Heart of Mine (Bandit Creek) (2 page)

"Don't think I'm not wise to you. My uncle is barely cold in the ground and already you're sniffing around trying to get your fingers into my share of his mine holdings. Well, you've barked up the wrong tree this time. I've watched you swindle folks around here, but you won't get around me. You're not getting your shiftless hands anywhere near my money."

Hugh pointed a finger Laura's way. "You bedded my daughter! You ruined her chance of ever getting married to a respectable man. You won't get away with that, not as I live and breathe."

Jake took a step toward him. "Don't tempt me," he growled.

Undaunted, Hugh tugged at the hem of his jacket, ran a hand over his hair. "Fine. Then you've left me no choice but to tell Sheriff Wilson that you raped my daughter. I believe it'll be the noose for you."

Jake whipped around, met Laura's eye. The color drained from his face. Mercy, she'd never thought it would come to this, but from Jake's perspective it could very well look as though she was afraid of him. As though he'd hurt her. He'd seen her tear when he'd awakened. She'd been cowering in the blankets ever since.

She couldn't have him believe that. Not when the only time he'd touched her was to wipe the tear off her cheek. She opened her mouth but her father spoke first.

"Well, since you refuse to answer, I'll head to the sheriff's office now." He spun on the heel of his well-polished boot.

"Wait." Jake's voice was as rigid as his shoulders. His chest rose and fell with his breathing. His hands fisted at his sides. "Since
I
am a man of honor, I'll marry Laura, but," he emphasized, and this time he did close the distance that remained between him and her father. "I will also be seeing my attorney regarding my will. If
anything
suspicious should happen to me, all my money and properties will go to my nieces and nephews in Missoula." His smile never reached his eyes. "In case you had another scheme cooking."

"Jake, I'd never hurt you!" Laura exclaimed. His scathing glare told her he didn't believe it.

"You can't let my daughter live in poverty!" Hugh argued.

"Why not? You have," Jake answered.

Shame was an uncomfortable cloak and it fell heavily on Laura's shoulders.

"You've no need to worry for Laura, however. While I'm alive your daughter will be looked after. You, however, are never to step foot in my home again," Jake said before her father could argue further. "Now, you've accomplished what you set out to do. Since you found your way to my room so easily I assume you can find your way out in the same manner."

Jake crossed his arms over his chest. Furious or not, he was beautiful. While the sunlight underscored her father's faults, it did the opposite for Jake. It cast a glow on Jake's skin, called attention to his narrow hips and broad chest. Morning stubble darkened his cheeks and jaw, but it only added to his ruggedness.

"There is one other matter," her father drawled, a smug grin curving his lips. "I've arranged for the preacher to perform the ceremony this afternoon. Since my darling daughter didn't come home last night, I had things arranged before I came over."

"Of course you did," Jake answered.

"I'll meet you two at the church in an hour." Hugh's merciless gaze locked onto his daughter and the warning in them was as clear as in his words. "Don't do anything else to disappoint me, Laura." Then, whistling a lively tune, he turned and left Laura and her future husband alone.

Still clamping the sheet underneath her chin, Laura waited. She couldn't move, not with Jake standing right there and her naked as the day she was born. But he didn't seem in a hurry to leave either. After an interminable silence, his arms fell to his sides.

"Until today I never would have put you in the same category as your father. I've seen you about town; I know how hard you work. I thought it was to prove you weren't like him." He shook his head. "You had me fooled," he sneered.

He stopped in the doorway, his back to her. Speaking over his shoulder he added, "Get your clothes on. We can't be late for our own wedding."

He didn't slam the door, but he may as well have because the sound of him leaving, the finality as the door clicked shut, reverberated loudly in her head. Sliding down onto the bed, Laura balled the covers and pressed them to her lips. Her father's plan had worked. Jake had been tricked into thinking he'd bedded her and because of that she'd soon be his wife. It solved one of Laura's problems; she'd be out of her father's house. She didn't fool herself into thinking she'd be out from under his control.

Nothing would keep Hugh from coming after Jake's money and, in turn, coming after her. Laura had known that when she'd been strong-armed to agree to her father's plan, but she'd chosen her fate regardless. Her father thought it was the threat of selling her to that filthy miner that had made her yield to his demand. There was little doubt that had played into Laura's considerations, but the prospect of being married to Jake had carried the most weight.

And the hope that one day, if she worked hard enough and poured herself into making him happy, he would grow to love her back.

Downstairs the door closed as Jake went outside, reminding Laura she needed to hurry. She threw off the covers and hurriedly dressed in yesterday's clothes. Buttoning her shirtwaist, Laura faltered. It was her wedding day, and what did she have to show for it? Yesterday's worn clothes, a man who'd been blackmailed into marrying her and a father who wasn't giving away his only daughter, he was selling her.

Loneliness and misery fisted into a hard knot in her chest. Laura breathed deeply until the pain subsided, then she bucked herself up. Laura Gibbs was a fighter.

Besides, however bleak her future may look, it was still a step up from her past.

***

How in God's name had this happened? Jake braced his forearms on the corral rail, looked out past his small herd of Palomino horses to the snowy mountains beyond. He'd been so careful, so damn careful. Since childhood, when he'd first overheard a group of his so-called friends talking about how they only spent time in Jake's company for the candy sticks he bought them, he'd been suspicious of people using him for his family's money.

He'd put those suspicions aside when he'd fallen in love for the first and only time. Surely, the woman who claimed to love him wouldn't use him. He'd been proven wrong in the worst possible way. He'd overheard his fiancée scheming about ways to get his money, plotting against him while wrapped in the arms of another man.

From then on, Jake had closed himself off. He had business acquaintances and family. Nobody in between. Animals, he'd decided as his favorite mare came plodding through the spring muck for a pat, were the only ones that didn't want anything from him. Which was why he'd built his house far enough from town to avoid people, and why he'd surrounded himself with animals. Besides horses, he had chickens, a dozen cows, and enough barn cats to keep the mice under control.

Behind him the house door opened and closed. Jake hung his head and took a deep breath. His bride was ready.

Mid-April mornings in Montana weren't warm. Though the sky was blue and endless, the air was crisp. Seeing Laura on his porch, wearing a threadbare coat and old, worn boots had him gritting his teeth. He'd seen with his own eyes, her working at least two different jobs in town. She should be able to buy herself decent clothes. But then, why would she need to when she planned on using his money to do so?

Anger percolating, Jake crossed the yard.

Still as the mountains that surrounded them, Laura watched him approach. She'd tidied her mass of auburn hair into a long braid down her back. She seemed a little pale to Jake, and as he closed the distance between them he noticed that her gaze wasn't nearly as stoic as the rest of her. It swirled with guilt, trepidation and, damn it, fear. She had pushed her way into this, why in hell would she be scared now when she was getting what she'd sought? Marriage to a wealthy man.

He pointed to the buckboard he'd hitched while he'd given her the time to wash and dress. Bitterness crept into his voice when he said, "Let's get this charade over with."

Laura worried her lip with her teeth. "Jake--"

"One confrontation with your father is more than enough. It's been almost an hour, let's go, before he gathers a posse and hunts me down."

Despite his feelings, Jake offered her a hand into the buckboard. As she rearranged her skirts, he took his seat beside her on the bench, grabbed the reins as if they could somehow get him out of this mess.

He was marrying Laura to avoid the noose, but as they drove the short distance toward Bandit Creek, Jake swore he felt the rope tighten around his neck anyway.

***

Jake couldn't put it off any longer. After the farce of his wedding, he'd avoided the house and instead busied himself outside tending his animals and doing chores. He'd been caught, quite literally, with his pants down. No matter how much he racked his brain to remember, no details of his night with Laura came to mind. And now she was his wife. What the devil was he supposed to do about her? He couldn't very well sidestep her forever. Neither could he imagine having polite conversations with her as though he hadn't been deceived into marriage.

And he sure as hell wasn't going to march into the house and demand his marital rights. Not after seeing the fear in her eyes that morning. He had no idea if he'd raped her or not. He'd never abused a woman in his life and couldn't imagine he'd have started now, but he knew she'd been frightened. Which meant, regardless of the specifics, she hadn't enjoyed their coupling.

Besides her fear, however, was the fact that he didn't like her. He'd never bedded a woman he hadn't, at the very least, been attracted to before. It took more than a warm body to get Jake interested.

"Or so I thought," he muttered into the night as he realized he'd done just that with Laura.

Dusk was settling in and still he had no answers. But answers or not, he couldn't delay the inevitable any longer. Five years ago, he'd built an expansive log house, not because he saw himself needing the rooms for his future children, but because he loved big spaces and he'd have felt trapped in a small one-room abode. His residence was open, with thick-notched logs overhead and plenty of windows to let in the daylight. Normally, stepping into his home filled him with comfort, a sense of belonging, a sense of peace.

He felt none of those things when he stepped into the covered back porch. With a clear opening to the kitchen, he clapped eyes on Laura. It was as though something whooshed through the room and took all the air along with it.

She stood by his stove, a flush to her ivory skin. With a strike of heat to his loins he remembered how soft her skin had been that morning when he'd swung a leg over hers, when his fingers had found flesh. She wore the same yellow blouse and brown skirt she'd worn to town, her hair remained tied at her back. For a brief moment, he saw it spilled across his pillow, pictured her wearing nothing but a sheet.

He jerked. What the devil was he doing? He'd lived in the same town as Laura for years, had watched her grow up, for Pete's sake. Though only a few years separated them, he'd never entertained such thoughts about her.

"I wasn't sure what time you'd be in, but I kept supper warm." She gestured to the stove where the smell of beef and onions originated, but his gaze was on the table.

Two place settings. A lantern flickering. It looked inviting, as did the delicious scent that reminded him of two things: he hadn't eaten all day and he couldn't remember the last time he'd had a home-cooked meal he hadn't had to make himself.
Damn, he could get used to this.

The thought came unbidden and left him shaking his head. First he'd imagined her naked, and now he was thinking how nice it was to have her cook a meal for him? He'd been blackmailed into this marriage and he'd be wise to remember that.

"Next time, don’t wait on me," he grumbled, disconcerted by his reaction to her.

Her eyes latched onto his and he swore he heard the crack of a bullwhip.

"I don't like eating alone, if it's all the same to you. Now, if you want to wash, I've got some water warming for you."

With a towel, she lifted the kettle off the stove and stepped into the porch. She poured the heated water into the washbasin he kept on a long shelf by the back door. He noticed the towel next to it was neatly folded and the mirror hanging over the basin was free of smudges and spots. Yes, indeed, he could get used to this. Which meant he needed to keep his guard up. He didn't trust her. She had to be up to something, because he didn't believe for one moment that her only goal was to tend to him.

After he'd washed, he took his seat at the table where he was promptly served a hearty meal of fried beef and potatoes, onions, carrots and corn biscuits. Laura sat across from him and they ate in silence. Wood in the stove shifted and hissed. She was up to add more before he could push away from the table. When he was done eating, she exchanged his empty plate for a smaller one filled with a large slab of spice cake. His coffee was poured, hot and fresh.

The more she waited on him, the more it grated. She and her father had forced him into a marriage he hadn't wanted. He wouldn't be swayed from that reality by a little doting on her part.

He grabbed her wrist when she moved to take away his dessert plate.