Donovan's Bed: The Calhoun Sisters, Book 1 (30 page)

“My pleasure.”

Then she was gone.

The emptiness crashed down on him as he looked around the bedroom, now absent of her presence. The enormous bed, covered with Sarah’s wedding ring quilt from her hope chest, loomed like a mockery of his dreams. Once he had thought to found his dynasty in that bed.
 

But now all he wanted was Sarah.

He walked to the trunk and knelt before it. Slowly he undid each brass fastening, then lifted the lid and pulled out the lace nightdress he had bought for his wife. He closed the trunk again and locked it up tight. Then he sat on his magnificent bed, the fragile silk and lace clenched in his fingers, deploring the past he could not change.

And grieving for the future that might never be.

Chapter Eighteen

The Fourth of July marked three weeks since Sarah’s wedding to Jack Donovan, and one week since she had left him.
 

The air was full of laughter as everyone prepared to ride out to the town holiday picnic at Miller’s Pond. Sarah had resisted all appeals from her mother and sister to attend. There was no way she could stand to spend the day where she and Jack had first made love. The memories would be too painful.
 

So she busied herself with the paper, and when she ran out of articles to write and type to set, she started cleaning out the back closet.
 

Anything to avoid remembering.
 

The gossips were having a wonderful time, of course. The rumor mill had been running continuously since the word spread that there had been a split between the newlyweds. The Tremont sisters had been in twice during the week, and Mrs. Castor was a daily visitor. But Sarah was numb to it all. She wanted things to go back to the way they had been before Marshal Brown had stopped by. Back to when she had been a deliriously happy bride who was thoroughly in love with her new husband.
 

She still loved him.
 

She looked at the pile of junk she had pulled from the closet and wondered what had possessed her father to keep such things. Old clothes from when he used to stay overnight at the newspaper; blankets and tarps; a broken broom and a wooden crate filled with mismatched and defective type. She would have a lot more storage space once she discarded most of the stuff.
 

The door to the office opened, and she looked up, swiping her sleeve across her perspiring forehead. Then she slowly lowered her arm.
 

“Afternoon, Sarah.”

“Hello, Jack.” He looked wonderful. He was dressed in his black Sunday suit, his hair slicked back except for the cowlick that resisted all attempts to tame it. The stubborn lock of hair fell over one temple, giving him the look of a mischievous boy.
 

But it was no boy who watched her with barely leashed hunger burning in his velvet-brown eyes.
 

“You coming to the picnic?” he asked, breaking the silence.
 

“No.” She shook her head. “No, I can’t.”

“Come on, Sarah,” he coaxed, stepping around her desk. “It’s a holiday. Can’t we spend it together?”

“Jack, this isn’t going to work.”

“What isn’t?” He kept approaching, and she kept retreating until he had backed her up against the wall.
 

“Nothing has changed,” she insisted, breathlessly aware of his nearness. “There’s no use in trying to pretend that everything is all right.”
 

“I know everything’s not all right.” He reached out and stroked his thumb along her jaw. “I miss you, sassy girl.”

Her flesh tingled in reaction to his touch. “I miss you too, Jack,” she whispered. “But nothing has changed.”

“Let’s see.” He lowered his head, his gaze on hers as if waiting for her to refuse him. But she couldn’t. Her eyes slid closed as his warm mouth covered hers, and she reached up to cling to his arms with shaking hands.
 

No, nothing had changed, she thought as the power of his kiss swept through her. She still loved him, and he could still reduce her willpower to ashes with one heated touch. But he was also still the man who had once been Blade, and she still didn’t know if she could live as his wife.
 

Torn between confusion and desire, she reluctantly broke the kiss.
 

Donovan stepped back. “Nothing’s going to change as long as you hole up here instead of coming home with me,” he coaxed. “Come on, Sarah. Let’s work this out.”

“Don’t you see that I
can’t
?” she cried. She was so tempted to step back into his arms and pretend that it would all go away. But if she didn’t make the right decision now, she would regret it for the rest of her life. “I can’t come home with you until I figure this out on my own. And I’m trying, Jack.”
 

His face grew impassive. “You were afraid to marry me to begin with,” he said flatly. “Maybe this just gave you an excuse to run.”

“And maybe being a bounty hunter just gave you an excuse to kill!” she lashed out.
 

Silence stretched between them.

“You just can’t get past that, can you?” he said finally.
 

“I’m trying, Jack. I really am.” She took a deep breath. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

He gave her a chilling smile. “You don’t really want to hear, do you, sweetheart? All the men I’ve killed?”

She lifted her chin and tried to see past the predator to the man she loved. “Maybe I’d better. I know you, Jack—or I thought I did. You didn’t seem the type of man to kill easily.”
 

“Killing is never easy.”
 

“For some men it is.”
 

“Not for me. I only killed as a last resort—only when there was no other option. You want examples, I’ll give you one.
 

“On my last job there was a fellow who liked fire. Or should I say, he liked to burn down houses, with the people still in them. That was after he robbed them and tied them up so they couldn’t escape.”
 

“Jack, you don’t have to—”

“The last house he burned down belonged to a widow and her three little girls. One of the girls managed to escape, but she had to sit and listen to the screams of her mama and sisters as they burned to death.”
 

“Oh, my God.” Sarah raised a hand to her mouth, horrified.
 

“But she’d seen the fellow, you see. And she pointed him out to the sheriff. Turns out he was a peddler who’d just been passing through. That little girl’s testimony made certain he was convicted.”

“What a horrible story.”

“I’m not done yet. This fellow burned down the jail and got away. Then he grabbed the little girl for a hostage and ran for the hills. That was when they called me.” His voice roughened. “Blade isn’t the kind of man most people feel comfortable around, but they sure are glad to see him when they need him. I tracked that bastard into the hills and cornered him in a canyon. He shot my horse out from under me, but I kept coming. I could hear that little girl crying, and I was determined to get to her.”
 

He paused and took a deep breath. Sarah stepped forward and placed her hand on his arm, massaging the rigid muscle beneath her fingers. “Jack, you don’t need to finish this.”
 

He sent her a searing look of torment. “You wanted the truth, Sarah, and I’m giving it to you. This fellow finally realized that I wasn’t going to leave without him, so he decided to make a break for it. But first he needed me to be distracted. So he set the little girl on fire.”
 

“Dear heaven!”

“Heaven had nothing to do with it,” he said bleakly. “I got to her as fast as I could and managed to put the flames out, but most of her body was burned. She was sobbing from the pain and calling for her mama, and though I tried to be so careful while I carried her, every time I touched her, it hurt.

“Anyhow, I guess that bastard figured he was going to shoot me in the back, because he came up behind me. I had my arms full of this little girl, so I took the only choice I had. I flipped her over my shoulder, knowing I was hurting her by doing it, and I threw a knife at him—got him through the heart. Then I left him there for the wolves and brought the girl to the doctor as fast as I could.”

“Dear God, Jack. What happened to the little girl?”

“She lived, but she’ll be disfigured for the rest of her life.” He lifted his anguished gaze to hers. “Should I have dropped that little girl so I could wrestle hand to hand with that son of a bitch and bring him back alive? Or maybe just let him get away to do it all over again to another child? Sometimes I’ve
had
to kill, sassy girl—and each time took a piece of my soul. I had to leave it all behind before I lost myself completely.”
 

“Oh, Jack.” Giving in to impulse, she hugged him fiercely. “I’m so sorry for you. It’s amazing you can still feel anything for anyone.”

His arms tightened around her. “Can you forgive me for not telling you, sweetheart? The past fifteen years have been full of violence and death and the terrible things people do to each other. And that’s why I don’t like to talk about it.”
 

“I can understand that, Jack. But I still need time.” She pulled out of his embrace. “What if someone from your past finds out where you are and comes after you? I’ve heard of gunslingers who want to make a name for themselves by killing famous men. What if someone like that comes out to the ranch one day and starts shooting? What if we have a little girl of our own someday who might get caught in the crossfire? I need to be certain I can live with the risks if we’re going to make this work.”

“I’ve done everything I can to be sure that something like that doesn’t happen, Sarah. Blade disappeared, and I plan on him staying gone.”
 

“The marshal knew you,” she pointed out. “It only took a little time for him to connect the face with the name.”
 

“No one can predict the future, sweetheart. You’re thinking of throwing our marriage away on a bunch of what-ifs.” He leaned closer to her, his expression fierce. “Well, here’s a what-if for you.
What if
nothing happens, and you and I miss out on fifty years of love and happiness? Consider that while you’re doing all your thinking, Sarah.”
 

He spun on his heel and headed for the door.

“Jack!” He stopped and looked at her, his expression distant. “I love you, Jack. Whatever happens, please believe that.”
 

He gave her a bitter smile. “Oh, I believe that you love me. You just don’t have enough faith in either of us. And with all that I’ve seen in my life and all the mistakes I’ve made, at least I’ve never lost faith.”

Then he left, closing the door behind him, leaving Sarah alone with her pile of old junk and memories.

Her next visitor was not so polite.
 

Susannah burst into the office at about nine o’clock that night, looking bright and pretty in her leaf-green dress with the satin bows. She gripped her matching parasol like a sword and stormed into the spare room that Sarah now called home.
 

“Sarah Ann Calhoun, I can’t believe what you are putting that poor man through!”

Seated in an old rocking chair, Sarah looked up from the book she was reading. “My name is Sarah Donovan now.”
 

“Well, I’m glad to see that you remember you’re married! You’re certainly not acting like it.”
 

Sarah sighed and closed the book. “Suzie, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“All I know is that your husband is miserable. You should have seen him at the picnic, Sarah. He barely said two words to anyone—though he did talk to that rude Marshal Brown for a while,” she added, crinkling her nose in distaste.

“He talked to Marshal Brown? Did he seem angry?”

“No, they actually seemed to be getting along,” Suzie replied. “I can’t understand it, myself.”

“Good.” Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. A few words with Jedidiah had confirmed that his discovery about Jack had been purely accidental. And he hadn’t compounded the problem by sharing the true story with Susannah.
 

“But Sarah, you had better start thinking about your marriage. The vultures are already circling.”

“Vultures?”

“There are a number of women in this town who would love to ‘comfort’ your husband.”

Sarah rose from the chair, closing the book and laying it on the padded cushion. Folding her arms around her as if to ward off the cold, she turned toward the cot that served as her bed these days. “It’s up to Jack if he wants comforting,” she said quietly.

“Sarah, I cannot believe you just said that!” Susannah exclaimed. “If it were up to me, I’d—”

“Well, it’s not up to you,” Sarah snapped. “This is between me and Jack. I asked him for time, but if he decides that this marriage is over, then maybe it’s for the best.”

“You can’t just give up!”

“Suzie, you don’t understand.”