Barefoot Bride for Three (4 page)

She nestled closer to his warm chest, feeling his heartbeat pound through her thin dress. His strong arms held her, protecting rather than confining. She relaxed into his possessive embrace, aroused and safe in his arms. She could let him do these wonderful things to her body without relinquishing control in their home.

He pulled his mouth away, resting his forehead against hers. She blinked, the dim light bright on her eyes. Her skin rose in gooseflesh, cold without his heat.

“Am I man enough for you, Beth?” She stared at him, unable to think, much less talk for a moment. She nodded. He inhaled a deep breath. When he let it out the tension seemed to release as well. He sniffed her hair.

“You smell nice,” he murmured.

She snorted at his words, breaking the mesmerizing spell. “I smell like I’ve lived in a privy for weeks.”

“Nothing a bath won’t cure.” He took her hand and towed her toward the corner desk and the kerosene lamp providing light. He hooked the chair with one foot and sat, then pulled her onto his lap. It put her breasts about the height of his mouth.

“Tell me about yourself,” he said. He looked her in the eye, no longer laughing, as if he actually cared what her reply might be. She went along, just in case.

“I was born in Philadelphia twenty-one years ago.”

He nodded for her to continue, still watching her. She said the most outrageous thing she could think of.

“I have an education, my brain works well, and I enjoy using it. I like to know what is happening around me, and I expect to have my opinions listened to.” She set her teeth and waited for the explosion. He merely lifted an eyebrow at her silence. “I will not tolerate excessive use of spirits nor abuse of any kind.”

He grasped her upper thigh, his hand covering the whole of the portion resting on his leg, and grinned at her. She’d hidden her reactions for weeks as men leered at her, expecting her to jump into their arms merely because she rode the Bride Train. Now that she was safe, her anger rose from where she’d hidden it deep inside.

“Do you think my demands laughable?”

She struggled to get off his lap, suddenly furious. He put his arms around her so she could not escape and laughed, a rough cawing noise that grated her ears. Her father used to laugh at her pitiful efforts to speak her mind. He enjoyed humiliating his inferiors, especially his wife and children. She fought to escape.

“Shh, Beth, I’m not laughing at you,” he growled. “It’s just that you sound like Ma. She taught all seven of us to read, write, do sums and debate. I remember Pa getting Ma all riled up by debating the opposite of whatever she said. Though he wasn’t yet twelve when they died, Ben says getting a word in between Ma and Pa was good practice for being a lawyer.”

His words finally seeped through her anger. It took a few minutes before she realized he was not trying to keep her from escaping. Rather, he supported her so she did not fall to the floor in her mad rush for freedom. She shuddered and let him hold her temple against him. His heart pounded as madly as hers.
 

“Beth, I said I don’t beat women, children, or animals. A mule can’t help being a mule anymore than a woman can help being who she is. Or a man,” he continued when she poked him in the chest with her fingernail. He caught her fist and kissed it, slowly and sensuously, daring her with his eyes to retaliate when he released her.

He leaned forward and tilted his head, waiting. Determined to prove her lack of fear, she met him halfway, demanding rather than merely accepting. He pulled her close and kissed her, lightly scraping his rough whiskers on her chin. She ran her fingers through his hair, holding him tight to her.

“Whoa!” A deep, laughing voice came from the far door. “The bedding’s supposed to happen after the preacher speaks, not before.” Sheriff Chambers stepped into the jail, followed by the hotel owner, Sophie McLeod.

Beth leaped back as if she’d touched a hot stove. Luckily, Trace was more aware. He caught her before she fell off his lap. He pulled her tight to him, giving her strength to face the preacher and witnesses following the sheriff. She was allowed to touch him as this man would soon be her husband.

“Looks like you found yourself a husband just in time,” said Sophie with a chuckle. They’d chatted when she brought meals to Beth at the jail. Sophie set her fists on her hips and grinned widely at the two of them. “I never thought the day would come when Trace Elliott would find himself a wife.”

“He didn’t,” said the sheriff. “I found her for him. And if we don’t get this done afore certain parties arrive, the preacher will be holding a funeral instead of a wedding.”

He pointed to where he wanted Trace and Beth to stand. Trace helped an unsteady Beth to her feet.

A shabby man dressed in black shuffled up to them. He lifted bleary red eyes, nodded at the bride and groom, and then opened his dusty book.

“The boys’re holding a place for me at the poker table, so’s lets get this over with,” ordered the preacher. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to unite these two in holy matrimony.” He looked around the room. “No one with a reason to complain here. Trace Elliott do you take this gal—” He barely raised his head to see her. “What’s your name, missy?”

“Elizabeth Katherine James.”

He blinked at her, then turned. “Trace Elliott, you take this gal for yer wife? You’ll bed her and breed her and care for her best you can all yer days so help you God?”

“Yessir.”

“And you, woman. You promise to take this man into your bed, care for him, his family, and whatever young’uns come along for the rest of your life so help you God?”

“Um, yes, I do.”

“Is there a ring?”

Trace shook his head.

“Nope? Well, then hold hands.”

Trace held his open palm to her. She placed her hand on his and he engulfed it with the other. The preacher put his hands on top and silently prayed for a moment. He flashed a clear look at Beth. It seared her soul and proved that God was in the room no matter that the words weren’t right and the preacher reeked of whiskey and tobacco. The room seemed less bright when he removed his hands from theirs.

“Yer now man and wife in God’s eyes and no man can say nay once the beddin’s done.” He closed his book and then turned to Trace. “Yer ma and pa are lookin’ down on ye, boy. You be as good a man as yer pa and this gal will do right fine.” He sniffed and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. “Sheriff says ye’ll put gold in the poor box for this.” Trace nodded. “Then what’s holdin’ yah back, boy? Kiss yer bride and get her to bed afore Big Joe hears of it!”

Trace pulled her tight against him. At first he nibbled, but soon he explored her mouth with his tongue as his hands roved her body. Only the two of them existed until Trace suddenly pulled away, gasping.

“Any rooms at that hotel of yours, Mrs. McLeod?” said Frank Chambers. “These two need one about now.”

Sophie laughed. “I sent Elspeth to prepare the best room and get a hot bath ready for the new Mrs. Elliott. You,” she said, pointing a finger at Trace, “will find facilities elsewhere.” She flapped her hands to separate the two of them. “Don’t bother visiting until you’re clean and shaved.” She turned to Beth. “Mrs. Elliott, would you like a hot bath? I have a deep tub that would fit you.”

The new Mrs. Trace Elliott, dazed from more than the kiss, nodded. She focused on the bath, ignoring what would come after. Like her sisters, as a young girl she’d imagined her wedding day as being sunny and bright. Wearing a pretty white dress, she’d stand in the church beside a rich, handsome man in a suit. Though her dreams faded by her late teens, never had she considered she’d be part of a forced union between a bedraggled slattern and dusty cowboy.

Trace placed his hand on her arm, stopping her from turning away.

“I know I’m not the husband you wanted and this isn’t the wedding you dreamed of.” He looked around the drab, dingy jail and shook his head. “A woman should feel good at her wedding.”

“Where’d you learn about women?” The sheriff snorted. “Three brothers living out there alone for how many years?”

“Before she died, Ma taught me how to treat a lady. My wife is a lady and deserves to be treated like one. This may be a rough start, but I’ll make it up her. She’ll have no complaints.”

Beth looked up at her new husband. Body trembling, she fought sudden tears. She promised herself long ago to never let it show when she was afraid, but kindness was something she’d rarely experienced. She blinked rapidly, turning her head away to hide. He took her face in his hands and gently forced her to look up at him.

“Shh. You’re my wife now. I’ll kill any man who tries to hurt you.”

His first words were tender. He likely thought the last ones were also. Was he saying he would defend his property or that he wouldn’t let anyone hurt her because he cared for her?

No, he didn’t care for her as a person. He’d only met her and knew nothing other than she was a means to an end. It didn’t matter. She was no longer alone, fighting to hold her head up when those who should love her, hurled abuse. Though she fought to hold them back, tears spilled down her cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her dirty hand.

“Where’s my strong woman? The one who knocked Charlie down with one punch?” He gently kissed her forehead. “A hot bath, food, and clean clothes will make you feel better. But you’ll have to wait a while to sleep.” His wink brought new heat to her face.

He escorted her to the door, then pressed her arm to wait. She took the moment to pull herself together. She almost lost composure again when he slipped his soft buckskin coat over her shoulders to keep her warm and protect her modesty. She gasped when he swept her into his arms and carried her out the door.

“I’ll not have my wife walk in the street in bare feet.” He carried her across the muddy, manure-strewn street and set her down carefully on the boardwalk in front of the hotel. “The faster you get clean the sooner I get to kiss what’s under all that dirt,” he whispered in her ear. He slid his hands between her dress and his coat, grasped her bottom, and pulled her close. Evidence of his desire blazed across her belly.

“Don’t take too long, wife. I want to make you mine.”

Chapter Three

Trace scraped his cheek with a straight razor borrowed from Miss Lily. He had to tilt his head to avoid the mirror’s cracks and black pits. He nicked himself again and swore as he rinsed the blade in the bowl of warm water. He’d stared down catamounts, vicious killers, and rattlesnakes. Yet a city woman like Beth scared the hell out of him.

She was no pretty-but-weak flower like Gillis MacDougal’s wife, Prudence. None of them could believe it when Gillis returned from his trip East with a wife dressed in silk ruffles and satin bows. They’d shrugged and gone on with their lives until the dang sheriff realized Gillis was no longer joining them in town on a Saturday night to whoop it up and take the miners down a few pegs. Because Gillis didn’t join them anymore, Frank Chambers got it in his fool head that a married man caused less trouble.

The last time all three Elliotts hit town they’d had a wonderful time. Just before Christmas they’d worked their way through a half-dozen drunken miners. They were winning until Hugh Jennet, the sanctimonious banker, complained to the sheriff about the noise. Trace, Simon, and Jack were hauled off to jail. Frank tossed the miners out of town.

The next morning, he’d done the same to Trace and his brothers, decreeing that no Elliott was allowed back until one of them married. Just because Gillis MacDougal stopped being fun once he married, didn’t mean that a rip-snorting Elliott man would. Bets were on Jack to marry, if any of them. The boy could even sweet-talk Miss Lily’s gals into sharing their bed on a quiet night.

No one would believe he’d be the one that got caught. And by such a woman!

His Beth was nothing like Gillis’s sickly wife. Put Prudence in a jail cell with the town’s ruffians ogling her and she’d faint dead away. She’d start in the coughing again, and in three days they’d be calling the undertaker.

Unlike his best friend’s wife, Beth had gumption, along with a body that would soon be his.

Trace swelled, remembering the flesh he’d held in the jail before their brief wedding. She’d responded to him like a wildcat in heat. From her shocked reaction to her response, she’d never known pleasure. All he wanted from a wife was passion, respect, and friendship. Awakening that passion was his job for tonight.

A tough job, but he was man enough for it.

He wiped his face off and stared at the fractured image. He was exactly as he looked. A tough, hard-working cowboy fighting to make a home for himself and his brothers. Since Pa died, he’d taken orders from no one and wasn’t about to start now. Especially from a woman. She could be feisty all she liked, but there was only one ramrod on a ranch, and he was it for the Rocking E.

The doorknob rattled. He’d turned and palmed his gun by the time the door opened. The petite woman raised a plucked eyebrow at his drawn weapon. “That’s not what most husbands would point at a woman after their wedding,” she said. She winked when he flushed.

“They wouldn’t be bathing in your private quarters either.” He stuck his gun back in its holster. “Thanks for lending me a place to wash up, Lily.”