The Scoundrel's Bride (31 page)

Tanner grinned.

Zach ignored him. “So, we stage a public fight, then you go to my dear daddy Marston and make the deal. After that, we take the money from the stock sales and run.”

“Stopping only long enough to buy the election for your uncle’s opponent.”

“And pin the responsibility for the scam on your father.”

The two men shared a smile.

“Let’s go skin some frogs,” Tanner said, standing and lifting his sack. “I’m still a bit hungry. Do you think your bride would fry me some frog legs tonight, or will I have to wait until tomorrow?”

Zach shook his head. “We haven’t worked on her fried chicken yet. I shudder to think of what she’d do to your frog legs. Believe me, Jess, you don’t want Morality anywhere near ’em.”

Tanner made a suggestive remark about another pair of legs as Zach stood. “That’s the problem with going fragging,” he replied wryly. “A man is always running into snakes down near the pond.”

A clear, angry voice rang out. “One must be careful wherever one goes. I ran into a snake in church!”

Morality marched out of the shadows, an avenging angel coming at them furious and fast. Jess stepped away as Zach muttered a vicious curse.

“A blue-eyed serpent,” she spat. “Slithering in sin!”

“Dammit, Morality,” Zach began.

“Get thee behind me, Satan!”

Knowing how she liked to kick, Zach kept a wary gaze on her leg. As a result, he reacted a bit too slowly to avoid her swing.

A sticky glob struck him full in the face. What the hell? Some of it trickled into his mouth, and as he lifted his hand to scrape it away, he identified her weapon. Pecan pie. It’s a wonder her crust hadn’t killed him.

MORALITY WAS in a temper. In a rage. She had married the Devil Incarnate, and she was very much afraid he had stolen her soul.

She flailed at him, railed at him, because the pain twisting in her chest was worse than any she had known before. “Lies. All of it lies. And I believed you. We all believed you!”

Zach caught her arms and pinned them to her side. “Hold on there, angel.”

“Don’t call me that! I’m no angel. You’re the angel— Lucifer, the fallen one. ‘Delivered into the chains of darkness.’ ” She struggled, needing to get away from his touch. Away from him.

And at the same time she wanted nothing more than to fling herself against him and sob out her sorrow in his arms.

Dear Lord, what kind of woman had she become?

“I’m in the dark, all right,” Zach grumbled. “And I’m ripe to do something about it. Jess, if you’ll excuse us, I’ll be taking my wife to our cabin.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. If you think you can seduce me after all of this, Zach Burkett, why—”

“I wasn’t going to try,” he snapped. “Not at first, anyway.”

She felt the feather of his breath against her skin and smelled his musky, masculine scent. Shame washed through her at her body’s automatic response. She renewed her struggles, until he gave her a slight shake.

“Stop it. Listen, Morality, I have enough experience with your temper to know to keep an eye on you when we fight. I can do that better someplace where there’s light.”

Jess Tanner stepped close, lantern in hand, and warned, “Zach, we’ve invested a lot of time and effort into this scheme. It wouldn’t be good if something, or someone, interfered with it now. There’s a war coming; we won’t get another chance.”

Zach’s fingers tightened on her arms. “She won’t interfere. Don’t worry about that.”

“What are you going to do?” she hissed, not lifting her voice for fear it would break. “Shoot me? You’ve killed before, haven’t you, Burkett? Is that the fate you have planned for me? Is the murder of your wife the next step of your descent into the fire?”

Turner snorted. “I see what you meant about her temper.”

“Hell, this melodrama is almost as bad as her cooking.” With that, he tugged her up the path toward the inn, calling over his shoulder, “She’s turned violent before, so if I don’t show up for breakfast tomorrow, you might want to send in the Rangers.”

Bushes slapped at her face and rocks seemed to reach up and grab her feet, causing her to stumble. Despite the annoyance, Morality didn’t speak until Zach closed the cabin door behind them. Then she could only choke through her outrage, “Let me go.”

“Gladly. You’re about as pleasant as a prickly pear when you’re in a snit, woman.” A match flared in the darkness, and Zach lit the lamps. The greasy smell of whale oil nauseated her. She retreated to the far end of the room and sank into a ladder-back chair.

Zach’s mouth was grim as he added wood to the coals in the fireplace. Within minutes fire began to crackle and heat spread slowly through the room.

It did little to warm Morality. She was cold inside. Numb. The fight had drained right out of her, for now, at least. She needed to think, but all she could do was feel.

She hugged herself, watching as if through a fog as he moved about the cabin. Emotion churned within her. She was angry and furious. Hurt. He’d lied about so many things. How could he have fooled her so completely?

Betrayed with a kiss.

Oh, God, she had loved him
.

In that moment, Morality knew it was true. Pressing trembling hands to her mouth, she swallowed hard as pressure built at the back of her eyes. She must have loved him. Why else would her stomach ache and her heart throb so painfully?

He faced her and spoke, but she didn’t hear his words. He set his jaw and narrowed his eyes, and she cocked her head to stare at him. There was nothing angelic in his look; his handsomeness was rough-hewn, sculpted with angles and planes.

She wondered how she had missed the horns growing atop his head.

A hysterical laugh bubbled up inside her. She’d been such a fool. She quoted Proverbs. “ ‘A whip for the horse, a bridle for the ass, And a rod for the back of fools.’ ”

“Morality!”

She laughed until she cried—two full beats of her heart. “Who are you, Zach Burkett? Or is that even your name? Did you lie about that, too?”

His features hardened like clay in a kiln. “How much did you hear, Morality?”

She wiped away her tears and pasted on a false smile. “I imagine it’s difficult to plan your lies when you’re uncertain just what information is already known.”

“Tell me what you heard, and I’ll explain what I was really saying.”

“I just bet you will, only this time I’ll be smart enough to know you’re lying.” Her rage flared white-hot, and she pushed from her chair. “How could you?” She took a step toward him. “You quoted the
Bible
! You used the Word of the Lord for your own wicked purposes. You stood before the people of Cottonwood Creek and preached loyalty and faithfulness, atonement and redemption.” She stopped within an arm’s length of her lying, sinful spouse, and her voice dripped contempt. “And the entire time, the lone desire in your heart was vengeance.”

“You’re damn right,” Zach said with a sneer.

Morality closed her eyes. She felt ill, a sickness of spirit more troubling than any physical ailment. “How could you, Zach? How could you misuse people’s faith like that? How could you misuse your own?”

He scoffed. “My faith? In what? Listen, Morality, the only faith worth having is what a man has in himself. When it comes right down to it, you can’t count on anybody else—not family, or friends, especially not some all-seeing Divine Being who is looking the other way when you need him most. Remember that. It’ll save you a whole helluva lot of trouble in the future.”

His words were a whip that stripped away her skin, leaving her nerves exposed, raw and twitching. “And me? You married me. You told me you could love me. All you wanted was to use me, to use my reputation.”

Zach waited a damning minute before his mouth curved in a mocking smile. “Don’t forget your body. I wanted to use that, too, angel.”

She gasped, reeling from the verbal blow. “You are an evil man.”

“Yes, and don’t you forget it.”

Something in his voice broke through her pain and caught her attention, sending a shiver of fear up her spine. She bit her bottom lip as she forced herself to meet his gaze.

His eyes glittered hard and cold like blue diamonds. “You shouldn’t have come snooping, Morality,” he said in a low tone. “Now I have to do something I didn’t want to do.”

She shut her eyes. She didn’t want to hear this. Something he didn’t want to do? It must be really bad.

“Jess and I have spent years setting up this scheme. I can’t allow you to ruin it.” Zach’s voice was flat as he said, “You’ll return to Cottonwood Creek with me, Morality, and you’ll keep your mouth shut about what you heard tonight. You’ll be the happiest, most supportive bride who’s ever crossed the Sabine River. You’ll help me sell the railroad to Cottonwood Creek.”

Her eyes flew open in shock. “What? You must be crazy.”

“I’m as serious as a rattler’s rattle.”

“I won’t do that. It’s all a lie, Zach. You are asking me to lie!”

He shrugged. “I guess you can look at it that way if you want. If I were you, I’d approach it as just another opportunity—a learning opportunity. With a little fore-thought, you can work around the words. You’ll never need to come right out with a whopper.”

“You are unbelievable!” She stared at him, his form blurry through the tears collected in her eyes.

“No. I’m very believable. And you’d best believe what I’m saying, Morality. I won’t let you ruin this. You will do as I say.”

She licked her dry lips. “You can’t make me.”

“Yes I can.”

“How?”

He folded his arms and stared at her. His gaze was steady and his tone sincere as he said, “I’ll hurt Patrick Callahan.”

“What!”

“I’ll hurt Patrick.”

“No!” Morality shook her head. “You would not. You wouldn’t murder an innocent boy!”

He laughed without amusement. “Funny how the word keeps popping out of your mouth. You never can forget that I’ve killed before, can you, angel?” He took a step to-ward her. “No, I won’t take that boy’s life, but I’ll do something even worse.”

More than anything else, Morality wanted to turn and flee. But the menace in his promise kept her rooted to the spot. “I’ll take him away from you, Morality,” he said. “You know I can do it. I’ll appeal to that little piece of the devil that lives inside us all. I’ll teach him to drink and gamble and whore. I’ll teach him to lie and cheat and steal.”

Zach grasped her shoulders. “Do what I say, Morality Burkett, or I’ll teach him to be just like me.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

AN ITALIAN BAND PLAYED the schottische aboard the palatial steamer
Jim Bonham
, and the sounds of laughter blended with the music on the afternoon air. Stephen Carstairs found his wife standing near the bow of the boat gazing forward, northwestward, along the Red River. Hope filled her expression and the sight tugged at his heart.
Please, God, grant us success in our efforts
.

“I should have known you’d be here,” he said, tucking a flyaway curl back beneath her bonnet. “I could have saved the coin and booked a lesser cabin for all of the time you spend inside.”

Rosalee smiled at his teasing. “Oh, stop your complaining, Mr. Carstairs. You should be made to pay extra for this weather we are enjoying. At home there is still snow on the ground.”

He linked her arm with his, and they began to walk the deck. Above them, twin smokestacks belched black smoke into the sky. Stephen’s gaze traced the sleek lines of the pipes, resting on the signal lights near the top. Red on the left, green on the right. At night, the green lamp glowed muted and soft like Rosalee’s eyes when she spoke of her daughter, Lilah. “It won’t be long now, Rosie.”

“I know.” She rested her head against him. “I admit I am a bit fearful of what may happen.”

“I’m more than a bit fearful; I’m downright scared. You know I wish you would have stayed home and left this business to the professionals. Mr. Hatfield could have escorted Lilah to New York.”

“Stephen…”

“Yes, yes. We’ve been over this a hundred times. But I can’t help but worry, Rosie. Harris is an evil man. I don’t like you being in the same state with him, much less the same town.”

“I’m not worried about Harris. I know you will protect me from him. It is Lilah who worries me.” Rosalee stiffened as she lifted her gaze to look at him. “What if she hates me, Stephen? What if she doesn’t understand? Or even worse, what if Harris has corrupted her? What if she doesn’t want to leave him?”

“ ‘What if, what if, what if.’ ” Taking both her hands, Stephen turned her toward him, then pressed a kiss to her brow. “What if she’s the worrier her mama is? How will I ever stand living with two such troublesome women, hmm?”

“Mr. Carstairs,” Rosalee protested, allowing him to draw her into the familiar game they played between them. “Troublesome? You dare to call me troublesome?”

“I do.”

She wrinkled her nose. “If you are determined to label me as such, I suppose I should live up to the name. Excuse me, husband, while I retire to our cabin to prepare for dinner.”

He arched a brow, waiting for the shoe he knew would fall.

Rosalee’s smile was innocent, but mischief sparkled in her eyes. “I believe I’ll wear the blue taffeta.”

Stephen groaned. That dress showed half her bosom. “Rosalee…” he warned as she flounced away.

Her laughter floated behind her like gaily colored ribbons dancing on the wind, and Stephen smiled. Hearing that sound was almost worth the torture of watching other men ogle his wife in that damn blue dress.

He took a Havana from his pocket and lit it. He stood at the steamer’s painted white rail and smoked, considering the changes that loomed at the horizon in his life. He hoped that the days to come would add to Rosalee’s delight, not steal what happiness she enjoyed away from her. He recalled the portions of Hatfield’s report that he’d kept from his wife, and he feared her worries might well be valid. Miracles, murder, and madness. What sort of hold would Harris have on little Lilah after all this time?

It didn’t matter. Stephen tossed his cigar into the muddy waters of the Red River. Rosalee’s daughter would not be staying with the man. He lifted his French-made, double- action, six-shot pepperbox walking stick and studied its innocuous appearance.