The Stranger's Secrets (7 page)

Whitman, however, lay awake for quite some time, wondering just how deep he’d dug the hole he stood in.

The sunlight pricked Sarah’s eyes, making her roll over to avoid the intrusion. She snuggled into the pillow and realized two things at once.

There was someone in the bed with her and they were both naked.

The night before, she’d seduced Whitman into her bed. Her plan was to scratch the itch she’d had since meeting him; however, it hadn’t worked. The itch was no longer small. It was enormous and it hadn’t gone away at all. As soon as she realized he was in the bed with her, snoring softly, she wanted to wake him up with her mouth on his cock.

Jesus, she was turning into the slut Mavis accused her of being. But damn, their experience the night before had been the most intense sex of her life. She wanted more, and often.

With a smile on her face, she lifted the covers and Whitman exploded off the bed as if she’d bitten him. He was delightfully naked and Sarah took in an eyeful of the big man. Not too big, but just the right size to bring her pleasure, Whitman was built to please a woman.

Right about then, Sarah was that woman.

“What’s the matter, Kendrick?”

He stared at her, then ran a hand down his face. After he looked down at his nakedness, probably noting his half-hard penis, he met her gaze. In the depths of his pretty eyes, she saw disappointment and guilt.

So Whitman didn’t feel as good about their time in the sheets as she did. Not good news, but she refused to feel guilty. He was a grown man and responsible for his own actions.

“I, uh, didn’t mean to do that. What we did, I mean.” He started hunting for his clothes.

“I believe your drawers are over by the door.” She enjoyed watching him bend and stretch to sort out their pile of clothing on the floor.

“I’m sorry, Sarah, I really am. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He buttoned up his trousers before picking up his shirt.

Much as she wanted to continue ogling the man’s hairy chest, she wasn’t cruel. He felt bad about being with her. Sarah’s inner demons cackled with glee, shouting he regretted his actions because she was crippled, imperfect, not worthy.

She kicked the demons aside and focused on his regret-filled face. “Can you ever forgive me?” he said softly.

Sarah let the sheet slip, giving him a peek of her breasts. Even if the rest of her was as ugly as sin, at least her tits weren’t.

“There’s nothing to forgive. I enjoyed what we did, and truth is, I’d do it again in a second.”

He hadn’t expected her response. “You don’t act like any woman I’ve ever met.”

“Good. I never want to be part of a herd of sheep. I’d rather be the wolf.”

A smile crept around the corner of his mouth as he shook his head. “You are a hell of a woman, Sarah Spalding.”

“I’d curtsey but I’m naked and don’t have the grace to curtsey even with my cane. Now why don’t you skedaddle to your room so I can get dressed. We don’t want to miss the train.”

Time stood still for a moment as their gazes met. Sarah realized the brightness of the sun meant much more than daybreak. It meant they’d likely missed the train.

“Son of a bitch.” Whitman got down on his knees and fished around on the floor.

“What are you doing? Get out so we can get down to the station.” Sarah wasn’t about to show him the scars on her legs, no matter how late they were.

“I’m looking for my watch,” he snarled.

“Well hurry the hell up.” She tried to snag her blouse, even if it was wrinkled and wasn’t too fresh.

Whitman stood up and threw her the blouse. So much for chivalry. He snapped open the case on a nice pocket watch, then cursed long and loud.

“It’s nine o’clock! Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell happened? Why didn’t the fucking desk clerk wake us up? Isn’t that their goddamn job?” He threw his arms up in the air. “We’re in a pile of shit now. Goddammit, I’m going to be late for my own fucking wedding.”

Ignoring the mention of his upcoming nuptials, Sarah watched him pace, wondering how a mild-mannered Yankee had such a mouth, and a repertoire of curses jumping to his tongue rather handily. She wanted to join him.

“Well, I have someplace to be too. If you’d get your ass out of here, I’ll get dressed and we can find out what the hell happened.”

“What?” He glanced at her, apparently realizing she was still naked. “Oh, right, of course. I’ll go get my things.” Whitman headed toward the door, his bare feet slapping on the wood floor. “Be ready in five minutes.”

Sarah was as annoyed as she was aroused—a common occurrence around her companion. She made her way to the edge of the bed and rose to her feet with her shirt in hand. When Whitman came back into the room abruptly, she had no time to cover herself.

His gaze immediately dropped to her abdomen, to the shiny white scars, then to her thighs. The scarred, ropy limbs bore the marks of numerous stab wounds, and the right leg had a large gap where muscle should be. It had putrefied while she’d struggled to survive the attack by the Yankee soldier, and the half-ass physician had had to cut out a chunk of her flesh in order to save her life.

Whitman swallowed hard as his face flushed bright red. “I’m, uh, sorry. I forgot to say, that is, I forgot to ask you if you’d asked to be woken at six. By the front desk, I mean.” He swallowed hard and looked away.

Sarah’s heart crunched so tight, it stole her breath for a moment. It had been so long since she’d allowed anyone to see her nude, especially in bright sunlight. Whitman just confirmed what she already knew about her appearance.

“Just look your fill and get it over with. I am human, contrary to popular opinion.” She quickly picked up the sheet and pulled it close around her like a shield. It felt harder than a wool blanket on her tender skin.

“I’m sorry, Sarah, I don’t mean to stare. I, Jesus, I just, oh hell. I’ll knock next time.” He turned to leave.

“Yes, I did ask the little weasel-faced man at the front desk to wake me at six.” Sarah flapped her hand in dismissal. “Now please get out.”

Whitman was out the door before she finished speaking. A taste of ancient pain coated her tongue as she managed to pull on her clothes. It shouldn’t, wouldn’t, couldn’t bother her anymore.

He meant nothing to her except a traveling companion and now a bed partner. Nothing more. The Yankee would go his way to his bride somewhere in the middle of nowhere and she’d get to Colorado and finally reunite with her brother.

Everything would be better when she found Micah.

W
hitman gritted his teeth so hard, he thought he heard one crack. After a hasty decision to follow his dick instead of his brain, he’d not only missed the train, but he’d taken advantage of Sarah.

Could he possibly make things worse?

Yes, apparently he could. He entered her room without permission, then stared at her like a complete idiot. Hell, he probably made her feel like a circus freak. But sweet God in heaven, she looked as if someone had used her for sharpening a knife. He couldn’t count the number of scars on her belly, and then there were her legs.

Whit swallowed hard as the memory of Booker loomed in his mind. He’d made sure the girl couldn’t follow him. Perhaps by damaging her legs so badly she couldn’t walk.

If Sarah was that girl, Whitman could
never
let her know who he was. Someone had wreaked terrible havoc on her a long time ago, stolen her innocence and her future. God help him if she did discover Whitman was a recently discharged Yankee soldier, much less who he’d served with.

He tore off his dirty clothes and shoved them into his traveling case. Whit had packed enough to wear everything two days, but the train had left without them, so he’d have to find a laundress before arriving in Kansas City. The trunk with the rest of his clothing, including his uniform, lay in the baggage compartment of the train, chugging along toward Kentucky.

Without him.

Cursing under his breath, he quickly dressed and yanked on his boots. After a night of the most unimaginably pleasurable sex, he’d awoken to a nightmare. He’d missed the train, so he would probably miss his wedding. It was scheduled for three days after he was supposed to arrive in Kansas City.

As he stomped back toward Sarah’s room, he realized he’d need to send a telegram to Melissa. The sweet, innocent woman had no idea what she was in for considering he’d been unfaithful two weeks before the marriage.

He raised his hand to knock on the door when he realized his hand shook. The combination of mental, emotional, and physical stress was taking its toll. Whit was a trained soldier, for God’s sake. He needed to stop acting like a woman and put his dick back in his trousers.

Sarah opened the door, dressed, with her traveling bags on the floor beside her. He winced at her flushed, perspiration-soaked brow, knowing she had to do everything by herself without a lick of help. Another shortcoming to lay at his door that morning.

“I’m sorry I took so long. I meant to be here to help.” He reached down for the bags and she whacked his arm with the cane.

“I managed.” She came within inches of his balls with that lethal stick of hers. “If you plan on treating me like an invalid, let me know now. I allowed you to become my traveling companion because you didn’t treat me with pity. I won’t take it, not even for a second.”

Sarah was furious and she had every right to be. Whit was acting differently. Hell, he didn’t know which end was up anymore. And here he figured the train trip would be boring and quiet. Ha! It had turned his life upside down.

Sarah had turned it sideways.

“I’m sorry.” He let loose a shaky laugh. “You’re right and I have no excuse for being an ass. Let me take your bags and let’s figure out what the hell happened.”

She stared hard at him before nodding. “Last chance, Kendrick. I don’t take kindly to pity.”

Obviously Sarah’s defenses were firmly in place. Whitman didn’t want to make things worse by throwing pity in the mix. She was right: he needed to treat her as he would anyone else.

“Then I’ll offer you none.” He waited as she made her way out the door. “Are you going to hit me if I offer to carry you down the steps?”

She raised one brow. “You can carry me provided you don’t grope me, because I really am sore and tired from last night. You’ll need to give me time to recover.”

Whitman almost dropped the bags on his feet. Who the hell thought it was a good idea for him to get involved with such a forthright, amazingly crazy woman? Especially one who joked about sex when they were in a load of trouble.

By the time they made it down the stairs, his astonishment hadn’t faded. For an old soldier, being off-kilter was a new experience for him. One he didn’t know how to handle.

When he set her down at the front desk, the rather large man behind the counter stared at her. Whit didn’t like the way the man peered at Sarah, but there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

“Yes?”

His thick drawl should’ve given Sarah the clue this man likely didn’t have an ounce of respect for her. Whitman opened his mouth to speak when Sarah began.

“What is your name, sugar?” She gave the clerk a sultry smile.

“Dwayne Adams, ma’am.” The damn man nearly blushed.

“Well, Dwayne, last night I asked to be woken by six this morning and since it’s now after nine, I think something went haywire.” She ran her fingers along the scarred wooden desk. Whit realized both men watched the meandering digits with avid interest.

“I’m so sorry to hear, Mrs….”

“Miss Spalding, with an
Ssss
.” She stuck out her tongue like a snake and Whit dropped the bags.

“Be careful, Mr. Kendrick, there’s valuables in there.” She turned her attention back to Dwayne, the idiot. “Now I believe we missed the train, a shame because I had a private compartment. Who can I talk to about arranging transportation to catch up with the train this evening?”

Whitman realized at that moment Sarah not only was beautiful, underhanded, and bossy, she was an absolute genius.

“Why my daddy owns the hotel, Miss Spalding. I’m sure I can arrange something for you.” Dwayne grinned and took her hand, holding it as a courtier would. Whitman’s empty stomach gurgled.

“Thank you kindly, Mr. Adams. I surely do appreciate your assistance. I’ll go have some tea to calm my nerves while you make those arrangements.” She smiled again, a practiced sexy-as-hell grin that made Whit’s blood heat up.

“Of course. Tell Mary I said breakfast was free for you and your…” The clerk looked up at Whit with an expression of pitiful hope.

“My brother, Whitman.”

Whit choked on his own spit.

“Thank you, Dwayne. I’ll see you in just a few minutes.” With another bone-melting smile, she limped toward the restaurant.

Dwayne leaned over the counter to take a good gander at her backside, earning a growl from Whit. The man didn’t need to treat her like a whore, regardless of her methods of persuasion.

“That’s one fine-looking sister you got there, Mr. Spalding. She break her foot or something, that why she need the cane?” Dwayne’s salacious expression made Whit want to punch him into next Tuesday.

“Something like that.” Whit didn’t want to compromise the assistance Sarah had obtained for them, so he shut his mouth and followed her into the dining room.

The hot September sunshine started baking Sarah like a potato in an oven. The fool Dwayne was supposed to have brought the carriage around half an hour ago. She felt like taking a bath after letting him touch her hand, but the man had the ability to get them on their way. For that, she could swallow her distaste.

“What was that all about?”

Sarah turned to look at Whit as he lounged against the building with his arms crossed and a scowl that might scare children. She wasn’t in the mood to exchange words with him again.

“None of your business.”

He pushed away from the wall and stalked toward her. In the three days she’d known him, Whit had never seemed threatening despite his size. However, the look in his eyes and the catlike way he approached her made her think of a panther stalking his prey. It sent a shiver up her spine.

Sarah was never one to run from a challenge. She straightened her shoulders and raised one brow. “Something you want to say to me?”

He came up close enough for her to see the flecks of brown in his green eyes. His warm breath gusted over her face when he spoke. The crazy urge to kiss him stupid raced through her.

“You practically sold yourself to that fool Dwayne. Doesn’t that bother you or was Mavis right about you?”

Sarah’s amusement fled in a split second. She’d been accused of being a whore for so long, the very idea he would assume it after a short acquaintance made her furious.

“How dare you.”

“How dare you?” he shot back. “You got your back up when Mavis treated you like shit on her shoe, yet you just used that boy as if he were a means to an end. Don’t be insulted because I accuse you of the very behavior you just demonstrated.”

It was the first time she’d had someone stand up to her, truly stand up to her. Many had tried, but at the first wound from her sharp tongue, they ran.

Not Whitman.

“You are a bully.” It was the best she could come up with.

“Pot calling the kettle black.”

Sarah sucked in a breath and opened her mouth to let him know just how black she could get when a bright, chipper voice stopped her.

“Well, good morning you two. I hope you enjoyed your rest.”

Sarah turned to find the hotel manager, a portly man in his fifties with a wide smile and a round pair of spectacles on his nose. He’d been pleasant the night before when they’d checked in. In fact, he’d been the one Sarah had asked to wake her at six. Her anger swiftly turned from the frustrating Whitman to the hotel manager.

“Mr. Howard, right?”

He nodded, his jowls jingling madly. “Yes, ma’am. I’m so glad you and your husband decided to stay here for your honeymoon.”

Sarah’s mouth dropped open. Husband? “What are you talking about?”

“Why Mrs. Ledbetter told me about your romantic love-at-first-sight story and about how you got married on the train yesterday.” He rocked back on his heels, patting his big belly. “I must say it tugged at the heartstrings to hear of it. She told me how you decided to stay on here for a week until the next train comes through.” Mr. Howard sighed like an old romantic.

Sarah steamed like a teakettle on a hot stove. That bitch Mavis stayed true to her promise. She got even for being fired, that was for sure.

“Miss Ledbetter told you all that, hm?” Whitman’s voice sounded calm, but Sarah heard the fury under it. He was good at hiding his anger, unlike her.

“She lied to you, Mr. Howard. We are not married, nor did we intend on missing the train this morning.” She tried to rein in her temper, but it felt as if she were fighting a runaway team of horses. Big horses.

“What?” The hotel manager’s face flushed. “That pleasant woman lied to me? I-I can’t believe it.”

“It’s true, Mr. Howard.” Whitman turned his scowl on the shorter man. “In fact, my intended bride is waiting for me in Kansas City. Thanks to you and Miss Ledbetter, I will be late for my real wedding if we don’t catch that train.”

“But…I…that is, you looked as if you were in love. I mean, you carried her up the stairs.” Mr. Howard backed away from them slowly.

Sarah tapped his leg with her cane. “I’m crippled, Mr. Howard. He carries me up the stairs every night because Mr. Kendrick is my traveling companion.”

The portly hotel manager looked between the two of them and the color drained from his face. “Oh dear.”

“I’d use stronger words than that,” Whitman growled.

“With Dwayne’s help, we’re going to try to get to the train before it leaves the next stop tomorrow morning.” Sarah gestured to the bags. “You can be assured we won’t be back here.”

Mr. Howard had the grace to look completely contrite. “Of course, of course. I will make sure the arrangements are made. If you’ll excuse me.”

He skittered, or rather waddled, into the hotel as fast as his little legs could carry him. The man hadn’t even apologized.

Sarah contemplated throwing her cane at him.

“What an ass.” Whitman took the words from her mouth.

“A double ass.” She stamped her cane on the wood-planked sidewalk. “I can tell you if I ever find Mavis Ledbetter, she’s going to regret what she did.”

Whitman blew out a breath and ran his hand down his face. “As a gentleman, I don’t contemplate hurting women. Mavis is pushing that limit.”

Sarah snorted. “I don’t have any qualms about hurting her.”

He met her gaze. “You really know how to pick a companion, don’t you?”

“Apparently. Look what happened after Mavis.” She smiled at him until she saw a twitch in the corner of his mouth. “Now let’s go catch a train.”

Whitman felt as if an army of ants had landed on his body and set up camp. As they trundled along in what appeared to be a retired stagecoach, he sat beside Sarah and fidgeted.

The night before had seemed surreal, a dream with more emotion and sensation than he ever imagined possible. Whitman wasn’t a virgin by any means, but his liaisons with women had been few and well chosen. He’d always maintained control of everything.

Until Sarah.

Until he’d met the woman who defied any explanation or expectation. He could almost hear his grandfather’s eyebrows slam down in disapproval if he ever met Sarah. The old man was born a snob, and it only got worse as he got older. Whit had never been so out of control in his life, even when he ended up under the old man’s care at the tender age of twelve.

That had been the most emotionally intense experience of his life.

Until Sarah.

What the hell was he going to do? He couldn’t miss his own wedding, but traveling with her for the next week and a half might be his downfall. What if Sarah ended up pregnant? What if Melissa found out he’d been unfaithful? What if Whitman found himself permanently stuck with Sarah?

“If you grind your teeth any harder, you’ll never be able to eat steak again,” Sarah commented from beside him.

He huffed and stared out at the passing landscape. “I have a right to grind my teeth in peace.”

It sounded ridiculous even to his own ears, but he wasn’t going to take it back. Sarah made him trip over his own tongue, for pity’s sake.

“I’m angry too, Kendrick. This isn’t how I intended on traveling across the country.” She hung on to the strap as they hit a bump big enough to make him almost bite his tongue off. “Jesus Christ, is he aiming for those holes?”