with the ladies and turned to Zach. “Hello, Burkett. I’m glad you could join us. I’d hoped to hear a bit more about this railroad of yours.”

Zach made sure everyone around him heard his reply by saying in a tone that carried, “The railroad isn’t exactly mine, Reverend Harrison, although I have purchased a good amount of stock with my personal funds. The East Texas spur of the Texas Southern will be owned by its stockholders, of whom I hope to be only one among many.”

“I see.” Harrison nodded. “What if—” He was interrupted by a churchwoman who asked him to lead the gathering in saying grace.

Zach made note of Morality’s skeptical glance as he bowed his head and participated in the prayer. Obviously, his performance at the revival hadn’t sold this woman on the depths of his religious beliefs. He wondered if her attitude was the result of a weakness in his presentation at the podium or the strength of his kiss at the cabin.

It was all Zach could do not to laugh aloud.

As guest of honor, Harrison was first through the supper line, Morality following directly behind him. Zach slid in between her and Patrick Callahan as she reached for a plate from a stack at the near end of the table.

Morality took a small slice of ham and dainty portions of three different vegetables. Zach, more than one of his appetites revived by his proximity to and plans for the lady, loaded his plate. He made a great show of forking through Morality’s chicken basket in search of a succulent piece.

Patrick nudged his side and whispered, “Careful there, Mr. Burkett. Morality fried that up while she was borrowin’ Miz Marston’s kitchen to bake the miracle loaves. Her chicken ain’t much better than her bread.”

Zach leaned over and spoke from the corner of his mouth. “What about desserts? I noticed she carried pecan pie as she came in.”

“Pie’s all right,” Patrick replied, adding a second spoonful of beans to his already overflowing plate. “She was too busy with the bread and chicken to bake dessert. Bought it on the sly at the hotel.”

Zach cut an extra big piece of pie.

Morality sat at her uncle’s left hand and Zach appropriated the seat beside her. Patrick grabbed a chair across the table from Zach. Nobody took the seat next to the Burkett Bastard.

Person after person approached the Miracle Girl during the meal, many of them asking awe-inspired questions about her phenomenal religious experience. Watching them, Zach knew his strategy was right on target. Being the object of Morality Brown’s affections would advance his plan most nicely.

Now all he had to do was to win her over.

He looked forward to the challenge, well aware he had a hill to climb. Had he known this morning what he knew now, he’d have done things a mite differently. For one thing, he wouldn’t have kissed her, not the second time anyway. And he damn sure wouldn’t have told her he’d lied. As incongruous as it seemed, Miss Morality apparently had a real burr in her saddle about lying. It was something Zach could hardly figure. Why would a woman who turns a scam for a living get her ribbons in a knot over something as minor as a lie?

Well, it was too late to be worrying about that now. He’d simply have to work a little harder. Zach didn’t doubt for a moment he couldn’t accomplish his specified task. He was on the right track with the teasing; he felt it in his bones. He’d keep that up.

Besides, he thought, eyeing the perky little nose she so often wrinkled in disdain, he enjoyed it himself. Baiting Morality had been the most fun he’d had since cheating that riverboat gambler out of his suit.

Glancing up from buttering a slice of cornbread, Zach caught Morality looking at him. He winked and she blushed. Biting into his bread, he considered the idea that seducing her might be rather easy after all. She had responded to his kiss. And he couldn’t discount that hellcat hair. He’d bet the reverend’s last gold piece Morality Brown hid a passionate nature beneath all that piety. Look at how she’d attacked him. Look at how she’d argued with the boy.

The boy. Zach gazed across the table toward Patrick, who was busily stuffing his face. Unless she had him more fooled than he had thought, Morality truly cared for the youngster. Patrick offered a path to the Miracle Girl’s heart—charm the child, charm the mother. He’d use those feelings she had for the boy.

Besides, Zach kind of liked the kid himself.

“So, Patrick,” Zach said, lifting a chicken leg to his mouth. “I heard the smithy say you’d been keeping a close eye on the horses at his livery. You like horses a lot?”

“Yep.” Patrick swallowed a mouthful of sweet-potato pie and continued. “I like all sorts of animals.”

“You got a pet?”

“Nah. I used to. A collie.” A faraway look drifted over his face as he added, “Called her Pete.”

“Pete?” Zach lifted a brow.

Patrick laughed sheepishly. “Got her before I learned to tell a boy dog from a girl dog.”

Zach took a thoughtful bite of chicken, forcing himself not to grimace at the taste. The kid was right. Morality must have been in the miracle line when God was handing out kitchen skills. She’d damn well missed her share. “What happened to Ol’ Pete?”

Patrick dipped his chin and concentrated on his okra. “I’m not sure. I had to leave her behind when I hooked up with Reverend Harrison.”

Aware of Morality’s attention, Zach turned to her, asking the question with his eyes. She looked almost as miserable as Patrick. “It’s too difficult to travel with a dog,” she explained.

The notion came to him like divine inspiration. “There’s a dog with a litter of pups in my barn. I reckon I can’t give you one, but you’re welcome to come out and play with ‘em.

“Really?” Patrick turned soulful, hopeful eyes toward Morality. “Oh, please, Morality, do you think I could?”

Score one for me
, Zach thought as Morality showed him her angel’s smile while she answered, “I imagine so.”

Then, Harrison spoke her name and drew her into a conversation with a local attorney, Samuel Rankin. Zach remembered the day he’d come near to drowning a younger Sam in a horse trough for calling Sarah Burkett a whore. Watching him smile silkily at Morality, Zach entertained the notion of repeating the act in the punch bowl across the room.