The True Love Wedding Dress (39 page)

“Couldn’t we all? That isn’t to say there isn’t gold in this country. No Name was originally a gold rush town that went bust so quickly no one ever got around to christening it.”

Faith chuckled at the revelation. “Ah, well.”

“Easy for you to say. I’ve been wanting to steal a kiss from you for over a month, and then when I finally work up my courage, I get interrupted.”

A flush crept hotly up her neck.

“It’s just as well, I suppose,” he added. “I distracted you from your story.”

“That’s it. When I discovered that Bernard meant to farm Charity out to a boarding school directly after our nuptials, we left Brooklyn. When our money was stolen, we could go no farther and ended up stranded in No Name.”

“I, for one, am mighty glad you did.”

Faith shared that sentiment. If they hadn’t stayed in No Name, she might never have met Patrick.

“All’s well that ends well,” he observed, his eyes trailing slowly over her face as though he meant to commit each feature to memory. “You’re here now. It’s time to look forward and put the bad memories behind you.”

“I wish it were so simple.”

“What’s complicated about it? You’re over twenty-one. You have a job to support your daughter. Your father’s hold on you is broken.”

“You don’t know my father.”

The haunted look in Faith’s eyes made Patrick’s heart catch.

“If he finds me—and there’s strong possibility that he may—he will stop at nothing to have his way. Even more frightening, I know he won’t come after me alone. He’ll bring a small army of hired guns with him.” She toed the weeds that grew between them, then sighed and closed her eyes. “Perhaps we’ll be lucky,” she whispered, “and he’ll never find us.”

In an entirely different way, Patrick had experienced the long reach of a powerful man during the early years of his life. On countless occasions, he and Caitlin had tried to run away, only to be caught by well-meaning neighbors or townsfolk and carted back to their father. To this day, he could remember the fear that had nipped at their heels after they made good an escape, how they’d both jumped at shadows and kept looking over their shoulders, terrified of seeing their father towering behind them.

“I honestly don’t believe he’ll ever think to look for you in Colorado.”

“My father might not, but he won’t be doing the looking. He’ll hire paid bloodhounds, the best investigators in the country. I want to believe they’ll never track us down, but realistically, what are the chances that a woman and little girl, traveling so far by themselves, drew no one’s attention along the way?”

In that moment, as he searched Faith’s eyes, Patrick knew that this was no irrational, feminine fear, but spine-chilling terror based on fact. Her father was searching for her even as they spoke, and eventually he would find her.

T
he following morning, Patrick strapped on his gun.

Then he saddled his gelding and rode over to the Paradise Ranch to seek the advice of his brother-in-law, Ace Keegan. Joseph, Ace’s younger half brother, joined them out by the corral. Patrick would have preferred to see Ace alone, but he’d long since come to understand that Ace and his brothers were as thick as thieves. When there was trouble, they faced it together, and Patrick had definitely come to them this morning with trouble riding double behind him. He guessed that showed on his face.

“That’s a hell of a note,” Ace said when Patrick had recounted Faith’s story to them.

“Sure is. What kind of father is this Maxwell fellow?” Joseph spat on the ground. He wasn’t a tall individual, but for a short man, he packed one hell of a wallop, in Patrick’s estimation. Only a fool would tangle with him. “Give me ten minutes alone with the son of a bitch,” he said. “Sounds to me like he needs a boot planted up his highfalutin ass.”

Patrick had to smile. He and Joseph Paxton talked the same language.

“Jesus, Joseph, get a rein on that temper,” Ace inserted. “Patrick’s here for advice, not to rally a mob.”

Joseph leaned over to spit again. He gave his older brother a narrow-eyed look. “Time was when you were as quick to get riled as I am. Has marriage turned you soft, big brother?”

“There’s nothing soft about me, you cocky little bastard. Any time you get to wonderin’, hop on it like a frog.”

Patrick couldn’t help himself. He had to laugh. He quickly sobered when both men glared at him. He coughed and rubbed his nose. How Caitlin managed to rule her household with such a small fist, he’d never know. There wasn’t a man in her new family who dared to enter her home without wiping his boots clean first.

“Back to your problem,” Ace said to Patrick, with a warning look at his brother. “And just for the record, I don’t think a boot up her father’s ass is the answer.”

“What is the answer?” Patrick asked.

“Marry her,” Joseph said. “Only way I see.”

Ace rolled his eyes. “That isn’t the answer, Joseph. How do you know if he even has feelings for the woman?”

“By lookin’ at him,” Joseph replied. “He’s got that same sick-calf look that you used to have when you were chasing your tail over Caitlin.”

“I never chased my tail over Caitlin.”

Joseph chuckled. “You sure as hell did, and had me chasin’ mine, too. Snarlin’ at everybody, ornery as a badger with a thorn in its paw. Hell, big brother, she’s still got you chasin’ your tail. You love that girl beyond all reason.”

Ace parted his lips to argue, and then snapped his teeth closed. “I’m going to remember this when you finally get hitched.”

“Never happen,” Joseph replied confidently. “I’m a grazer. Fence me in on one pasture, and first thing you know, I’ll be stretchin’ my neck to nibble the grass on the far side of the wire.”

Ace rolled his eyes again. Then he settled a thoughtful gaze on Patrick. “Is Joseph right? Do you have feelings for this woman?”

Patrick almost said no, but as the word tried to creep up his throat, he swallowed it back, recognizing it as a lie. He’d been in over his head with Faith almost from the first, and he’d been struggling to stay afloat ever since. He loved the woman; that was the long and short of it. He’d also come to love her daughter as if she were his own. The thought of marriage still sort of alarmed him, but not nearly as much as the thought of losing them did. When he tried to imagine his life without Faith and Charity in it, his blood ran cold and his chest hurt.

“I love her,” he confessed. Once the words were out, he wondered why he’d been so reluctant to say them.

“Enough to put your bacon on the plate?” Ace asked.

Patrick straightened his shoulders and nodded.

“Well, marry her, then,” Ace said. “That’ll put a hitch in Mr. Maxwell’s get-along like nothing else will. Man sounds like a bully to me, and bullies only push people around when they can get away with it. Faith won’t be so easily intimidated by the arrogant bastard if she has a husband who won’t hesitate to push back.”

That made sense. Patrick had known a bully personally, and for a goodly number of years. In all that time, he’d never once seen Connor O’Shannessy whale the tar out of a man bigger than he was. His father’s victims had always been unable to fight back.

“What about Charity?” Patrick asked. “If I marry Faith, she’ll be safe enough, but what of the child? Is there any way Maxwell could get custody?”

Ace scowled thoughtfully. “I think you’ll automatically become the child’s legal guardian, but to be on the safe side, go straight from the justice of the peace to the courthouse and file for adoption.”

 

Faith was struggling to dismember a plucked chicken when Patrick returned to the house. Charity sat at the table, building a house of cards, the puppy asleep by her chair. Patrick moved in close behind Faith where she stood at the sink and bent to nibble the nape of her neck. She missed her aim with the butcher knife and nearly relieved herself of a thumb.

“What are you about?” she asked breathlessly.

“Trying to get your attention.”

He had definitely succeeded. Fiery heat swirled in her belly, and her nipples had gone as hard and sharp as screw shafts. “A simple hello would suffice. I’m trying to make chicken and dumplings.”

Patrick latched on to her earlobe and did fascinating things to it with flicks of his tongue. “I love chicken and dumplings. But right now, I’ve got other things on my mind.”

Faith’s knees almost buckled. “Like what?”

He glanced at Charity. “Can you tear yourself away from that hen and take a turn around the yard with me?”

“Can I come?” Charity asked.

“May I come,” Faith corrected, wondering when her daughter had started to talk like a Coloradoan.

“Not this morning,” Patrick told the child. “I need to speak to your ma in private.”

Patrick seldom denied Charity anything. Of late, Faith had even begun to worry that her daughter would become spoiled and willful if he had his way. She gave Patrick another wondering look. He only smiled, handed her a towel to wipe her hands, and then grasped her by the arm to lead her outside. Once there, he stalked in a circle around her for a moment, then stopped, planted his hands on his hips, and said, “I love you.”

Faith was so startled that she cocked her head. “I beg your pardon?”

“Damn it, Faith, you heard me the first time. Don’t make me say it again until you’re ready to say it back.”

“You love me?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

He didn’t seem to be very happy about it. In Faith’s estimation, it was marvelous news. She started tapping her toe. “May I ask what brought this on?”

“Your father. If he finds you now, he may find a way to make you go home. He could claim you’re emotionally unbalanced—or that you abuse your daughter. God only knows. If you marry me, nothing he says or does will hold any sway. I’ll be able to tell him to go whistle Dixie.”

“That isn’t enough reason for us to marry, Patrick.”

“I love you. Isn’t that reason enough?” He winced and turned his gaze toward the sky. “Damn it. You made me say it twice.” He leveled a burning look at her. “Out with it. I want an answer right now. Do you feel the same way or not?”

“You are cursing at me, sir.”

He winced again. Then he threw up his hands and turned a full circle. When he faced her again, he leaned forward to get nose to nose with her. “ ‘Damn’ is a byword. It’s not a curse word by my definition. All the same, I apologize. I don’t reckon I should say it while I’m proposing to you.”

“Is that what you’re doing, proposing?”

The glint in his eyes intensified. “What? Do you want me on my knees? Is that it?”

“No. It’s just that you seem so upset!”

“If you felt like this, you’d be upset, too.”

An odd, tight sensation closed around Faith’s throat. “How is it that you’re feeling, Patrick?”

“Scared.”

She searched his sky blue eyes, trying to understand. “Scared of what?”

“Scared to death that you don’t love me back.” Tears stung her eyes. The next instant she was in his arms. She wasn’t sure if he’d grabbed her, or if she had jumped. And it didn’t really matter. She was in his arms, right where she belonged.

“I’m not a good lover,” she whispered against his neck.

He laughed and spun in a circle with her clasped against his hard chest. “You will be, darlin’. Leave it to me.”

He had taught her so many things, how to milk cows, how to make butter and cheese, how to slop hogs, and how to do laundry. She was also becoming a halfway decent cook. Perhaps he could teach her how to make love as well.

Faith prayed so. She wanted to please this man. She wanted that more than almost anything.

“Oh, Patrick,” she whispered fervently, “I love you, too. I love you so very much.”

“It’s a damned good thing. Otherwise I’d be in a hell of a fix.”

 

At Patrick’s insistence, Faith stood at the center of her room an hour later, draped head to toe in ivory silk and lace. To say she was bewildered was an understatement. Patrick was right; the dress that he had stowed in the trunk that first afternoon bore no dirt stains. It was as spotless and perfect as new. There was just no explaining it. Faith clearly remembered dropping the gown in the dirt and despairing afterward that it was ruined. And yet, by some miracle, it wasn’t. Even stranger, it fit her like a glove. It was almost as if the dress had been made especially for her.

Faith closed her eyes and ran a hand down the front of the gown, marveling at the tingling warmth that ribboned through her body. She’d felt it the instant she slipped into the dress, and the heat had intensified with each button that she fastened. It was almost as if the dress were imbued with some inexplicable magic. She remembered how she’d felt drawn to it the first time she’d seen it and then how she’d felt when she touched it. Even stranger, directly afterward, she had spotted Patrick’s advertisement taped to the door window of the mercantile. How was it that she’d passed that store a fair hundred times and never seen the sign until she’d been holding this dress in her arms?

“Knock, knock. You about ready?”

Patrick shoved his head through the crack of the door. Faith felt suddenly self-conscious as she faced him.

“Dear God,” he whispered.

“Is it too fancy?” she asked.

He stepped into the room, his expression stunned. He wore a white shirt and black dress slacks. He was, in Faith’s estimation, the handsomest man who’d ever drawn breath.

“Too fancy? No. It’s gorgeous.
You’re
gorgeous. You look so beautiful, I can’t believe you’re real.”

Faith’s stomach was churning with nerves. She wanted to become Patrick’s wife more than she’d ever wanted anything, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible might happen to spoil their happiness together.

“Oh, Patrick, I’m scared.”