Prince Charming (64 page)

“It's hot as hell in here,” he muttered.

“Taylor!” Lucas bellowed her name. The glass in the windows shook from the force of his shout.

Malcolm went running to the window. He hid by the side and peeked out to see who was there. He didn't stand directly in front of the glass, for he didn't want to be a target.

“Who is it calling you?” he demanded in a low whisper.

There was laughter and relief in her voice when she answered him. “Lucas.”

“No!” He howled the denial.

“Yes,” she repeated. “Would you like me to answer him?”

“Shut your mouth, girl. Let me think,” he ordered. He peeked outside once again, then flattened himself against the wall to stare at her. “They must not have gotten to him before he took off for town. Yes, that's it. They'll be on their way any time now. I'll keep him busy worrying about you until they get here. Answer him, damn you. Call out to him so he knows I haven't killed you yet.”

“Do you expect me to help you?” She sounded incredulous. “God, you're despicable. You look like a cornered rat. You are cornered, you know. You might as well give up. Walk out of here while you still can.”

“Answer him,” Malcolm shouted again.

Taylor was going to refuse, but Lucas called her name again and she knew he must be worried about her. Men who loved their wives would worry. Lucas wasn't any different.

“Yes, Lucas?” she shouted.

“Are you all right?” His voice shook with terror.

“Yes,” she shouted back. “I'm quite all right.”

A full minute passed before Lucas called to her again. “I'm coming in.”

Malcolm struggled to get his gun out of his waistband. He wasn't paying any attention to her.

“Tell him to stay where he is,” he shouted.

“You don't need to come inside,” Taylor called out. She pulled the gun out of her apron and took aim.

Lucas didn't know what to do. He was so scared inside and in such a rage he wanted to tear the door down and kill the bastard with his bare hands. All the way into town he blocked the possibility that she could already be dead, and when she called out to him and he knew she was still alive, his knees had gone weak and his heart had felt as though it had exploded inside him.

“Lucas, you're an easy target standing in the middle of the street,” she shouted.

Malcolm was looking out the window again. He had his gun in his hand but down by his side. He hadn't taken aim yet. And that was the only reason he was still alive.

“I'm coming in,” Lucas shouted to her again.

“You don't need to,” she assured him.

She didn't sound frightened. Lucas didn't know what to make of the realization. And then she cleared it all up for him with a simple reminder.

“Why the hell not?” he wanted to know.

“I'm wearing my apron.”

Malcolm didn't understand until he heard her cock the gun. He slowly turned toward her, raising his own weapon as he moved.

She shot the gun out of his hand. He let out a howl of pain and fell back against the wall. The front door exploded into fragments. Lucas used his shoulder to break down the barrier. Then the back door crashed to the floor, and Rolly came storming inside.

Lucas glanced at Taylor to make certain she was all right, then turned to Malcolm. He lifted him up, slammed his fist into his jaw, and threw him backward. Malcolm went flying out the glass window and landed in a heap on the walkway.

He wanted to kill him. Taylor wouldn't let him. At first she thought justice would be served by sending him back to England. The life he would have to endure living as a pauper would be punishment enough. He was a broken-down, ruined man. But he still had the same appetites, the same sick cravings. No child would be safe as long as Malcolm roamed the streets of London.

And the children must always come first. Always.

She wanted him locked away for the rest of his life. Lucas finally agreed with her. He decided putting a bullet through Malcolm's black heart wouldn't be a good idea after all. He wouldn't suffer enough.

The entire town had gathered outside the store and were staring down at their captive while they debated what they wanted to do to him. Malcolm was sitting in the dirt, whimpering and cursing while he dabbed at his hand where Taylor's bullet had clipped his skin.

Rolly thought they should hang him then and there. Lucas wouldn't let him. He had his arm around Taylor's shoulders and was squeezing her tight against his side. She could feel him shaking, and from the look he was giving her, she thought he might be realizing he loved her. He looked ill.

Cleevis and Eddie stepped forward with the offer to take Malcolm to the sheriff in Rosewood. Lucas agreed.

“What happened to the four men Malcolm hired?” Taylor asked.

Lucas had killed two when they tried to ambush him and let the third crawl away with a bullet in his gut. He wasn't going to give Taylor any of the details, however.

The gunfighters had set up their trap near the stream. While Hunter kept them busy with his gunfire, Lucas worked his way around to the side. He'd been consumed with panic, for Taylor always crossed over the path where the men were hiding on her way back from town. If she'd come home when she was supposed to, she could have gotten killed.

But she was late. She was always late, and Lucas thanked God for the blessed flaw. He vowed he would never criticize her again.

“Lucas, what happened to the four men Malcolm sent?” she asked again.

“I only counted three.”

“I counted four.”

Hunter made the comment from behind her back. She turned and smiled at him.

She had refused to look at her uncle. He'd called her name twice. She ignored him both times.

“I want to go home now,” she whispered to her husband. “Frank? If you'll order glass for your window, my husband will be happy to pay for it.”

Lucas let go of her and spoke to Hunter in a low voice. She couldn't hear what he was saying to his friend. She didn't wait for him. She suddenly needed to get away from Malcolm and breathe fresh air. She said her farewells and started walking home. Lucas caught up with her at the bend in the dirt road.

She told him what Malcolm had said to her. “He has never taken responsibility for anything in his entire life. He was very clever making others feel as though they were somehow at fault for what he did.”

“Marian?” he asked.

“Yes. She believed she had done something wrong. Will Malcolm be locked away?”

“The charge will be attempted murder,” Lucas told her. “Yes, he'll be locked away. Taylor?”

“Yes?”

“Never mind.” His voice was trembling. He was still having difficulty getting his emotions under control. He had never felt stark terror until he realized Taylor was inside with the bastard. He never wanted to feel like that again. He was still sick to his stomach and his nerves were strung tight enough to pop.

“Lucas, quit glaring at me.”

“I'm never going through that again. Do you hear me, Taylor. I'm never going to be scared like that again.”

“Why do you think you were scared?” She held her breath while she waited for his answer.

“That's an ignorant question.”

Lord, he could be impossible. They walked along for several more minutes before she spoke again.

“When I left for my walk, I had made a decision. I decided I didn't want to be married to a man who didn't love me.”

“You aren't.” He sounded furious with her.

“I know.” She sounded thrilled.

“Have you stopped loving me?”

It wasn't what he asked but how his voice shook when he asked that stunned her. His anguish was almost unbearable to witness. He looked as though she was about to destroy him with her answer. He believed he had it all figured out as well, for he was beginning to nod.

“I will never stop loving you,” she whispered. She grabbed hold of his hand and held tight. “How can you ask me such a question? Do you think that if you say or do something wrong, I'll stop? Honest to God, Lucas, you're going to drive me out of my mind. My love isn't conditional or temporary. It's forever.”

“Then stop asking questions about my past,” he ordered. “Leave it alone, Taylor. I'm damned sick of worrying you'll . . .”

He didn't go on. He pulled away from her and quickened his pace.

“Realize what?” she asked.

He shook his head. She wouldn't give up. “Answer me,” she demanded in a near shout.

He turned around and looked at her. “I'm a bastard, remember?”

“I am aware of the circumstances surrounding your birth,” she replied. “Madam told me, you told me, and I believe William Merritt told me. It didn't matter then and it doesn't matter now.”

“Why the hell doesn't it matter to you? When are you going to realize I'm not . . .” He stopped suddenly, shook his head again, and then muttered, “I know I don't deserve you. I won't give you up though, no matter how unworthy I am. If you knew all the things I've done, you wouldn't be able to look at me. I started living the day I met you. Let my past alone. And this is the last time I'm ever going to talk about this. Do you understand?”

He didn't wait to hear her agreement. He turned around again and started walking.

The truth was finally out. Lucas was afraid. Dear Lord, why had it taken her so long to understand? He was ashamed of his past and believed that if she knew about his childhood and his war years, she would stop loving him. At the root of his fear was the stigma of being born out of wedlock. She hadn't realized until this very minute how much it had affected him or what his life as a young boy must have been like.

He never called William Merritt by name. He called him a son of a bitch. She had also heard him call William a bastard. He wasn't illegitimate. Neither was her uncle Malcolm, but Lucas called him a bastard, too. She finally understood why. In Lucas's mind, being called a bastard was the most horrible, contemptible, and dishonorable curse one man could put on another.

Seeing such vulnerability made her love him all the more. Her heart was suddenly pounding a furious beat, and all she wanted to do was throw herself into his arms and cry with joy because he loved her.

She was going to have to get his attention first, and then convince him he was more than worthy. He was the man of her dreams.

She called out to him. He ignored her. She shouted his name the second time. He acted as though he hadn't heard her.

She let out a sigh and reached for her gun. She aimed and shot a pebble off the ground a yard or two in front of him.

He whirled around to face her. “What in thunder do you think you're doing?”

“Getting your attention.”

He shook his head. He didn't want to stay and talk until he'd gotten his emotions under control. She had seen enough of his weakness and his vulnerability.

“Put that gun away. I've got things to do. I'm leaving, damn it.”

She smiled at him. “Go ahead,” she shouted back. “But I'm warning you. I'll only track you down and bring you back home where you belong. I love you, Lucas. You are everything I could ever want.”

He turned away from her. She shot a piece of bark off a tree twenty feet away from him.

Then she tucked her gun back into her apron, picked up her skirts, and went running to him. She was sobbing by the time she threw herself into his arms.

He shook with emotion. He couldn't stop telling her how much he loved her. He kissed every inch of her sunburned face and whispered all the words he'd held inside for so long. He wanted to prove to her first that he was worthy. He would give her the kind of life he was certain she wanted and deserved, and once they were living in their fancy house and she was draped in velvet and diamonds, he would tell her he loved her.

She thought that was the most beautiful, loving, and foolish fantasy she'd ever heard. She was already living in a paradise and she never wanted to leave.

Their kisses and their pledges made them hungry for more. She tried to pull him toward the yard that led to their house, but he shook his head and took her to a secluded spot nestled between the pines. They made love then with an intensity and passion that overwhelmed them.

They lazily washed in the stream and made love again. They kissed and stroked each other while they put on their clothes, and the ordinary task took them a long, long while.

Taylor didn't want to go home just yet, but she knew Victoria would be worried. Lucas told her Hunter knew they were going to be late.

Her husband stretched out on his back on a carpet of grass and let out a loud sigh of contentment.

“How did he know we would be late?”

“I told him.”

“But you were in such a hurry to get home,” she reminded him.

He grinned. “Only when you started pressing me,” he told her.

Taylor sat down next to him and stared up at the stars. “I am surrounded by luxury,” she whispered. “The stars are my diamonds, and I'm sitting on a carpet of emeralds.”

“You're really determined to stay?”

“Oh, yes.”

“It will be hard on you. There will be times you'll want to give up.”

“I'm sure there will be.”

“What will you do?”

“Scream.”

He laughed. “Like today.”

“Yes.”

“You aren't fragile.”

She was so pleased with his realization, she leaned over and kissed him.