The Widowed Bride
Elizabeth Lane
Indulge your fantasies of delicious Regency Rakes, fierce Viking warriors and rugged Highlanders. Be swept away into a world of intense passion, lavish settings and romance that burns brightly through the centuriesKnown to her friends as a free spirit, Elizabeth Lane has traveled the world in search of new adventures and good stories.She has lived in Mexico, Guatemala, Panama and Germany and traveled to such exotic spots as China and Nepal, but she is most at peace in the mountains of her native Utah. As of this writing, she lives in a suburb of Salt Lake City with an eighteen-year-old cat named PowderPuff.Single since 1984, Elizabeth has raised a son and two daughters. One daughter, who died in an accident in 1985, is still a loving presence in her mother's life. The other two children are grown and thriving, and Elizabeth revels in her new loves her grandchildren.Elizabeth is, perhaps, too easily lured by new challenges. She loves hiking, photography, belly dancing, animals, Native American culture, and any kind of music. She has pursued whales off Baja California, trekked the Himalayas, rafted the Grand Canyon, and even taken a flying lesson. Since 1983 she has worked full-time as an educational software designer. But her favorite pastime is writing lively, passionate stories that will reach out and touch her readers.Her novels have been published in ten languages and enjoyed in many parts of the world. Elizabeth's first novel, a historical saga about the Spanish conquest of Mexico, was published in 1980. Several more sagas followed, including two books set in China. When the market for big, serious historical novels faded, it took her four lean years to make the transition to romance. Wind River, her first Harlequin Historical, was published in 1989.She has also written several contemporary Silhouette books. "Everyone and everything has a story" Elizabeth is fond of saying when asked about her ideas. "From the penny in your hand to the stranger in the grocery line, each set of experiences is unique. Look around you and listen with your imagination. You'll have stories to write for a lifetime. "Elizabeth Loves hearing from her readers. You can contact her at her e-mail address, elizl@uswest. net, or write to her in care of Harlequin Reader Services.
“You were made to be loved, Ruby,” he murmured against her hair. “Let me show you how loving’s meant to be. Let me give you the pleasure you deserve.”
Ruby’s throat tightened. She struggled to reply, but no words would come.
“What is it? Are you afraid of me?”
She shook her head, finding her voice. “It’s not you I’m afraid of. It’s me. All those years of steeling myself against the things he did, the nights of lying there, wondering how he was going to use me next…”
She exhaled raggedly. “What if I’m broken, Ethan? What if I can’t—?”
His kiss lasted just long enough to block her words. “Hush,” he breathed.
The Widowed Bride
Harlequin
Historical #1031—March 2011
Praise for Elizabeth Lane
The Horseman’s Bride
“The Gustavson family has won the hearts of Americana fans seeking a realistic love story. Lane wisely continues in this vein with the latest in her series, in which a fiery young woman meets her match in a mysterious drifter.”
—RT Book Reviews
The Borrowed Bride
“Lane’s pleasing love story brims over with tender touches.”
—RT Book Reviews
His Substitute Bride
“This tender and loving story, spinning off from Lane’s previous Western, showcases her talent for drawing three-dimensional characters and placing them in an exciting time and place.”
—RT Book Reviews
Wyoming Woman
“This credible, now-or-never romance moves with reckless speed through a highly engrossing and compact plot to the kind of happy ending we read romances to enjoy.”
—RT Book Reviews
The Widowed Bride
Elizabeth Lane
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Available from Harlequin
Historical and ELIZABETH LANE
Wind River #28
Birds of Passage #92
Moonfire #150
MacKenna’s Promise #216
Lydia #302
Apache Fire #436
Shawnee Bride #492
Bride on the Run #546
My Lord Savage #569
Navajo Sunrise #608
Christmas Gold #627
“Jubal’s Gift”
Wyoming Widow #657
Wyoming Wildcat #676
Wyoming Woman #728
Her Dearest Enemy #754
Wyoming Wildfire #792
Stay for Christmas #819
“Angels in the Snow”
The Stranger #856
On the Wings of Love #881
The Borrowed Bride #920
His Substitute Bride #939
Cowboy Christmas #963
“The Homecoming”
The Horseman’s Bride #983
The Widowed Bride #1031
For my girls
Tanya, Teresa, Tiffany and Olivia
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
Dutchman’s Creek, Colorado
May 1920
The sooty cobweb stretched from the chandelier to the high ceiling, a good four feet out of reach. Lurking near its center was a spider—a monster with long, prickly legs and a body as big as a copper penny.
Ruby Denby Rumford glared up at her adversary. She’d always had a mortal dread of spiders, but she couldn’t let this one get the best of her. If she wanted to attract good tenants for her boardinghouse, the place would have to be spotless from floor to ceiling. The spider had to go.
Circling warily, she plotted her attack. She might be able to reach the web with the broom. But if she knocked the spider loose, it could end up anywhere—in her hair, in her face, down her blouse… Ruby shuddered as she weighed her options. The only way to make sure the creature didn’t land on her would be to capture it first.
A dusty Mason jar with a lid sat on the kitchen counter. That would do for a trap. But she’d need something to climb on. Ruby sighed as she surveyed the rickety cane chairs that had come with the old boardinghouse. Maybe she should have paid four-fifty for that stepladder at the hardware store. But buying the property had taken almost all her money. Until the rents started coming in, she would need to hoard every cent she had left.
Moving a chair to the center of the room, she tried standing on the seat; but the spider was still out of reach. She needed something more—that wooden crate in the corner might do. Placed on the chair, it would raise her a good eighteen inches.
With the crate in place, Ruby retrieved the jar and prepared for battle. She could do this, she lectured herself. A woman who’d fired three bullets into her raging, two-hundred-pound husband at point-blank range should have no trouble facing down a creature the size of her thumb.
Hollis Rumford had deserved to die. Even the jurors had agreed after they’d heard how Hollis had abused her and threatened worse to their two young daughters. At the urging of the best lawyer in the state, they’d acquitted Ruby on grounds of self-defense. But her wealthy friends—mostly Hollis’s friends—had been less forgiving. The Springfield, Missouri, social set had cut her off cold.
Exhausted and needing a change of scene, she’d fled to Europe with her little girls. A few months later she’d returned to discover that her late husband’s estate had been gobbled up by creditors, leaving her with little more than a pittance.
There was nothing to do but pull up stakes and make a new start.
Dutchman’s Creek had been a natural choice. Ruby’s brother Jace, her only close kin, had settled on a nearby ranch. He and his spirited young bride, Clara, were expecting their first baby. They’d urged Ruby to come to Colorado so their children could grow up together.
Ruby had welcomed the invitation. She’d seen the town on an earlier visit and been captivated by its peaceful mountain setting. She’d always been close to Jace, and Clara was like a sister to her. But she had no intention of becoming a burden to them. Whatever it took, she’d vowed, she would find a way to provide for herself and her children.
The vacant boarding house at the south end of Main Street had looked like an answer to her prayers. She and her daughters could live on the main floor and rent the four upstairs rooms for a steady income.
Only now was she beginning to realize how much she’d taken on.
She was glad she’d accepted Clara’s invitation to take the girls for the week. Mandy and Caro were having the time of their lives on the ranch, riding horses, climbing trees, bottle-feeding orphaned calves and gathering eggs in the chicken coop.
Meanwhile, their mother had a spider to dispose of.
Clutching the jar in one hand, she hitched up her narrow skirt and hoisted herself onto the edge of the chair. Her brother had offered to come and help her get the place in shape. Ruby had turned him down out of stubborn pride. Jace had already done enough for her, risking his life and freedom to protect her after Hollis’s death. It was time she learned to manage on her own.
Holding her breath, Ruby mounted the crate. Her knees quivered as she steadied her balance on the wooden slats. Seconds, that was all she’d need to do the job.
Close up, the spider looked bigger and nastier than ever. Steeling herself, Ruby twisted the lid off the Mason jar and positioned it below the creature. A little more stretch and she could use the lid to maneuver it inside. Heart pounding, she eased onto her tiptoes…
A wooden slat splintered beneath her weight. Thrown off balance, Ruby lurched upward. The jar shattered against the floor as she grabbed for the chain that suspended the small chandelier. Miraculously, the chain held. But her thrashing feet had toppled the crate and chair, leaving her to dangle above the wreckage. The distance to the floor wasn’t all that far, but falling could land her on a splintered board, a jutting chair leg or shards of broken glass.
The web was empty now. The spider, she realized, could be anywhere. Panic clenched Ruby’s stomach. Her grip was getting weaker, and she had no safe place to fall. There was only one thing she could do.
Scream bloody murder.
U.S. Deputy Marshal Ethan Beaudry had been assigned to weed out bootleggers, not rescue females in distress. But the shrieks coming from the old boarding house were too urgent to ignore. Vaulting the picket fence, he charged up the steps and burst through the front door.
His breath caught in his throat.
The woman had stopped screaming. She hung by her arms, staring down at him from beneath a tumble of red-gold hair. Her eyes were as blue as the heart of a mountain columbine.
She did make a fetching sight, dangling like an acrobat from the chandelier chain, with her white blouse pulled loose and her skirt hiked over her shapely calves. Ethan was tempted to spend a few more seconds admiring the view. But then she spoke.
“What are you staring at, you fool? Stop gawking and get me down from here!”
Her voice was low, with a taut, gravelly edge that roused Ethan’s senses. “Do you trust me to catch you?” he teased.
“Are you sure you’re strong enough?” she retorted. “I’m not what you’d call a little woman.”
No, she certainly wasn’t, Ethan observed. At five foot eight or nine with a body that could grace the bow of a frigate, she’d make an armful for any man.
He wouldn’t mind being that man.
Kicking aside the debris, Ethan stood beneath her and held out his arms. “Come on,” he said.
She hesitated, her eyes taking the measure of his broad shoulders and six-foot-two-inch height. One by one, her fingers peeled away from the chain.
With a little yelp, she dropped straight down, feet first. Ethan caught her awkwardly around the knees. From there she slid down the front of him, delicious curves gliding intimately down his face, over his chest, down his belly to—
Lord have mercy, he was in trouble now. His erection had sprung up with coiled-spring efficiency, ready for playtime. She would have felt it all the way down.
Feet touching the floor, she pushed away from him. Her face was flushed, her full lips parted. Ethan fought the temptation to fling caution to the wind, seize her in his arms and kiss her till she burned. The lady would probably slap him hard enough to dislocate his jaw. And she was a lady. Ethan made a practice of reading people, and he was certain of that. Her clothes were simple but expensively made. The Irish-linen blouse, smudged with dust and edged with the barest touch of lace, looked European, as did the daintily pointed kidskin oxfords. And he would bet money that the pearl studs in her earlobes were as genuine as her upper-class Midwestern accent.
So what was such a woman doing in this run-down boardinghouse, a rumored delivery point for the bootlegging trade? He didn’t want to believe she was involved. But he’d known stranger things to happen.
A flick of her tongue moistened her lower lip. Her complexion was like a porcelain doll’s, but close up, Ethan could see the careworn shadows beneath her eyes. He estimated her age at about thirty, and something told him she’d had her share of troubles. He’d noticed right off she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. But she was far too stunning not to have married. A widow, Ethan surmised. A luscious redheaded widow who’d been around the block and knew every step of the way.
Intriguing. And damn tempting…
Ethan brought himself up with a mental slap. He’d come here to do a risky job. As long as he was working undercover, he’d be crazy to get personally involved—even with a female as enticing as this one.
But that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little fun.
The silence between them had begun to crackle like the air before a summer storm. Ethan cleared his throat.
“Are you all right?” he asked her.
She hesitated, as if examining herself for inner wounds. “Yes, but I think I…oh!”
Her body stiffened, eyes jerking wide. With urgent gasps, she began yanking at the front of her blouse, popping the tiny shell buttons in her haste. Ethan made a gentlemanly show of averting his eyes, but continued to steal furtive glances desire warring with dismay. Either the woman was in genuine danger or her nerves had snapped.
As the last button gave way, she ripped the blouse off her body, shook it furiously at arm’s length and flung it to the floor. Ethan felt a touch on his arm. Turning, he met her frozen gaze. “If you please.” Her voice was a husky breath. “I need you to look…”
Her lacy camisole and gently cinched corset covered her modestly. Still, the woman looked good enough to lick like a strawberry ice-cream cone. Ethan feasted his eyes as she slowly turned.
Damnation!
There, clinging to the back of her pink satin corset was a Texas-size brown spider. It didn’t strike him as a venomous sort, but he couldn’t blame the lady for being spooked. He wasn’t crazy about spiders himself.
“Hold still,” he muttered, raising his hand.
A quick brush sent the spider flying toward the floor. Ethan would have crushed it with his boot, but it skittered down a crack in the planking and disappeared.
The woman’s knees sagged. Ethan readied his arms to catch her in a faint, but she righted herself as if by force of will. Snatching up the discarded blouse, she thrust her arms into the sleeves, pushed the remaining buttons through their holes and tucked the hem into the waist of her skirt. Only when she was as presentable as she could make herself did she turn back to face him. Her face was pale, but her ripe lips managed a smile.
“We haven’t been properly introduced,” she said, offering her hand. “I’m Ruby Rumford. I just bought this place, and I’m very much in your debt.”
“Ethan Beaudry. Happy I could be of help, ma’am.” Ethan accepted her handshake. Her fingers were strong and smooth, her manner so genuine that it made him want to cringe in self-disgust. Only a low-down snake would lie to such a woman. But that was exactly what he was about to do.
Starting now.
Ethan Beaudry.
Ruby turned the name over in her mind like a child examining a pebble. She liked the sound of it, and the way it suited everything about him—dark, rugged features, a rangy body and a drawl you could cut with a butter knife.
She remembered how he’d caught her in his arms and lowered her to the floor, paying no heed to the sparks their bodies had ignited on the way down. Ruby understood men well enough to know that some things couldn’t be helped. But she’d been surprised at her own response to that brief contact. It had been so many years since she’d experienced anything good with a man, she’d forgotten what it felt like.
Sliding down the front of Ethan Beaudry had sent a shock of pleasure all the way to her toes.
But what was she thinking? With Hollis gone barely a year, the last thing she needed was another man in her life. She had a future to forge and two daughters to raise. And she had her own shattered sense of self to rebuild. After what she’d been through, she was no longer fit to be any man’s sweetheart, lover or wife. Maybe she never would be.
She was damaged goods—damaged to the roots of her soul.
“I’m sorry I can’t offer you something to drink.” She glanced toward the front door. Ethan realized it was his cue to leave. But he wasn’t ready to walk out on what might be his best chance to learn more about her.
“You say you just bought this property?” He righted the chair, inviting her to sit.
“Yes. I signed the papers two days ago.” She sat on the edge of the seat, clasping her fingers in her lap. “I’ll be open for boarders as soon as I get the place cleaned up—if the spiders will let me.” Her edgy little laugh deepened the dimples in her cheeks. Ethan swore silently. Why did she have to be so damn appealing?
“Don’t you have anyone to help you?” he asked.
“Nobody that I can afford to pay. My brother offered to come, but I didn’t want to impose on him.” She glanced down at her hands, then met his eyes again. Her long lashes were the color of molasses taffy. “How was it you were able to hear me and rush right in, Mr. Beaudry? You must have been close by.”
“Please call me Ethan. And yes, I was out for some morning air, just passing this place when I heard you. It was pure luck.”
Lie number one. Ethan had been keeping an eye on the vacant boarding house since his arrival a week ago. The recent passage of the Eighteenth Amendment, outlawing the manufacture, transportation and selling of alcohol for consumption, had spawned an epidemic of illegal whiskey stills and a network of criminal activity. The U.S. Marshals Service had been assigned the job of law enforcement in this matter.
The back cellar of the hitherto-empty boardinghouse was a suspected drop-off spot for illegal moonshine whiskey, to be loaded onto trucks and hauled away for clandestine sale in places like Denver, Omaha and Kansas City. Ethan had seen tire tracks and boot prints leading around the building though he had yet to catch anyone in the act. But identifying the deliverymen wasn’t why he’d come to Dutchman’s Creek. He was after the boss who was running the operation, not his errand boys.
Which led to the question of the scrumptious widow Rumford. If she’d been placed here to provide a safe link between buyers and sellers, then she was as dangerous as a spitting cobra. But if she’d bought the old boardinghouse in complete innocence, heaven help her, she could be in more peril than she knew.
“So, what is it you do?” she asked.
Ethan’s cover story, devised by some pencil pusher in the head office, was well rehearsed. “I’m a history professor, taking a year’s leave to write a book about Colorado. This town struck me as a peaceful place to settle down for a few months and concentrate on my work.”
Lie number two. Blatant, but necessary.
She studied him, one delicate eyebrow arching upward. “So you’re new in town? I must say, you don’t look like a professor.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Ethan leaned against a dusty sideboard, his mind working. Having stumbled into this situation, he’d be a fool not to put it to use.
“I have a business proposition for you,” he said. “Right now I’m staying at the hotel. But it’s expensive and noisier than I’d like. I know you need help and that you can’t afford to pay for it. Would you be open to my moving in here and lending you a hand—say, in exchange for my first week’s room and board?”
Emotions played across her face as she weighed his offer. Ethan could pretty well guess what was going on in that lovely head. He was a stranger, and they’d be spending time alone together. Would she be safe with him? Would her reputation suffer from his presence?
Then again, he could be wrong. Ruby Rumford could have dark motives of her own. If she suspected he was lying and wanted to trap him, he might already be in trouble. But that was a chance he’d have to take.
“I’d be happy to work for the pleasure of helping a lady,” he added. “But something tells me, if you wouldn’t accept free help from your brother you wouldn’t accept it from me. This arrangement would be fair, and it could work well for both of us. So, do we have a deal?”
Hesitation flickered in her eyes. Her amply curved bosom strained the fabric of her blouse as she took a deep breath. “You could have your choice of the rooms. But your meals would be a problem at first. I won’t be able to cook until the kitchen’s set up.”
“I can make do until then. The food at the hotel is all right, but I’ll confess I’ve been hankering for some good old-fashioned home cooking.”
“Then I suppose we have a deal, as you say.” Her smile wavered as she stood. “Come on, I’ll show you the rooms.”
She led the way up the wooden stairs, giving him the pleasure of following behind. With each step, the fabric of her narrow khaki skirt molded to her buttocks, setting his fantasies ablaze. He imagined his hands cupping those rounded moons as he thrust deep between her legs into her tight, wet warmth, pushing toward that instant of blessed release.
Would she be willing to play by his rules—no messy emotions, no promises, no tears when he walked away for good? A man could never be sure of such things. But a woman like Ruby, delectable, mature and unattached, would certainly know the game. At the very least, he could have a hell of a good time teaching her.
Damn!
Ethan brought himself up with a mental slap. He was here to break up a bootlegging ring, not seduce his luscious landlady. If Ruby proved to be involved with the smugglers, he could end up hauling her pretty ass to jail. He’d be smart to remember that when his mind strayed below his belt.
But meanwhile, there was nothing wrong with enjoying the view.
The four upstairs rooms were of equal size, with a common bathroom off the central hallway. The plumbing had been added after the house was built and was crude at best. But at least the place had a flush toilet and a tub with running water for the tenants. Downstairs, there was only a toilet and basin for Ruby and the girls. They would have to make do with a washtub or wait their turn to bathe on the second floor.
It was a far cry from the grand mansion she’d shared with Hollis in Missouri. But at least their lives here would be safe and peaceful. Ruby could only hope her daughters would adjust to their reduced circumstances.
Ethan Beaudry was prowling from room to room, pausing to check the view from each of the windows. He moved like a panther, lithe, alert and powerful, his presence filling every space he entered.
Watching from the hallway, Ruby tried to imagine him lecturing to a gallery of students. The picture refused to come together. But then, what did she know? She’d married at nineteen and never attended college. Her only idea of a professor was the aging, bespectacled stereotype she’d read about in books. There was no reason a professor couldn’t be tall and darkly handsome, was there?
A flash of memory brought back that brief instant in Ethan’s arms. Her senses reveled in the clean, leathery smell of him and the manly contours of his body. Her legs heated and softened beneath her skirt. Oh, this wasn’t good. Not good at all.
With a deep breath, she willed the memory away. She was a businesswoman and the man was her tenant, nothing more. She would remember that even if she had to remind herself every ten minutes.
Ethan seemed more interested in the back rooms than the two in front. Again, he checked the windows, pressing close enough to see the muddy backyard below. Not that there was anything down there to see—just rutted tracks where people had left their cars and wagons when they came into town; maybe teenagers as well, who might have used the secluded spot as a late-night lovers’ lane.
According to the real estate agent, the place had been vacant for nearly a year. The bank had taken it over when its previous owner, an elderly woman, had passed away, leaving an unpaid mortgage. Ruby was just beginning to discover the old boardinghouse’s secrets. But then, she had secrets of her own. Maybe in time she’d begin to feel a sort of kinship with the old place. Maybe in time it would even become home.
Ethan was bending over the single bed in the south room, scowling as he tested the worn cotton mattress with his fist. The springs squeaked as he pushed up and down. Heaven save her, was he planning on having lady friends up? Maybe she should have asked more questions before agreeing to have him as a tenant.
“The beds are old, but you can have your choice of them,” she said, stepping into the room. “I don’t mind your moving things around.”
“This one will do fine.” He straightened. The sunlight pouring into the room heightened the gold flecks in his dark brown eyes.
“The room hasn’t been cleaned yet.” Ruby focused on brushing a speck of lint off her skirt. She was alone with a compellingly attractive man in what had just become his bedroom. Maybe this arrangement was a mistake.
“It’ll be no trouble for me to clean it,” he said. “But I’ll need a desk or a table for my work. Do you have anything I can use?”
“Not that I can spare.” Ruby had already taken an inventory of the sparse furnishings. “But the agent told me there was some older furniture stored in the cellar. Maybe there’s something useful down there.”
“You haven’t looked?”
“Not yet.”
“Spiders?” A knowing twinkle lit his eyes.
She feigned a shrug. “Actually, I haven’t had time.”
“Then what do you say we go down there now, together? If you see anything you want, I’ll haul it up the stairs for you.”
His suggestion struck Ruby as a sensible idea. Loath as she was to admit it, the thought of entering that dark, spider-infested cellar alone made her skin crawl. She’d plumbed a well of excuses to put off going down there. But with Ethan leading the way, the prospect didn’t seem so daunting.
She followed him downstairs to the kitchen, her eyes lingering on the muscular outline of his shoulders. His black hair grew low on the back of his sun-bronzed neck. Ruby suppressed the urge to reach out and brush the curls clear of his collar. How would he react if she touched him? Would he take it as an invitation?
As a stranger, Ethan would have no idea what she’d done to her husband. Here in Dutchman’s Creek, only a few people did—Jace and Clara, of course, as well as Clara’s family and Sam Farley, the elderly town marshal. None of those good people would reveal her secret on purpose. But scandal had a way of oozing into the open. Sooner or later word was bound to get out. What would the people in town—like her new tenant—think of her when the truth was revealed? For her own sake, Ruby no longer cared. But for the sake of her innocent young daughters…
Maybe she should have settled someplace else—a place where no one knew about her past.
But she would cross that bridge when she came to it. Right now she had more urgent concerns—and one of them was walking right in front of her.
Ethan had said he was looking forward to some good home cooking, a reasonable expectation for any boarder. With no money to hire a cook, Ruby would have to run the kitchen herself.
Unfortunately, she’d grown up in a home where meals were prepared by a housekeeper. Upon her marriage to Hollis Rumford, she had moved into a mansion with a full staff of servants, including a chef.
Heaven help her, she didn’t know the first thing about cooking. She barely knew how to boil water.
What had she gotten herself into? Right now the thought of finding tenants, cooking meals, maintaining the house, laundering a mountain of sheets, collecting rent and managing expenses was more than she could wrap her mind around.
She’d dreamed of having a steady income and a place to live with her girls. The reality was more like a nightmare. But she’d sunk her money into this old house and moved from Springfield with all her possessions. She was here to stay, and she had no choice except to make it work.
Chapter Two
The entrance to the cellar lay at the back of the house, next to the kitchen stoop. Its slanted door was the kind that children might have used for a slide in happier times when the house was new. Now the wood was warped and weathered to a splintery gray.
There was no padlock, Ethan noted as he twisted out the stick that fastened the rusted hasp. Anyone, including bootleggers, could have gotten into the cellar. Until now he’d kept his distance from the door, not wanting to raise suspicion by getting too close. But Ruby had given him a perfect excuse to investigate.
Maybe too perfect.
“I don’t suppose you carry an electric torch with you.” She leaned past his shoulder, teasing his nostrils with a sensual whiff of perfume. Ethan recognized the scent as a pricey one. Clearly, the lady had money, or, more likely, knew some man who did. So what was she doing in a place like this? He’d be a fool not to watch his every step.
“With the door open, we should be able to see well enough.” He glanced back at her. “Ready?”
She nodded, all wide-eyed innocence. “Lead the way.”
Gripping the handle, he raised the cellar door. It came up easily, swinging outward on hinges so silent that they must have been recently oiled. Instincts prickling, Ethan started down the rough-cut plank steps. Ruby followed so close behind him that he could hear her shallow breathing. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. For all he knew, the woman could be scheming to shoot him in the back and leave his carcass down here to rot. Or maybe she had cohorts waiting in the shadows to jump him and drag him away.
He cursed the oversight of leaving his .38 Smith & Wesson revolver locked in his suitcase at the hotel. There was no reason for a man posing as a scholar to carry a gun in a small town, especially on a sunny spring day, or so he’d thought. But that was before he’d encountered a seductively mysterious redhead, who appeared to be in the wrong place for the wrong reasons.
“Watch your head.” He ducked under the bottom edge of the rough concrete foundation and stepped into the low cavern of the cellar. Overhead, cobwebs festooned the timbers that supported the floor of the house. But there’d been no web strands across the entrance, Ethan noted. Someone had been down here, probably within the past couple of weeks.
A jumble of dusty furniture was piled against the far wall, as if it had been pushed there to make room for something else. The rest of the floor, covered in loose clay tiles over bare earth, was empty. If a stash of bootleg whiskey had been stored here, someone must have already hauled it away.
That might explain why Ruby had been so willing to bring him down here.
As he crossed the floor, Ethan suddenly realized she was no longer following him. Glancing back, he saw her hesitating at the foot of the steps.
A vision flashed through Ethan’s mind—Ruby racing up the stairs to slam the cellar door and lock him in. Odds were she hadn’t bought his inane story about being a professor. Hellfire, he probably wouldn’t have bought it himself. He should have insisted on a more convincing cover.
“What’s the matter?” he demanded, turning back to face her.
Her gaze shifted upward to the spiderwebs drooping from the beams. Suspicion crackled along his nerves. Was it an act? He’d be damned if he was going to find out the hard way.
“For Pete’s sake, if we don’t bother the spiders, they won’t bother us! Come on!” He grabbed her wrist and jerked her toward him more roughly than he’d meant to. “No! Don’t—”
Suddenly she was fighting his grip, thrashing like a trapped animal. Ethan struggled to bring her under control. His free hand captured her flailing arm. With an expert twist, he whipped her against him, pinioning her hand against the small of her back. Even then she resisted, straining backward, gasping with effort.
“Listen, damn it,” he began. “There’s no need to—”
He broke off as her eyes met his. In their blue depths, Ethan recognized the look of stark terror.
This woman, he sensed, had been hurt by a man. Not just hurt, brutalized.
He let her go. She staggered backward, lost her balance and fell to the floor. Stunned, she struggled to raise herself onto her elbows. Her eyes smoldered up at him through a tumble of fiery hair.
Ethan stood over her, feeling like a monster. “I’m sorry, Ruby.” He spoke softly, hoping to soothe her. “I’ll confess I got impatient, but I wouldn’t have hurt you. So help me, I’d never hurt any woman.”
She glared at him, her gaze flashing defiance. “Don’t you ever do that again,” she breathed. “After my husband died, I swore I’d never let another man raise a hand to me. That includes you, Professor!”
She flung the title at him like an epithet. Ethan willed himself not to react. With a long exhalation, he forced the tension from his body. “My apologies. Believe me, you’ve nothing to worry about,” he said, extending his open hand toward her. “Now, will you please allow me to help you up?”
She hesitated, then raised her hand. Tentatively at first, then with growing confidence, her fingers locked between his. Her grip tightened as he pulled her to her feet. She was quivering, her eyes wide, her lips parted. Ethan resisted the urge to gather her into his arms and comfort her. He was certain she’d prefer him to keep his distance for now. Besides, the fact that she’d been abused didn’t mean the woman was harmless.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I will be.” Her chin took on a determined thrust. She withdrew her hand and turned away from him, her spine as rigid as a poker. “Now, as I remember, we came down here to look at the furniture,” she said.
Ruby’s eyes had grown accustomed to the dim light. She focused her gaze on the jumble of broken chairs, torn cushions and detached bed parts, doing her best to ignore the powerful man beside her.
Ethan had insisted he hadn’t meant to hurt her. She wanted to believe him. But when he’d seized her wrist and yanked her toward him, all the old instincts had kicked in. She’d fought him—fought him like she’d tried to fight Hollis until the night her husband had fractured her jaw. After that, she’d simply clenched her teeth and taken her punishment…up until the night he’d gone too far.
Those ten years of abuse were branded on her brain and seared along her nerves. The memories came back as violent dreams that jolted her awake in the night, leaving her shaken and drenched with sweat. The physical and emotional reflexes were, if anything, even worse. For a time, Ruby had hoped they would heal. Now she feared they would never go away.
“How did your husband die, Ruby?”
Her throat jerked tight. She willed herself to breathe before she spoke. “Are you in the habit of asking such personal questions?”
“Not usually. But you’re an intriguing woman. I’m curious about you.”
“Well, take your curiosity someplace else,” she said. “I prefer to keep private matters private.”
One dark eyebrow slithered upward. Ruby gave herself a mental kick. She should have lied, told him that Hollis had died of something ordinary, like influenza or heart failure. That would have been the end of it. Now the man would be more curious than ever.
Dutchman’s Creek was a small town. Sooner or later, she knew, word of her scandalous past was bound to spread. But Ruby had resolved to keep the secret for as long as she could. She needed time to establish a good reputation. Her daughters needed time to make friends. She wasn’t about to reveal her story to a man she’d just met.
“Look!” she exclaimed, seizing on a distraction. “Could that be a table behind that old bed frame?”
“Where?” He leaned close to follow the line of her pointing finger. “I don’t—”
“Right over there. I could be wrong. It’s hard to tell from here. If you could move a few things out of the way…”
Striding forward, he lifted a chair off the top of the stack, wiped away the dust and set it upright, next to her. “Have a seat. We might as well spread everything out. Then you can choose whatever strikes your fancy, and I’ll earn my keep by hauling it upstairs.”
“Fine.” Ruby moved back out of the way before settling with her hands in her lap.
“Speak up if you see something you can use.” Ethan set to work, lifting the lighter pieces—stools, kitchen chairs and empty wooden crates—off the stack and setting them on the floor. Many of the items were broken. The best of them needed a good scrubbing and a fresh coat of paint. But never mind that. As the minutes passed, Ruby found herself paying less attention to the furniture and more to the man.
Ethan moved with a healthy animal power. Muscles rippled beneath his shirt as he freed each piece of furniture and moved it effortlessly onto the floor. Even the heavier items—solid armchairs, bulky chests, metal bedsprings—caused him little strain. He had the body of a man who’d led a vigorous life, not a scholar who’d devoted his days to research and teaching.
His face was weathered by sun and wind. His big hands were strong, the skin lightly mottled, as if something had scarred them. Ruby had never claimed to be a keen judge of men, but even she could surmise that he hadn’t told her the truth.
If Ethan Beaudry was a college history professor, she was the queen of Sheba!
So who was he? What was he really doing here? Maybe it was time she found out.
She rose and sauntered toward him, pausing to inspect a rocking chair with a missing arm. “So you’re on leave from your job, Professor. Where did you say you teach?”
“I didn’t say.” He righted a tilting chiffonier and moved it away from the wall. “But since you asked, it’s Oberlin College, in Ohio. Maybe you’ve heard of it.”
“Is that where you’re from? Ohio? I must say, you don’t sound like it.”
He shot her a scowl. “For a woman who likes to keep private things private, you ask a lot of questions.”
“You’ll be sleeping under my roof. I have a right to ask questions, and to expect honest answers.”
“Is that so?” He fiddled with a loose drawer pull. “All right, then. I’m from Oklahoma. Elk City, to save you the trouble of asking.”
“Do you have family there?”
His jaw tightened. “Not anymore.”
“Why do you say that? Did they move away? Did something happen to—”
“That’s enough,” he snapped, cutting off her words. “No more questions, Ruby. And no more answers. I’ll pay my rent on time and treat you like the lady you are. But nobody has the right to pry into my past.”
Stung by his vehemence, Ruby checked the impulse to back away. Summoning her courage, she took a step toward him and raised her eyes to meet his stony gaze. Her heart was pounding like a runaway locomotive. Could he hear it, echoing in the dark chamber of the cellar?
“It seems we have that much in common, at least,” she said coldly. “Let’s declare a truce. I’ll respect your privacy if you’ll respect mine. That should be suitable for both of us. Agreed?”
He stood glowering at her, tall and strong and over-poweringly masculine. He could break her bones with his bare hands if he chose to, Ruby thought. But the emotion that poured through her body wasn’t fear. Heaven help her, she wanted to feel his hands on her again. She hungered for a second helping of the sensual pleasure he’d ignited when he caught her in his arms and lowered her to the floor.
Leave before it’s too late! a voice of caution inside her urged. But Ruby’s feet would not obey. She stood rooted to the floor, straining toward him like a grass stem reaching for the sun.
The darkness pressed around them, intimate in its silence. She could hear the low rush of his breathing and smell the clean, musky-sweet aroma of his sweat. A warm, liquid ache rose from the depths of her body.
“Maybe we should just stop talking altogether.” His voice had gone thick and husky. Heat sizzled over her skin as he bent closer. Her lips parted, anticipating his kiss.
What if she couldn’t do this?
What if she froze in panic, as she’d done almost every time Hollis had touched her?
This was a mistake. She wasn’t ready. Maybe she never would be.
A whimper escaped her throat. She stumbled backward, shattering the tension between them. Ethan watched in silence as she battled for composure. His dark eyes held a world of unspoken questions.
Questions she wasn’t ready to answer.
She drew herself up and faced him again. “Perhaps we’d both be better off if you stayed at the hotel,” she said.
His gaze hardened. “Ruby, if you’re afraid that I’d—”
“Of course not!” Her cheeks blazed with heat. “It’s just that—”
From the house above them, a muffled rapping interrupted her words. Someone was knocking on the front door.
Ethan froze, instantly alert. Wheeling away from him, Ruby raced up the cellar steps and into the blinding sunlight.
The kitchen door stood open, as she’d left it. From the front of the house, the rapping came again, more insistently this time. Ruby raced through the kitchen and dining room, into the parlor. Maybe Jace and Clara had brought the girls into town. Or maybe Marshal Sam Farley was coming by to check on her, as he’d promised Jace he would. Whoever it was, they’d be welcome. Being alone with Ethan was wearing down her all-too-fragile defenses.
Ruby wanted to make a good impression on the townsfolk, and that included being a proper hostess. If only she’d had the foresight to buy some cookies or cake from the bakery up the street and brew a pot of tea! It was too late for that now, and of course the house was an impossible mess. Why hadn’t she been better prepared?
Hastily pinning up her hair and tugging her blouse closed, she hurried across the parlor and flung the door open.
Two men, both strangers, stood on the front porch.
The older, shorter of the pair was well into middle age, his heavy features punctuated by a Roman nose. The younger man, who looked to be in his late twenties, had mousy brown hair and a receding chin. Both of them were dressed in mail-order brown suits and matching fedoras. Despite the lack of resemblance, Ruby surmised they were father and son. Only the father was smiling.
“Thaddeus Wilton,” he said, extending his hand. “I just heard today that someone had bought this old house. As mayor of Dutchman’s Creek, it’s my pleasure to welcome you to our town.”
Ruby accepted the proffered handshake. The mayor’s palm was baby smooth, his prolonged clasp uncomfortably warm.
“Ruby Denby Rumford. I’m happy to meet you.” Ruby extricated her fingers and took a step backward. “Won’t you come in? Please excuse the condition of the place. I’ve barely had time to start on the cleaning.”
“Perfectly understandable, my dear.” The mayor stepped across the threshold, removing his hat to reveal a polished mat of ebony hair. “Allow me to present my son, Harper.”
“Ma’am.” Harper Wilton gave her the barest inclination of his head. His neutral expression appeared to have been chiseled on his face. Only his basalt-colored eyes moved, glinting like a reptile’s.
“Mind the broken glass. I had a slight mishap this morning.” Ruby scurried ahead of the pair to place two chairs near the window. “Please forgive me for not having refreshments to offer you. I’ll need to scrub the cupboards before I can unpack my kitchen things.”
The mayor lowered himself onto the nearest chair. A ray of sunlight revealed the edge of his slick black toupee. “Quite all right, my dear,” he said. “In fact, since you’re still getting settled here, we’d be honored if you’d join us for dinner at the hotel this evening. I own the place, so I can guarantee you a good meal.”
The offer caught Ruby off guard. “Oh, really, you needn’t go so far as—”
“Please say yes, my dear,” the mayor interrupted. “Since you’ll be part of our community, we’d like to get to know you better. And we can tell you a great deal about this house. It used to belong to my late wife’s aunt. In fact, Harper was born here, weren’t you, Harper?”
“Can’t say as I remember.” Harper hadn’t taken a seat. He stood just inside the door, leaning against the frame. His gaze flickered as if scanning every detail in the room. His behavior was beginning to make Ruby nervous.
She glanced toward the kitchen. Evidently, Ethan had decided not to show himself—strange behavior for a man who claimed to be writing a book about Colorado. One would think the mayor would be the first person he’d want to meet.
Maybe he was just being mindful of her reputation. But she wouldn’t bet money on it. Ethan Beaudry, she sensed, had his own secret agenda. And her only chance of dealing with him lay in discovering what it was.
Ethan pressed against the wall behind the kitchen door. The narrow space along the frame allowed him a limited view of the parlor. From what he could see, Ruby’s visitors looked harmless enough, but appearances could be deceiving. In any case, the mayor’s reason for stopping by with his hatchet-faced son clearly went beyond sociability. Every time the strutting peacock called Ruby my dear, Ethan felt his teeth clench. Was it a simple case of a man playing up to a beautiful woman? Or did Mayor Thaddeus Wilton have some darker purpose in mind?
He took a moment to weigh the possibilities. If the mayor and his son were involved in the moonshine trade, it made sense that they’d stop by to make contact with the house’s new owner. They’d spoken to Ruby as if meeting her for the first time. But that didn’t mean it was true. She could easily have given them a signal, warning them that someone might be listening.
Weighing the facts, Ethan speculated that all three of them could be up to their necks in illegal activity.
Or it could be that the scene in the parlor was as innocent as a damn Sunday-school picnic!
Easing along the wall toward the open back door, he returned to the yard and went back down the cellar stairs. It wouldn’t do for Ruby and her new friends to catch him eavesdropping. In any case, he should be able to hear what went on from under the floor. He’d spotted a battered study desk beneath a six-foot roll of moth-eaten carpet. Extricating it would give him reason enough to be down here. Meanwhile, he could keep his ears open.
“I insist that you be our guest, my dear!” The mayor’s booming voice filtered through the floorboards overhead. “Some of the town’s most important citizens dine at the hotel. We can introduce you to the right people, get you off to a good start.”
The silence that followed suggested hesitation. Dared he hope Ruby didn’t like the oily pair? But what difference did it make? She was only a woman, after all—prettier than most, but with no less than her share of faults. He could take what she had to offer and walk away tomorrow, Ethan told himself. And maybe he would.
He’d come close to kissing her—close enough to know that the attraction was there for both of them. Given what he knew about her past, he shouldn’t have been surprised when she’d backed away. But her retreat had left him with a powerful itch. He wanted her, pure and simple.
He had a job to do, Ethan reminded himself. But getting the beautiful widow in bed could be the most pleasant way to discover what she was up to. Call it workman’s compensation.
The mayor’s voice boomed into his thoughts. “No excuses, my dear. You’ll be needing a good meal, and the Dutchman’s Creek Hotel has the best food in the county. We won’t take no for an answer, will we, Harper?”
The mayor’s son muttered something Ethan couldn’t make out. Again, a beat of silence passed before Ruby answered. “You’re right, of course. And I do need to start meeting people. Very well, it would be a pleasure to accept your invitation. What time shall I meet you there?”
The reply was muffled. Evidently the mayor had risen and moved to a less audible part of the room. But Ethan had heard enough to conclude that further eavesdropping would be a waste of time. Whatever the mayor wanted, he would most likely save it for that evening.
With a vaguely muttered curse, Ethan turned back to the task at hand. The rolled carpet was thick and heavy, its woolen nap permeated with dust. He was dragging it out of the way when he happened to glance at the wall behind it. Where the furniture had blocked his view, a length of corrugated tin roofing stood against the rear wall. Behind it, a section of the wall was open.
Pulse galloping, Ethan held his breath to listen. From the direction of the parlor came the creak of a floorboard and the muted sound of voices. A quick look—that was all he dared risk. But it would likely be enough.
Lifting aside the tin, he peered into the opening. Musty odors of dampness and decay rushed into his nostrils. The place had likely been a root cellar for storing apples and winter vegetables. Maybe that was all it had ever been. But Ethan had his doubts. When he shifted to one side, allowing more light to shine in, he could see that the earth had been dug out farther under the house to make a chamber nearly a third the size of the original cellar. In its dark recesses, the dim light glinted on a motley assortment of glass jugs—scores of them, crowding the floor and stacked high on crude wooden shelves.
He knew at once what he’d found. Bootleg whiskey, brewed in an uncounted number of secret backwoods stills, had been brought here to be picked up and paid for by big-city crime syndicates. Ethan estimated the worth of the stash in the thousands of dollars.
Moving with quiet haste, he replaced the tin, the carpet roll and the other furniture that had concealed the opening. By the time he’d finished, he was sweating, more from nerves than from effort.
He’d found the evidence he was looking for. But pinning the crime on the responsible parties would take time and luck. Thaddeus Wilton’s interest in the house made him a likely suspect. But even if the mayor was guilty, he probably wasn’t acting alone. His son could have a hand in the dirty business, as well. So could any number of people in this close-knit little town.
And what about Ruby?
Had she known about the stash? Had she been prepared to take action if he found it? Ethan remembered how she’d sat with her hands folded, watching him like a cat as he lifted the furniture away from the wall. Only the arrival of visitors upstairs had kept her from being here when he found the whiskey.
Was she involved, or had she simply stumbled into a bad situation? Ethan had no proof either way. He was certain of only one thing.
He’d be a fool to let the woman out of his sight.
Chapter Three
Closing the door behind her guests, Ruby sank onto a chair with a sigh of relief. It wasn’t that the mayor and his son had behaved improperly. In fact, they’d been perfect gentlemen. But she wasn’t used to dealing with unexpected company. Back in Springfield, the family butler would have answered the door, taken the visitor’s card and checked to make sure Mrs. Rumford was receiving callers that day. If she wasn’t up to socializing—more often than not because she was nursing bruises—she would have the luxury of being “indisposed,” and no one would think the worse of her for it.
Those days were gone forever, Ruby reminded herself. Dutchman’s Creek was a small town, and she was no longer the socially prominent Mrs. Hollis Rumford. She was a struggling widow, newly arrived and in need of friends. The sooner she got used to that reality the better.
And the sooner she got this wreck of a house in shape, the sooner she could start renting out rooms and bringing in some income.
Rising, she seized a broom and began sweeping up the glass from her earlier mishap. First she would get the parlor looking presentable. Then she’d take the time to scrub down her own room, put clean linens on the bed, unpack her clothes and set out her personal toiletries. That would allow her to change and freshen up before having dinner at the hotel, and to fall exhausted into bed when she returned.
Would Ethan be spending the night here? The thought of him lying upstairs, alone in the darkness, sent a freshet of heat through her body. She remembered the velvety roughness of his voice, the sensual parting of his lips as he’d leaned toward her. She could almost imagine…
But she was fantasizing like a schoolgirl. Ethan was a stranger and she was a lady, whatever that was supposed to mean. Nothing would happen between them, not even if she wanted it to. Ruby knew herself all too well. Let a man get too close and she would turn to ice in his arms. It had happened last year with a charming Dutch businessman she’d met in Europe. He’d soon lost patience with her and gone his way. Professor Ethan Beaudry would be no different.
As if summoned by her thoughts, Ethan strode in through the kitchen, carrying a battered table with one crooked leg. His face, arms and clothes were smudged with dust. Ruby willed herself to ignore the quickening of her pulse. “Is that the best table you could find?” she asked.
He shrugged. “It’ll do if I brace the leg. Did you see anything else you wanted from down there?”
Ruby realized she’d paid scant attention to the furniture in the cellar. “Nothing that can’t wait. No use bringing anything else upstairs until the rooms are clean.”
He glanced around the parlor. “Your visitors didn’t stay long,” he commented. “Did you drive them off with that broom?”
A twitch of his eyebrow confirmed that he was teasing her. Ruby couldn’t be sure whether she liked it or not. “It wasn’t supposed to be a long visit,” she said curtly. “The mayor and his son just stopped by to welcome me to town and invite me to dinner this evening.”
“Oh? Do they do that for every newcomer, or just for the pretty ones? No one here has invited me to dinner.”
“Maybe they would have if you’d come upstairs and introduced yourself instead of hiding in the cellar like a grumpy old troll!”
His rough laugh startled her. “Ruby, I’m your tenant,” he said. “That doesn’t give me the right to come barging in when you have company. I’ll introduce myself to the mayor another time, on my own terms.”
“You strike me as a man who does most things on his own terms.”
“Should I take that as a compliment?” He had lowered the table and appeared to be studying her, taking her measure with those fathomless gold-flecked eyes. What was he seeing? Pride? Vulnerability? Shame and fear? All those things were there, locked deep inside her. The past eleven years had taught Ruby to keep her emotions hidden. But no part of her seemed safe from his penetrating, curiously gentle gaze.
She felt as if he was probing into her soul—and the only response she knew was to fling up barriers.
“You can take it any way you like.” She turned away from him and resumed sweeping the floor, plying the broom like a weapon.
“Careful,” he teased. “The way you’re handling that poor old broom, you could break it.”
She stopped sweeping and glared at him. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”
“Now that you mention it…” Ethan picked up the table again, turned toward the stairs, then paused.
“If there’s nothing else you need, I’ll start on my own room,” he said. “The mattress could use a good whaling.”
“Fine.” Ruby resumed her sweeping. “When you’re finished I’ll find you some clean sheets and a quilt for your bed.”
“No hurry. I’ll be staying at the hotel tonight.”
Surprised, she glanced up at him. Only then did she remember what she’d said to him in the cellar. Had he taken her at her word? Heaven save her, had she wanted him to sleep here tonight?
“My hotel room is already paid for,” he said. “Might as well not waste the money. There’ll be plenty of time to move in here tomorrow—that is, if you haven’t thrown me out by then.”
“Don’t tempt me.” Ruby scooped the broken glass into a dustpan. In truth, she’d been a bit nervous about spending her first night alone in the old house. But surely her fears were groundless. What could possibly happen to her in a quiet place like Dutchman’s Creek?
“Will you be all right here alone?” Ethan asked. “If you’re worried, I’d be glad to offer you my hotel room—gratis, of course. I can always bunk here.”
“I wouldn’t think of putting you out! Don’t concern yourself. I’ll be fine.”
He shifted the table higher against his shoulder. “You’re sure? I’m not one to argue with a lady.”
“Quite sure, thank you.” Ruby emptied the dustpan and started on the rest of the bare wooden floor. Clara’s family had offered her the loan of some lightly used carpets, an overstuffed set, a dining-room table and other odds and ends from their storage shed. Jace would be bringing it into town when he delivered the girls at the end of the week. Meanwhile, she would have to make do with a few rickety wooden chairs for parlor seating.
She stole a glance at Ethan as he climbed the stairs to the landing and disappeared. Maybe she should have taken him up on his offer of the hotel room. The thought of a safe, clean, comfortable night was as tempting as a siren’s song.
But since she couldn’t pay for the room, and wouldn’t accept charity from the man, that wasn’t going to happen. She would spend the night here, in the saggy double bed that had come with her run-down, spider-infested house. And she would try to be proud of herself for getting this far on her own. Months, or maybe years from now, she would look back on this period as a time of growth, a time when she’d found the strength and courage to meet new challenges.
But right now, just getting through today seemed challenge enough.
Ethan had dragged the mattress into the backyard and propped it on end against a sturdy clothesline pole. Using an abandoned baseball bat he’d found in the grass, he delivered blow after blow against the faded, cotton-stuffed ticking. He’d half expected a veritable Noah’s ark of small vermin to come rushing out through the seams, but so far the vigorous beating had only raised clouds of dust.
And that was just as well, since his mind was scarcely on task. Most of his thoughts had been about Ruby, who was slowly driving him to distraction.
Why would a woman turn down a comfortable hotel room to stay alone in a place that wasn’t fit for habitation? Maybe she was too proud to accept his offer. But he couldn’t rule out the possibility that something was going down tonight—something that involved that stash of moonshine in the cellar.
Either way, there were things about the woman he couldn’t explain. If she was planning something, why had she shown him the furniture in the cellar and left him free to look through the stack? And why had she offered him sheets and a blanket for his bed, as if she’d assumed he would be staying the night?
Her actions pointed to innocence. But something about the beautiful widow didn’t fit the picture. She was as out of place in this house, and this town, as a swan in a chicken coop.
Perhaps we’d both be better off if you stayed at the hotel.
When Ruby had spoken those words he’d been on the verge of crushing her in his arms and kissing her until she whimpered for mercy. Every instinct had told him she’d wanted that kiss. But at the last second, she’d pulled back, almost as if she’d been afraid. Then, before anything could be resolved, the mayor and his slit-mouthed son had come knocking at the damn door, and now it seemed that Ruby was going to dinner with them.
Ethan laid into the mattress with the power of frustration, landing blows that stung all the way up his arms. He was a seasoned professional lawman who’d achieved his rank through the coolheaded performance of his duty. He prided himself on his detachment, avoiding any personal involvement in his cases. So far the practice had served him well.
But Ruby Rumford was driving him crazy.
He’d known more than a few women in the four rootless years since the loss of his family. Pretty women. Charming women. Ruthless women. Ruby was not like any of them. She was a bundle of contradictions—strength and fragility, passion and aloofness, fire and ice. Every word she’d spoken rang true. But he sensed a hidden darkness lurking behind that innocent gaze. That air of mystery only made her more intriguing.
He wanted her, damn it.
And he needed a way to uncover her secrets—even if it meant she’d end up hating him for it.
In any case, he didn’t really plan to spend the night at the hotel. Let her think he was safely out of sight. He would be close by, watching the back of the house. If any business was going on with that stash of illegal booze in the cellar—and if Ruby was involved—he would soon know.
When the mattress was beaten to his satisfaction, he picked it up and lugged it into the house. Ruby was gone from the parlor, but he could hear the faint thud of shifting furniture from one of the back bedrooms. Leaning the mattress against the stair railing, Ethan strode in the direction of the sound. It appeared that the lady could use some help, and he’d be remiss not to offer his two strong arms.
He found her in the larger of the two downstairs bedrooms, struggling to move an iron-framed double bed away from the wall. She was straining backward, her hands gripping a corner post. Perspiration had plastered her linen blouse to the back of her shoulders.
She paused, turning as he stepped into the room. Her blue eyes were wide and startled. Her tousled hair, caught by a shaft of light from the high window, blazed like an Arizona sunset. Lord, but she was beautiful, he thought. A man could lose his mind just looking at her.
“You could have called me,” he said. “I was just out back.”
“No need. I can manage this fine.” She returned to tugging on the bedpost, dragging the heavy frame away from the wall by inches. A drop of sweat glistened on her temple.
“You hired me to work for you, remember?” Stepping behind her, he clasped her shoulders to guide her away from the bed. Her body tensed beneath his palms, but she made no effort to resist. “Let me help you, Ruby,” he said. “That’s why I’m here.”
She stood with her back toward him, her seductive fragrance wafting into his nostrils. Ethan knew that he should let her go, but his hands wanted more of her. He imagined his fingers sliding down her shoulders to cradle the lush, warm weight of her breasts, his arms pulling her back against him, molding her ample rump to his body until he could feel…
Hellfire, what was he thinking? She’d probably slap him silly.
Willing himself to let go, he released her and stepped away. She turned to face him, her lips moist, her breathing quick and shallow. When she spoke, her voice was a husky little rasp.
“This mattress could probably use a good beating, as well. While you have it outside, I can dust the springs and clean the floor under the bed. With the mattress gone, it should be easy enough to move the frame….” The words poured out of her in a nervous torrent. Ethan fought the temptation to stop her mouth with his.
“Stand back,” he said. “I’ll have it out of here in a minute.”
Ethan bent over the mattress. It was heavier than he’d expected, and years of wear had made it as floppy as a big pancake. He wrestled with the cursed thing, tackling it from the side, from the middle and from the end, without being able to pick it up. From somewhere behind him came a delightful sound. It took him a moment to realize it was Ruby giggling. Her laughter was as sweet as a girl’s.
He collapsed facedown across the mattress, letting the sound wash over him. Memories stirred inside him, blurred by pain and years—memories of love and happy warmth he had no wish to ever feel again.
Ethan forced the memories from his mind. They faded slowly, like tears on sun-parched earth.
How long had it been since she’d allowed herself to laugh? Ruby gazed down at Ethan’s prone body, savoring the giddiness that had swept over her. It was oddly comforting to know that this big, strong man had his limitations.
“This strikes me as a job for two people,” she said.
“So what does the lady have in mind?” He had risen onto one elbow. The look in his lazily sardonic eyes suggested he was in no hurry to get up. He was teasing her again, stopping just short of impropriety. Ruby struggled to ignore the thread of heat uncoiling in the depths of her body.
“If you take one end of the mattress and let me steady the other, we should be able to carry it outside together,” she said. “Shall we try it?”
A beat of silence passed. “Sounds like a good idea,” he said, rising and shifting to the foot of the bed. “We’ll tip the mattress onto its edge and slide it out the door. I’ll take this end. You take the other. Ready?”
“Ready.” Ruby clasped the mattress where it lay against the headboard. With no place to grip, holding on was awkward at best.
“Now.” He seized the foot of the mattress, tilting it until it slid off the spring and onto the floor. Ruby braced to keep her end upright. A rigid mattress would have been easy to support. But this one was as limp as a noodle. Wherever it wasn’t being held, it sagged.
“Here we go.” Ethan backed out of the room, sliding the mattress along on one side. Ruby followed, swaying with effort. Perspiration drizzled down her throat to pool in the damp hollow between her breasts. The narrow space of the hallway lent some stability. But getting the thing through the parlor and dining room, into the kitchen and out the back door would be exhausting.
Ethan backed out of the hallway and into the parlor, giving the mattress full play. Holding it was harder than ever now. Ruby’s legs were beginning to quiver. “We could lay it down and drag it across the room,” she suggested.
“We’d just have to stand it up again to get it through the doors,” Ethan grunted. “We might as well—” His words ended in a curse as something clattered under his boot. Only then did Ruby remember the dustpan she’d left on the floor.
Swearing out loud, Ethan lost his footing and went down, taking the mattress with him. The momentum yanked Ruby off her feet. She spun, staggered sideways and collapsed facedown with her legs sprawled across his.
For a moment she lay stunned and gasping. A slow, sensual heat rose from the point of contact. She felt it tingle upward from her legs into her thighs, pool between her hips and flow upward to tighten her nipples into aching nubs.
“Well, this is a fine how-do-you-do.” Ethan’s voice was a growl next to her ear. Turning her head, Ruby met his smoldering eyes. His face was no more than a handbreadth from her own, his mouth so near that the slightest forward movement would bring her lips into contact with his. Yearning rose inside her like a silent cry. She ached with the need to be kissed, to be cradled in tenderness and love by a man who respected and cared for her.
Could Ethan Beaudry be that man?
Did such a man even exist?
She strained toward him, ever so slightly. Sensing her response, he brushed her mouth with his own, once, then again. His lips were weather chapped and clean to the taste, claiming hers with a sureness that spoke of an experienced lover. As he deepened the kiss, Ruby’s heart broke into a gallop. The heat between her thighs pulsed and liquefied. Bolts of sensation rippled through her body, awakening a hunger for more.
With a low mutter he caught her waist and rolled her onto her back. Now he lay partly above her, his mouth plundering hers, his knee resting lightly between her legs. She felt the hardening pressure against the side of her hip. Instinctively she pressed against him, heightening the waves of shimmering need flowing between them. He groaned and shifted his weight, moving until his chest and pelvis settled into place, fitting her like the missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle. “Tell me what you want,” he growled, his weight pressing down on her. “Tell me, Ruby.”
Panic exploded in Ruby’s brain, shooting darts of ice through her body. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. She was trapped and at his mercy. Her pulse slammed with irrational fear. She began to struggle.
“Please…” she gasped. “Let me up. Let me go…”
He rolled off her at once, his expression as dark as a thundercloud. “Lord, Ruby, what is it? Do you think I’m going to hurt you like your husband did? Don’t you know me better than that?”
“Actually I don’t know you at all.” She sat up and began rearranging her blouse, fussing needlessly with the collar. “I’m aware that we agreed not to pry into each other’s pasts, but under the circumstances, you can hardly expect me to—”
“Save your breath, lady. You don’t have to draw me a picture.” Ethan exhaled raggedly as he sat up. “Come on, let’s get this damn mattress out the door. For what it’s worth, I promise not to lay an ungentlemanly hand on you.”
“Fine. And if I gave you the wrong impression, I’m sorry.” Ruby stood, turning away from him to hide her burning face. Ethan was one of the most compellingly attractive men she’d ever met. His kisses, and the casual contact of their bodies, had filled her with a pleasure so sweet she could have wept with it. But when he’d pressed her for more, she’d been unable to hold back the gut-clenching panic, the fear of being hurt again.
Hollis was dead. She had fired the three shots that killed him and been acquitted of his murder. But it seemed that the memory of her late husband, who had so relished causing her pain, would never leave her in peace.
Ethan had heaved the mattress back onto its edge. He and Ruby were scrambling to get it headed in the right direction when the knock came—this time as a discreet tap on the front door.
“Oh!” Ruby dropped her end of the mattress and flew across the parlor. Letting the mattress sag to the floor, Ethan moved back into the hallway. Maybe the mayor and his son were making a return call. Whoever it was, he’d be smart to stay out of sight until he knew what was going on.
From where he stood, he could see that Ruby had reached the front door. She hesitated a moment, smoothing her clothes and tucking in strands of hair that had come loose during their tussle on the mattress.
It had been a delicious tussle, Ethan mused. Or, at least it might have been. Kissing her had been as sweetly intoxicating as sipping hot buttered rum. She’d responded with a hunger that seemed to match his own. Then, suddenly, it was as if he’d become her enemy. What was going on here? Had he done something to spook her or was the woman playing games with him?
To say the least, Ruby Rumford was a challenge.
But then, he’d enjoyed challenges before.
The click of the latch jerked his attention back to the present. Ruby opened the door a few cautious inches, then swung it wide to reveal a rangy, slightly stooped man with a thatch of silver-white hair.
“Hello, darling girl!” His voice was an old man’s, pleasantly gruff.
“Sam!” She flung herself into his arms for a welcoming hug. Only as he released her to step away did Ethan see the silver star pinned to his worn tweed vest.
Ethan’s memory clicked back to the briefing he’d been given for this assignment. The man would be Sam Farley, who’d been the marshal in Dutchman’s Creek for more than thirty years.
Farley had a trustworthy reputation. But experience had taught Ethan to be cautious. In Kansas, he’d brought down a bootlegging operation that had involved the mayor, the sheriff and the bank president. Until he had evidence to the contrary, everyone was a suspect.
He’d seen the story played out before—a public servant who’d received scant reward for a lifetime of honest work and felt he deserved better. Sam Farley would be nearing retirement. He could probably use some extra cash to see him through a comfortable old age. Who could blame the marshal for turning a blind eye to the sale of illegal booze for a share of the profits? Especially if the extra money was needed to catch the attention of a beautiful woman?
That possibility, and the fact that Ruby had greeted him like a long-lost uncle, didn’t exactly put a shine on Farley’s reputation. Or on Ruby’s.
Ethan pressed against the wall to better hear what was being said. Whatever he learned, it was bound to be interesting.
Ruby had met Sam Farley a year ago, when she’d come to Dutchman’s Creek to get her brother out of Sam’s jail.
During the awful months Jace had been on the run, charged with Hollis’s murder, she’d developed a contempt for lawmen that bordered on hatred. Most of them had been in the pay of Hollis’s wealthy friends, and they’d gone out of their way to make her life miserable. Only fear for the safety of her daughters had kept her from blurting out the truth—that she was the one who’d killed her husband, and Jace had taken the blame to protect them.
When Clara had telephoned her with the news of Jace’s arrest, Ruby had commandeered her lawyer and caught the next train west. Fearing the worst, she’d been astonished to find her brother in the custody of a gentle, silver-haired man who was the soul of fairness. By the time Jace had been cleared of all charges, Ruby and the aging marshal had become fast friends. They’d remained so to this day.
“Son of a gun, girl!” Sam’s gaze roamed the drab parlor, coming to rest on the mattress. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to fix up this place by yourself. Where’s your brother?”
“Jace offered to come. But with Clara’s time getting so close, I didn’t want to keep him in town.”
“Couldn’t you have borrowed a couple of the ranch hands?”
Ruby shook her head. “I couldn’t afford to pay them, and I won’t impose on Jace or on Clara’s family. They’ve done so much for me already. Besides, I did manage to find some help. A man who’ll be living here is doing some work in exchange for his first week’s room and board.”
“A man, you say?” The marshal’s face creased into a suspicious scowl. “You mean you hired some stranger who just happened by? And you’re going to be here alone with him? Lordy, girl, where’s your common sense?”
Ruby bristled slightly. Sam Farley might be old enough to be her father, but that didn’t give him the right to treat her like a fifteen-year-old. “He offered to help and his price was right. As for my being alone with him…” She paused. “You, of all people, should know that I can take care of myself.”
The marshal’s scowl deepened. “Well, you let him know that I’ll be checking on you—and on him.” His gaze swept from the kitchen to the stairs. “I don’t see much work getting done. Where is the lazy so-and-so, anyway?”
“Right here.” Ethan stepped out of the hallway. His expression was guarded, but he extended his hand. “Professor Ethan Beaudry. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Marshal. You’re just in time to help me haul this mattress outside for a beating. The lady and I managed to get this far before you knocked on the door.”
“Sam Farley. And it looks like I got here at the right time.”
As the two men shook hands, Ruby glanced away to hide the flash of color to her face. Moving the mattress wasn’t the only thing they’d managed before the marshal showed up.
Sam’s long arms and added strength eased the work of hauling the mattress out to the backyard. Ruby stepped aside to let the men pass. Lugging the mattress outside, they laid it against the raised entrance to the cellar.
Ruby closed the screen door behind them. She had plenty of work to do in the house. But on second thought, leaving the two men alone might not be a good idea. On her first visit to Dutchman’s Creek, she’d made it clear to Sam that the scandal of her husband’s death was to be kept private. Sam had promised to respect her wishes. But the marshal did like to gossip a bit. If his tongue slipped, she wanted to be there to stop him from saying too much.
As for Ethan… Ruby struggled against the memory of his kisses. What she needed was some time away from him to regroup her emotions. But that would leave him alone with Sam, and a conversation between those two could lead anywhere.
There was only one thing to do. With a sigh, Ruby opened the door again. She came out onto the stoop just in time to hear Ethan saying, “So, Marshal, how is it you know Mrs. Rumford? Something tells me there’s an interesting story here.”
Chapter Four
Ethan had hoped to get the marshal talking. But now Ruby had come outside. It was she who answered his question.
“My brother lives near Dutchman’s Creek. Sam and I became friends last year when I came for a visit.”
A glance flickered between Ruby and the old man. Whatever she’d said, Ethan sensed that her words had fallen short of the real story.
“Ruby’s brother, Jace, married into one of the finest families in the valley,” the marshal said. “His father-in-law, Judd Seavers, owns the biggest ranch in these parts.”
“My brother and his wife are expecting a baby,” Ruby added. “I moved here from Missouri to be near them. But I wanted to live in town, on my own. That’s why I bought the boardinghouse.” She paused. A clever smile lit her face. “But enough about me, Professor. Why don’t you tell us about the history book you’re writing. I’ve never met a real author before.”
Ethan picked up the baseball bat and gave the mattress several solid whacks. A too-innocent story followed by a deft evasion. The woman had outmaneuvered him and he wasn’t happy about it. First thing tomorrow, he’d begin the process of checking out everything she and the marshal had to tell him. If there were any holes in their combined stories, he would find them.
Ruby’s link to the prominent Seavers clan might put her in a more favorable light, but it didn’t wash her clean. The best of families could have its black sheep, and she could be using the Seavers connection to win people’s trust. Ethan had learned to suspect anyone who hadn’t proven themselves innocent. That included politicians, elderly lawmen and beautiful, seductive women.
“We’re waiting.” Ruby’s tone rang with challenge. Her folded arms pushed her ample breasts upward in a way that made Ethan’s mouth go dry.
“I haven’t started writing yet,” he hedged. “There are plenty of books on the general history of Colorado, but I wanted something more personal—history as it affected the people of a typical small town. After some research I chose Dutchman’s Creek.”
“So you’ll be going around talking to folks?” The marshal assessed Ethan with narrowed eyes. Plainly, the old man didn’t trust him.
“Yes, I plan to. If they’re willing to talk to me, of course.”
“Have you got some identification, some kind of credentials you can show me?”
Ethan had been given the proper documents by the agency. “I have. But my papers are in my hotel room. I can bring them by your office tomorrow.”
“Do that.” Sam Farley spat a stream of tobacco into the grass. “I have a responsibility to folks in this town, and I take it seriously. You’re not to bother any of these good people unless you can prove you’re who you claim to be.”
“Understood.” Ethan lifted the bat and stepped back for another swing at the mattress. The marshal’s next words paused him in midmotion.
“Then understand this, Professor. You lay so much as an ungentlemanly finger on this sweet lady here, and I’ll have you behind bars before you can say Jack Robinson!”
“I hear you.” Ethan smashed the bat against the ticking again and again, raising a cloud of cottony dust. What would Sam Farley say if he knew he was talking to a U.S. deputy marshal? Probably the same damn thing. The old man seemed very protective. If he knew what had happened on that mattress seconds before his knock, he’d likely be breaking out the handcuffs.
“The mayor and his son came by, Sam,” Ruby broke the awkward silence. “They invited me to dinner at the hotel. Maybe you can give me some idea what to expect.”
“The mayor?” Sam punctuated his words with a snort. “If I was a pretty woman, I’d be on my guard. Thaddeus has always had an eye for the ladies, and now that his wife’s gone to her reward, he’s like a hound off the leash. I’m guessing he sees you as a candidate for Mrs. Wilton number two. Probably licking his chops at the prospect.”
“Oh, dear. I certainly have no intention of—” Ruby shook her head. “He said he’d introduce me to some important people. And of course his son will be there. Nothing about that arrangement seems improper.”
The marshal frowned. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t go. Just warning you to be careful.”
Ruby’s head went up. Ethan caught a flicker of defiance in her blue eyes. “I’m not a child, Sam. If anything makes me feel uncomfortable, I’ll just get up and leave.”
“You do that.” The marshal nodded. “You leave and come straight to me.”
Ethan was a practiced observer of people. In Sam Farley’s eyes and voice he detected the sadness of an old man hopelessly in love with a younger woman—a man who knew he could never have her in this life. The poor devil.
But right now that wasn’t his problem, Ethan reminded himself. It had occurred to him that there might be hidden motives behind Mayor Wilton’s invitation. With Ruby at dinner the house would be left empty, giving the bootleggers a chance to move in and smuggle out their liquid treasure.
At the end of the day, he’d planned to stop by the hotel, get a meal and keep an eye on Ruby. But he couldn’t be in two places at once. The smarter choice would be to stay here and keep watch on that cellar door.
Stepping away, he let the bat slide into the grass. Suspect Everyone—that motto had always served him well. But in this case it was giving him one humdinger of a headache.
At the entrance to the hotel Ruby paused to brush a speck of dust off her dove-gray jacket. Anxious to make a proper impression, she’d dressed in a plain traveling suit and high-collared white blouse. Hollis would have called her ensemble schoolmarmish, but his opinion no longer mattered. When Ruby had packed for the move to Colorado, she’d sold her expensive pieces of jewelry and left behind most of the silken gowns her husband had favored, along with the opera-length gloves, the satin slippers and the dyed ostrich plumes that had decorated her hair. She was a different person now—businesswoman, mother and citizen of a conservative town. She was determined to look the part.
Twilight was settling over the valley. Along Main Street, shopkeepers were closing up for the day. Buggies, wagons and Model T Fords rolled their way homeward, deepening the ruts on the narrow dirt roads. The dimly lit saloon was open for billiards and card games, but business had trailed off since the recent prohibition of liquor. Clandestine spots set up in barns and backwoods cabins, where illegal whiskey flowed freely, were stealing the serious clientele.
Squaring her chin, Ruby opened the door and strode into the brightly lit hotel lobby. She’d insisted on joining the two men here. This was a business meeting, not a date, and she had no wish to create the wrong impression.
The dining room was to the left of the lobby. Ruby stood in the entry, scanning the half-filled tables. The mayor had told her that he and his son would be here by six-fifteen, but there was no sign of them. Maybe people were less concerned about punctuality in small towns. But she did feel awkward, waiting here alone.
She glanced around hoping to see Ethan. After Sam’s departure, he’d put in a hard afternoon cleaning out the upstairs rooms, making some needed repairs on the plumbing and reaming out the chimneys for the stove and fireplace. After that he’d excused himself to go back to the hotel. One would think the man would be hungry. But for whatever reason, he wasn’t here. In his absence, Ruby felt strangely vulnerable.
Her knees weakened as the memory swept over her—Ethan’s lips brushing hers, the clean, masculine aroma of his skin, the hardness of his arousal pressing her hip. The sweet terror of it…
“Mrs. Rumford?” The low voice startled her. She turned to see a pimply-faced waiter in a white shirt and black vest.
“Yes, I’m Mrs. Rumford,” she said. “I was looking for Mayor Wilton.”
“He’s expecting you. Right this way.”
The young man ushered her down a paneled hallway, past two closed doors. The third door stood ajar. After a discreet knock, the waiter spoke. “Here’s the lady, Your Honor. We’ll be bringing dinner now.”
Ruby’s senses prickled as she stepped across the threshold. The candlelit room was small and windowless. In a garish attempt at elegance, the walls had been covered in red satin brocade. A gold velvet chaise occupied one side of the room. A circular dining table with a white cloth took up the rest of the space. There were two place settings and two chairs. In one of the chairs sat His Honor Mayor Thaddeus Wilton.
“My dear Mrs. Rumford. How delightful to have your company this evening.” He rose from his place, his manner so unctuous that Ruby feared he was going to bow and kiss her hand.
She glanced uneasily around the room. “I thought your son would be joining us,” she said.
“Oh, Harper had some urgent business come up. He asked me to extend his apologies. Please have a seat. As the owner of this hotel, I took the liberty of ordering for you. The roast beef is excellent here.”
He stood while the waiter pulled out Ruby’s chair. Ruby remained on her feet. “I’d prefer to eat in the dining room,” she said.
“I quite understand, my dear.” His thumb stroked a link of his gold watch chain, its motion slow and sensuous. “But most of the tables have already been reserved. Besides, with so much chatter in there, you can barely hear yourself think, let alone carry on a proper conversation. Please sit down. As a respectable widower and trusted public official, I can promise your reputation will be quite safe.”
Ruby hesitated, then lowered herself to the edge of the chair. What alternative did she have—walk out on an influential man who could help her make friends, insulting him in the process? That would hardly be wise. Besides, she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. She was ravenously hungry, and while the aromas wafting down the hall from the kitchen didn’t quite seem to live up to the mayor’s extravagant praise, they still triggered a growl in her stomach.
What harm could come to her here? If the mayor made an improper move, all she had to do was get up and leave. Ruby forced a smile as she settled back into her chair. She could handle this, she told herself. Still, she couldn’t shake the idea that this meeting was some kind of high-stakes game. And Thaddeus Wilton was holding the trump cards.
Ethan returned to the boardinghouse at dusk, taking the backstreets and cutting through a weeded lot. Moving aside two loose boards, he slipped through the fence and into the backyard.
Tonight he was armed with his .38 Smith & Wesson revolver, and his U.S. marshals badge was pinned to his vest. He didn’t plan to arrest anyone if he could help it. It was too soon for that. But in case all hell broke loose, he wanted the authority of his office made plain.
Pausing next to the six-foot fence, he scanned the yard for a hiding place. He’d considered watching from the safety and relative comfort of an upstairs room. But Ruby could easily discover him there; and a view from above wouldn’t allow him to see faces, hear what was being said or, if necessary, trail after suspects when they left. For that he would need to be as close as possible.
The moon was a thin silver edge above the peaks. Fully risen, it would flood the yard with light. Only the deepest shadow would be enough to hide him.
In the far corner of the yard stood a dilapidated garden shed. Its door had rotted away, leaving the front open beneath the sagging roof. But the narrow space between the fence and the rear of the structure would be buried in shadow. Overgrown with brambles, it wouldn’t be a comfortable hiding place, but it would have to do.
The twilight was deepening into darkness. Knowing he might be there for hours, Ethan eased himself between the shed and the fence, kicked aside the prickly stems and settled in to wait.
“So, how was your dinner, my dear?”
“Fine, thank you,” Ruby answered. In truth, the roast beef had been overdone, the mashed potatoes lumpy and the piecrust like sodden leather. But since she’d been so tense she could barely swallow, the quality of the food had made little difference.
For most of the meal the conversation had been light and trivial—happenings in the town, people, businesses and her own plans for the boardinghouse. But she’d sensed that Thaddeus Wilton was biding his time, waiting to spring some unknown trap when she least expected it. That subtle awareness had kept her on edge throughout the meal.
The mayor had told her a little about the history of the house and implied that if she wished to sell it, he might be willing to make her an offer. “It’s a big responsibility for a woman alone, especially a gently reared lady like yourself,” he’d said, patting the back of her hand.
“You misjudge me,” she’d replied, stiffening at his touch. “I’m quite capable of doing whatever I put my mind to.”
“So I gather,” he’d murmured, withdrawing his hand and reaching for another dinner roll. “You’re a very remarkable woman, Ruby—I may call you Ruby, mayn’t I?”
“Yes, of course.” Ruby had forced herself to take another bite of roast beef. All she’d wanted was for this interminable evening to be over.
Now the meal was at an end. The waiter cleared away their plates and brought coffee. Ruby sipped delicately, aware that too much of it would keep her awake. The mayor leaned back in his chair, studying her over the rim of his cup. His bushy black eyebrows looked as if they’d been dyed to match his toupee.
“Yes,” he murmured. “As I said earlier, you’re a quite a remarkable woman, Ruby. I didn’t know how remarkable until I telephoned some contacts of mine this afternoon.” His eyes narrowed, sending a chill of apprehension through her body. “When you say you can do whatever you put your mind to, I believe you. A woman who can murder her rich husband and get away with it is capable of anything.”
Ruby’s shaking hand sloshed her coffee, scalding her fingers and staining the white tablecloth. Sooner or later, she knew, her secret was bound to come out. But to have it revealed now, and in such lurid fashion, would be disastrous. She needed time to build a good reputation. Her girls needed time to make friends. She couldn’t allow this conniving weasel of a man to ruin their chances. Willing herself to be calm, she set the cup onto its saucer and met Wilton’s leering eyes. “I shot my late husband in self-defense,” she said in a cold voice. “The jury acquitted me of all charges.”
“Of course they did. What jury could convict a woman who looks like you? But don’t worry, my dear. Your little secret is safe with me.”
Ruby battled the urge to fling the hot coffee in his face. “What is it you want?” she demanded, keeping her voice low.
“What do I want?” He feigned a hurt expression. “Why, nothing, except your trust and friendship, Ruby. I understand that you wouldn’t want the story getting out—you know how gossip can spread in a small town. And people here can be so judgmental, especially the women. Why, they’d turn their backs on you, every last one of them! As for your children…”
“Stop it!” She rose, her body quivering. “I did what I had to. In the eyes of the law, I’ve been judged innocent.”
“As you doubtless are.” The mayor remained seated, blotting his mouth with his napkin. His eyes gleamed with victory. “As I told you, Ruby, as long as we understand each other, you’ve nothing to worry about. Now, why don’t you sit down and finish your coffee. Then I’ll walk you through the dining room and introduce you to some influential friends of mine.”
Ruby clasped the back of her chair, her stomach roiling. “Please forgive me, I’m not feeling well,” she murmured. “I think the best thing would be for me to just leave.”
“Of course.” The mayor rose. “Please allow me to walk you home, my dear.”
She shook her head. “I’m not much for company when I’m feeling unwell. I’d prefer to walk home by myself.”
“Alone? But will you be all right?”
“I’ll be fine. It’s only a few blocks.” Ruby edged toward the door.
“And you’ll allow me to call on you tomorrow?”
“Of course. Whenever you like.” Anything to end this wretched evening and get away, she thought.
“Very well, if you insist. At least let me escort you outside.” He came around the table and took her elbow. Ruby willed herself not to recoil as he guided her through the hallway and across the lobby. This vain, obsequious little man had the power to cast a shadow over her future and the future of her daughters. She had no doubt he planned to put that power to use.
On the porch outside the hotel, he clasped her hand. She cringed inwardly as he raised her fingers to his lips. “Until tomorrow, then, my dear Ruby,” he murmured. “Something tells me this evening will be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
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