No Other Man (8 page)

"You
are an incredibly self-righteous and arrogant ass!" she hissed. "I
didn't attempt to do anything to anyone. I agreed to the marriage—"

"You
didn't come to acquire Mayfair? To take over the mines? I see—you agreed to the
marriage because you were in love with Lord Douglas?" he demanded
skeptically.

"Damn you! I cared foi
¹
him!" she cried.

"Umm.
For all of an hour, perhaps, before you catapulted him into an early
grave?"

"You son of a bi—"

"You
should watch it. If this paper is legal as you claim, you're not a widow but a
wife," he interrupted harshly. With a taunting smile, he returned to her
side, sitting at the edge of the bed, not touching her, but close.
"Remember, the wife of a savage, if you will, who wants no part of
you."

Very
regally, she moved back against the bedpost, drawing all the distance between
them she possibly could. She remained pale, but her lashes rose and her eyes focused
on his. She had tremendous pride. And nerve—he'd hand her that.

"You
needn't fear, Lord Douglas.
Andrew
Douglas.
I promise, I want no part of you, either."

"Really?"

"Really!"

He
itched to slap her. How dare she look so outraged with him after what she had
done? He wanted to shake her, touch her.

Get
away from her. It was too easy to see how his father had fallen ...

Died.

"Well,"
he murmured very softly, bracing one arm over her hips and leaning closer to
her. "I'm afraid that's your misfortune because I do want something from
you, my dear wife. I want you to pay for what you did to my father."

He
could hear her grating down on her teeth. She was trying to keep silent, avoid
the argument he was baiting. She could not do so. "Get away from me!"
she commanded.

He
smiled. "I don't think so. I've just acquired a wife."

"I'm not an acquisition."

"According to that paper, you are."

"According
to that paper, I am not an acquisition. I am legally wed—"

"To me."

"Well,
that was a mistake. I did not mean for it to be so."

"But
you've done it so. And I'm naturally ... curious." "Don't be!"

"How
can I not be? You were intent upon marriage, Lady Douglas. Conquering new
lands, heading out west for adventure—and profit. Well, madam, perhaps you will
profit. But in the name of my father, my dear
wife,
you'll pay as well. I guarantee it."

Five

"Don't you threaten me!" Skylar
cried out. It was all that she could do. In a second, he'd have her so intimidated
that she'd be pleading like an idiot for mercy when there seemed to be no
reason within this man whatsoever.

She ducked beneath his arms and managed to slide from the
side of the bed, rise, and stare back at him. There was a wry smile slightly
twisting his lips.

"Oh, Lady Douglas. I intend to do much more than
threaten."

Yet
when he finished with those words, he made no move toward her. He stood as
well, staring at her from ncross the bed and continuing, "I suggest you
use some good sense after I leave and do not try to find your way out of here
before I get back. You'll be safe enough as long as you stay here.
Inside."

"You're—leaving?"
she said, both stunned and hopeful.

"But I'll be back."

"Why? Where are you going?"

He arched
a brow. "My business is none of your con- corn.

"But
you've dragged me here. You've abducted me—"

"Do you claim this license to be valid?" "Yes, but—"

"Then you've just been welcomed to your new home by your
lawfully wedded husband."

"Really? And what of the stagecoach driver?"

"Old Sam?"

"Mr. Haggerty."

"I
assume Mr. Haggerty has driven the stagecoach along on schedule back to
Riley's."

"You—ass!" she hissed.

His
eyes narrowed. "Well, ma'am, it's just not that often that I hear a
complete stranger introducing herself to others as
Lady Douglas
while she announces she's on her way to take over my
property."

"You
might have introduced yourself and asked a few questions."

"The
fact that my father apparently met you and died soon thereafter certainly
influenced my choice of behavior. Let me warn you again. There are all manner
of wild creatures outside. Bears, wolves—hostile Indians."

"You
can't imagine that you can just leave me here and expect that I'll stay
put—"

"Oh, but I do imagine."

"I want to go—"

"To
Mayfair? You were on your way to the estate, right?"

"At
the moment I simply want to return to civilization!"

"There
is no real 'civilization' here, Lady Douglas."

"Civilization
could simply be where you are not!" Skylar flared.

He
offered her one of his mocking smiles. "You were on your way to Lord
Douglas's property. You are on Douglas property; this hunting lodge is mine.
Since I will not be here for a while, you may consider yourself in civilization—and
at the end of your journey. Enjoy civilization— as I've said, I'll be
back."

She
stood where she was, staring at him with her jaw locked until he drew more
clothing from the trunk at the foot of the bed. She burned with a raw fury
unlike anything

she
had
known before. He'd made a fool out of her. He
didn't
know her, didn't know anything
about her or what
had
happened, and he'd labeled her an adventuress—and worse. A murderess. He'd
pretended a savage attack on her.
He'd
taken it as far as he possibly
might have gone. She
hated
him. Loathed him. Wanted to shoot an arrow between
his
eyes and take up scalping herself.

Not glancing her way, heedless that she remained in the
robe,
he shed
his own robe and donned buckskin trousers.
She
felt her cheeks go afire and she
quickly turned away,
her
shoulders squared. She tried very hard to control her seething temper.
"How long am I to wait here?"

"Until I find out from an attorney if this marriage
license
is
legal."

"Oh, it is legal," she grated, keeping her back
turned to
him.
"But—"

"We'll see what is and isn't legal. There's food here.
You
've the
coffee—and the whiskey. I'll call Wolf to
watch
over you—"

"Wolf? Another of your cohorts in the stagecoach
holdup?" she demanded, swinging around to look at him again. He was in
dark buckskin trousers, high black boots, and a fringed buckskin shirt. His
hair was queued back. He was extremely tall and well built, striking in his
appearance, and still entirely forbidding. He might have appeared white,
except... that he didn't. There was something far too savage remaining in the
glint of his stare upon her.

"Wolf is my dog. And yes, he is part wolf, thus the
name.
He'll
protect you—or chew you to ribbons if you
choose
to leave the lodge. Perhaps you
should get some
sleep.
I'll be back tomorrow before evening." He turned,
about to
leave her. "Do make yourself at home. As I've
said,
it is Douglas property that
you're
on
now."

"Wait—" she began, but he was gone. The door was
closed behind him. She clutched the robe to her, biting into
her
lower
lip, and raced after him, ready to throw open the door.

But she heard him say, "Good boy, stay! Keep an eye on
her,now. She's dangerous!" Then excited barking. She stepped back. It
didn't seem prudent to open the door.

She leaned against the door, staring straight ahead, seeing
nothing. She started shaking again.

She wasn't going to be murdered and scalped by an Indian. At
least she didn't think so. He had a horrible temper and didn't seem to be
afraid of the consequences for any of his actions, but he wasn't a complete
savage.

She sank down against the door, shaking her head. She'd never
meant to trick anyone. She hadn't married Lord Douglas for gain.

Apparently, she hadn't married the man she'd met at all.
She'd married his son.

The trick had been on her.

She buried her face in her hands, trembling, then stared up
at the ceiling, as if she could see God.

"Why?" she whispered, glad that the green-eyed
savage wasn't around to hear the whimpering sound of her voice. She didn't
deserve this.

She
'd married to escape.

What in God's name was she going to do now? What kind of
cruel hoax had they all played upon one another? Just when she had thought that
life had finally given her a way . ..

She shouldn't have done it.

She had never meant any harm. Pike's place had always been
her escape. It was a small inn, but it had been in business since Revolutionary
times, established by Pike's great-grandfather. The present Pike had been her
father's very good friend. A number of Baltimore matrons and their daughters
came to Pike's for an occasional luncheon, and since it was considered such a
respectable establishment, she's had little trouble claiming to her mother that
she went to Pike's to meet friends. Lord Douglas had been a visitor over the
years—it was quite the fashionable place for wealthy out-of-towners to frequent
as well. Pike had pointed him out to her before as an eccentric Englishman
living on the frontier who came east on occasion to see to his banking
concerns. She had spoken with him politely in the past. But this time she had
been there when he had so nearly collapsed. She had been the one to catch him,
to insist on calling the doctor. And she would never forget the way that he had
told her after he'd seen the doctor that there was little that could be done
for him. But it was then- secret, please.

He'd been so gentle, kind, dignified, fascinating. She'd
realized she was the only one in the world who was aware of how ill he had
become. She'd begun to open up to him in turn, telling him things she had never
told anyone before. In a matter of days, she'd felt as if he'd been her best
friend all of her life. He'd understood the gravity of her situation, the
trickiness of it, and had suggested that she come with him. But she couldn't
just leave; she didn't dare.

Then had come the night when she hadn't dared go home.

And he had offered her a way out. She had needed the help so
badly ...

Skylar leaped to her feet and began pacing the floor.

An annulment. She had to get an annulment. If she really was
wed to this hateful creature.

She would just go back. Go back east.

Was she insane? She couldn't go back!

That thought racked her over and over again. No, she couldn't
go back. And she hadn't married for gain, but she did need money. Desperately.

The fire was dying in the hearth. The cabin was darkening.
It was probably very late. She was alone in the wilderness with nothing but a
wretched, bloodthirsty dog nearby. She hoped. There could be worse creatures of
the night beyond the door. . ..

She couldn't be afraid, she told herself. Thankfully, she was
too exhausted to feel much of anything.

She sat on the bed, then stretched out upon it. The iliought
remained with her, growing duller and duller. She couldn't go back.

So
what did she do now?

She laid her head on the pillow.

What if
he
didn't come
back? Who would die first, her or the wolf-dog?

She felt like laughing again. She was so tired. She closed
her eyes and felt herself dozing. It felt good. So good. Her body eased down
more comfortably into the mattress. And her sleep deepened.

Gold Town, a small mining settlement that
had grown up quickly in the last few years since gold had been discovered in
the Black Hills, was rustic—and prosperous. Henry Pierpont did a decent enough
business to keep a large office on Main Street, fully furnished from the East
with handsome leather chairs and sofas and cherrywood bookcases. He had a
secretary, Jim Higgins, a young man who'd originally come for the gold, then
turned in his miner's equipment for pen and ink. The moment Hawk burst into
the law office, Jim was on his feet. "Hawk. Er, Lord Douglas. Henry's been
expecting you, Lord Douglas."

Hawk nodded, heading toward the inner office. He paused.
"Jim."

"Yes, sir, Lord Douglas."

"My father was born in England. Lord Douglas suited him,
don't you think'' Hawk suits me."

Jim flashed him a weak smile. "Yeah, thanks. It's much
more comfortable."

Hawk nodded again, then went on into Henry's office.
Painfully thin with wire-rimmed spectacles and a prematurely balding head,
Henry Pierpont leaped to his feet. He knocked over the coffee cup in front of
him and started mopping up the coffee with his handkerchief. "Hawk. Your
father's body is due at Riley's by tonight. It's come as far as it could by
train, but the railroad had a little bit of a problem getting a proper
conveyance to bring it on up. We're still really in the wilds out here, you
know. But there's a matter that's come to my attention by the most recent
post—" He broke off, shaking his head, miserable and very nervous.

Hawk
threw the wedding license on Henry's desk and sat in the chair in front of it.

"Could
this matter have something to do with a woman claiming to be Lady
Douglas?" he demanded.

Henry
went dead still, then nodded. He sank back into his own chair. "You must
understand, your father was my client."

Hawk arched a brow.

Henry
held a pencil. It cracked between his fingers. "I warned him that he
shouldn't be carrying around proxy papers, that it just wasn't right."

"You drew up proxy papers?"

"Yes, I drew them up."

"Henry, damn you—"

"Hawk,
I drew them up, but, well, you did sign them."

"Because
I've never been interested in taking control of my father's estates! He managed
his own properties! He was sound of mind, he was in good health—"

"He
was aging," Henry interrupted quietly. "I wanted to contact you and
let you know that he was quite determined that you should marry, but again,
your father was my client, until his death. Of course, now you're Lord Douglas,
my client."

Hawk
felt completely at a loss. He lifted his hands. ' 'Did my father know this
woman before he left here?"

Henry
shook his head. "No. I don't know where he found the young woman—" He
broke off, puzzled. "How do you know about this? I just received your
father's last letters to me with copies of the documents. The young lady hasn't
arrived yet—"

"Oh,
but she has!" Hawk murmured. He leaned forward, staring at Henry.
"Just tell me—is this marriage legal?"

"Well,
of course, you could apply for an annulment, if both parties were
willing—"

"Is the marriage legal?" he demanded

"It—er—yes," Henry said.

Hawk
expelled a long breath. "I can't believe my father did this!"

Henry cleared his throat. "It—gets a little worse."

Hawk arched a brow at him.

"A
little worse?"

Henry's
Adam's apple moved up and down beneath the collar of his formal white shirt. He
cleared his throat again. "If she chooses to force the issue of attempting
to negate the marriage, she will be disinherited except for a small stipend she
is to receive, even if she returns home. If she remains here as your wife,
naturally, the house becomes half hers." Henry loosened his collar.

"Go
on."

"If you choose to attempt to negate it—"

Hawk
stood, incredulous. "My father disinherited me?"

"No,
not completely. Only the Mayfair estate lands."

Thousands
of Black Hills acres. Land David owned through land grants and claims, but
Sioux land. Land he never developed because it had belonged to his wife's people,
his son's people. Land he had to keep.

He'd
been raised Sioux. Raised to believe that a man of honor shared everything, did
not need riches. But he needed those lands. Especially with the confrontations
that promised to come.