Justin's Bride

“Are you satisfied?” she asked.

His smiled faded. He returned to his seat. “No,” he said without looking at her. “But you told me the truth. At last. Does your husband know about your habit of avoiding the unpleasant?”

“Husband?” Oh, Lord, he thought she was married. Megan was glad her gloves hid her bare left hand from him. Married. When he found out she wasn’t, was he going to assume she’d waited for him? Oh, he couldn’t. She hadn’t, of course. There were plenty of reasons she hadn’t married, and none of them had anything to do with Justin Kincaid.

“I don’t avoid the unpleasant,” she said, staying well away from him. “What about your wife? Does she know you accost strange women in your office?”

This time his smile was genuine. She’d forgotten about the dimple in his left cheek, and the way his eyes crinkled when he was amused. Against her will, her own lips turned up at the corners. Justin had always had the ability to charm her, no matter how hard she tried to hold on to her anger, or her sensibilities.

“You were hardly accosted, Megan.”

“You know what I mean.” Cautiously, she approached the chair he’d given her. She sank onto the edge of the seat, prepared to spring up at the least provocation.

“No, she doesn’t know I accost women in my office.”

His words shouldn’t have surprised her, but she felt as punctured as a pincushion. Who would have thought he had married? She recalled her worries of that morning. How she’d wondered what she would do when she came face-to-face with him. She’d been torn between hoping he would remember what had gone on between them, and fearing that he would want to continue the relationship. Now there was no question of that. Married.

“Who is she?” she asked, hoping he wouldn’t notice that her smile had faded.

He folded his arms over the chair back. “Who?”

“Your wife.”

He gave her a lazy wink. “What wife?”

She sighed. “Justin, even you cannot treat your wife with such disrespect. Who is the woman you married?”

She could see his humor fade, and with it the man that she remembered. The cold, angry stranger returned. “You mean, even the town bastard should know how to treat a lady? What makes you think I married a lady?”

“Your time away has taught you a quickness I cannot match.” She picked up her cloak and drew it over her shoulders. “I apologize for any insult I may have spoken. It was, I assure you, unintentional. I wish you and your good wife well.”

“There is no wife, Megan. A widow woman tempted me once, but I managed to escape.”

Her anger was gone, battered by his overwhelming presence. She wasn’t afraid, what with half a room and his desk between them. Her knees still trembled from his handsomeness, but she would be able to overcome that weakness. Which left only confusion. Why did he toy with her? Was this his punishment for her actions seven years ago?

No. If he sought punishment, that would mean he still cared for her. It couldn’t be true. Even if it was, nothing had changed. He was still Justin Kincaid and she was—

The door flew open. “Megan Bartlett, what on earth are you doing here with that...that man?”

Her sister, Colleen, swept into the room with all the fiery determination of an angel entering the devil’s domain. Megan wanted to crawl under the desk but there wasn’t time. Or room, she thought practically, knowing she would never be able to slip past Justin, even if Colleen hadn’t seen her.

“Ah, Miss Bartlett,” Justin said, approaching her and smiling. “How good to see you again.”

“It’s Mrs. Estes, sir. What do you think you’re doing here with my sister?”

“Why we were just...talking.”

Megan groaned and sank lower into her chair. There had been enough of a pause between the words just and talking to give Colleen reason for concern. When combined with Justin’s suggestive smile and the wink he shot her, she knew her fate was sealed. Colleen would lecture her for the next three weeks. Megan had always regretted being the sister-in-law to the town minister, but never more than right now.

Just when Megan was telling herself it couldn’t get any worse, Justin reached for Colleen’s gloved hand and brought it to his mouth. Before the woman could snatch her hand back, he kissed it. Colleen squealed.

“Unhand me, sir. Do you know who I am? Megan, tell this...this creature who I am.”

Megan looked up at him. Behind the mocking facade, behind the quick smile and easy charm lurked anger. She saw it in the stiffness of his body and the lines around his mouth. Like a wolf sunning himself on a warm day, Justin would revert back to the wild at any moment. No one would be given any warning, least of all her.

Justin Kincaid was back in town. The tingling in her fingertips told her nothing was ever going to be the same again.

CHAPTER TWO

Justin glanced from Megan to her sister and back. There was a time when the Bartlett girls had looked so much alike strangers had trouble telling them apart. Time had changed that. Colleen had grown matronly. Her once-pretty smiling face seemed pinched, her expression sour, as if the fragrance of life was more than she cared to smell.

As for Megan, she’d grown more beautiful. Justin should hate her for it. Instead, he hated himself for giving a damn. Why couldn’t she have become old and ugly in the seven years he’d been gone? Or at the very least, why couldn’t she have married and moved away?

He looked at her and caught her staring at him. With his left eye, he gave her a wink.

She flushed and bit her lower lip.

He knew Megan was wondering if he’d caught her sister’s salutation. He saw it in the panicked expression in her eyes. She was hoping he hadn’t noticed Colleen had called her Megan Bartlett, instead of by another man’s name. He’d noticed. She hadn’t married while he’d been gone. He moved his gaze down to her full bosom, then back to her heart-shaped face. It wasn’t her looks that had kept the suitors away. He remembered the taste of her mouth and the passion she hadn’t been able to control. That wouldn’t have contributed to her unmarried state, either. Seven years ago she hadn’t known exactly what went on between a man and a woman but she’d been eager to experience as much as convention allowed an unmarried couple. She’d even been willing to experience a little more, he remembered, then cursed the heat that flowed to his loins. So why hadn’t she married?

“I say, do you know who I am?” Colleen demanded a second time.

Justin had grown bored with the game. He walked back to his desk, turned the chair around and sat in it. He moved the box to one side and picked up a sheet of paper.

“I remember everything about you, Colleen, including the Sunday you went running out of church so fast that you didn’t see the pile of horse manure right below the steps. You slipped and got green muck all over your dress. You cried because you smelled, and no one would sit next to you.”

Colleen flushed an unbecoming shade of red. From the corner of his eye, he saw Megan’s shocked look. Justin sighed. Maybe he had gone too far with the story, but he didn’t care. Colleen had been younger than most of the other children Justin had gone to school with, but her tender years hadn’t gentled her spirit. He recalled how, during recess, she’d stood with the older children and taunted him. At five, when her soft voice had still lisped like a baby’s, she’d sung the singsongy school yard refrain of “Justin is a bastard.” Megan had been one of the few who hadn’t joined in. She’d turned away from the taunting children.

The mocking song had continued until he was strong enough to beat up any boy too dumb to shut his mouth and until he’d become good-looking enough to distract the girls. But he’d never forgotten.

Colleen tugged at her cloak and approached his desk. Rage radiated from her. He wasn’t impressed, although Megan seemed bothered by her.

“My husband is an influential man in this town,” Colleen said.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Justin leaned back in his chair and smiled.

“You’ll never be sheriff here, Justin Kincaid. I’ll see to that.” She pointed at the box on his desk. “Don’t bother unpacking. You’ll be gone before sundown.” She turned to glare at Megan. “I’m glad Papa’s dead and not here to see you shame the family this way.”

With that, Colleen spun on her heel and marched out of the room. Justin stared after her. When he’d first seen Landing on his return to town, he’d realized there had been a lot of changes in the time he’d been gone. New buildings had sprung up along Main Street. Most of the people he’d seen were strangers to him. But he counted on some things to be the same. He’d expected trouble and had assumed old man Bartlett would still be around to give him hell. He’d spent his whole life trying to hate that man, but found he couldn’t even dislike him. The man was Megan’s father. Justin knew that if he had a daughter like her, he wouldn’t have wanted a boy like him around her, either. He’d always understood Mr. Bartlett’s feelings, even though he’d never let on.

“I’m sorry about your father,” he said. “I didn’t know he was gone.”

Megan looked surprised. “Thank you,” she said cautiously, as if she wondered if he was going to say something else. “He passed on about five years ago.”

“Who runs the store? Colleen and her husband?”

Megan laughed. The sound hit him square in the chest, like an unexpected blow. Her laughter always made him think of summer. He didn’t know why, but even now he pictured the two of them on the banks of that stream east of town. Her blond hair streaming around her shoulders, her hazel eyes gazing up at him in adoration. He shook his head to banish the memory. He had no time or interest in the past and if he remembered anything, he would do better to recall their last hour together before he left town. That would be enough to cure any man of dreams.

“Colleen married a minister.” She leaned forward in her seat and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Mr. Estes. I think he was here before you left. He’s a few inches taller than you, but he has no hair.” She giggled. “He did have hair then, I think. Or parts of it.”

Justin smiled in return. “A minister? Figures. I’m surprised you didn’t marry one, yourself. Megan Bartlett.”

She swallowed. The blush climbed rapidly from the collar of her dark blue dress up her pale throat to her cheeks. Unlike the flush of rage that had made Colleen look harder, this pink hue made Megan more beautiful. He studied her mouth. It was uneven, with the bottom lip fuller than the top. He’d teased by telling her that it made her look as if she was always pouting. When she’d become self-conscious, he’d whispered all the things her pout made him think about doing with her.

Stop! he commanded himself. He couldn’t keep doing this. He couldn’t keep going into the past and finding the good memories. He had to hold on to his anger until he could come to grips with seeing Megan again.

“I never said I was married,” she said, smoothing her hands over her full skirt. “You assumed.”

“So neither of us married.”

“I didn’t wait for you,” she said hastily, as she raised her chin higher. “Don’t think I did.”

Her words brought another revelation. After all this time, Megan still had the power to hurt him. Of course she hadn’t waited. She’d made it very clear what she thought of him and his marriage proposal. He gripped his hands so tightly, he thought he would split the skin over his knuckles. He forced himself to relax. Eventually, he wouldn’t care anymore. Time away from Landing had taught him that.

“I never thought you waited for me,” he said mildly and rested one ankle on the opposite knee. “Until you mentioned it.”

“Justin.” Megan shook her head. “You haven’t changed at all.”

“Oh, but I have, sweet Megan. I’m a different man. Much more dangerous.”

“I suppose you’re right. There are parts of you that seem the same, but other things are different.” She studied him. He liked the way her gaze lingered on his face, focusing on his mouth. It was almost like being touched by her. The steady glance, the sudden panic as she realized she was staring. The careful looking away, only to have her eyes flicker back again and again.

“What has changed?” he asked, liking the way he flustered her. She might not have waited for him, but she hadn’t forgotten what they’d been to each other.

“You used to be nicer.”

He’d expected many comparisons but not that one. He threw back his head and laughed. “Nicer? I was never nice.”

“You were to me.”

His humor fled and with it his desire to continue this conversation. “Are you surprised? After what happened?”

“You’re still angry with me.”

He wanted to deny it, but what was the point? They both knew the truth. “Yes. I am still angry. It’s been seven years, and I figure I should have forgotten it by now, but I haven’t. If nothing else, Megan, you were supposed to be my friend.”

“I was.” But her actions then belied her words. She dropped her gaze to her lap, where her fingers twisted together nervously.

“Then why didn’t you believe me?” he asked.

“I wasn’t sure. Everyone said you did it.”

“I said I didn’t.”

She looked up at him. Sadness widened her eyes, darkening the hazel color to gray. “I know. Later, when I knew you were innocent, I didn’t know where you were. I wanted to write and tell you I was sorry.”

He stood, walked over to where she was sitting and held out his hand. She stared at his outstretched palm for several seconds, then placed her gloved fingers on his and let him help her rise.

She was tall for a woman, but the top of her head only came to his chin. She smelled of some forbidden flower. With her blond hair pulled away from her face, there was nothing to hide the pure beauty of her skin, the large almond-shaped eyes, or her trembling mouth. How many nights had he lain awake picturing this face, trying to forget...desperate to remember? How many times had he begged God to let him hear the words she’d just spoken? The statement of his innocence.

“It’s too late,” he said. “It doesn’t matter now.”

She blinked. “Oh, Justin, it has to matter. As you said, whatever happened, we were friends.”

“Not anymore.” He wouldn’t forgive her, couldn’t trust her. “You don’t want to be friends with me, Megan. I’m still the town bastard.”

“I’m sorry I said that. You frightened me that day. I didn’t know what to do.”

“You could have said you’d changed your mind.”

“I was afraid you would persuade me.” She bit her lower lip. “You always had the power to persuade me.”

Did he still? The thought tempted him. No, it didn’t matter. None of this mattered. He’d come back to Landing to make his peace with the town. To prove to them, and himself, that he was more than a troublemaker. When his year was up, he would move on and find a place to put down roots. Until then, he would stay as far away from Megan Bartlett as possible. She had always been his greatest weakness. Chances are, that hadn’t changed.

“Go home, Megan,” he said. “Go back to your respectable life. I’m not here to make trouble.”

“You’ve made it already, and you know it. Did you think that you could just come back here and be sheriff? Did you think people wouldn’t notice...or remember?”

“I’m counting on them remembering.”

Her delicate eyebrows drew together. He loved her frowns. They made him want to kiss away the lines in her forehead and hold her close until her worries faded. He drew back a step, putting more distance between them. He’d been right to want to avoid her. She was more trouble than he had ever been.

“Then why are you here?” she asked.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“I would.” She stepped closer, close enough for her to touch his arm. Even through her gloves, the brief contact seared though his shirt to his bare skin. Instantly, his body reacted to the heat as his blood flowed quicker. “Explain it to me.”

The fire of need ignited his anger. He jerked his arm loose and walked over to the desk. After picking up a single sheet of paper, he waved it at her. “This is all you have to know, Miss Bartlett. The town council of Landing has signed a contract with me. Unless I commit a criminal offense, I will be your sheriff for the next year. I don’t need your friendship, or anything else from you.”

“Fine.” She reached for her cloak and drew it over her shoulders. The heavy fabric swirled around her, brushing against his legs, taunting him like a too-brief caress. “Keep your secrets and your friendship. I’ll be sure to tell everyone you’re back in town and that you’ve only changed for the worse.”

“Why don’t you tell them the rest?” he asked, knowing he was pushing, trying to hurt her the way he’d been hurt. “Why don’t you tell them the real reason you’re so afraid?”

She picked up her reticule. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She started toward the door, but he moved quicker and slammed his hand against the wood, preventing her from leaving. “Tell them your dirty little secret. No one knows, do they? No one knows about our times by the stream.”

“Stop it.”

She reached for the door handle and pulled, but the door didn’t budge. He leaned against it and folded his arms over his chest.

“Tell them about how you liked my kisses, Megan. How you liked me touching you.”

“Justin, no.”

She raised her head to him. Tears glistened in her eyes. But the visual proof of her pain didn’t ease his anger. If anything, it made him want to her hurt her more.

“I was good enough to sneak around with, but not good enough to bring home to your father.”

“You don’t understand. You never understood.” She raised her hands in front of her, palms up. “There are things you don’t know. I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t tell anyone.”

“That’s you, Megan. You’ve always kept your dirty little secrets. Does anyone know you promised to marry me?”

She choked on a sob. “Let me g-go.” She pulled frantically at the door handle. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry you agreed to marry me, or sorry you threw it back in my face? Are you sorry you couldn’t marry the town bastard?”

He stepped back and she jerked the door open. She gave him one last glance. He saw the tears on her cheeks and the hurt in her eyes. Suddenly, his anger died, snuffed out by a wave of shame.

“I’m sorry you’re back,” she said and escaped onto the boardwalk. “That’s what you wanted to hear, isn’t it? You wanted me to be sorry. I am. I truly am.” With that, she slammed the door shut behind her.

He thought about going after her, then shook his head. It was too late. He made a fist and hit the wall beside the door. The sharp pain wasn’t enough to distract him. Megan was right. He wasn’t nice anymore. He sure as hell hadn’t been nice to her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, staring out the window at her retreating back. She walked quickly, not greeting the people on the street. He saw her hand rise toward her face and wondered if she was wiping away the tears.

“Come back to Landing and set the past right,” he muttered. “You just made a hell of a start.”

He owed her an apology. Whatever had gone on between them seven years ago had nothing to do with the fact that he was the new sheriff. He had no right to treat one of his citizens so rudely. Williams would be damned disappointed.

Of course, it was Williams’s fault he was here in the first place. “Meddling old goat,” he said affectionately. His friend and former employer had been the one to come up with the idea that Justin needed to make peace with the past. He’d been the one to find the notice soliciting applications for a sheriff in Landing. Then he’d bullied Justin into applying. And here he was.

He turned away from the window and stared at his small office. Maybe this had been a mistake. It would have been better to take another job. After all, small-town sheriffs weren’t that easy to come by. Especially in Kansas. He could have gone further west, or maybe south to Texas. But no. He had to come back to Landing and prove them all wrong. It was a great plan with only one flaw.

What if they hadn’t been wrong? What if he was the one who was wrong? Maybe he wasn’t better than a born troublemaker. He picked up the signed contract and stared at it. He had a whole year to find out the truth.

* * *

An hour later, he grabbed his coat and hat from a hook on the wall and left. Suddenly, the office had seemed too confining. He crossed the street, jogging to avoid an oncoming wagon pulled by six horses.

It was late afternoon. The sun was already sinking behind the buildings, leaving half the street in shade. A stiff breeze tugged at his open jacket and hat. If it rained, there could be snow, but the skies were clear in all directions.

He stopped and stared at the livery stable. Someone had told him it had burned down three years ago. The new building was larger. He’d worked there from the time he was thirteen, until he’d left Landing at twenty. He liked being a deputy and he was fairly sure he was going to enjoy being sheriff, but he missed working with horses. Maybe when he left here, he would find a bit of land and raise them. He shrugged, then kept walking. Any plans for the future were a waste of time. He still had to get through his year here.

Next to the livery stable stood a small brick building. The bottom floor belonged to the town doctor, the top to a lawyer. As he walked by, the front door opened and an older woman stepped out, wrestling with an oversize basket. Her mud-caked shoes slipped on the stone steps. She spun to regain her balance and cried out.

Justin ran up the steps, and grabbed the basket with one hand and the woman with the other. He held on to her arm until she was steady. She clutched at him, her small black straw-and-feather hat shaking in the late-afternoon breeze.

“Thank you, sir. I just about tumbled down those stairs. At my age, that would be enough to send me to meet my maker.” She straightened and looked up at him. Small green eyes focused on his face. She let out her breath with an audible whoosh. “Well, well. If it isn’t Justin Kincaid.”

Justin stared down at Widow Dobson and groaned silently. Of all the people to run into. He gave her a forced smile. “Afternoon, ma’am. If you’re steady on your feet, I’d best be—”

“You just stand there and let me look you over, young man.” Her tone said she wasn’t willing to be argued with. “I’d heard it was you, but I couldn’t believe you’d come back to town.”

Mrs. Dobson had never had any trouble speaking her mind. Looks as if that hadn’t changed. She’d also been the only person in town who had cared when his mother had taken sick. She’d brought soup and home remedies to their small, dark room, and sat up with his mother until she died. Justin wanted to hand her back her basket and walk away. He couldn’t. The widow had never wanted to hear a word of thanks, nor had she accepted the money he’d tried to give her. Listening to her berate him was a small price to pay for such a large debt.

She looked exactly as he remembered. Small and plump, with a generous bosom, and dressed entirely in black. The thick wool cape that fell from her shoulders gaped slightly, exposing a dark dress underneath. He didn’t recall her caring about Mr. Dobson as much in life as she seemed to in death.

“I’m back here, ma’am,” he said politely. “For the next year. I’m the new sheriff.”

“I’d heard that.” She pointed at him. “Take off your hat. Let me get a look at your face.” He let go of her and did as she requested. She shook her head. “The women always said you’re handsome as sin. You know what I say?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Sin makes its own kind of trouble. Are you here to cause trouble?”

“I’m here to keep trouble from happening. I enforce the law, Mrs. Dobson.”

“I hope you’re right. It’s my recollection that trouble seems to find you whether you want it to or not.” She gave a little cackle. “Tongues are wagging over you. Guess you’ve set everyone on their ear. Now, help me down these stairs and be quick about it.” She softened her words with a smile.