Justin's Bride (24 page)

He turned toward her. “Your soul is black with sin.”

“You don't know that. You don't know me at all. None of you do.” She motioned with her arm. “This entire town thinks it knows me, but you're all wrong. You want to denounce my sin. Fine. But before Sunday, I swear I'm going to give you something worth denouncing. You'd better hurry home, Gene. If you thought Colleen was upset today, wait until she finds out what I'm going to do next.”

He glared at her. “May God have mercy on your soul.”

“And on yours,” she called. She balled up her fists, wanting to do something physical, but not knowing what.

“Megan?”

She spun toward the sound and saw Mrs. Dobson standing in the store, holding the curtain to one side.

“I couldn't help overhearing part of your conversation with Mr. Estes. Is there a problem?”

“No,” Megan said automatically. “Yes,” she amended. “There's a big problem. Gene thinks I'm a daughter of Satan.” She stared after her brother-in-law. “The worst of it is, I've never done one really bad thing in my whole life. I've been slightly wicked from time to time, but that's all.”

Mrs. Dobson stepped into the hallway and let the curtain fall behind her. “What happened? What did he do to you? Your hair is all loose.”

Megan laughed. There was a slightly hysterical edge to the sound. She closed her lips tightly and covered them with her fingertips.

“Oh, Megan.” The older woman moved closer and held out her arms. “Hush, child. You'll be fine.”

Megan let herself be folded into Mrs. Dobson's embrace and pulled against the widow's ample bosom. She started shaking and knew the tears weren't far behind.

“I think he wanted to kiss me,” she said, her voice shaking. “He said he understood that a woman like me has needs. It was awful.”

“I've never liked that man.”

“Me, neither. But he and Colleen are the only family I have. I don't think either of them is ever going to speak to me again.”

Mrs. Dobson patted her back. “That isn't such an awful thing.”

“I know. Except Gene is going to tell the entire town I tempted him. I'll be ruined.” She drew back and looked at the other woman. “I wouldn't mind so much if I'd done something bad. At least then there would be a reason.”

“You've always been a good girl.” Mrs. Dobson smoothed Megan's hair off her face.

Megan squeezed her tight, then stepped back. “Why do I care so much what other people think?”

“Because that's a sensible attitude.”

But was it? Megan wasn't so sure anymore. She was about to get into trouble and Gene was the one who had made advances at her. At his own wife's sister. It was appalling. She could try telling the truth, but who would believe her? Mrs. Dobson did already. Justin would. But what other citizen would take her word over the preacher's? Sunday morning he would call her a sinner before the entire congregation and there was nothing she could do to stop him.

“I'm ruined.”

“Hardly that. You'll put this behind you. In time—”

“No. I don't want to wait. It's not fair. It's never been fair. I'm tired of being judged by other people's standards and rules. I'm tired of being the one who always has to bend.”

“Be careful, Megan. Don't do something you're going to regret. Don't forget that you're the person who has done the most judging. You judge yourself the hardest.”

“You're right. And for what? What insignificant sin have I committed?”

She paced toward the back door, then turned and started the return trip. She stopped suddenly. The plan came to her fully formed. It was impetuous, foolhardy, even. She knew if she didn't do it, she would never forgive herself. She'd promised to shock the town before Sunday. This was the best way she knew how. “Will you keep Bonnie tonight?”

“Of course. Why?” Green eyes narrowed. “What are you planning?”

“To sully my reputation.”

Mrs. Dobson put a restraining hand on Megan's forearm. “Once your good name is lost, you can never get it back.”

“After Sunday I won't have one, anyway. What does it matter?”

The older woman studied her. “I hope you know what you're doing.”

“No, I don't. Probably for the first time in my life.” Megan ducked into her office and came out holding her shawl and reticule. She paused. “I appreciate everything. Don't worry, I'll be fine. I promise.”

Mrs. Dobson nodded. “I'll be home tonight if you need somewhere to go.”

Megan bent down and kissed the old woman's papery cheek. “Thank you for understanding.”

“I was young and impetuous, once.” She smiled, then her mouth straightened. “Be sure, Megan. Very sure.”

“I am. I have to do this. I'm not sure why, or what I'm going to prove, but at least I can say that I've done one impetuous thing in my life without considering the consequences.” She draped her shawl over her shoulders and stepped into the store.

One of the Greeleys' boys was staring longingly at the candy display. His mother kept him on a meager allowance. Megan marched over to him and pulled out a handful of sweets from the closest jar. “Winston, all this candy can be yours if you'll take a message to the sheriff's office for me. Can you do that?”

The boy's eyes widened as he stared at the bounty in her hands. “Yes, ma'am. Right away.”

“Good.” She placed the candy in a paper and twisted it into a cone. Then she quickly wrote a note and folded it twice. “The candy will be here when you get back. Just ask Andrew.”

Winston grabbed the note from her and raced out the door. “I'll be right back.”

“I'm sure you will be.” She smiled, then told Andrew to give him the candy when the boy returned. She asked her assistant to close the store at the regular time, and left quickly, before her courage deserted her.

Forty minutes later, she stared at herself in the glass over her dresser. The Worth gown fit as well as it had when she'd bought it in St. Louis three years before. Unfortunately, the bodice was as low-cut as she remembered. She tugged at it, but it didn't budge. It clung to her breasts, exposing far more than it covered. She tried to convince herself the rosettes cast a shadow that concealed her curves. She turned a little in front of the mirror and knew she exaggerated the truth.

Aside from the shameful bodice, she was pleased with the dress. The creamy silk made her skin glow, and the flounced skirt reduced her waist to nothing. Ribbons and rosettes cascaded down the bustled back, and the pleated underskirt swished as she walked.

There was no time to curl her hair. She pulled out the remaining pins and brushed it smooth. She drew the top half up into a loose bun and pinned it in place. On either side of her ear, she made a braid about an inch thick, then weaved the two braids around the remaining loose hair, drawing it up off her neck into a coiled rope. She twisted the rope, then pinned it under the first bun. Several rosettes had been sewn onto a ribbon. She pinned these around her crown and secured loose ones to various points on her braid.

She stepped back to study the effect. She almost didn't recognize herself. Perhaps it was for the best, she thought, smiling nervously. If she did recognize herself, she might lose courage, and she didn't want that to happen now.

Her finishing touches included a pair of gloves made of the same silk as the dress and embroidered with rose-colored flowers, and a small silk bag. She glanced once more in the mirror, then reached up and pulled at the tiny sleeves that barely rested on her shoulders. At least it was warm outside. If it had been cold, or raining, her entire plan would have been ruined. For once, the weather cooperated.

She made her way down the stairs, then outside toward the path to town. Fear knotted her stomach but she ignored the sensation. She was tired of doing what everyone expected. Of being the fussy old maid. She was determined, for once, to give the good citizens of Landing something to talk about over their evening meal.

J
ustin stared out the hotel's front windows, then glanced back at the note in his hand. Megan had asked him to meet her here. He looked up at the clock above the great stone fireplace. She'd said to be here in an hour. She was ten minutes late.

Something was wrong. He could feel it in his gut. It was the same feeling that had caused him to push Sheriff Williams down suddenly when they'd walked into the bank during a holdup. His fast actions had saved the older man's life. He'd almost taken the bullet instead, but his aim had been better than the robbers. He would gladly do it a hundred times over for his friend. Williams had been the first and so far only person to believe in him.

He reminded himself Megan had believed, but he knew it was only while it had been easy to do so. If things got hard again, she would disappear as quickly as she had before.

So why did she want to meet with him? And why at his hotel? He returned his attention to the window and watched the people along the boardwalk. Her reasons had something to do with what had happened that afternoon. He shook his head, wishing his mother hadn't taught him to respect women. Or that Colleen could spend five minutes in male form. Then he could show her exactly what he thought of her and leave her as broken and bleeding on the outside as she'd left her sister on the inside.

He glanced back at the letter, as if the few scrawled words would give him answers to his questions. Had he said the right things to her at her store? Had he convinced Megan that Colleen was lying about all of it? He wished he was one of those educated men with a couple of ten-dollar words to help her see the truth. He wished a lot of things.

The feeling in his gut got stronger. He looked up through the sparkling clean hotel window. Across the street a woman paused to check for wagons before stepping daintily out onto the road. She had to pick up her skirt to keep it from trailing in the dirt. The train was long, so she was exposing her entire foot and a bit of ankle. Another time he might have enjoyed the unexpected view. Today, he didn't even notice it. He was too busy staring at the woman's face and dress.

“Megan?”

Not only had growing up above the saloon with whores in the neighboring rooms given him an appreciation of fine lingerie, he recognized an expensive gown when he saw one. She would have looked at home at a fancy dress ball somewhere back East. Or maybe even in a French drawing room. But in Landing, Kansas, dressed as she was, she was as foreign as Napoleon brandy.

He wasn't the only one who noticed. Several people stopped and stared as she stepped onto the boardwalk, then paused in front of the hotel. He walked around to the open front door and watched as she nodded graciously.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Jones. Lovely day we're having.”

The other woman spoke, but he couldn't hear what she was saying. Megan's voice, however, rang out clear and strong. “My gown? It's beautiful, don't you think? Yes, all the way from Paris, France. It's a Worth gown. I bought it in St. Louis. If you'll excuse me, I have an appointment to see Sheriff Kincaid. In the hotel... What? Yes, we're meeting in the hotel. Just Sheriff Kincaid and I. Good day.”

She came through the open door, smiling as if she'd just learned a wonderful secret.

“Justin, how good of you to be waiting for me down here. It wasn't necessary, though. I'm sure I could have found my way to your room.”

“I don't know what kind of a game you're playing, but I won't be a part of it. We're not going to my hotel room and that's final.”

“Oh, how disappointing.” She pursed her lips into a pretty pout.

“Megan, what the hell is going on?”

“You haven't said anything about my dress. What do you think?”

She walked in a small circle in front of him, giving him a clear view from all angles. Megan had always been beautiful. Earlier that day he'd been telling the truth when he'd said she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. With her heart-shaped face and large hazel eyes, she could capture any man's attention. Her womanly shape had been tempting him since she'd first started filling out. She was the kind of woman a man dreamed of being with. It didn't matter whether she was dressed in simple, worn calico or stunning silk. At least, that's what he told himself at first.

As Megan continued to turn in front of him, he found his heartbeat increasing and his palms growing damp. He'd never imagined she could be more lovely, but he'd been wrong.

The elegant gown clung to her breasts, leaving most of her cleavage exposed. He swallowed hard. Rose-colored flowers perched in the deep vee, the soft petals providing the only hint of decency. From the top of her intricately done hair, to her silk-covered shoes, she was a female designed to reduce a man to incoherence. He was far from immune.

“I'm trying to decide if your silence is a good one or a bad one.”

He cleared his throat. “You look perfect.”

She arched her delicate eyebrows. “Perfection. That's exactly what I'm trying to leave behind. Still, it will have to do. Perhaps we can work on something else, privately.”

She winked slowly. Suggestively. His blood boiled, coursing through his body, raging through his chest and exploding into his groin. He was hard and hungry in less than a heartbeat.

Who was this woman?

She tossed him a quick smile, then turned toward the front desk. Newt stood there, his mouth hanging open. When her gaze lingered on him, he blushed.

“Hello, Newt,” she said in a sultry whisper.

“Ma'am.” His voice cracked.

“What room is Sheriff Kincaid staying in?”

“Two-twelve. Miss Bonnie's next door in two-eleven.”

“Thank you.” She moved toward the wide curved staircase that circled down to the ground floor.

“Ma'am, Miss Bartlett, you can't go up there.”