The Widowed Bride

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.