The Lawman Claims His Bride (Love Inspired Historical) (18 page)

“He would heartily agree.” Grinning at her, Logan reached out, then quickly pulled his hand back and crossed his arms over his chest. “I have to check on the fencing in the north range. Want to come with me? We can bring a picnic lunch with us.”

Yes,
she wanted to shout. But before answering, she angled her head and tried to decipher her husband’s strange expression. There was something in his gaze, something not at all gentlemanly and yet altogether thrilling. He blinked and the moment was gone.

Glory.

“I think a picnic is a grand idea,” she said. No longer worried that she hadn’t come up with a plan to convince her husband she was well enough to receive his attentions, she smiled broadly.

She had Logan all to herself. For the rest of the afternoon. With no possibility of interruption. As far as she was concerned, she owed her father-in-law a debt of gratitude.

Megan reached out to Logan. This time there was no hesitation in him. He took her hand and placed a light kiss on her knuckles.

That one, sweet, oh-so-familiar gesture coupled with the soft look in his eyes was all Megan needed to bolster her confidence even more. One way or another, she would not return to this house as Logan’s wife in name only.

Chapter Eighteen

L
ogan helped Megan into the wagon they’d brought with them from Denver. Every decent thought he’d had on the way back to the ranch house, every noble intention he’d tried to cling to since arriving home disappeared the moment he touched Megan’s hand.

Keeping his distance was going to prove impossible. Sleeping on the floor last night had worked well enough, but Logan wasn’t sure how he was going to remain a gentleman when he and Megan were all alone, miles away from prying eyes. She was his wife. He wanted to love her, to—

An image of her in the jail cell insinuated itself into his thoughts. The memory of how fragile she’d looked, how wounded, cooled any desirous thoughts he might have had.

He couldn’t be the source of any more pain in her life. He had to keep his hands to himself.

His father’s suggestion to take his bride on a picnic had seemed innocent enough at the time. It was broad daylight, after all.

As if that mattered.

Cyrus Mitchell had known exactly what he was doing. The old man had some serious answering to do.

Trying not to frown, Logan joined his wife on the wagon’s seat. Her beauty stole his breath away. Before he picked up the reins he gave in to temptation and closed his hand over hers. His thumb absently stroked the smooth skin of her palm.

Her eyes fluttered shut and she sighed. Something intense, almost dark ran though him at the happy sound.

He brought her knuckles toward his lips but stopped midway when he caught sight of her blackened fingertips smudged with charcoal. Was his plan working? Was she getting closer to discovering the identity of Kincaid’s killer through her drawing?

“You’ve been busy this morning.”

She grimaced. “I’ve attempted a few drawings.”

Everything in him froze at the dejected angle of her shoulders. “Attempted? Does that mean you haven’t completed a drawing yet?”

“Not one.” Her tone told him how frustrated she was.

“Do you have your sketch pad with you now?”

She nodded.

“Maybe something will capture your imagination out on the range.”

She made a noncommittal sound in her throat. He could tell the subject upset her so he let it drop and steered the wagon toward the north range.

Megan, for her part, studied the passing scenery in silence. A band of thunderclouds rumbled in the distance, but they would probably stall over the mountain peaks as they usually did this time of year.

Just in case, Logan redirected the wagon, turning the horse in the direction of the small guest cabin built for shelter during storms or other mishaps. He watched to see if Megan noticed the thunderheads in the sky.

As if sensing his eyes on her, she turned in his direction. She looked at him as though she had something important on her mind but wasn’t sure how to say it. “Will you tell me about your brother?” she asked.

Everything in him froze and his skin turned ice-cold. “Which one?”

“The one nobody ever mentions.”

He went numb at the question, but his shock was tempered with a strong desire to share his burden with the one person he trusted the most in the world. How could he expect her to trust him if he didn’t trust her?

Drawing in a slow breath, he fixed a blank expression on his face. “How much do you know about him already?”

“Not much. I know he’s not dead, but something bad happened, something that upsets your parents greatly.”

Logan nodded. “He’s an outlaw, Megan. A gunslinger.”

“How can that be, when your family follows the Lord so faithfully?” Her brows pulled together. “There’s certainly no lack of love in your household. Your younger brothers are a bit unruly. But they’re full of mischief, not evil.”

Logan wasn’t surprised Megan was confused. Hunter had confused all of them through the years. “Maybe something inherent in Hunter made him go bad.” Logan allowed his mind to drift back in time, to the days when he and Hunter were boys. “There were signs of his lack of conscience even back then.”

“Signs?”

“He bored easily. When Hunter grew bored he took mischief to a whole new level. Often at the expense of others, never considering the consequences.” Logan swallowed. His voice became a strangled whisper as he told her about the time Hunter had thrown a rock at Callie’s head. “She was only five at the time.”

“Oh, dear.”

“When he was told to apologize, he claimed it was an accident and thus there was no need for an apology. Maybe that sort of lack of conscience was in his blood all along. Maybe bad blood runs in all of us, but only Hunter tapped into it.”

“I don’t believe bad blood runs in families.” Megan’s soft hand closed over his arm. “If that were true, I would have followed in my mother’s footsteps long ago.”

He turned to look at her. He
needed
to look at her. Their gazes locked, held. A thousand words passed between them without a sound. “Your situation is different,” he said at last.

“How?”

He broke eye contact and focused on steering the wagon over a rocky ridge. “It just is.”

“Logan, my mother chose her lifestyle because that’s the one she wanted.” Megan adopted a breezy tone, as if to deflect the seriousness of the situation. “She surrounded herself with others who chose similar lifestyles. I suppose it was easier for her that way. She needed to be among people living the same way she did.”

“Bad company corrupts good character, is that what you’re saying?”

“I suppose so. But it can go both ways. All of us want to be around people who think and act like we do. Outlaws surround themselves with outlaws. Christians surround themselves with Christians. It’s hard to step away from that.” She looked out over the scenery once more, deep in thought. “I know I’m that way. There were times when I had to force myself to walk into Mattie’s and read to the women who choose to live so differently from me.”

Logan wasn’t sure what he heard in her voice? Sorrow? Guilt? “Do you ever regret going into Mattie’s?”

She didn’t answer right away, but continued looking out over the land. “I don’t know. I’d like to say no, I don’t regret offering what comfort I can to someone in need. I’d like to say serving fulfills me, and despite what happened to me that night I’d still go back. But I just don’t know.”

Logan wanted to tell her he didn’t want her to walk into Mattie’s ever again, but he wasn’t sure that was right thinking. Maybe serving the Lord wasn’t supposed to be easy or comfortable or safe. Maybe serving the Lord was messy and dangerous because
life
was messy and dangerous.

When Logan shared his thoughts aloud, Megan didn’t argue but turned quiet, thoughtful. “I think you might be right. I can’t allow one incident to scare me off.”

“No, you can’t.” He reached over and patted her hand. “That would go against the Megan I know.”

She pulled her hand away and shook her head fiercely, as if trying to rid her mind of the disturbing thoughts their conversation had stirred up.

“When did your brother leave home?” she asked. “Was it right after he hit your sister with the rock?”

The quick change of subject took Logan off guard, but only for a moment. “No, but not long after that. It’s been ten years since he left. He and I had a fight.” Logan instinctively battled against the memory but it came anyway. “I don’t remember what we argued about, probably something insignificant. But Hunter’s anger had a different feel to it that night. Fists flew. Hard words were exchanged. The next morning he was gone.” Logan pulled the wagon to a halt fifty yards shy of the cabin. He hadn’t realized they’d covered so much ground. “He never returned.”

“Was that the last time you ever saw him?”

“No.” Logan stared straight ahead, remembering the last time he’d seen Hunter had been right before he’d become a deputy marshal. “Our paths crossed about a year later. Not that Hunter would remember. He was passed out drunk in a brothel.”

“Glory.” It wasn’t shock Logan heard in Megan’s voice, but compassion. “Did you try to sober him up? See what had gone so wrong to send him into such a state?”

Shamed by her questions, Logan lowered his head and fiddled with the reins still in his hands. “I left him there to rot in his own sin.”

The words came out harsh and surprisingly regretful.

Looking back, Logan realized how selfish and self-righteous his response had been. He should have tried harder to reach out to Hunter. At the time Logan had been too angry, too humiliated that his own brother had sunk so low. A part of him had also been afraid he’d end up like his brother if he got too close.

“I failed him.” He knew that now, accepted it.

“Oh, Logan.” Megan’s voice held nothing but understanding. “You were so young.”

Yes, he’d been young, not yet twenty, but did that absolve him? Hunter was his brother. He’d abandoned the man without a single thought. As he’d just told Megan, life was messy. People were messy. And family was often the messiest of them all.

“I left home soon after that night,” he said. “I needed to leave, needed to work out my own convictions in my own way.”

A clap of thunder shook the air. Logan looked to the sky, glad for the distraction sweeping in overhead. He’d miscalculated the clouds. They were upon them. “Rain’s coming in fast.”

With a tender smile, she reached up and smoothed her fingers across his forehead. “Then we better find shelter fast.”

Her touch raised a powerful reaction in him. Hunter was no longer foremost in Logan’s mind. A wistful longing for his wife pulsed through him. “Follow me.” He helped her out of the wagon. “The cabin’s just over there.”

* * *

The first raindrop plopped at Megan’s feet. A crack of thunder soon followed. Three more drops landed in succession on her nose and then the clouds let loose. The scent of rain carried a strong hint of grass and earth.

“Hurry, Megan.” Logan hugged her to him, taking the weight off her ankle.

Two more steps and he scooped her into his arms. They were soaked to the bone after three more steps. Megan could feel the tension in Logan. Speaking of his brother had left him sad.

Hustling inside the cabin, Logan shut the door behind them with the heel of his boot.

He set her feet on the ground then stepped back.

Megan wrapped her arms around her middle and blinked into the dark. The smell of ash from a recently extinguished fire hit her first, before her eyes had a chance to adjust.

“Wait here.” Logan swerved past her. He made quick work of lighting a lantern then turned his attention to the fireplace. Checking the pile of wood next to the hearth, he nodded in satisfaction.

“I’ll get a fire started right away. But first...” He pulled a blanket off the sofa and wrapped it around her shoulders.

She tried not to shiver from his touch.

Looking distracted, he dropped an impersonal kiss on her cheek then crossed to the fireplace again.

While Logan built a fire, Megan moved deeper into the cabin. The room was a nice size, not too small, not too large. The furniture was large and bulky with lots of blankets thrown over the edges. The rugs looked well-worn, the colors a nice blend of browns and deep blues.

“What is this cabin used for?”

“We originally built it in case we ever got stuck out on the range during the spring roundup,” he said over his shoulder. “There’s another one in the south pastures. We only use the cabins if the weather isn’t suited for sleeping outside.”

“Has someone stayed here lately?”

“Possibly.” He rose, stared into the small fire cracking to life then turned and grabbed another blanket. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know.” She looked around, took note of the way the furniture had been moved to face the fireplace and how the stove looked recently clean yet the smell of food lingered in the air. “It feels...” She searched for the right words. “This cabin feels lived-in.”

Logan circled his gaze around the room. “Could have been one of the ranch hands out mending fences.” His eyes narrowed. “Or a squatter.”

A squatter?

As though sensing her alarm, Logan wrapped the additional blanket around her shoulders. “Don’t worry, sweetheart.”

She shivered anyway.

“No one will harm you here,” he said. “You’re safe with me. We’re completely alone.”

Oh, yes, they
were
alone, with nothing but the rain to keep them company. No longer concerned with squatters, a plan formed in her mind, one that involved a little action on her part.

Could she be so bold?

Megan trembled at the possibilities.

Misunderstanding her reaction, Logan stepped away from her. “You’re cold. We need to get you out of those wet clothes.”

Ah, the perfect opening. “Or maybe—” she closed the distance between them again “—we should both get out of our wet clothes.”

* * *

Before Logan could respond she laced her fingers behind his head and urged his lips toward her. He remained perfectly still, praying for strength, but then Megan pressed her mouth harder against his.

Something in him broke.

He gripped her shoulders, deepened the kiss, then tore his mouth away and set her out of his reach.

“Logan,” she whispered.

“It’s hot in here.” He looked desperately around him, pulled on his collar, ran his hand through his hair. “Really, really hot.”

“Logan? Have I done something wrong?”

“No. I’ll be back.”

“Where are you going?”

“Out...uh, outside.”

“But it’s raining.”

Yes, it was. Logan looked everywhere but at his wife. If he looked at her, if he stayed in this cabin one more minute, he was going to do something both of them would regret. Megan more than him.

He headed for the door. “I’ll be back,” he repeated.

“Logan, please.” Her voice shook. “Don’t leave like this.”

“I have to.” He couldn’t hold on to his control much longer. He needed air. He needed distance.

He needed to keep his back to her as long as possible. No eye contact.

“Is it me? Do you not find me pretty?”

He heard the hurt in her voice and it nearly broke his heart. “I think you’re beautiful.”