Bounty Hunter's Bride. Carol FinchЧитать онлайн книгу.
moments. A deal was a deal, after all. Having her come running to him for comfort and protection had been hard on his blood pressure—and certain parts of his anatomy. She might be his wife after supper, but she was still off-limits, he reminded himself sternly. And if he had a brain in his head he wouldn’t let himself forget that, no matter how much he wanted to touch and taste and hold.
In name only, he mused in frustration. Helluva deal he’d made, wasn’t it?
Hanna awakened with a jolt and glanced apprehensively around the room, trying to orient herself to her surroundings. The instant she saw Skeet napping beneath the table, the unnerving incident in the alley came back in a rush.
Rolling off the bed, she knelt in front of the wolflike dog, which bared his teeth at her. “I know you don’t like me, Skeet, but I didn’t thank you properly for saving me.”
Although Cale had warned her not to make any sudden moves toward Skeet, she tried a new approach. She held out her hand, palm up, in front of his snout. The dog growled softly but didn’t snap. Hanna took that as a sign of progress. She didn’t try to touch Skeet, just left her hand dangling in midair until he took a cautious sniff.
After a moment she pushed to her feet and walked across the hall to retrieve the wedding gown she’d stuffed in one of her satchels.
Hanna dressed for her second wedding in less than a week. For certain, she was more enthused and eager than she’d been at the first one. Although she knew she didn’t mean anything to Cale, she wanted to look her very best. She’d chosen a gown with a low-cut neckline that buttoned down the front—to facilitate a quick change before she escaped through the church window and boarded the steamboat.
She tugged at the swooping neckline, but it didn’t help much. One gulping breath and her breasts would spill from the lacy confines. Well, she’d just have to remember not to breathe deeply until she shed this gown.
Once she had her hair pinned atop her head in a fashionable coiffure, she assessed herself in the mirror. She’d likely be overdressed to marry a man who preferred buckskins and moccasins. But he was doing her a tremendous favor, and she intended to acknowledge it by dressing like a proper bride.
Hanna was dismayed to note the welt on her cheek had turned black-and-blue. She dabbed on some powder to hide the bruise as best she could. Shoulders squared, head held at a determined angle, she marched toward the door, then yelped when Skeet sprinted past her, knocking her off balance. She braced her hand on the wall to steady herself, then opened the door.
Skeet padded into the hall, glanced this way and that, then stared up at her as if to say the coast was clear. Hanna smiled on her way down the hall, remembering the lazy, worthless hound her father kept around as a prestige symbol. That purebred creature couldn’t hold a candle to Skeet. Just as she couldn’t hold a candle to Cale.
The discomforting thought caused Hanna to grimace. She would prove herself worthy and competent, she promised fiercely. She was not getting by in life on her looks, even if her father insisted that was all she needed to do. She was going to count for something—as soon as she had the opportunity to discover what she was good at.
“Miss Rawlins, you look enchanting,” James Jensen said as she descended the steps.
Hanna smiled gratefully as the hotel proprietor came around the counter to position himself between her and the crowd of men who loitered in the lobby.
“I must say, I didn’t quite believe the rumors flying around the restaurant last night, but despite what anyone says, you’ve chosen a fine man. The best, in fact,” James assured her.
“I couldn’t agree with you more,” Hanna replied.
“Er…even if this is rather sudden,” James murmured, “Um, all the same…”
She knew the hotel proprietor was dying of curiosity, fishing for an explanation for this whirlwind wedding. But Hanna was hesitant to confide the story to anyone. She simply smiled sweetly at James.
“I think you should know that a well-dressed, distinguished looking man named Richard Sykes, from the Pinkerton Detective Agency, questioned me two hours ago about a young lady who fit your description.”
The color drained from her face. Blast it! Her father hadn’t wasted a moment in sending out the troops. But then, she’d anticipated that. She just hadn’t expected to have Pinkerton bloodhounds on her trail this quickly.
James patted her clammy hand and veered down the hall. “Not to worry, my dear. I pleaded ignorance, but I doubt your secret will be safe for long.” He glanced pointedly at the crowd of men. “Cale left the buckboard by the back exit. There’s a young lad waiting in the alley to take you to the courthouse.”
Nodding appreciatively, Hanna exited and climbed into the wagon. Skeet hopped on to the wagon bed behind her. Apparently Cale was aware of the situation and wanted to transport her to the ceremony as discreetly as possible. She had the uneasy feeling he’d be full of questions when the ceremony ended—if he waited that long to demand answers.
An apprehensive sensation settled in the pit of her stomach while she was whisked down the alley at a hasty clip. For all she knew the agent could be watching for her, waiting to pounce. If the Pinkerton agent interrupted the wedding, her hopes of freedom would be dashed.
With a quick murmur of thanks, Hanna bounded from the buckboard and the young boy drove away. She moved swiftly toward the courthouse. Leaving Skeet to wait outside, she asked directions to Judge Parker’s chambers, then breathed a sigh of relief when she closed the door behind her. Now, if only Cale and the judge would show up so she could see this deed done quickly!
Hanna lurched around when the door swung open with a whine and an authoritative giant of a man with a tawny mustache, thick goatee and piercing blue eyes strode toward her. She smiled cordially as she extended her hand. “I’m marrying Cale Elliot,” she announced.
The judge’s stern expression softened and he chuckled as he took her hand. “So I’ve been told. Come with me, Miss Rawlins, and we’ll get the license in order before my deputy arrives.”
While the judge turned his back and thumbed through the desk drawer for the necessary legal papers, Hanna heard the door creak open again. She glanced over her shoulder to see a well-dressed gentleman wearing a fashionable bowler hat hovering in the shadowed alcove by the door.
Hanna panicked. The Pinkerton agent! Damnation, he’d found her before the ceremony could be concluded!
Her heart hammered frantically in her chest as she darted a sideways glance toward the window. That had been her escape route once before, and it might have to be again. Confound it! Where was Cale when she needed him?
While Judge Parker was preoccupied, Hanna inched closer to the window, keeping her back turned to the unidentified man. The click of footsteps crossing the judge’s chambers echoed like a death knell, causing another wave of anxiety to swamp her. The footfalls rang in her ears, bringing captivity one step closer.
Hanna fidgeted with the locket around her neck, seeking the comfort the object usually brought. She didn’t dare turn around and alert the Pinkerton agent that she was aware he was stalking her. All she had was the element of surprise on her side, and she wasn’t about to give that up.
The closer he came, the faster her heart pounded in her chest, making it difficult to draw breath. Hanna stared desperately at the latch on the window, trying to calculate the amount of time it would take to lift the sash, jump through, and make a mad dash for cover.
The hair on the back of her neck stood on end when the footsteps halted close behind her. Now! the voice of survival screamed at her.
Hanna launched herself at the window, but a steely hand shot out to manacle her wrist, dragging her backward while she stared helplessly at her porthole of freedom. Hell and damnation, she’d been inches away from escape and now she’d be dragged back to her irate father and that stuffy Louis Beauchamp!
God help her!
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