Bushedwhacked Groom (17 page)

“Whoa, children, whoa!” the parson cut in, his face
crimson. “I can understand that you’re feeling frus
trated, young man—”

“Frustrated? Try pissed as hell!” Lucky shot back.

The parson loudly cleared his throat. “But—er, ultimately, isn’t bearing the fruit of a blessed union at the
heart of any marriage, just as my beloved Edwina indi
cated?”

“You don’t understand, parson,” Lucky retorted.
“
If
the she-devil here produces an heir before her broth
ers do, her pa will award her the lower five hundred.
That’s all she really cares about.”

The minister frowned at Molly. “Is this true, young
lady?”

She grinned unabashedly. “Absolutely.”

“And do you have objections to marrying Lucky
here?”

She gave her fiancé a dismissive glance. “He’ll do, I
reckon.”

The minister turned to Lucky. “Sounds like a fitting
marriage of convenience to me.”

Lucky was incredulous. “What? You gotta be pulling
my leg, Parson. What about love, commitment, all
those things you were just preaching about?”

“With the Good Lord sanctioning your union, all
that will come in time,” he rejoined piously.

“0h, brother.” Lucky was finding this clergyman
every bit as loony as the Reklaws. “Tell me, Pastor, if I’d
arisen straight from Lucifer’s lair in the House of Hell, would you still be blessing this marriage?”

“Well . . .” He coughed, then nodded to Molly. “I do have a healthy fear of Cole Reklaw’s shotgun—er, just as you should, young man, if you’re wise.”

Lucky slapped his knee. “My God, you people are incredible. ‘Better to marry than burn,’ eh, Pastor?”

“I’d say that’s excellent advice.” Bledsoe hastily opened his Bible and buried his nose in it. “Now, ac
cording to the Book of Genesis . . .”

Lucky flung his hands outward.

Molly popped up. “You learn him the Bible, Pastor.
I’m already a good Christian woman—”

Lucky hooted. “Right. With a heart full of deceit.”

A clenched jaw the only betrayal of her irritation,
Molly continued, “As I was saying, I’m already a
good
Christian woman,
so I’m gonna go help Mrs. Bledsoe
with that baby.” She smirked at Lucky. “Don’t worry,
cowboy, you’ll get yours in time.”

He glowered back. No doubt he would.

Chapter Fourteen

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Well, the dirty deed is done.

This was Lucky’s forlorn thought as he paced near the corral at sunset. Back on the front porch, his fi
ancée sat smugly on the swing, rocking to and fro, pet
ting the cat while keeping a watchful eye on him. Even
she lacked the gall to approach him now. No one in
the Reklaw household dared to come within yards of
him, not after Cole and Pastor Bledsoe had decided
the wedding would be performed this Sunday after church.

This Sunday
—damn it to hell! Well, the wildcat
might force him to the altar, but that was the only co
operation she’d ever get from him, he vowed fiercely.

Inside the corral paced a young black stallion, not
yet tamed. Lucky felt a keen kinship with the horse—
who was, like him, all boxed in with nowhere to go.
Like the stallion, he could probably jump the corral—b
ut what then? He had no home to return to. Hell, he
had no
reality
to return to. He had left the age of
Harry Potter
and
Victoria
’s Secret; now he was trapped in the
era of Harry Houdini and bloomers.

Talk about culture shock.

Across the corral the horse stamped the ground and
eyed Lucky warily with his brilliant dark eyes. Lucky
felt a moment of connection, of bonding with a kin
dred spirit. He knew he could tame this proud beast,
cajole him with some sugar, and the two could ride for
the hills, taste freedom together, even if an alien free
dom. Only he couldn’t, for that would be breaking his
word to Molly’s pa. One thing Grandpa had drilled into
his head was that a man’s word was his bond, that he
was nothing without his honor.

In 2004 he’d been backstabbed by both Bobby and
Misti, and he would not break his word to Cole
Reklaw, much as he despised the man’s daughter. The
most ironic part of all of this was that he had ended
up in the clutches of a woman he distrusted every bit as much as he had Misti—all due to his own code of
conduct.

He might go down in defeat on this one, but he’d go
down like a man . . .

***

Molly petted Jezebel and watched Lucky pace near
the corral, looking every bit as defiant and trapped as
the young black stallion he was watching.

She realized she’d only made things worse today,
needling him at every turn. But he’d contributed
plenty to the tension and hostility himself by insulting
her right and left.

Was there no way to reach him, no way to persuade
him to abandon his stubbornness and pride?

At last she drew a bracing breath, got up and walked
over to join him at the corral. He turned at the sight of
her.

“What do you want now?” he demanded. “To gloat
some more about having me at your mercy?”

Molly grimaced at his sharp tone. “I’m just trying to understand something, Lucky.”

For a moment his features softened slightly—then he scowled again. “You—actually trying to under
stand? I never figured the word
empathy
would be in
your vocabulary.”

She frowned in confusion. “It isn’t.”

“0h, yeah,” he drawled. “That must be one of those
pop psychology terms that hasn’t come into common
usage as yet.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind—just tell me what you’re
trying to un
derstand.”

Awkwardly she explained, “Well, what I mean is—
everything’s settled now. We’re getting married on
Sunday.”

“Yeah.”

“Why can’t you try to make the best of things?”

He laughed shortly. “Be a sport, right? You and your
mother—like Pete and Repeat.”

“Well, why can’t you be a good sport?” she reasoned.

He groaned loudly. “Haven’t you listened to a single
word I’ve said since I landed in this underworld?”

“Yes, I’ve listened, and I’m sick of hearing you belly
ache about being trapped here.”

“So what’s your point? I
am
trapped.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of looking for the silver lining in a cloud?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes—but in this
case, that silver lining seems to be a bolt of lightning.”

She gritted her teeth. “Why can’t you at least make
an effort? You have a chance for a home, a family. Be
fore you had nothing—”

“You have no idea what I had before,” he cut in
heatedly.

“Because you still won’t tell me a damn thing about
where you come from, or how you got here—”

Abruptly she stopped speaking as he seized her by
the shoulders and spoke passionately. “You want to
hear a story, Molly? Okay then, I’ll tell you a story. It’s
about a woman who was low-down and conniving,
just like you. Her name was Misti Childers, and she was
the first person I thought I cared about after I lost my folks. Only she was a no-account whoring bitch—one
I caught in bed with my best friend.”

“I—I’m sorry,” Molly stammered.

“When I caught the two fornicators together, I shot up the motel room where they were screwing. Then I
headed for the hills—”

She gasped. “Did you kill—”

“No. Only the mattress.”

“What?”

“Anyway, after I hightailed it, Misti’s brother, a little
shit named Grover Singleton, hunted me down, hog-
tied me, put me into that infamous stagecoach and
pushed me into the gorge. Did I mention the ride
damn near broke every bone in my body? Anyway,
that’s how I got here—thanks to
her
—and now I seem
to be stuck here with
you.”

Molly was amazed. “My God. You mean she—your
old girlfriend—started this chain of events? But I
thought I wished you here—”

His cynical laughter cut her short.
“
0h, I don’t
doubt that, either. Lady, you’ve all but wished me
dead.”

“And you think I’m like this woman who betrayed
you?”

“Oh, yeah. You’re a woman
who needs her daddy’s shotgun to get a husband.
What have you done but manipulate me and ruin my
life? You and Misti—one and the same.”

Molly was crestfallen. “But that’s not fair. You can’t
blame me for another woman’s sins. I’m not like her.”

“And why not?”

“Well—I’m honest.”

At the brazen contention, Lucky roared with derisive laughter, and Molly
slapped him full across the face. For a moment he just
glared at her, trembling. Then he cursed and hauled her close, kissing her punishingly. His hands roved
over her back, her buttocks, his boldness shocking
and enthralling her, making her nipples pucker and
heat curl between her thighs.

Then she felt a shudder jolt him, and abruptly the
kiss that had flared so angrily banked to pure, tantaliz
ing heat as he teased his tongue in and out of her
mouth, again and again, in a ravishing kiss that left
Molly reeling. On and on it went, Lucky coaxing, se
ducing, shattering her with his sensuality, until she
thought she might die of the intense need throbbing
inside her. She was so aroused that she instinctively
teased her tongue against his own.

She felt a second shiver rack him, then abruptly he
backed away, breathing hard, eyes gleaming fiercely.

Molly desperately tried to read his feelings in his
face but could detect no hint of softening in the inten
sity she spotted there. In a choked voice, she asked,
“You don’t even know what you want, do you, cowboy?”

Afraid to wait for his response, she turned and fled for the porch, trying hard to keep up a brave front and
not succumb to the tears that threatened.

At least now she understood Lucky’s terrible anger.
But in the wake of his admissions she faced another in
surmountable hurdle: After all the horrible things that
woman had done to him, how could she ever make
him trust her?

***

Lucky stood struggling for breath, fists clenched at his
sides, the memory of Molly’s stricken face wracking him with guilt.
God, he had acted like a
jerk. But she never should have approached him when
he was in such a state.

Nonetheless, the blame was far more his than hers,
and shame washed over him for the shabby way he’d
treated her. When she’d pressed him for answers, he’d
been harsher with her than he’d intended—and more
passionate, too. He’d deserved the slap she’d given
him, but that smack had also broken his control,
prompting him to grab her and take the kiss he craved.
Then, when she’d tantalized him with her tongue . . .
heaven help him, he’d been ready to rip her clothes
off right there. Thank God he’d come to his senses be
fore things had gone too far. No benefit could have
come from his taking his raging desires to their natural
conclusion.

Funny, but despite his narrow escape, he didn’t feel
the least bit triumphant at the moment. Instead he felt
confused and frustrated as hell. He could still taste
Molly, still burned for her. She was a vixen, but
damn,
she was sweet. What scared him most was that he had felt his own defenses crumbling, along with the overwhelming temptation to let her inside that wounded heart of his that first, tiny bit.

She was going to drive him crazy. Already had.