Chapter 7 #2
“Tell me, Lord Douglas, had I not proven to be your wife, had my marriage license not been legal, would I have walked freely from this place?”
He arched a brow at her. “Are you asking if I would have raped you? Slain you—scalped you?”
“You ripped my clothes to shreds. Would I have walked out of here naked?”
He merely shrugged. “You’d have walked out dressed as you are now. I’d have seen that you received whatever sum was necessary to replace your clothing and get you home. Generous, had you been an impostor other than a gold digger.”
“Generous!” Skylar exploded. “Well, then, had it been that way, I’d have sued the pants off you. I’d have prosecuted. I’d have taken you to court for kidnapping and rape. I’d have—”
“You did inform me of all the torture you’d have dealt out had you been able. Get your stockings and shoes on. Have coffee if you wish. I’ll saddle Tor and call Wolf.”
He left the cabin. She stood there, shaking, enraged with her own impotence to act against him.
But she couldn’t go back…
She finished dressing, then discovered that the black coffee was delicious, that it raced warmly into her system, and she was grateful for it.
He had cleared the soup dishes from the night before.
She had taken the coffee pot, ready to discard the grounds, when he came back in.
He broke up the fire in the grate. He turned to her. “Ready?”
“I—should I dump these? And the water…in the tub will grow stagnant.”
“Someone will be out to look after it all,” he said briefly. “Let’s go.” He took the coffee pot from her hands, indicating the door. She walked on outside.
A bark greeted her. She jumped back alarmed, but the dog, Wolf, was wagging his tail furiously.
He was huge, half her own size, Skylar thought, and looked as if he could shred her into numerous pieces.
But even as her heart seemed to stop and she hung back, he came close to her, shoving his wet nose against her hand.
“He just wants attention,” Hawk said, coming out and closing the door behind him. He hunkered down on the balls of his feet, petting the dog. “Good boy. Let’s ride, eh? Let’s get Tor.”
Wolf barked and leaped on ahead. Skylar hurried down the steps, realizing the copse where they’d come was very pretty.
High oaks shaded a trail down to a clearing where Tor waited.
Wildflowers grew at the base of the trees.
There were pines as well as the oaks, lending a sweet fragrance to the air and a soft carpeting to the earth.
Skylar reached the horse and came to a halt.
He was saddled and bridled, though she hadn’t seen a saddle on him the other day when she’d first taken a wild ride across his haunches.
She glanced at Hawk, who read her thoughts.
“Stable is right back there,” he said, pointing down a path that led toward the right of the cabin.
She nodded. He leaped up on his horse, reaching a hand down for her.
She hesitated, wondering if she could manage such a leap, but she needn’t have given her own abilities any thought.
He reached down impatiently, grasped her arm, and easily swung her up in front of him.
His horse instantly began a trot that sent her slamming against his chest time and again.
A few moments later, it was worse. They were racing across open plains. The breakneck speed terrified her, while it seemed that Hawk barely held her, barely kept her from flying from the mount. She grasped the horse’s mane, clinging for dear life.
If she died, he’d be free again. The thought was not a comforting one. Yet even as Tor slowed his gait, she felt Hawk’s hand against her waist, the rock wall of his chest behind her. She had been safe the entire time. He didn’t intend to kill her. Not yet, at any rate.
When they reached Riley’s, Riley and Sam were sitting on the long bench in front of the inn and stagecoach stop. Sam, his white whiskers twitching, his face red, rose quickly, coming forward to help Skylar down from Hawk’s horse. “Afternoon, Lady Douglas. I’m glad to see you, I am—”
“You should be!” Skylar told him.
He stood duly chastised as Hawk leaped down to stand behind her. Wolf barked, wagging his tail, and Sam quickly patted him on the head in welcome while addressing Skylar. “Ma’am, I’ve got to admit, none of us here had an idea of who ye might really be—”
“Turns out she is Lady Douglas,” Hawk said.
Sam’s big blue eyes went moon wide. “You were married up with David—”
“No, she’s married up with me,” Hawk informed him. “Seems my father made the arrangements, just forgot to tell me. Sam, did you bring my father in yet?” he asked quietly.
Riley had come by then to stare at him and Skylar.
“Your pa is in the parlor, Hawk. I sent word out to Mayfair. Guess you weren’t there.
I’m expecting someone back with a wagon so your pa can be laid out right at his home.
” He spoke to Hawk. He stared at Skylar, then scratched his head.
“So—you’re married?” he said in astonishment to Hawk.
Hawk tethered Tor in front of the inn. “Seems so. I’m going to see to my father. Have you anything good on the menu today, Riley? I’m starving.”
“Some of the best damned venison you’ll find either side of the hills!” Riley said proudly. “Fresh bread, apple pie—”
“We’ll take the lot,” he said. Without glancing in Skylar’s direction, he walked into the inn.
Sam turned to Skylar then. “Lady Douglas.” He spoke quickly. “I’m rightly sorry, miss, I am. Taking part in—what do you call it—sub-ter-fuge.”
“Downright trickery,” Riley said sadly.
“But you got to forgive us. Hawk didn’t know who you were no how, and it just seemed as if you had to be playing some kind of that trickery on the lot of us. Do you understand?” Sam asked anxiously.
“Do you forgive us?” Riley demanded. “Wait a minute, now, I didn’t really have a part in it—”
“As much as me!” Sam insisted stubbornly.
“Ain’t much company out here,” Riley warned. “What speaks English, anyway. You need to forgive us, really.”
“You were both horrible,” she assured them. “I thought that I was being attacked, that I was going to be murdered.”
“But you’ve had your chance to explain yourself instead!” Riley said happily. He shook his head. “And turns out you two are man and wife. Don’t that just beat all?”
“Oh, it does!” Skylar agreed.
“Rich folks! They wind up married and don’t even know it. I say again, don’t that beat all, Sam? Don’t that just beat all?”
Sam shrugged. “Lady Douglas, you come on in and sit, and we’ll get you some cool water, a cup of coffee, a glass of wine, whatever might warm your toes, eh?”
“Water would be lovely at the moment.”
“Coming right up. Wolf, you go on out to the kitchen. Lem’s in there cooking, and he’ll find a bone for you.”
Wolf barked and ran off, seemingly having understood every word Riley had said to him. Then Skylar was escorted inside by the two graybeards.
A young mixed-race Indian woman worked for Riley.
She had coffee poured when they entered the public room, offering Skylar a cup before she was seated.
Skylar thanked her, recognizing her as the girl who had brought her to her room when she had spent her one night here on her way west before the stagecoach incident.
The girl was very pretty, she realized, and though she had been pleasant enough before, today she seemed to resent Skylar.
Skylar didn’t know why but determined that she would ignore the girl’s coldness.
Riley asked the girl to bring Skylar water as well as the coffee.
The girl did as bidden but left them as quickly as possible.
“Been to Mayfair yet, Lady Douglas?” Riley asked.
“Into Gold Town?” Sam queried before she could answer the first.
She shook her head. “I’ve not seen much yet.”
“They’re newlyweds of a sort, Sam,” Riley advised sagely.
“Well, you’d think he’d take her on to Mayfair,” Sam said with a humph. “It’s a fine house, a very fine house. You’ll be pleased as punch when you see it.”
“I’m sure,” Skylar murmured. She sipped her coffee but then rose. “Where is the parlor, gentlemen?”
Sam indicated a hallway. She thanked him and walked along it until she entered a room somewhat smaller than the public room but more tastefully furnished.
In the center of it, set upon a long table, was the coffin she’d purchased for David Douglas in Baltimore.
It was fine wood, handsomely carved, cushioned inside with red velvet.
She could see that because the man standing in front of it had thrown aside the top, heedless of the fact that the man inside had been dead many days now.
Thank God the weather had been cool. Still, the scent of death permeated the parlor.
As Skylar paused, wondering if she could take another step forward without being sick, she saw Riley’s Indian girl approach Hawk from another doorway.
The girl easily slipped an arm around his waist, said something softly about the corpse, and leaned her head against Hawk’s arm.
Hawk made no protest, replying to the girl in an Indian tongue.
Skylar straightened her spine and turned quickly to return to the public room. She paused again because another man had come into the inn, one she recognized.
Like Hawk, he was dressed today in a cloth shirt and trousers.
He had long, ink-black hair, worn straight down his back, a darkly bronzed face, and strong, handsome features.
He appeared to be civilized, but she knew he had been one of the three Indians who had accompanied Hawk the other day, shrieking out their bloody war cries.
She stared at him, and he returned her gaze but said nothing to her.
She wondered if he spoke English, but then she heard Hawk’s voice, uncomfortably close behind her.
“Willow. You’ve brought the wagon in?”
He nodded gravely, still staring at Skylar. He arched a brow at Hawk.
“Seems she is Lady Douglas.”
“Oh?”
“My wife.”