The Scoundrel's Bride (41 page)

“They were going to hang you.”

Zach racked his fingers through his hair. He didn’t know what to say to her. They wouldn’t have hanged him. He’d have figured some way out of that spot, tight as it had been, but he couldn’t very well tell her that.
By the way, Morality, you didn’t have to sacrifice your self-respect.

Damn.
Zach rubbed his hand across his brow.

In a small, world-weary voice, she said, “I couldn’t let them hang you.”

“Why?” he replied in a similar tone. “If you think I’m the devil incarnate, how come you tried to save me? You said you believed I was innocent. Have you changed your mind? Do you think I killed your uncle?”

She gave him a misty smile. “No.”

He waited for her to elaborate. She said nothing, simply twirled her wildflower between her fingers. Frustration clawed his chest and tightened the cords of his neck. “ ‘No’? Is that all you’re going to say?”

She shrugged and blew gently on the petals of the buttercup. “What else is there to say? I believe you are innocent of my uncle’s murder, but that doesn’t change things. That doesn’t make what I did right. I told a lie on the witness stand. I perjured myself. What does it matter why I did it?”

Zach’s hands fisted at his sides. He took a step toward her, glaring and wishing he could grab her and shake some sense into her. “Of all the damn, foolish, idiotic things I’ve ever heard.
Of course
it matters why!”

She lifted her head then, and the look in her eyes stopped him cold. Loathing, pointed, and sour. And self-directed. It dripped from her words as she said, “You’re wrong. I should have found another way to help. I could have. I know I could have if I’d only given it some thought. But I lied. I laid my hand on the Bible and swore to tell the truth. Instead I told a lie. There’s never a good reason for lying.”

Zach snorted. “They were going to lynch me, woman! Personally, I think that’s a damn good reason.”

She dropped her flower and began marching away from him. Zach watched her for a moment, then spat a curse, grabbed the lantern, and followed. “You don’t think my life’s worth one little lie?” he called in a belligerent tone.

Morality halted abruptly. “Your life is worth everything to me, Zach. Don’t you dare think otherwise. What I’m feeling now really has nothing to do with you. I betrayed myself today. All my life—since the day I figured out my mother was never coming back for me—I have never, not once, lied about anything.”

Her braid had fallen loose and she dragged a hand through her hair, shoving the escaped strands behind her ears. Lamplight and moonlight reflected the pain glistening in her eyes. Her voice trembled as she said, “I have preached against lying at revival meetings too numerous to mention. I’ve lectured on how little lies become big lies, how lies and deceptions lead to ruination.” She clutched a fist to her breast. “I’ve condemned others for their weakness, Zach Burkett. Can you not see how it makes me feel to know what I have done? I have no choice but to condemn myself!”

A hundred different arguments bombarded his brain. It was the one that churned in his gut that burst from his lips in his most sarcastic drawl. “Well, welcome down to earth with the rest of us sinners, Miracle Girl.”

She froze like a rabbit caught in a dark lantern. “I beg your pardon?”

“As right you should. Just who do you think you are, Morality? Jesus Christ in skirts?”

She gasped and her eyes went wide. “That’s blasphemy!”

“Maybe. But so is your holier-than-thou attitude.” He advanced on her, scowling. “Just because you’ve had a miracle, does that make you better than the rest of us? Is your soul more special than mine?”

“No, we’re all the same in God’s eyes!”

“That’s right. And what’s one of the main points you religious people like to preach? Forgiveness, right? ‘Though your sins be like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow.’ So what’s the problem, Morality? Are you too good to be forgiven?”

“No!” She screamed the word. Tears tumbled down her face. “Don’t you see? One must repent one’s sins to be forgiven. I don’t repent! I can’t repent! I’m glad I lied because it kept you alive, and I’d do it again if I had to. I should go to Judge Mills and confess to my lie. That’s what it would take for me to be forgiven. I’ll not do that! I won’t! So, I’m doomed, Zach. Don’t you see? Don’t you understand?”

“Aw, hell, angel.” He set down the lantern and pulled her into his arms. She clung to him, weeping as though her world had ended. Which, in some ways, he guessed it had.

Zach stroked her back with a comforting touch, his heart breaking all the while for having caused her such pain. He pressed a kiss to her head. “Listen to me, Morality. I have something to say, and I want you to listen.”

He stepped back, holding her at arm’s length, and tilted up her chin. He stared deep into her eyes. “My only brush with real religion is what my mama taught me before she died. That’s where the handful of Bible quotes I know comes from. But the one thing I do remember, the one thing that has stuck with me over all these years, is that God pretty well stands for one thing.”

He wiped her tears from her cheeks and asked in a gentle voice, “Why did you lie for me, angel?”

She drew an audible, shaky breath. “They were going to kill you.”

“No.” Zach shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. Why did you lie? The reason in your gut. In your heart. Boil it all down to one thing and tell me why you lied for me.”

He could feel her body tense and tremble. In a broken voice, she answered, “I lied because I love you.”

“That’s right, angel.” Warmth, sweet and healing, flowed through him. “You love me, and you were willing to betray your deepest, most sacred belief for me. Out of love.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he hushed her by resting his finger against her lips.

“Listen, Morality. I want you to hear this. I won’t claim to know all the religious rules, but it seems to me that doing something bad for the best of reasons—for love—can’t be unforgivable. ‘Cause I figure that as much as you love me, the Lord loves you a million times more. And I reckon that because of that love, He can forgive you just about anything.” He showed her a crooked half-smile. “Even something as bad as loving someone the likes of me.”

“You’re not bad, Zach,” she protested, censure in her eyes. “Not at all. You do bad things sometimes, but that doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“There you go.” He nodded with satisfaction. “Turn that around on yourself, Morality Burkett. If it applies to me, it sure as hell applies to you.”

She was quiet for a long moment. The glow of the lantern’s flame danced across the fiery tendrils of her hair, and Zach stretched out a hand to touch its silky texture. What was she thinking in that mixed-up mind of hers? The woman had been fed religious propaganda since knee-skinning days; her uncle undoubtedly taught her whatever nonsense he could make up in order to keep her in hand.

Zach found the very real strength of her faith amazing. And a bit daunting, truth be told.

Finally, she said, “You really should watch your language, Mr. Burkett.”

A slow, tender smile stretched across his face and he pulled her into a hug. “Nah, you watch it close enough for both of us.”

As Morality wrapped her arms around his waist, he closed his eyes. He soaked in the sweet sensation of holding her again. He inhaled the alluring yet innocent scent of her. Lord, he’d missed having this woman in his arms.

Her head resting against his chest, Morality said softly, “When I was little, Reverend Uncle always told me I had bad blood. My mother didn’t love me because I was bad. He said my blindness was my punishment.”

Zach gritted his teeth, wishing he had killed that sorry son of a bitch. “Aw, angel, I don’t believe that for a minute.” He turned her around and pulled her against him, her back to his front. Holding her with one arm, he extended the other in an arc toward the sky and the earth before them. “Look, honey.”

The moon bathed the earth in a soft, pearly light, creating shades of shadows to texture the land. The gentle breeze bore the perfume of a nearby magnolia, while the trill of a nighthawk added magic to the night. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? It’s God’s creation as much as you and me. A God who would give this gift wouldn’t take it away from you just because you misbehaved a time or two as a child.”

Morality shrugged, but Zach could feel a subtle relaxing inside of her and a little of his own tension eased. “You know, I sort of have my own ideas about…” He hooked his thumb toward the sky. “I guess they’re a combination of what my mama taught me before she died, and the things I’ve picked up on my own since—including something I only realized this afternoon.”

He pressed a kiss against her hair. “It’s all about love, Morality. His for us. Ours for Him. And ours for one another.”

Taking a step back, he turned her around. He held both her hands in his and waited for her to meet his gaze. “I love you, angel. I love you more than I know how to say.” Normally so facile with his tongue, Zach struggled to put his feelings into words. The emotion was so immense, so vast. Like nothing he’d ever known. Like he imagined Paradise to be. With a catch in his voice, he said, “Before you, everything was darkness. I had no light in my life at all. But you give me a little glimpse of Heaven, angel. You make me believe.”

She brought up her hand and touched his cheek. In a hushed whisper, she asked, “Do you mean it, Zach? You’re not lying to me?”

He turned his mouth to her hand and kissed her palm. “No, I’m not lying. I may be a bastard, but I’m not scum. I wouldn’t do that to you, Morality. Never.”

Offering her a crooked grin, he confessed, “Now, I can’t rightly say I won’t sneak something past you now and then…”

She sniffed and all hint of teasing died inside him. His expression frank and honest, he said, “But I promise you, Morality, I swear on my mother’s grave, that I’ll never, ever, lie to you about what is between us. It’s too great, too wonderful and exquisite and all-fired beautiful to mess with.” He held her hand against his heart. “I’ll never lie about loving you, Morality Brown Burkett. My life on it.”

Suddenly, she was clinging to him and her hot tears soaked through his shirt and burned his chest. Zach was sure the moisture pooling in his eye resulted from a speck of dust. “Aw, angel, don’t cry. Loving is supposed to make a person happy, not teary-eyed and upset.”

His comforting pat on her back quickly became a caress.

“Oh, Zach.” Her whispered breath seeped through his skin and heated his blood. Then she lifted her face, offering her kiss. Offering her love.

Zach groaned as he captured her lips. Morality. She tasted the same. Her sweet, sense-stealing fragrance was the same. The fierce, white-hot need she stoked to life inside him was the same as always. But everything was different because he was different.

This time, he knew it for what it was. “Love. I love you, Morality.” He bent and swung her up into his arms, then turned and headed for the cabin.

“Zach?”

“I want a bed this time. I plan to be at this all night.”

“All night?” She tilted her head back to look at him, and he paused long enough to press a hot, wet kiss to that tempting spot on her neck just below her ear.

“All night,” he repeated, his voice rough and raspy. “I want it to be right for us.”

“Oh, Zach, I love you, too.”

He kissed her once more, then hurried toward the cabin. Morality’s laughter trilled across the night, and a fierce gladness lifted Zach’s heart. Who’d have ever thought an angel like Morality Brown would want to tie herself to a no-good bastard like him? Either she was just plain stupid—which she wasn’t—or he was the luckiest man in Texas. That thought fairly boggled the mind.

He carried her into his home, to his bed.

“Oh,” she said, her expression going soft as she gazed at the touches of spring he’d optimistically added before going in search of his wandering wife. Sprigs of lavender verbenas rose from a water pitcher beside the bed. Bouquets of primrose and crimson clover lay atop the pillows. Goldenrod, as bright as Morality’s smile, was spread across the foot of the mattress.

“It’s all so beautiful, Zach.”

“I made a bed for Patrick in the barn for tonight,” he replied gruffly. “I wanted some privacy. I wanted to remind you of the trip home—when you told me you loved me. I was hoping you’d remember how you’d felt.” He laid her gently on the mattress, then stepped back, his gaze burning a trail across her breasts, her hips, the bare length of leg surrounded by a froth of petticoats.

He shrugged out of his shirt and Morality’s gaze fired. “I never forgot, Zach Burkett. I never will forget.”

He eased away her clothing, placing gentle, reverent kisses on every inch of skin he uncovered. With his hands and with his mouth he told of his love, and when their bodies melded together, he stared into her eyes and spoke to her with his soul.

Gently, he moved in her. “Ah, angel, I’ve missed you so. All my life I’ve missed you.” She gave him a tender smile, and to Zach, she’d never looked so beautiful. He rose on his elbows and said, “You’re my home and my heart, Morality Burkett. You make me whole again.”

She lifted her hips, taking him deeper, and wrapped her hands tightly around his shoulders. “I love you, Zach Burkett. Everything I give to you, you return to me a million times. I always knew something was absent from my life, but I didn’t know what. It was love. True, unconditional love. You are my home and my heart. And I thank God for bringing you into my life.”

Her words touched him deeply, and for the first time in a very long time, Zach sent a brief prayer of thanksgiving heavenward. “You are the Miracle Girl, angel. You’re my miracle.”

And then he lost himself in earthly pleasures and heavenly delights.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

THE MANTEL CLOCK TOLLED three A.M. as Morality lay snuggled into the curve of his body, sated and replete. And racked with guilt.

Everything she’d ever wanted was here within her grasp. Love, a home, a family. How could she be so happy?