The Lawman's Bride (12 page)

“Uh-huh.”

“Who takes care of her now that you’re not there?”

“She’s better now.” It was getting more and more difficult to keep her story consistent. She’d never had to sustain a lie for so long and to so many people. She was used to the short con. She changed the subject. “You said your mother sent you to school.”

“She did.”

They glanced at each other. Sophie wasn’t eager to continue an exploration into her fabricated past, so she persisted. “So this place of yours…what’s it like?”

“Just a small house on a few acres of land. I bought it from a family who fell on some bad luck and moved on. I could show it to you—Sunday if you’d like.”

“I would like that.”

A few minutes passed before he spoke again. “Are you lookin’ for a husband?”

“I’m not.”

His deep voice was intimate when he asked, “What
do
you want, Sophie?”

Chapter Nine

S
ophie paused, uncertain how much to reveal about herself.

“I want to be able to take care of myself. I want my own business and to make decisions for myself.”

“Did some man do this to you? Make you not want marriage?”

“Why would you think that?”

“You sound like you know a different way is all.”

She didn’t reply.

“You’re not afraid of me.”

“No.”

“But you don’t trust me.”

She looked at him in the twilight. “I think I do. And because of that it’s me I don’t trust.”

“Are you afraid of what you might feel if you let yourself?”

She looked away without answering, studied the half moon shining down from the darkening heavens.

“Just how did you discourage Mr. Tripp anyway?” he asked.

“I told him I wasn’t the wife he was looking for, but that there were plenty of other eager prospects.”

“So he moved along to one of them.”

“Seems he has.”

“And you’re not jealous?”

“Goodness no.”

“You haven’t discouraged me.”

“Do I need to?”

“You askin’ if I’m going to pursue you if you don’t?”

“I’m not asking anything. You’re the one with all the questions.”

“Sorry. Just my nature I reckon.”

“It’s what makes you good at your job.”

The night stretched silently between them until he asked, “Where do you want this to go, Sophie?”

She shook her head. She didn’t know and she couldn’t say. All she knew amidst the confusion that was her life was that Clay had become part of her existence in a way she’d never anticipated any man could. That fact terrified and soothed her at the same time. If she was smart she’d call a stop to this right now. She wouldn’t let things get any more complicated than they were.

She’d had small selfish thoughts of using him for protection, of staying near so Garrett wouldn’t be tempted to seek her out or continue his threats. But she couldn’t do that. She’d be no better than the person she’d been before. Than the person Garrett had taught her to be.

A realization came to Sophie at that moment. A realization she wasn’t sure she could afford to recognize since she needed to be safe.

She wanted to change.

She’d been lying and deceiving people for so long that it had become second nature. She’d come to think of deceit as normal. But it wasn’t.

Clay wouldn’t lie if someone had a gun to his head. He had more character than a dozen of her or a hundred of Garrett put together.

But how could she change now? How could she tell the truth regarding anything without condemning herself to prison? She couldn’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

She would be assuming identities and pretending for the rest of her life.

Or she’d be in jail.

Not much of a choice.

An uncharacteristic sense of hopelessness swept over her. She blinked back the sting of tears.

But he’d seen. “Sophie? What is it?”

How could a person be so kind? She’d never known tenderness or kindness, and the touch of his hand on hers made her want to let down her defenses and sob.

But she didn’t. She was stronger than that. She was a survivor. She’d been through a lot worse than this and she wouldn’t crumble now.

“What makes you so sad?”

She shook her head.

“Can I help?”

Only if he could find Tek Garrett and shoot him in the heart without any questions asked. She shook her head again, stood and studied the now dark sky. In the distance the jangle of an off-key piano blended with laughter and a far off train whistle, but she felt safely cocooned where she was.

Clay remained seated but took her hand and raised it to his lips. His warm breath and a soft kiss sent a tingle up her arm, and her breasts tightened unexpectedly.

Sophie brought her other hand to her breasts in surprise and closed her eyes to the night, giving herself over to the sensations he created within her.

“Your fingers smell like…tobacco.”

She attempted to pull her hand away, but he grinned and held on. Clay kissed each of her fingertips, then turned her hand over and pressed his lips against her palm.

She turned toward him then, her heart racing and her head a jumble of confusion. “What is this insistent
yearning
you make me feel?” she asked. “What causes this flurry of anticipation and expectancy? Why is it I can’t turn away or run or do what I know is best?”

Releasing her hand, Clay got to his feet where he towered over her and bracketed her face between his hard palms.

“I don’t have fancy answers for you, Sophie. My life has always been simple. Black and white. I take life as it comes, and I just know I feel good when I’m with you. And I think about you when we’re not together. It’s not complicated for me.”

A good man. An honest straightforward man. He was as different from her as the moon was from the sun. She shouldn’t let this go one moment longer, because thinking of the two of them together was hopeless.

She shouldn’t let the way his touch warmed her twist her thinking or allow the beauty of having him favor her with kindness cloud her judgment.

She was weaker than she’d ever imagined. All that resolve about being strong was a joke. But she wanted to have a piece of goodness more than she could say. More than anything she wanted to savor something clean and decent and know what it was like.

Kiss me,
she cried silently.
Kiss me and let me feel the beauty just for this one night.

Sophie grasped his upper arms as though she might spin away if she didn’t hold on. Beneath his sleeves, his skin was warm and solid, the muscles toned. As though her touch was a signal, he leaned to capture her lips in a kiss that made her heart skitter in her chest. The sounds of the night and the heat faded away, and all she knew was the rightness of having this man desire her.

In the back of her mind she knew she was sneaking something that didn’t truly belong to her, something that belonged to the woman he believed her to be, but she was greedy and selfish, and she didn’t want to lose a moment of the heady experience.

Clay released her hand to wrap his arms around her and draw her close. She relished the feel of his hard body, the strength of his embrace. She wrapped an arm around his neck and met his kiss with all the longing she’d kept dammed up inside.

When his tongue touched her lower lip, she understood the invitation and welcomed the deepening kiss and the heat of his mouth.

Sophie was no stranger to a man’s desire. She wasn’t ignorant of what happened between men and women. But Clay had introduced her to
feelings.
He was introducing her to respect as well, and she knew that if she pulled away right at this moment he would honor her wishes. He wouldn’t use coercion or force to get what he wanted.

Some insidious little voice inside her prompted her to test him. If a mean streak surfaced it would be easy to write him off and walk away. She eased her mouth from his…looked into his face in the moonlight.

He stroked her spine with a thumb, but his hold on her was loose, his posture and expression undemanding. His breath fluttered against her chin. Testing him, she’d robbed herself of something she hadn’t known she needed with all her being.

“I want to kiss you,” she said.

“That’s what we’ve been doin’.”

“No.” She cupped his jaw. “I want to kiss
you.
”

“You won’t have to tie me up, darlin’.”

The tender endearment spurred her nearer. She pressed her hand to his chest, urging him to sit once again. His eyes didn’t leave hers.

She sat beside him, but that wasn’t close enough, so she eased herself onto his lap. As though he couldn’t resist touching her, he threaded his fingers into the hair at her neck.

She ran a finger over his jaw, traced the shape of his wonderful mouth, used her thumb to part his lips. He touched his tongue to the pad of her thumb and she felt the damp heat all the way to the core of her will.

Sophie framed his jaw with one hand and kissed him square on the lips. He closed his eyes and seemed to hold his breath.

She ended the kiss and nuzzled her nose along his cheek to his ear. His hand tightened in her hair, but he held the rest of his body in check.

“What game are you playin’, Sophie?” he asked.

“No game,” she replied near his ear. “Just a little test.”

“Am I passin’?”

She kissed him again, parting her lips over his and savoring the indulgent pleasure before pausing to answer, “With flying colors, Marshal.”

She shouldn’t be enjoying kissing him so much. She shouldn’t be using him. He had no idea how powerfully seductive his gentle compliance was to a woman who’d never before had a choice.

He had no idea she wasn’t innocent. For all he knew she was tasting seduction for the first time. He trusted her to be who she said she was.

What would Sophie Hollis do?

With a last delicious kiss, she pushed herself up from his lap and smoothed her skirts. “I’m embarrassed I did that.”

“Why?”

She looked away.

His voice was low and uneven when he asked, “You think it’s shameful to kiss a man?”

“No. No, I’m…embarrassed at the feelings.”

“Nothin’ wrong with honest feelings, Sophie.”

She couldn’t even look at him after those words. “I’d better get back before I get locked out.”

He stood and quickly fell into step beside her. “We’re still on for Sunday?”

She walked ahead. “We’re still on.”

Even as confused as she was, she wouldn’t miss the next time for anything.

Midweek Mr. Webb closed the dining hall and instructed all employees to change into fresh uniforms and report back within fifteen minutes.

Sophie joined the curious Harvey Girls who climbed the stairs to their rooms and returned in crisp clothing. Murmurs of speculation trickled through the gathering.

A whistle announced the arrival of a train that hadn’t been on their lunch schedule, which indicated something unusual, like the train that sometimes brought Fred Harvey for an unannounced visit. This time neither Mrs. Winters or Mr. Webb were barking orders or sending waitresses scurrying, however. And the restaurant had never been closed before. Even the kitchen help had been summoned.

Minutes later a commotion drew them outside. Sophie and Emma standing together on the platform spotted half a dozen men carrying cases and arranging them between the tracks and the building.

Another crew was roping off the perimeter of the platform as well as the front of the hotel and placing men in positions to keep the onlookers out.

A man who seemed to be in charge of things stepped forward and called out. “We have forty minutes before the next train arrives,” he called. “Form lines in front of the building, in order of duties, with kitchen help in the back, dining hall workers in the front and the managers on each side. I would like the chef front left, please.”

Recognition dawned on Sophie too late. She could have escaped when they’d been ordered to change, but now it would be obvious if she left. This was the renowned photographer Louis had told her about. She took a place among the waitresses, moving back several rows by saying, “I’m tall, you stand here.”

There were at least sixty people gathered. Who would recognize her in clothing like everyone else, within a sea of faces? Who would even see the picture? When the photographer was ready, she could edge her face behind the person ahead of her. This wasn’t a problem she couldn’t handle gracefully and without drawing attention.

The sun was hot and the workers grumbled at having to stand in the heat. Sophie endured the perspiration trickling down her back under her starched dress, and scanned the crowd that had gathered. She spotted Louis Tripp making his way to the front of the crowd and talking with one of the posted guards. She knew how badly he wanted to come forward and meet A. J. Russell.

The guard hurried to say something to the man setting up the camera, and he motioned for Louis to come closer.

“I believe I have time to use the necessity,” Sophie said and inched her way to the end of the line and toward the side of the building.

“Miss Hollis!”

She stopped in her tracks and faced Mrs. Winters. “Ma’am.”

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“To use the outhouse, ma’am.”

“Not until you’ve been excused you won’t. You had time to take care of that when you were changing.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

This time she edged her way back another row. Mr. Russell called instructions to his helpers and to the subjects who were getting restless.

He ducked his head and shoulders beneath a black cloth and counted backward from five.

As he reached one, Sophie leaned inconspicuously to the right, just enough for her face to be obscured behind Constance Jenkins’s hair.

“Don’t move! One more,” he called.

Sophie had a sudden itch and raised her hand in front of her face to scratch her forehead. She was happy Louis was able to meet the man he admired and had never been so glad to go back to work.

“Monte’s coming for me in a few minutes,” Amanda said, aquiver with excitement. “You’ll meet him tonight.”