The Unlikely Groom. Wendy Douglas
but that didn’t change the truth of it any. Her brother’s death put everything at stake for her and in an entirely different way.
If she had grasped that one unchangeable fact, she wouldn’t have marched off to find Deputy Taylor.
Lucas shook his head. Ashlynne had no idea what kind of trouble she would be inviting if she asked the deputy to find Ian’s killer. Justice, vengeance—her reasons didn’t matter. Taylor wouldn’t hear of it, Soapy wouldn’t stand for it…and Lucas couldn’t seem to force himself to let her fend for herself against the others.
The marshal’s office wasn’t far now, but Lucas found he had to look to find it. New structures seemed to spring up in town every day. Some were constructed of lumber, while others were nothing more than canvas tents. Still others were a combination of both. Skagway boasted hotels, restaurants, outfitters, a hardware store and a druggist. There was even a hospital and Reverend Dickey’s Union Church, built last fall.
The sound of voices, one raised in anger, echoed from up ahead of him and a moment later Ashlynne backed out onto the boardwalk. “The proper authorities will hear of my treatment here today, sir. You can be certain of it.” She slammed the door shut behind her.
So he’d been right, Lucas thought as he approached her from behind. Surprisingly, perhaps, he didn’t notice any particular satisfaction within himself at the knowledge.
“You found Deputy Taylor,” he murmured carefully.
Ashlynne went still. Tiny hairs rose on the back of her neck, revealed by the loose upsweep of her hair. Even beneath the protection of her cloak, he could see the way in which she stiffened her shoulders and straightened her spine. Second after second ticked by, until slowly, finally, she turned to face him.
She nodded, though her controlled expression revealed nothing. “Yes, I found him.”
“And?”
She blinked, a slow, calculated movement that recalled nothing of the earlier confused owlishness of a woman who wasn’t quite centered. “And you were right, of course.” She made the admission with some defiance. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”
He ignored the question. “What did he say?”
“What did you expect he’d say?”
“Tell me,” he insisted.
“He refused to investigate Ian’s death. No one witnessed the shooting itself, according to the deputy, which means that I have nothing but gossip and innuendo to support my claim.”
She shook her head and uttered a brittle laugh that held more pain than amusement. Lucas did his best to ignore both.
“That isn’t all,” she added before he found an appropriate reply. “The deputy is…unhappy that Soapy Smith is so often blamed when things happen in Skagway. He warned me against speaking publicly about Ian’s death. Soapy is an up-standing, law-abiding citizen—” her emphasis on the words seemed to indicate that she quoted Taylor directly “—and he’s been unfairly targeted by jealous, careless stampeders.”
The lawman’s claims sounded no more convincing to Lucas than they had to Ashlynne—but that could have been Lucas’s own fault. He could have easily prejudiced her against Soapy before she’d ever set foot in Taylor’s office. Still, Lucas hadn’t anticipated the deputy’s threat—and he had no illusions about the way in which Taylor had meant his words. And yet, having heard them now, he couldn’t say that he found himself particularly surprised, either.
But what did that mean for Ashlynne?
“I tried to warn you,” he said, feeling no particular satisfaction in reminding her of the fact.
“So you did.” She raised her eyes to meet his. The amber color had darkened to a bruised ebony that couldn’t disguise either her pain or her confusion. “But I just don’t understand, Lucas. Why wouldn’t a man of the law want justice? Didn’t he take an oath to uphold the law?”
The sound of his name on her lips—his given name and not that formal, disapproving Mr. Templeton—took hold of something within Lucas that made his blood run cold. His nerves awakened as though he’d just received an electrical shock, and his body tightened with an overwhelming physical awareness for Ashlynne.
And for the man he had become.
Forget it—and the way you feel. He uttered the chastisement harshly, only just managing to keep it to himself. And forget the oath that you took at one time in your life.
“An oath doesn’t mean a damn thing if you don’t believe in it,” he said ruthlessly.
“You think Deputy Taylor doesn’t believe in the law?”
Lucas shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t give a damn. What I do know is that he believes in Soapy Smith and himself more than anything else.”
“But how can he ignore the truth?”
“You can be sure that Soapy didn’t pull the trigger himself, Ashlynne.” Neither of them could afford to forget that truth. “He’s very careful about things like that.”
“That doesn’t mean he isn’t the man who’s responsible,” she insisted stubbornly. “You know it as well as I do. You told me so.”
“I—” Lucas cut off his reply when a man stepped out onto the boardwalk from a nearby saloon, one of Lucas’s competitors. He didn’t know the man by name, but he recognized the face.
One of Soapy’s men…and Lucas and Ashlynne remained standing outside the deputy marshal’s office. Worse, if anyone cared to overhear, they were talking about the very things that Taylor had commanded her to keep private.
“Come on.” Lucas grabbed her arm and tugged it through his, keeping hold of her forearm as he pulled her down the boardwalk. He steered them back the way he’d come—and away from Soapy’s man.
“Where are you staying?” he asked.
“Wait!” Ashlynne tried to resist, but Lucas would have no part of it and hurried her along.
“Tell me where you’re staying. When you’re not sleeping in my bed, of course.” He added the last deliberately, meaning it to upset her enough that she’d quit fighting him and follow his lead with a bit more cooperation.
His words had the opposite effect. She stopped more suddenly than he could have imagined and dug in her heels, refusing to move another inch.
Dammit! You should have expected it, he told himself with no small irritation. Ashlynne had done nothing the way in which he’d anticipated that she would.
“Why?” She jerked her arm from his.
“Ashlynne, come along.” He shot her a glare as hard as stone and said in a voice that was no softer, “You don’t want to openly defy Deputy Taylor. Not now, when he just warned you away.”
“How do you know what I want to do?” She planted her hands on her hips and glared back at him.
He would have had an excellent view of her figure if she hadn’t been wearing that ridiculously bulky cloak, now cinched at the waist by her hands. As it was, he found it far too easy to recall exactly the curve of her hips, her waist, her breasts. Until he looked into her eyes.
She was doing her best to appear angry and purposeful—and she probably even felt that way. At least in part. But a flicker of uneasiness—even fear—lurked in the depths of her gaze. That, and a certain weariness, as well. And if she looked a bit worse for the wear today, well, he could hardly blame her.
She hadn’t scraped her hair back with the same painful neatness as she’d worn it the night before; rather, she’d secured it in something of a loose bun. The softer look appealed to Lucas on a very basic, masculine level and his blood warmed despite the chill of the afternoon.
Stop noticing her as a woman! he snapped to himself.