Schulze, Dallas (4 page)

Her mocking tone sparked Bishop’s own temper. “Aren’t you
forgetting the man you were about to marry?” he asked. “Or is he so in love
with you that playing father to another man’s bastard was a small price to pay
to have you?” “Logan isn’t in love with me. He’s a friend. Nothing more.”

“Seems to me he’s carrying friendship a bit far,” Bishop said
sardonically. “Tying himself up for life.”

“I was once engaged to his brother.” Lila offered the explanation
reluctantly. “Logan is like one of the family.”

“What happened to the brother?”

“Billy was killed in a riding accident shortly before we were to
be married.”

“When was that?”

“Three years ago, though I hardly think it’s any concern of
yours.” Her chin lifted, her eyes daring him to offer any sympathy. “Logan
thinks of me almost as a sister. That’s why he offered to marry me.”

“Noble of him,” Bishop said sardonically.

“I think it was. He’s a true gentleman.”

“If he’s such a paragon, why didn’t you tell him the truth about
how you came to be carrying my child? Or didn’t it bother you to lie to him?”

“I didn’t lie to him.”

“I forgot—he assumed that I’d forced myself on you and you didn’t
correct him.” He didn’t trouble to hide his contempt.

“It was easier that way,” she muttered, her eyes avoiding his.

“I can imagine it was. I’m surprised you didn’t let the he stand.
Douglas would have seen me dead, if Sinclair didn’t beat him to it. That would
certainly have simplified things.”

“I wish I’d thought of it,” Lila snapped.

“I bet you do,” he said in a silken tone that had been known to
make grown men pale. “Maybe, if you’d thought things through a little more
clearly, you could have married your friend Logan. You managed to convince him
it was rape when we both know I didn’t exactly have to force you. With just a
little effort, you could have had him believing the baby was his.”

Lila felt a flash of rage so intense it was physically painful. It
struck her that she hated Bishop McKenzie with a passion like nothing she’d
ever felt before. She wanted to wipe that hateful expression from his face;
wanted to see him lying dead at her feet. Without conscious thought, her hand
came up. Whether she intended to slap him or to try to claw his damned, knowing
eyes from his face, she didn’t know. In that moment, causing him physical pain
seemed the only way to ease the sick ache she’d been living with for the last
three months.

But Bishop moved with the same easy speed that had surprised her
before, his hand coming up, fingers closing around her wrist, halting her palm
inches from his face. He used the hold to jerk her forward until they stood a
heartbeat apart, the heavy silk skirts of her wedding gown rustling as they
swirled against his legs.

Five feet eight inches in her stocking feet, Lila had grown
accustomed to looking most men directly in the eye, a habit her mother had
discouraged.
Keep your eyes modestly downcast, sweetheart. Gentleman always
admire modesty in a lady. Too much directness makes them nervous.
Bishop
didn’t look the least bit nervous. But perhaps that was because he was a good
seven inches taller than she was, forcing her to tilt her head back to look at
him.

They stood there, eyes locked in a silent duel of wills. Pride
kept Lila from struggling. Pride and the sure knowledge that she couldn’t force
him to release her until he chose to do so and she’d only make a fool of
herself by pitting her strength against his.

This close, she could see the tiny flecks of gray that lightened
the blue of his eyes. Unwanted, unwelcome, a memory came to her of those same
eyes, heavy lidded with desire; of the softly scratchy brush of his mustache
against her skin; of the warm rush of sweet pleasure that had followed on his
every touch. The strength of that memory frightened her in a way that the anger
in his eyes couldn’t.

“Let me go.”

“Not until you settle down. I’ve already been hit once today. I
don’t particularly want to make it twice.”

“Settle down?” She repeated the phrase from between gritted teeth.
“I’m not a fractious horse you’re trying to break to saddle.”

Bishop took his time in answering her. He’d spent three months
trying to figure out what it was about Lila Adams that had made him abandon his
common sense and betray his friendship with her brother. He’d told himself it
was too much drink and the fact that seeing the way Douglas and Susan looked at
each other had suddenly made him feel older and more alone than he had in his entire
life. But looking at Lila, he was forced to admit that there had been more to
it than whiskey and loneliness. She was fire and ice, all pale skin and big
green eyes and temper. And he wanted her, the same way he’d wanted her the
night of Douglas’s wedding. The knowledge put an edge to his voice.

“Seems to me there’s considerable similarity between a woman and a
horse,” he drawled. “They both need a firm hand on the reins to show them who’s
in charge.”

Enraged beyond words, Lila forgot her determination not to
struggle and tried to jerk away from him. Bishop’s fingers tightened around her
hand for a moment and then he released her, having made it clear that he was
doing so because he
chose
to.

She took a quick step back. Only the weight of her skirts kept her
from rushing from the room. That and her pride, which refused to give him the
satisfaction of seeing her run.

“I won’t marry you,” she said. Despite her best efforts to sound
calm and controlled, her voice shook with rage.

“You’ll marry me.”

“You can’t force me.”

“I don’t have to. They will.” Bishop inclined his head toward the
door, reminding her of the church full of guests who’d witnessed his dramatic
arrival, who had since dispersed to their homes to speculate on the truth
behind the interrupted ceremony.
He was right,
she thought despairingly.
She’d marry him because it was the only real choice open to her. The knowledge
did nothing to soften her anger.

“I should have let my brother kill you,” Lila hissed.

“Maybe. But it’s too late now.”

His calm response made her want to scream. She glared at him, her
eyes stormy with frustration and rage. She was trapped. Because of one night of
champagne and madness, she was going to be forced to join her life with that of
the man before her, a man with whom she’d shared intimacies she could barely
bring herself to remember and yet whom she knew not at all.

Bishop must have seen the acceptance in her eyes. His mouth
twisted in a half smile that held no real humor. “I suspect Douglas’s patience
has stretched about as far as it’s going to,” he said, moving toward the door.

Lila hesitated a moment longer but there was no sense in delaying
the inevitable. She couldn’t stay in this little room forever. Bishop opened
the door and then stood back politely to allow her to exit first. The guests
were gone and the church was empty except for Douglas and Susan, who rose from
one of the pews and came toward them. Seeing her brother’s worried face, Lila
was suddenly acutely aware of all that she was losing. If she’d married Logan,
at least she’d have been able to preserve a piece of her life. Now it was all
gone.

She glanced up, her eyes meeting Bishop’s. “I wish you’d arrived
too late,” she said, her voice more weary than angry. “If I’d already been
Logan’s wife, there would have been nothing you could do to change things.”

Bishop smiled down at her, his eyes pale blue and cold as ice. “I
could have made you a widow.”

"We gather together in the sight of God and these witnesses
to join this man and this woman in the bonds of holy matrimony,” Reverend
Carpenter intoned solemnly.

For the second time in a matter of hours, Lila listened to the
same words. They didn’t sound any more real to her now than they had earlier.
Standing in the parlor of River Walk, her family’s home for the last one
hundred fifty years, she had the same feeling that she was standing outside
herself, watching what was happening but not really a part of it.

The words were the same but everything else had changed. There
were no guests this time, only Douglas and Susan to act as witnesses. The
elaborate white silk wedding gown with its rows of lace and fine pleated trim
had been replaced with a simple dress of pale-gray muslin, its plainness
relieved by touches of creamy lace at the wrists and throat. And instead of
standing beside a man she’d known all her life, she was standing beside a man
she didn’t know at all.

The ceremony was mercifully brief. No doubt, given more time, the
reverend would have come up with an oration appropriate to the circumstances,
something laden with allusions to the wages of sin. As it was, he kept his
commentary to a minimum. He conveyed his disapproval by the stern tone of his
voice, but he couldn’t hide the avid curiosity in his eyes.

Aware that everything she said and did was going to be reported
over tea and cakes with the good reverend’s friends, Lila struggled to present
a calm façade. There was no sense in providing even more fodder for the gossip
mill. Lord knew, this day had already given enough to keep the town talking for
weeks.

I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride

Her feeling that she was observing everything from behind a glass
wall was shattered as if a hammer had been applied to that same wall. She was
only vaguely aware of the prim disapproval in Reverend Carpenter’s eyes. All
her attention was focused on the man standing beside her― the man who was
now her husband.

Bishop felt Lila jump when he put his hand on her shoulder to turn
her to face him. She stared up at him, her green eyes wide and dilated,
swirling with a mixture of emotions he couldn’t even begin to read. She was
his. His wife. He was caught off guard by the gut-deep feeling of
possessiveness that came with the thought. He touched her cheek. Her skin was
cool and soft beneath his fingertips. His. Crazy as it was, considering the
circumstances, there was an odd satisfaction in the knowledge.

She drew in a quick, sharp little breath as he lowered his head.
He expected her to turn her face away, but she didn’t. She watched him, her
eyes smoky green and filled with a mixture of uncertainty and defiance.
Bishop’s mouth quirked. He should have known better than to think that Lila
would turn away. If he’d learned nothing else about her, it was that she wasn’t
much inclined to turn away from a challenge.

Lila saw the flicker of amusement in Bishop’s eyes but she had
only a moment to wonder at its cause before his mouth touched hers. She’d
expected nothing more than a brief peck on the cheek, a token gesture for
Reverend Carpenter’s benefit. Instead, his lips settled on hers in a kiss that
was warmly caressing. Caught by surprise, her mouth softened, welcoming him.
She lifted one hand and set it against his chest, her fingers curling into the
fabric of his coat.

His mustache was softly rough against her skin, contrasting with
the firm smoothness of his lips. She had a sudden memory of his mouth skimming
down the length of her throat, the moist touch of his tongue against the pulse
that beat at its base, of her own soft moan of encouragement as his mouth slid
lower still.

Whether Bishop felt her stiffen or whether he’d never intended to
draw the kiss out any further, Lila didn’t know. He lifted his head, his eyes
meeting hers for a long, still moment. She could read nothing in that look, no
reflection of the memories that had crashed over her, no regret over the
marriage they’d just entered into—not even resignation. His eyes were still,
blue pools, revealing nothing.

“Lila.” Susan’s light voice was a welcome interruption. Relieved
to have an excuse to turn away from her new husband, Lila stepped into her
sister-in-law’s embrace. “I wish you every happiness, my dear,” Susan said as
she hugged Lila.

“Thank you.” If only all it took was good wishes, Lila thought,
blinking against the sting of tears.

Stepping away from Susan, she turned to look at Douglas, her
expression uncertain. Between the debacle at the church and the start of the
ceremony here in the parlor, she’d made sure that there was no opportunity for
a private talk with her brother. It had been enough to see the hurt in his eyes
when he’d found out about her and Bishop; she couldn’t bear to hear how he
felt. Now she wanted desperately to see forgiveness in his eyes.

He looked at her. For a moment, she thought his expression
softened and dared to hope that he might be able to forgive her for what she’d
done. But it was too soon for that.

“I hope you’ll be very happy,” he offered stiffly. He gave her a
perfunctory hug, stepping back so quickly that she wondered if he couldn’t bear
to touch her.

She turned away blindly and her gaze collided with Bishop’s.
Blinking against tears, she lifted her chin, daring him to notice her distress.
His expression didn’t change but he reached out, sliding one arm around her
shoulders and drawing her against his side. She told herself that the only
reason she didn’t pull away was because she didn’t want to make a scene, but
that didn’t explain why her body curved into his, why she leaned into his hard
strength.