Renegade Bride (43 page)

"It ain't all these people, is it?" Sadie asked over the din. "Shucks, these is just folks like you and me. And they're all here to wish you and Seth the best."

"I know," Mariah answered, playing with the silk-tasseled ends of the scarf Seth had given her tonight as a gift to match her new dress. Draped around her neck, the rust-colored silk felt smooth and soothing against her skin.

She drew in the sweet smell of hay which seemed to overpower the earthy scent of the men. The quartet of musicians by the barn doors had warmed to their task an hour ago and were playing a reel that had everyone on the dance floor lined up in pairs. A handful of the buxom Teutons, or Hurdies, had made an appearance to do what they did best. Despite the presence of these and the dozen or so wives who had moved to Virginia City, the dancing lines were made up mostly of men.

Some of them she'd met in Seth's store during the past week, others she had not. Sadie had said that Virginia City never let a good excuse for a celebration get by and their impending wedding was as good as any to turn an ordinary social into a party. Since nearly everyone in town knew the bridegroom-to-be, the place was packed to the rafters with men, noise, and music.

Mariah's throat tightened, watching Seth take congratulatory slaps on the back from the men near the punch table. Guilt tore at her insides. He looked so happy. She should be, as well, but she felt nothing that even came close.

She turned back to Sadie. "It's just... I don't know any of these people and Seth is so at home here. I wonder if I'll ever really fit in." She set her punch down on the plank table beside them, which was laden with fragrant desserts.

"Virginia City's got its wild side," Sadie murmured as she smoothed a hand down her Sunday-best black bombazine dress. "And it ain't fer everyone. But you'll do here, gal. This town needs women. You've got grit and that's what it takes. You'll settle in all right once you and Seth get hitched." She flashed Mariah a smile. "And don't forget, you got me fer a friend."

"Thanks, Sadie. That means more than I can tell you."

The candle holders cast star-shaped rays of soft yellow light across the crowded dance floor as Seth and Sadie's husband, Wade, made their way back to the table through the noisy throng.

Seth looked so handsome, she thought, with his dark blond hair swept back from his face and his new fawn-colored frock coat a perfect complement to his tight-fitting brown trousers. Seth Travers was any woman's dream.

Any woman but her.

Mariah forced her hands to her sides where they twined in the fine russet fabric of her gown and took a deep breath. I do love him, she thought, watching him approach her with that same emotion evident in his eyes. I love him for what he is, for the man he's always been to me. I love the kindness in his eyes and the way he has with people.

What about passion?

No, not passion. But a warm kind of—

Passion,
the voice insisted.
What about passion? The kind you feel when Creed is close. The kind that sends electricity rolling up from your fingertips at his touch. What of that? Is that warm feeling enough to make a marriage work?

What did it matter what she'd felt with Creed? She sighed deeply. He was walking out of her life and she had to let him go.

"Darling," Seth said, slipping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.

She inhaled the clean masculine scent of him. His lips brushed her ear and he lowered his voice so only she could hear.

"My friends are all green with envy over you," he said, "but I didn't need them to tell me what a beauty you are, Mari. You look ravishing tonight." He dropped a chaste kiss on her cheek and a ripple of guilt rolled through her.

"Are you having fun?" he asked. "I didn't mean to neglect you. Some of the boys were just talking about Alex Davis' appointment as the new judge of the Virginia City Court."

"Your fiancé is being modest," Wade told Mariah as he wrapped an arm around his wife. "Now that Montana has been officially declared a Territory on its own, some have even been suggesting that Seth would make a good mayor."

Mariah forced back the emotions roiling inside her, emotions that had nothing to do with Wade's news.

"Oh, Seth, that's wonderful. You would. You'd make a wonderful mayor of Virginia City."

"He'd make a darn fine mayor if you ask me," Wade agreed, "and I'm not the only one who feels that way."

Seth frowned. "I don't know. It's never been a goal of mine. After all, I'll be plenty busy with the store, not to mention my new wife." He gave her a squeeze. "And I've talked to Creed about investing in some other business ventures up north. I'll have my hands full, I think. Speaking of Creed, where is he? He told me he'd be here tonight."

Mariah tensed and eased away from Seth. "I—I don't know. I haven't seen him since earlier this afternoon." Unconsciously, she'd been looking for him all evening, too.

"Oh," Sadie said, "he's probably primping that handsome face of his. He'll be along." Without a pause, she reached out and beaned her younger son, Jarrod, on the head with the flat of her palm as he snuck yet another sweetcake from the table beside them.

"Ouch! Ma!" He rubbed the spot with a frown and dropped the treat.

His mother shook her head in vexation. "Boy, you've got a leg as hollow as an old sycamore tree. Yer gonna make yerself sick eatin' all these sweets. And I reckon ever'body else here might like to have a taste or two."

Jarrod's charming grin mimicked his father's. "I'm a growin' boy, Ma. You say so yourself."

"You'll be growin' right outta this here barn if I catch you at that sweet table again," she warned with a threatening glint in her eye. "Now, I saw Jilly Stevens with her folks over by the other doors a few minutes ago. Why don't you go snag her for a dance?"

Jarrod sent Sadie a horrified look. "A girl? Yuck." He drifted off, mumbling to himself about the dangers of consorting with the enemy.

Sadie grinned at Seth and Mariah. "Goes by fast, don't it? Today, girls are the enemy. Tomorrow, he won't be able to live without 'em."

"Miss Parsons?"

The voice from behind her made Mariah turn around. Standing there beside a few other men was Nate Cullen, one of the passengers on the fateful stage from Fort Benton.

"Mister Cullen, how wonderful to see you again."

He tipped his hat and squashed it to his chest. "I was about to say the same, ma'am." He reached for Seth's hand and shook it. "Howdy, Travers. Your lovely fiancée and me met aboard the A.J. Oliver mud-wagon that was to bring us down here. As you know, we didn't make it the whole way. I reckon we was all lucky to get out of that mess alive, considerin' how it ended."

"Yes," she answered, her smile faltering. "I suppose we were."

Nate chuckled at the memory and rubbed his jaw. "Truth be known, I'm surprised you and that feller Devereaux didn't kill each other on the trip down the way you two was at odds."

Mariah forced a smile. "Yes, Mr. Devereaux and I have certainly had our differences. But they're... they're behind us now."

Seth's expression grew serious and he tightened his arm around her. "Creed's been a good friend. The best. He went far beyond what he had to, to get Mariah home to me. I'll never be able to repay him."

Nate shook Seth's hand again and offered his congratulations, as did several others. Mariah plucked the fabric of her gown away from her throat, wondering if she were the only one who felt overly warm. Her smile seemed frozen on her lips and panic began to finger along her spine.

Everyone had expectations about her and Seth, and seemed so certain they were the perfect couple. Even Seth seemed to have forgotten the misgivings she'd had. He'd never brought it up again and neither had she—nor had she forgotten his vow to forgive her whatever had come between them.

But could he?

More to the point, should he?

The grizzled fellow on the mouth harp whined out the tune to "Red River Valley." Soon the concertina, saw, and guitar players joined him, sending the strains of the bittersweet song up to the rafters. Finally, Seth leaned in to her and grabbed her wrist.

"C'mon, darlin'. If they finish this song before I get you in my arms, I'll have to make them play it all over again."

He drew her out onto the dance floor and enfolded her in his arms. She tried her best to block out everything but the dancing. She'd already noticed the difference in the Territory's version of a waltz. It was nothing so stilted as was practiced in Eastern salons, but a flowing, loose-limbed movement that seemed to lift hearts and ease spirits.

To her dismay, the dance did none of those things for her. Instead, she found herself comparing the smoothness of his palm to the roughness of Creed's; the firmness of Seth's chest with the steely strength of Creed's. The gentleness of his touch with the possessiveness of the bounty hunter's. She felt as if she were dancing with a brother, not a lover. And suddenly, she knew that was all she would ever, could ever, feel for Seth.

Mariah dropped her forehead against his shoulder trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. It was impossible. Impossible. She couldn't do it to him. She couldn't marry him when she loved Creed.

Oh, Seth, Seth, I'm so sorry.

Misinterpreting her movement, Seth drew his arm tighter around her waist and soothed it up and down her spine. "Ah, Mari. I can't wait until Tuesday. Have I told you today that I love you? I know I've told you how beautiful you look." He tipped her chin up so she'd have to look at him. "Hey, what's this? Tears?"

She shook her head. She couldn't tell him now. Not tonight, among all these people. She'd wait until tomorrow. It would be time enough. Still, she had no idea what she'd do, where she'd go. Back, perhaps. Back to Chicago. She could get work in a hospital, maybe working in one of the factories. A knot formed in her throat.

"Mari?"

She looked into his serious gray eyes and her heart tore. "I'm sorry," she said just loud enough for him to hear, but she meant it for everything she'd done and hadn't done.

She cleared her throat. "It's nothing. I'm just a little overwhelmed by all of this. Meeting all your friends. Don't mind me, Seth." She tightened her hand around his and pulled him closer. "Let's just dance. Just for tonight. Let's dance."

And they did. For the next hour they hardly missed one. As the evening wore on, Creed's absence became more conspicuous. She found herself wondering if he would stay away completely because of her. Perhaps he hated her after all. And why not? She'd come between two men, good friends. How could any of them ever be the same again?

The barn was crowded and noisy and a bit warm. A headache fingered up the back of her neck and she asked Seth if they could sit the next one out. Before they could get through the crowds to reach the punch table, however, she saw Sadie and Wade heading toward her with a slightly green-faced Jarrod in tow. "Sadie, Wade, are you leaving?"

"Jarrod's feeling a little puny,"—Sadie sent him a peeved look—"I wonder why... so we're takin' him home. I'm sorry we'll have to miss the end of the shindig, darlin'."

"That's all right," Mariah told her. "I'll see you tomorrow. I hope you feel better, Jarrod."

With a hand clutched to his belly, the boy gave a halfhearted groan in reply. They said their goodbyes and she and Seth headed for the punch bowl. Her eyes went wide at the sight of Jesse Winslow standing near the door.

"Jesse!"

His grin faded as his eyes found her. He surveyed her kindly, down the length of her new gown and back up to her face. "Mariah. You look... well, you look... wonderful."

She felt her cheeks grow warm and she smiled back, feeling at ease for the first time all evening. Her gaze took in the bruise that was healing on his cheek, reminding her of that night by the Wolf River. Putting the thought out of her mind, she spread her full skirt wide with her hands. "Not exactly denims and rope belts?"

He took her hand and kissed it gallantly. "Dear lady, like a flower in a field of stones, your beauty needs no ornamentation."

Embarrassed, she laughed. "Why Jesse, I never knew you to be poetic. What a lovely thing to say."

"Yes, lovely," Seth commented dryly, standing beside her with a possessive smile.

"Seth told me you were back," she said, squeezing Jesse's hand. "I'm so glad you came tonight."

"I only came for a few minutes. I just wanted to wish you my best."

His sky-blue eyes bore into hers and she sensed he knew more than he was saying. Of course he did. He'd seen her with Creed in the mountains.

"Dance with me, Mariah? You won't mind missing one dance, will you, Seth?"

Seth grinned and raised a speculative eyebrow. "Should I trust a man who plies my woman with poetry?"

Jesse's sun-tanned cheek dimpled appealingly as he took her hand and pulled her toward the dance floor. "Never."

* * *

Creed stood near the wide double-hung doors of the barn. He ran a finger beneath his choker and straightened the fringe on his buckskin traveling shirt. The hallway was warm with body heat and he was glad he'd left his capote back in the room. He found himself wishing he'd stayed there with it.