Promise Me (16 page)

Sam considered the question for a moment. “There's a group of local mine owners opposed to her Miners' Benevolent Association, and they did approach me. They offered me a substantial sum of money to seduce her and destroy her reputation.”

Sam pulled his legs over the edge of the bed and leaned forward to gauge the reaction of the good father a bit closer.

“Why do I have a feeling there's more to the story than you're letting on?”

Father Mikelson stood up, casting a long shadow, and paced across the room. “So you did what you were paid to do?”

Sam's spine stiffened and anger shot through him. “I've been protecting her, and I never told a soul what transpired between us.” He took a deep breath. “It wouldn't take a genius to figure it out though, and I never should have moved in here with her.”

Father Mikelson studied him carefully, frowning before giving a sigh and slumping his shoulders. “Then you do care for her?”

Sam swallowed, trying to buy time to compose himself and come up with a reasonable story. His life depended upon subterfuge. The future of his country might depend upon how well he played a role. He didn't want to divulge his true feelings for Amanda. He'd only just come to terms with them himself. Yet the priest obviously trusted him, so he would have to confess. This was a time for total honesty. He met Father Mikelson's brilliant blue eyes.

“I love her.”

The words freed him the moment he uttered them. His heart felt lighter and the darkness of his soul brighter. Why didn't he have the courage to tell Amanda how he really felt?

“Good, that will make this easier.” Father Mikelson sat back down in his chair. He didn't appear startled by Sam's declaration.

“I've had a man keeping an eye on Amanda these past few weeks. He's given me regular reports, including his observation that she appeared to be, um”—his face went red—“involved with a gentleman.”

Sam briefly wondered just how close the scrutiny had been, and he frowned.

“The impeccable Mr. Penny, I suppose?”

Father Mikelson shook his head. “He's employed by Amanda, and he refused to divulge any information about her daily affairs.” The priest blushed. “Well, her
activities
. Penny wouldn't say a word. He's a little weasel as far as I'm concerned, but apparently a faithful weasel. We couldn't even drag your name out of him and ended up having to pay someone for information about you.”

Sam shook his head and scowled; the priest wasn't making any sense. “You knew about me before tonight?”

Father Mikelson placed his hands on his knees. “I wouldn't have performed that ceremony if I'd believed you were taking advantage of my girl. Despite what Amanda thinks, I'm very fond of her.” His eyes went misty for a moment. “I've known her since she was a child.”

“Then why did you force her to become my wife if you don't believe I attempted to destroy her reputation?” His voice was harsh with anger, but for Amanda's sake, not his. She had been manipulated by more than one person tonight. He rubbed his aching foot and wondered if priestly vows would be sufficient to protect Father Mikelson from Amanda's wrath.

The older man laughed deeply, and the sound couldn't have shocked Sam more if he'd let loose with a string of profanity.

“Amanda is a poor judge of what's good for her. I allowed her to make a terrible mistake once, when she married Arthur Wainwright. I tried to talk her father out of that arranged marriage. Arthur was too old and too debauched for an innocent young woman, but all Adam could see was the cementing of a great dynasty.” He stared off into space and slumped in the straight-backed chair. His bright blue eyes clouded over, and the wrinkles on each side of his face seemed to grow deeper.

“I would never allow her to sell herself again.” He shook his white head. “I performed that marriage ceremony tonight to protect her, and now”—he leaned forward again—“I'm going to beg for your assistance.”

Sam wanted to fall back on the pillow, close his eyes, and digest this last tidbit of information. If Amanda's life were still in danger, he'd find a way to keep her safe.

“I don't know how you're going to get Amanda's permission to let me near her again.”

“Amanda chose you, for reasons I can't know. She'll come around, as women do. But, since you're in a position to be of assistance to her, I thought I'd make you a handsome offer.”

Offer? Was he trying to buy Sam's services the same way the mine owners had? Hell, he was getting tired of being set out to stud.

“I doubt I'd be interested in anything that would involve lying to Amanda again.” He cocked an eyebrow at Father Mikelson. “I believe I've learned my lesson on that one. She might not adjust her aim the next time.”

The priest laughed. The sound was full, vibrant, and oddly comforting to Sam's ears.

“Let me just tell you what I have in mind, Sam.” He made that prayer tower with his hands. “Stay married to Amanda and pretend that, although things aren't what you expected, you're going to make the best of the situation. Act the perfect husband in public. Maybe you could even soften her attitude a little. Be attentive. From the things I've heard about you, you're a man who knows what a woman appreciates.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Everyone except Amanda seems to think so, anyway.”

Father Mikelson bent closer, his voice softer, as though he thought someone might be trying to listen in on their conversation. Sam's attention shifted to the door dividing his room from Amanda's, and he wondered if the priest might be right.

“The only thing I'll ask is that you not assert your…” He glanced down at the floor, clearly embarrassed. “Husbandly rights.”

Sam coughed and tried to keep the grin off his face. He wanted to remind the priest that if he hadn't been asserting those same rights, he wouldn't be in this predicament right now.

“Let me get this straight, you forced me to marry Amanda because I was involved in, what did you call it?” He pretended to search his memory for the words. It wasn't likely he'd ever forget the scene in the saloon. “Oh,
fornicating
with her. But now that I'm her husband, you're asking me to abstain from having relations and to keep my hands off her?”

The priest blushed, but nodded his head. Obviously a man who was celibate had no problem making such a request. It irked Sam though, and he had no intention of making such an agreement.

“She's my wife and I have every intention of living with her within the bounds of a normal marriage.” He drew his hand through his hair in agitation. “And that certainly means making love to her, when I finally manage to convince her marrying me isn't the biggest curse ever thrown upon her.”

“You can't.” Father Mikelson was adamant.

“The hell I can't, she's my wife.” Sam wished his foot didn't hurt so badly. He'd get up and stomp right out of the room.

The priest shook his head, any previous good humor dissolving as his skin turned ashen. “It's possible we can get the marriage annulled if you don't, well, you know, with her, again.” He coughed into his hand. “Stay out of her bed, Sam, and I might be able to release her from her marriage vows when I know she's safe again.”

Sam frowned. “I've already been with her, Father. She confessed that in front of you and half the town tonight. I don't think an annulment is going to be the solution to our dilemma.”

Father Mikelson's body sagged, and suddenly he seemed ten years older. “I know it would be a lie. But I'm willing to atone with time in purgatory so Amanda can be happy. She deserves some happiness.” His mouth dipped. “Do you really think, my son, that you can do that? Do you believe you can make her happy?”

The old man's words burned their way to Sam's heart. Could he? What kind of sacrifices would he be willing to make to see Amanda truly happy?

The question haunted Sam through the long, lonely night.

****

Amanda tossed her boot across the room and swore. How had she allowed this to happen to her again? Circumstances had swallowed her up and drowned her in events seemingly beyond her control. But she knew better. She was just too weak and afraid to resist.

Now she found herself married against her wishes to a man she despised. It was worse than becoming Arthur's wife, because in her innocence, she'd held illusions about that union, and while they later were dispelled, at least the truth hadn't spoiled her wedding night.

She flung her other boot across the room and leaned back against the pillows. She wondered what Father Mikelson was saying to Sam. Maybe her husband was kneeling in front of the priest repeating a litany of his sins and offenses and begging for mercy. She hoped the old priest gave him enough
Hail
Marys
and
Our Fathers
to keep him kneeling there until next week.

She supposed it would be her turn in the morning.
Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I tried to
murder my husband last night, but since he wasn't my husband until after the attempt, could I be exonerated?

It was all Sam's fault. He lied to her, deceived her with all his pretty words and slippery charm, then dragged her name through the mud with his male bragging. She should have aimed for his heart.

She had a nagging suspicion though, when she replayed events in her mind, that some of the responsibility could be shuffled onto her own shoulders. Of course, planning to seduce her for money was a horrible thing to do. But, when she finally made her confession to the priest, she'd need to be honest and admit the seduction was as much her fault as his. She had wanted Samuel Calhoun with a fierce, hungry desire that frightened her even now.

Seduction could only be successful with a willing accomplice, despite what she wanted to believe to maintain her rage. She should hate Sam with every fiber of her being. But—if she were truly honest with herself, she'd been a compliant partner in the lovemaking. Even now, the door between their rooms was a lovely temptation. She knew the pleasures that stood beyond that portal, and it took all of her self-control to keep it locked.

She was going to keep the door shut and Sam out of her bed, despite their marriage vows. In her opinion, they were meaningless unless uttered with complete conviction. She'd been forced to marry Sam, but no one on earth could make her act like a wife.

It was a desperate measure, and she could only imagine Sam's reaction. At first, disbelief. Then, he'd try to charm his way into her bed again. He'd ply her with soft words and gentle caresses. She stiffened, and her bones began to melt at the memory of Sam's kisses. But she would remain a bastion of virtue. This time, she promised herself, there would be no surrender.

She closed her eyes and tried to forget the pleading in Sam's eyes when he'd begged her to believe him. What had he said? That he'd never hurt her? More empty promises and sweet words from the master of lies. She clenched her fists. He had destroyed her life, taken her autonomy, and changed everything because it suited his purpose.

Revenge burned in her soul. She wanted him to suffer, to agonize, and to come crawling to her on his knees, begging for forgiveness. A weak plea in front of witnesses would never suit her; she wanted to inflict heartache and pain. She wanted him to feel all the hurt that spiraled up from her belly to encase her heart in ice.

She sat up with a jerk and twisted her hair in panic. How could she make him suffer if she never let him near her? How could she get revenge if she ignored him? And would she be able to resist him if she did allow him to cross that threshold?

She stood up and paced across the room, leaning her ear against the door to eavesdrop. There was only silence. Sam was over there, his lean, muscular body stretched across the bed the way he once stretched across her naked body. She wet her lips and wondered if she should knock. Perhaps he'd passed out from the pain of the gunshot? Although the doctor had simply declared it a flesh wound, dumped whiskey on it, and continued his quest to drink himself into oblivion.

Still, she was responsible for his injury, and she was his wife. Despite the fact that she wasn't inclined to fulfill her obligations in that arena, shouldn't she at least discover if he were conscious?

She reached down to unlock the door and a knock startled her. She jumped back.

“Amanda, open this door.”

Obviously Sam was cognizant enough to believe he had a God-given right to order her around.

“Go away, Sam. I have nothing to say to you.” She made a face when she realized he'd know she'd been hovering on the other side, waiting for him to call out to her. There was a moment of silence, then she heard a shuffling.

“Please, darlin'. Let's talk. I promise I won't do anything to hurt you.”

Amanda took a deep breath. “I don't think I could ever believe another promise you made. Leave me alone, Sam.” She turned away from the door, determined to go to bed and pretend this horrible night had never happened.

“Darlin'”—his voice was gentle and persuasive— “I need to explain some things to you. We're married now, and you have the right to know the truth about me.” He paused. “I'll never touch you again unless you ask me to. You can trust me on that, Amanda. Now please open the door.”