Outlaw’s Bride (26 page)

“I don’t know, Merielle—”

“It would be so much fun, Frank. Do you remember how we used to spend hours sitting on the bank, letting the fish nibble at our toes?”

Frank stared hard at Merielle. “You remember that?” he asked sharply.

She smiled up at him, apparently unaware that her recollection of the past had any special significance. “Of course I do. I remember lots of things.”

“Like what?”

“First you have to promise to take off your boots and socks and join me,” she teased.

“All right. I promise,” Frank said with a grin that made his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“I love the way you look when you smile,” Merielle said.

Frank didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t used to compliments from Merielle, especially not the kind that a woman gave to a man. It made him uncomfortable, and he had to struggle to keep the smile on his face. Somehow, for her sake, he succeeded.

They had reached the riverbank, where Merielle plopped down on a rotting log and pulled her skirt
up to her knees so she could get to the laces on her shoes.

“Let me help you.” Frank went down on one knee and took her tiny foot in his hand. He felt her resist and looked up to reassure her that he wasn’t going to hurt her. There was a stunned look on her face, and he wondered what she was thinking.

“Merielle?”

“Frank?” Merielle stared at the handsome man who knelt at her feet. She couldn’t remember a time when Frank hadn’t been near. Yet, it was as though she were seeing him for the first time. It was confusing because she expected him to look younger. This face was more mature, weathered by age and sun, and there was a shadow of a beard where before there had been none. His hair was thick and dark, and somehow she knew how it would feel under her hands.

Merielle slipped Frank’s hat off without asking for permission and set it on the log beside her. She traced the line of his jaw and felt him swallow. She tried to make the person before her match the image in her mind.

“You’re so much older,” she murmured.

Frank felt his heart leap with hope. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you, Merielle.”

She looked down into his eyes. “Where have you been, Frank?”

“Right here,” he whispered through a throat swollen with joy. “Waiting for you to come back to me.”

Merielle laughed. “That’s silly. I haven’t gone
anywhere. Hurry up, Frank, and unlace my shoes. I want to go play in the water.”

Merielle was gone again and the child was back. Frank concentrated on unlacing her shoes, and watched her rip off her stockings with a childlike lack of modesty that only endeared her to him.

“Hurry up, Frank,” she urged. “Take off your boots and socks and come play with me.”

Frank forced himself back into the role of protective older brother. He would be for her what she needed him to be. Once Frank was barefoot he took her hand, and they ran down toward the water. At the very edge, Merielle stopped abruptly.

“Do you think it’s cold?”

“Like ice,” he said.

She grinned. “Good!” She leaned over and splashed a handful of water right in his face. Then she ran.

Frank caught her up in his arms and swung her around in a dizzying circle.

She laughed like a child, but she felt like a woman in his arms. He stopped and stared down at her, his heart pounding.

She looked up at him, and her eyes clouded. Her fingers threaded into his hair, and she pulled his head down toward her mouth.

“Frank, where are you?” Boyd called. “We’re ready to eat.”

Frank let Merielle’s legs slide down the front of him until she was standing on her own. They never took their eyes off each other. Their bodies were pressed close together. He kept waiting for her to change back, to become the childlike Merielle.
When she didn’t, he kissed her, like a starving man who has found the sustenance that will keep him alive.

And she kissed him back. Without fear. With enthusiasm. With delight.

He broke the kiss and hugged her tight against him, hardly able to believe the miracle in his arms. “Merielle. After all these years. Finally. Merielle.”

“Frank, my head hurts,” she said. “It hurts so bad.”

He felt her go limp. She would have fallen if he hadn’t caught her. “Merielle? Merielle!”

She was unconscious.

“Boyd! Patch! Somebody! Help!” He fell to his knees with Merielle in his arms. “Somebody please help.”

Patch and Boyd came on the run. It was immediately apparent that Merielle had fainted. It was not so apparent why.

Patch looked anxiously from Frank to Merielle and back again. She had stopped suspecting Frank of rape. He had seemed too attentive, too much in love with Merielle. But the situation raised her doubts again.

“What happened?” Patch asked as she dropped to the ground beside Frank.

Frank never took his eyes off Merielle. “I don’t know. She said her head hurt, and then she fainted.”

Boyd went down on one knee and reached across to check Merielle’s pulse at her throat. “Her pulse is strong.”

“Do you know what caused this to happen?” Patch asked Frank.

“She was remembering.”

Patch could barely contain her excitement.
“Remembering?”

“You mean she got her memory back?” Boyd demanded in a taut voice.

Frank winced under the force of Boyd’s grip on his shoulder. “Not exactly. It was more like she seemed to be
here
, you know, not stuck in the past.”

“Has this happened before?” Boyd asked.

“Not the same thing, but something similar,” Frank replied. “A week or so ago she remembered a time in the far past when the two of us were together.”

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Patch said. “I mean, I prayed for it, and I hoped for it, but … It’s like a miracle!”

Frank nodded. “It is a miracle.”

Merielle’s eyelids fluttered and a moan issued from her throat. When she opened her eyes, they were clouded with confusion. She looked around at the trees and the river and the three people staring anxiously down at her. Her brow furrowed in thought. “Where am I? How did I get here?”

“Don’t you remember?” Frank asked in a gentle voice. “We came to the river for a picnic.”

Merielle’s eyes sought out Patch. “Yes. I came with my friend, Patch.” Her glance slid past Boyd and back to Frank. “We went for a walk by the river. I wanted to take my shoes and stockings off and play in the water.”

Frank took one of her bare feet in his hands. “So you did.”

She placed her palm on Frank’s cheek. “I remember splashing your face.”

He smiled. “So you did.”

“Then …” She looked up at Frank. “Then … then … Why can’t I remember any more, Frank?”

Frank tucked her head under his chin and held her close. He met Patch’s somber face and Boyd’s sympathetic gaze. “It’s all right, Merielle. It doesn’t matter.”

Patch put a comforting hand on Merielle’s shoulder. She felt like howling with disappointment. To get so close! And then to have the doors shut again. But if it had happened once, it might happen again. Patch couldn’t help feeling optimistic.

However, from the wan aspect of Merielle’s face, remembering had taken its toll on her. “Maybe we should postpone our picnic to another time,” Patch suggested.

“Oh, no!” Merielle said. “I feel fine! Please, let’s stay.”

Patch looked to Frank to see what he thought. When he nodded she said, “All right. We’ll stay. But let’s go eat. I’m starving!”

After they ate, Frank settled on the blanket with a lapful of daisies that Merielle began weaving into a chain, while Patch and Boyd took a walk.

Patch had been itching to discuss Merielle’s situation all through lunch but felt constrained to be silent in the young woman’s presence. As soon as they were out of earshot, Patch turned to Boyd and said, “Do you know how much it will mean to Ethan if Merielle regains her memory?”

“You’re assuming, of course, that Ethan didn’t rape Merielle,” Boyd said flatly.

“Of course he didn’t! You’re his best friend. You of all people should know he couldn’t possibly—”

Boyd held up both hands in surrender. “You win. I’m convinced Ethan is innocent.” He reached out and put his hands over hers, which were perched in balled fists on her hips. “Can we talk now about something nearer and dearer to my heart?”

Patch was still bristling from Boyd’s accusation of Ethan, and his ready capitulation hadn’t done much to assuage her wrath. “Like what?”

He gently pried her hands loose and opened them so her fingertips rested in his. “You.”

Patch wasn’t sure how to respond. She hesitated an instant too long, and Boyd’s fingers closed over hers. He turned her hands over and lifted them one at a time to kiss her palms.

“Boyd, I …” Patch had promised herself that if Boyd tried to kiss her again she would slap him. But she had expected him to seek out her lips, not her hands.

While she was deciding what to do, his fingertips found and caressed the calluses she had developed the past couple of weeks at Ethan’s ranch. “You should have servants waiting on you, Patricia, instead of working like a mule for Ethan Hawk.”

Patch’s chin lifted a notch. “I happen to like working,” she said in a cool voice. “It gives me a sense of satisfaction to earn my keep.” Patch resisted the urge to pull her hands free. She didn’t want to get in a tug-of-war with Boyd that she couldn’t win.

“You’re beautiful when you’re angry, Patricia,” Boyd said as he surveyed her flashing eyes.

“If you know I’m upset by what you’re doing, why don’t you stop?”

“I’m waiting for some clear sign that you don’t appreciate my attentions.”

Patch snatched one hand free and slapped his face. “Is that what you had in mind?”

Boyd worked his jaw to ease the soreness and laid a hand against his reddening cheek. “That’ll do.”

Patch shook her head in disbelief. “Are you pixilated, possessed, or what?”

Boyd grinned. He waited a heartbeat before he said, “I just wanted to see how far you’d let me go.” His smile invited her to forgive him. “Shall we continue walking? Or do you want to go back?”

Patch knew he was a rogue, but given the choice, and now that things were crystal clear between them, she decided to enjoy the beauty of the day. “Let’s walk.”

Boyd offered his arm, but Patch declined it. “I think it’ll be safer if I keep you at a distance.”

He reached down and tore off a stem of grass. He chewed on the sweet tip as they continued strolling the riverbank.

In a little while Patch said, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Sheriff Lachlan told me the only reason Ethan wasn’t hanged for killing Dorne Trahern was because you spoke up for him. With Trahern being so
rich and all, why did they listen to you? Are you really that influential in town?”

“Over the years I’ve made a loan here and there to certain people. I run several thousand head of cattle on my ranch, so a lot of cowboys work for me. My wagons haul freight to wherever it’s going when it leaves town. I own the cotton gin and press. If you count assets, I’m probably worth as much as Trahern. But he has more land.”

“How did you get so rich?”

“Nosy, aren’t you?”

Patch shrugged. “Just curious. You have to admit it boggles the mind that anyone could rise so far, so fast.”

“I had an aunt who left me money—”

“You told me that. It must have been a huge inheritance.”

“It was enough to get me started. It gave me the bankroll I needed to make some investments. After that, whenever I saw an opportunity, I took advantage of it.”

He stopped walking, and Patch turned back to see why. He was looking at her intently. She marveled again at how striking a figure he made, with his hair blowing in the wind and his intriguing features demanding attention. But she was totally unprepared for what he said next.

“I’d be willing to share it all with you, Patricia. Will you marry me?”

Patch gaped. She realized how unladylike a pose it was and shut her mouth. She stared at Boyd in bewilderment. “I don’t think I heard you right. Did you just propose marriage to me?”

Boyd grinned. “I did.”

Patch turned her back on him and began striding toward the spot where they had left Frank and Merielle. Boyd caught her arm and swung her around.

“You haven’t given me an answer.”

“A question that stupid doesn’t deserve an answer.”

“Didn’t seem stupid to me. You’re a lady. You deserve to live like one. I can provide everything you’d ever want. Between my golden eyes and your golden hair we’d make beautiful children together.”

“Why not just mold them out of the real thing? It sounds like you’re rich enough to do it!” Patch exclaimed sarcastically. She increased her pace.

Boyd kept step with her. “Maybe I’ve jumped my fences a little early. But I wanted you to know how I feel about you.”

“Really? I didn’t hear one word about love or caring during that entire ridiculous proposal.”

“A man doesn’t wear his feelings on his sleeve.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Patch said.

“Ethan can’t give you—”

Patch stopped abruptly. Her finger poked Boyd in the chest as her temper flared. “Don’t you
dare
compare yourself to Ethan Hawk!”