The Lawman Claims His Bride (Love Inspired Historical) (14 page)

“Oh, honestly.” She maneuvered between the two, her gaze filled with equal parts fondness and exasperation. “Cyrus, you’re going to beat all the air out of our son. Now let him be and come meet his wife.”

“His wife?”
Cyrus’s voice boomed through the air. “You finally married your little gal in Denver?”

“I did.” Still smiling, Logan motioned Megan forward.

She went to him at once, but her steps were slow and careful. Not only had her ankle begun to ache, but her father-in-law was a little intimating.
A lot
intimidating.

“Megan, darling.” Logan kissed her knuckles in a gesture that was becoming pleasantly familiar. “Meet Cyrus Mitchell, owner, operator and resident curmudgeon of the Flying M ranch.”

Trying not to smile at the lofty description, Megan looked into the tanned, lined face that was so much like her husband’s. Her heart thumped hard against her ribs. She was getting a good look into the future, and she liked what she saw. Even the deep, weathered grooves around Cyrus Mitchell’s eyes were appealing. Logan was going to be a very handsome older man.

“I’m so very pleased to meet you, Mr. Mitchell.” She reached out her hand to her new father-in-law.

Cyrus glared at her extended fingers as if they were connected to a poisonous snake. “We’ll have none of that in this family.”

Megan’s throat tightened. Had she done something wrong? Never having had a father of her own, she didn’t know how to proceed. Nevertheless, she lifted her chin and continued holding out her hand, sensing Cyrus Mitchell would appreciate grit over any other character trait.

Making a grumbling sound in his throat, he pulled her into a bone-crunching hug. Trapped in the strong, fatherly embrace, Megan had never felt so cherished. So
accepted.

“Welcome to the family, little lady.” Cyrus patted her shoulders awkwardly, then stepped back and stared at her with...was that...water in his eyes?

Megan had just made a grown man cry, all because she’d married his son. An odd sense of joy spread through her. Between Mrs. Mitchell’s warm reception, the boys’ eager enthusiasm and Cyrus’s watery eyes, Megan knew—she just knew—she was going to be very happy on the Flying M.

Oh, yes. She was home. Home at last.

Chapter Fourteen

L
ogan had made a serious error in judgment. He’d failed to prepare Megan for his family.

What must she think? In a matter of minutes she’d been subjected to a pair of barking cow dogs, an infamous Mitchell wrestling match and now one of his father’s bone-rattling hugs.

She had to be reeling. After all, Megan was used to life at Charity House, where order and polite decorum reigned supreme. The complete opposite held true on the Flying M. A day didn’t go by without some small disaster or another coming to fruition. That was just the Mitchell way.

When his father finally gave Megan room to breathe, Logan pushed between them. Fighting the urge to whisk her away, he ran his gaze down to her bandaged ankle and back up again, stopping at the angry-looking wound on her throat. His gut clenched at the reminder of the attack. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m perfectly well, Logan.”

She didn’t look well. She looked ready to drop from exhaustion.

He opened his mouth to argue the point. She let out an exasperated sigh. “Truly, I’m fine.”

He still didn’t believe her. Her eyes had taken on a glassy, unfocused sheen. And her face was leached of color. Shane had warned Logan not to push his bride too hard. He feared he’d done just that.

“All this excitement is too much for you.” He kept his voice even. “I’m sorry, Megan. My family can be a bit overwhelming.”

“You’re family is lovely.
Every
one of them.” She smiled at his parents then turned her gaze to his brothers.

Logan tossed all three of them a warning glare. The boys were acting relatively polite. For now. It was only a matter of time before they grew bored and mayhem erupted all over again.

“Still,”
he said, moving into her line of vision and subsequently cutting off a direct route between her and the boys. “You’ve had a long journey and not nearly enough sleep in the last two days.”

“I dozed most of the night.” Her eyebrows scrunched together as though she’d just come to an unpleasant realization. “But you haven’t slept at all.”

“I’m used to sporadic sleep.” It was part of his job description. “
You,
however, are not.” He took her elbow and turned her in the direction of the house. “Let’s get you inside so you can rest.”

He guided her carefully, making sure he took the bulk of her weight so she didn’t put unnecessary pressure on her ankle.

“Shouldn’t you rest as well?” she asked, leaning heavily on him.

“I will. Later.”

“But you haven’t—”

“Hey, Garrett,” he shot over his shoulder, effectively cutting off whatever additional argument she’d been about to make. “You and the boys unload the wagon while I get Megan settled inside.”

She tugged on his arm. “I can walk on my own.”

Bold words, spoken in a strong tone. He almost believed her, but then she stepped on a small rock and lost her balance. She would have crumpled to the ground if he hadn’t been holding on to her. Evidently, he needed to be her better judgment.

“Megan, darling, you’re going to have to defer to me on this.”

She lifted her chin at the stubborn angle he was growing to dread. This was a new side of his wife he didn’t completely understand. Just how much had she changed in the past five years?

As if in answer, she pulled him to a stop and began to argue with him again. “Can I at least take a moment to—”

“No.”

“Not even if I—”

“No.”

Giving him an irritated sniff, she drew her elbow free and headed toward the house without his assistance. With her nose in the air and that unbending look in her eyes, she almost looked regal. But then she stumbled, enough to break stride.

He rushed to scoop her in his arms, but caught sight of his mother shaking her head at him.

He knew that look. But why was she warning him off? Megan was brittle, fragile,
injured.
She needed him. She...

Seemed to be making satisfactory progress on her own.

Should he let her continue or not?

Unsure how best to proceed, Logan looked to his father for help. The older man shot him a sympathetic grimace, but didn’t offer any advice. Instead, he planted a loud kiss on his wife’s lips, jammed his hat on his head and then moved back to his horse.

“Once you boys get that wagon unloaded meet me in the stable. We have a long day ahead of us in the saddle,” he said, then clicked his tongue and the dogs obediently fell in line behind his horse.

At this time of year Logan knew his father could use an extra pair of hands. “Hey, Pa,” he called after him. “Once I get Megan situated I’ll join you on the range.”

Cyrus waved a hand over his head. “We’ll be in the south pastures today, gotta round up the latest batch of newborns.”

Logan knew the difficult task that lay ahead of them. Most new mothers tried to conceal their calves from the rest of herd by moving them to remote spots not easy to get to on horseback. Thankfully, Jake and Sally Mae were experts at rooting out even the most stubborn from their hiding places.

“I’ll find you,” Logan said.

After
he made sure Megan rested. Once she was off her feet he planned to join his father and tell him everything, including the events surrounding her recent memory loss. Later tonight, he’d do the same with his mother. Logan didn’t think he’d brought the danger with them, nevertheless he owed it to his parents to warn them of the hazards that might lie ahead.

In a few days Logan would have to leave Megan in his family’s care so he could hunt Kincaid’s killer. Although he trusted his family implicitly, Logan knew Megan wouldn’t be safe until he found the real killer and put him behind bars. Then—and only then—would they be able to begin their life together as husband and wife.

* * *

Megan entered the house with Logan by her side and his mother trailing closely behind. She was tired of all this careful “handling” and longed to get back to her old self, yearned to be strong again, in control, giving to others rather than receiving.

Stepping deeper into the house, the pleasant aroma of cinnamon, apples and baking bread instantly soothed her. So much so that when Logan took her arm, Megan allowed him to direct her into a large sitting room without argument.

She glanced around her surroundings with pleasure.
This
was the kind of large, comfortable space she’d always thought would belong to a family, a real family.

The entire area was happily cluttered. Blankets were tossed haphazardly on the bulky, well-worn furniture. A pile of wooden toys and a bag of marbles sat in the center of the floor, while papers, magazines and books littered every available tabletop. This room looked lived-in, a place to cast aside the cares of the day and simply relax.

“Sit here, sweetheart.” Logan indicated a spot on one of the sofas.

Although the large, comfortable-looking piece of furniture beckoned, Megan didn’t want to sit. She was too restless, too excited. She wanted to investigate her new home. “I’ve been riding in a wagon all night,” she said. “My legs are stiff.”

Logan’s handsome face twisted in concern. “Your ankle must be throbbing by now.”

It was, but Megan could bear the pain a little while longer. The moment Logan reached out to her, as she knew he would, she dipped out from under his hand before he could get a good grip on her arm.

Trying not to grimace at him, she took a step then winced when her ankle landed at an awkward angle.

Without preamble, Logan scooped her into his arms and headed toward the sofa. “I don’t understand why you’re fighting me on this. I only want to take care of you.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but his mother spoke first. “Logan, you’re suffocating your wife.”

He drew in an offended breath. “Shane, her
doctor,
told me to keep her off her feet as much as possible. He said—”

Megan touched his lips, effectively cutting off the rest of his words. “My ankle is fine. I moved too quickly, that’s all.”

Cradling her against him a moment longer, he set her on the sofa and then sat down beside her. “It’s just that I can’t bear to have anything else happen to you.” His eyes held that familiar look of worry, but there was something else in them, as well. An intensity that sent a shiver through her.

Sighing, Megan lowered her gaze to her hands, hands that were shaking. Again. She was growing quite tired of this odd, almost fearful reaction to her husband. She knew—
knew
—he would never hurt her, not even in the most intimate moments of their marriage. But every once in a while when the light caught his face at just the right angle, something in her pulled back from him.

“I would never harm you,” he said quietly, as if he could read her thoughts.

She didn’t
want
to be afraid of her husband. But sometimes he was just too big, too close, too intense. And yet, her reaction to him made no sense. This was Logan.
Logan.

Swallowing down her ridiculous fear, she lifted her hand to his face. He caught it and placed a light kiss on her palm.

This time, fear had nothing to do with the shiver sliding down her spine.

Enthralled by the pleasant sensation, Megan leaned a bit closer to her husband. His blue eyes were so compelling, so beautiful. She ran her fingertip along his jaw. His day-old stubble was rough under her touch.

He leaned forward, his lips nearly touching hers.

Megan shut her eyes and sighed.

He brushed a strand of hair off her forehead and she trembled under his tender touch.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

Megan shook her head, but she couldn’t stop the heat rising in her cheeks. “I’ll be fine with your mother.” She smiled up at him, hoping to alleviate his worry even if she’d rather he stay. “Just fine.”

After another round of arguing, cajoling and promises of dire consequences if Megan was not kept off her feet, Logan exited the room.

Once he was gone, Mrs. Mitchell let out an amused breath of air. “I didn’t think that boy would ever leave.”

“He’s worried about me,” Megan said.

“Well, that certainly needed clearing up,” she said with a quick burst of laughter.

Megan couldn’t help enjoying her mother-in-law’s reaction.

After a moment of smiling at one another, a comfortable silence descended. Megan studied her new mother-in-law beneath lowered lashes. This was a woman comfortable in her own skin.

Would she ever have that sort of confidence, that internal acceptance of who she was deep at the core? Megan sensed she could learn a lot from this woman.

At that happy thought, a wave of guilt crested. “I’m sorry you weren’t able to attend the wedding,” Megan said. “Under the circumstances there wasn’t time to plan anything formal.”

Smoothing a wrinkle from her apron, Mrs. Mitchell lowered herself onto the sofa next to Megan. “Am I to assume my son got a little, shall we say...ahead of himself?”

Megan frowned at the oddly worded question. Her instinct was to change the subject immediately, but curiosity got the best of her. “Ahead of himself, how?”

She took Megan’s hands and squeezed gently. “Are you with child, Megan?”

“No.”
She visibly shrank from the blunt question. “I’m not my mother’s daughter.”

“Oh, dear, I didn’t mean it that way.” She smiled kindly, so kindly that it took an effort of will for Megan to hold her gaze. “It’s simply obvious how much my son loves you.”

“But we haven’t... Logan would never...that is, he and I haven’t...” She lowered her gaze in complete and utter embarrassment. “Of course I’m not with child. We had to get married quickly because we—” She cut off her own words. How did she explain the circumstances of their hurried wedding?

Mrs. Mitchell simply stared at her, waiting for the rest.

“There was nothing scandalous about our sudden nuptials.” Words tumbled out of her mouth in a garbled rush. “Well, yes, maybe there was, but not in the way you would think. When Logan came home he found me in, that is, I was in... Oh, bother, it’s complicated.”

“With Logan, it usually is.”

“Oh?” When it came to her husband, Megan had always thought matters were blessedly straightforward.

“Oh, my, yes.” Rather than expanding, Mrs. Mitchell rose. “Now, come. Let’s get you settled in a room upstairs, then you can tell me the story behind your hasty marriage to my son.”

Megan hobbled up the stairs behind her mother-in-law. There was only time for impressions along the way. The sturdy railing made from knotted pine, the long hallway that came to a T and then split into two identical corridors.

Turning down the left hallway, Mrs. Mitchell stopped at the first room on the right. Megan entered ahead of her and was immediately struck by the scent of pine and woodsy spice she’d always associated with her husband.

“This was Logan’s room as a boy.”

Smiling, Megan poked around the room. The decor had a decidedly masculine, albeit comfortable, feel. There were two large chairs with matching ottomans, a sturdy chest of drawers and an oversized, cozy-looking bed.

Wanting to surrender to her exhaustion, Megan stared at the fluffy mattress with longing. Much to her horror, tears welled in her eyes.

The last two days had been filled with too much emotion to sort through all at once. Although she was excited to begin her new life with Logan, although she already adored his family, everything was all...so...new. And overwhelming.

A sob slipped past her lips and the tears she’d held on to for days escaped at last.

Without commenting on her sudden breakdown, Mrs. Mitchell handed Megan a handkerchief she dug out of her apron.

“I’m sorry.” Megan dabbed at her eyes. “I don’t usually cry like this. I don’t usually cry at all.”

The older woman guided her to the edge of the bed and urged her to sit. “Then it’s high time you did.”

Megan sank onto the mattress. The blessed softness called to her and she had to fight to stay upright.

“We all need a good cry every now and again,” her mother-in-law announced.

Cocooned in the woman’s soft smile, Megan sniffled. “That’s what my friend Bella said.”