"Go away," she whispered raggedly. "Please, just go away. You're catching me at a weak moment. I can't be strong right now. Go away. Before I do something totally insane and say yes. Please?"
If not for the stark terror he saw in her eyes, Chase might have whooped with relief. She was about to say yes. Praise be to his mother's God and his father's Great Ones, she was about to say yes.
"You're bent on making me love you," she blurted. "You just never quit, do you? And it'll be a disaster if I do. Why can't you see that?" She turned away, as if she couldn't bear to look at him. "Do you think I'm made of stone? Right now, I'm more frightened than I've ever been in my life. And I've never felt so alone."
Aching to hold her, Chase settled for lightly touching her shoulder. She shrank from his hand. "Honey, you don't have to be alone. Never again. Let me take care of you, hm? Of you and your baby. Of your family. All it'll take is one word. Yes. And you won't have to feel afraid anymore."
A tearing sob caught in her chest. "Oh, Chase. Do you know what I nearly did?" She squeezed her eyes shut. "When I learned I was pregnant, I thought about marrying you and pretending this baby was yours. I thought about lying and saying it was yours. That's how desperate I am right now."
"Then do it." He caught her chin in his palm and forced her to meet his gaze. "Marry me, sweetheart, and tell me this baby is mine. That's what I want. Don't you see? I can't think of anything that I'd love more. Say it now. 'Chase, this is your baby. And, yes, I'll marry you.' Say it, Franny."
She scrambled away from him and shot to her feet. "Stop it! Just stop it!" Pressing rigid fingers against her temples, she whirled to present her back to him. "You've gone mad, and me right along with you. If I married you and you claimed this child, you'd end up despising me for it. Sooner or later, you'd begin searching the faces of the men in this town, looking for a resemblance to your child. You'd look in their faces and wonder how many of them were intimate with your wife, and the answer would be dozens. I can't do that to you, or to myself, and least of all to an innocent baby."
"Franny—"
She pressed her palms over her ears. "Shut up! Don't say another word, Chase Wolf! If you do, I might—" She broke off and shook her head. "It'd be madness."
"What might you do? Say yes?" He pushed to his feet. "Then, honey, do it. Follow your heart and do it."
"My heart?" She turned a stricken gaze on him. "Oh,
Chase. What of your family? Your parents? They'd never forgive you, and they'd hate me. They'd never accept this baby in a million years. It'd be a pariah."
"You know nothing about my parents," he admonished. "They'll love you and my child, I promise you."
"It's not your child."
Chase took a deep, bracing breath. "Yes. My woman, my child. Enough of this. Marrying me is what's best for both of you, and that's exactly what you're going to do."
"Don't tempt me."
"I'm telling you."
She fastened disbelieving and wary eyes on him, clearly alarmed at the firmness in his tone. "I just explained to you why I can't."
Chase planted his hands on his hips. "You're obviously too upset right now to make the decision. Either that or you're afraid to. So I'm taking the decision away from you. No choices. How's that sound? You will marry me. If everything turns to shit later, then it won't be your fault. I'm making the decision. If it's not the right one, I take full responsibility."
She regarded him through shimmering tears. "Oh, Chase, it's a lovely gesture. But I have to think about my baby."
"It's not a gesture, it's an order. And from this second on, you aren't allowed to think. Not when it involves this. You're going to marry me, end of conversation. So, let's go and get it done."
She hugged her waist. With her nose red from crying and her eyes widened with wary astonishment, she looked about twelve years old to him. He imagined she must have looked very like she did now on that fateful night nine years ago. Small, frightened, exhausted from crying. How any man who called himself a man could have forced himself on her, Chase didn't know. The thought literally sickened him. Even now, she wasn't much bigger than a minute. He knew he'd have no contest if he wrestled her to the ground. He could easily grip both her wrists in one fist and hold down her legs with one of his. Her struggles might be an irritation, but nothing more. He could help himself and linger over whatever part of her he fancied, taking her first with his mouth and hands, then by invasion.
Only, in the taking, he'd be gentle, and he doubted the bastard who'd done the honors had bothered. A man who paid top dollar to bust a little girl's maidenhead was the kind who got his jollies by overpowering someone helpless, by terrorizing, and by inflicting pain. It was inconceivable to Chase that other men had gone into that room afterward, seen a torn, bleeding child on the bed, and used her battered little body. What kind of monsters did such things? How could they reassume a cloak of respectability after and go home to their own children without feeling vile?
Moving toward Franny with slow, measured steps, Chase held out a hand to her. "Come with me, honey. It's over. No more agonizing. I've made the decision for you."
She regarded his outstretched hand in much the same way she might have a snake about to strike. "I can't."
"You don't have a choice."
"Of course I do."
His pulse kicking into high speed, Chase drew his one big gun, angry with himself for using it against her, yet convinced all of this would be easier on her if he did. "No, Franny, you don't. If you want to continue this argument, we'll do it in your ma's parlor."
Her body stiffened and she fixed accusing eyes on his. "You wouldn't! I know you now, Chase. You wouldn't be that cruel."
"Try me."
"She's blind. It'd be absolutely ruthless to drag her into this."
Chase hardened himself to the plea in her eyes. "Franny, ruthless is in my blood. I'm Comanche, remember? I come from a long line of men who set their sights on women and were ruthless in the taking. It's kind of like the first time I climbed on a horse. It just comes naturally. I want you, and I'm going to have you. Simple as that." He shrugged. "As for ruthless, your mamma could give lessons."
"Lessons? What on earth do you mean?"
"That she's pretended to be a lot blinder than she actually is these last nine years, that's what."
She flinched as though he had struck her, which made Chase wish he could call back his words. He hadn't intended to get off on that subject, not now, maybe not ever. Some truths were too painful to face, and he sensed that for Franny, this was one of them.
"How dare you imply my mother knows," she cried brokenly. "How dare you?"
Chase could have implied a hell of a lot more, but his aim here was to protect the girl, not destroy her. Prepared for her to try and resist, he grasped her arm. "It's nigh on four o'clock. If we're going to see the justice of the peace and get this finished, we have to get cracking."
She tried to jerk her arm free. He held her fast.
"You can come on your own steam," he said softly. "Or I can carry you tossed over my shoulder. And, please, don't make the mistake of thinking I'm bluffing. I was raised on the stories of how my father took my mother captive. When I was a kid, I used to daydream about catching myself a pretty little gal someday and carting her off, just like my father did my ma. Throwing you over my shoulder would fulfill all my pubescent fantasies."
Her eyes widened. "That's barbaric."
"Ain't it just?" He smiled to take the edge off the threat. "All in fun, of course, albeit at your expense. Come on, honey. The second mode of transportation is going to draw a lot of stares once we reach town."
Her mouth quivered at the corners and a muscle beneath her eye twitched. "You wouldn't."
Chase feinted as if to grab her around the legs. With a startled squeak, she pressed her hands against his shoulders. "No, wait! I-I'll walk."
He slowly straightened. When she tried to step away, he tightened his hold on her arm.
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"My bonnet," she said shakily.
"Leave it," he replied firmly. "From here on out, you won't be needing it."
15
Feeling as if she were flotsam being carried forth by a wave, Franny lived through the next hour in a daze. Brooking no further arguments, Chase hauled her back to town, searched out a justice of the peace, and demanded they be married immediately. Franny could scarcely assimilate what was being said. When the brief ceremony commenced, Chase had to nudge her with his elbow to prompt her to say "I do."
Just that quickly, she became Mrs. Chase Wolf. Chase sealed their vows with a gentle kiss, the first he had ever given her, and Franny was so numb, she couldn't feel it. Unfortunately, the numbness didn't extend to her stomach, and when they emerged from the justice of the peace's office onto the boardwalk, she felt a little nauseated, whether from nerves or her pregnancy, she didn't know. Swaying slightly, she clamped a hand over her waist.
"You okay?" he asked gently, his tone completely at odds with his martial arrogance of a few minutes ago.
Afraid to take chances, Franny muttered, "Sick," and gulped, afraid she might humiliate herself, and him, right there on the boardwalk. Splattering his black Montana boots wasn't exactly a champion way to begin their life together.
Their life? The words resounded in her mind. They didn't have a prayer of building a life. A circus, more like, with everybody gaping at them. The only difference would be that folks wouldn't have to pay to buy tickets.
"Ah, honey." With husbandly solicitousness, he slipped a strong arm around her waist. "Let's get you home then. Ma'll know something to give you. She's good with home remedies, especially for things like this."
Home. His ma. Franny had a hysterical urge to run. To where, she didn't know. Anywhere would suit, just as long as it was away from him. He couldn't just take her home, as he might a stray puppy he'd found. What would he tell his parents? That he'd married the local prostitute? And, oh, by the way, she was pregnant? The very thought made her skin shrivel. They would detest her on sight. How could he do this to her? Or to his parents?
Very simply, he did it by placing one foot before the other and hauling her along beside him. Through town. To his parents' house. Up the steps. Across the porch. The entire time, Franny was gulping to make her stomach behave and frantically thinking of ways she might escape.
Too late. He opened the front door, drew her inside, and hollered, "Ma! I've got a surprise for you!"
A surprise. Oh, God. Oh, God. No maybe about it, she was going to vomit. Dimly she was aware of the surroundings. A horsehair sofa, crocheted doilies, a gleaming wood floor and colorful rag rugs. Beyond the sitting room area, she saw a friendly-looking kitchen divided by a long plank table, the cooking area to one side, storage on the other. It was the kind of house that said "welcome" and warmly embraced all those who entered. Polished window panes winked at her from behind pristine white and crisply starched curtains.
From a distance, Franny had seen Chase and Indigo's mother, Loretta Wolf, at least a dozen times, and as she remembered her, she was a small woman with honey gold hair who always seemed to be smiling. When she sailed out of a room to the left, however, she looked like Franny's most dreaded nightmare, a lady from the tips of her black high-topped shoes to the coronet atop her head. Her lightweight alpaca shirtwaist, nearly the same shade of blue as Franny's, was beautifully appointed with intricate bodice pleats, a sheer frill of white at the collar and cuffs, cording and ruffles at the waist. Instead of walking like a normal person, she seemed to glide. When she spotted the woman at her son's side, she hesitated for an instant, then recovered from her surprise, her large blue eyes warming with welcome.
"Ah, a guest. How nice. I just put on some tea."
Franny felt Chase's arm tighten around her. "Is tea good for morning sickness?"
The floor disappeared. At least that's how it felt to
Franny. She threw a horrified look at her new husband. He was grinning as if he had good sense.
"Morning sickness?" Loretta frowned slightly. "Ginger tea would be just the thing for that. Or some raspberries." Her friendly blue eyes filled with concern as they shifted to Franny. "Are you feeling ill, dear?"
Ill didn't say it by half. She was going to faint. "I. . . yes, a little."
"Ma," Chase said huskily. "Prepare yourself for a startle."
Loretta's eyes widened. Then she shot another look at Franny.
"We just got married," Chase said gently.
To Loretta Wolf's credit, she didn't reveal the shock she must have felt by so much as the batting of an eyelash. Her lovely face immediately burst into a joyous smile, and she pressed her palms together as if having her son drag home the local whore was the answer to her lifelong prayer. "Married? Oh, lands, how wonderful!"
Franny decided the poor woman didn't have a clue who she was. It was either that, or she was tetched. Loretta hurried to close the remaining distance between them and clasped Franny's cold hands. "Oh, Chase, she's absolutely lovely."
Chase seemed a tad disappointed. "You don't act very surprised."
Loretta kissed Franny's cheek in welcome. "Of course not. Your father told me which way the wind was blowing well over a week ago. We'd begun to think you'd changed your mind. Oh, I am so pleased. Franny, isn't it? Indigo has nothing but wonderful things to say about you. Come in, come in. I'll put some ginger tea on to brew. It'll settle your tummy in nothing flat, I assure you."
In a whirl of skirts, she was off for the kitchen. Franny was so stunned, she forgot all about feeling sick. Chase gave her a jostle and winked when she looked up. "What did I tell you? There's nothing to worry about. Next to you, my ma is the sweetest woman who ever walked."
"I heard that!" Loretta called from the stove.
Chase laughed and led Franny toward the table. After seating her, he stepped across the kitchen to sweep his mother into his arms. She squeaked in surprise then chuckled. "Scamp!"
"Nobody'll ever take your place. You know that."
She gave him a thump on the forehead. "I was only teasing you. If you don't think she's the sweetest woman on earth, you need your head examined for marrying her." Loretta flashed a warm glance at Franny. "I'm just pleased you've finally gotten some sense about you. I was beginning to think you'd never give me a grandbaby."
"Fooled you, didn't I?"
"Yes, well, you never did do anything in the conventional way." Loretta extricated herself from his embrace to sprinkle ginger into a small pot of water. "I have no fresh," she commented to no one in particular. "But the dried works just as well."
"Where is Father?"
"He'll be home shortly. He's still at the mine." The teapot at the back of the stove began to whistle, and she grabbed a potholder to remove it from the heat. "I have dried raspberries, Franny. Once the ginger has settled your stomach, you can have a bit of supper and seeped berries for dessert. Weil have you feeling fit as a fiddle in no time."
Franny could only hope. Now that she was sitting down, her stomach had started to roll again. She guessed she must look as green as she felt, for when Chase turned to regard her, his eyes darkened with concern. "I think maybe you should lie down for a bit. I can bring you the tea in bed."
"No, I'm fine, really." Franny felt out of place sitting at his mother's table. Going to bed in her house was out of the question.
Chase was having none of that. Before Franny guessed what he meant to do, he scooped her up off the bench into his arms. The next thing she knew, he was carrying her up a loft ladder. Built on a slant, the ascending stairway might not have seemed so treacherous if he had gripped the rails to steady himself, but his arms were filled with her. With his every step, Franny feared they might plunge to the sitting room floor below, and she clung to his neck in terror.
"Remind me to carry you up to the loft more often," he teased.
Franny had a vague impression of a center wall that divided two sleeping areas. Chase veered toward the
one on the right. A sunny window over the bed filled the room with brightness. Not releasing her, he somehow managed to flip the colorful quilt and sheet back before he lowered her onto the edge of the bed. Too sick to resist, Franny sat there like a lump while he removed her shoes. When he reached for the buttons of her shirtwaist, she was galvanized into action.
"No, please, I—"
"Don't be a goose." Brushing her hands aside, he began unfastening her bodice with expert fingers. "I'm your husband now, remember? Undressing my wife is one of the many privileges that comes with the honor."
Her husband. Her hands fell numbly to her lap. Two buttons, three. She closed her eyes, too ill to resist the situation and to frightened to contemplate how far he might take it. If he chose to strip her to the skin, what could she do? Insist he not? She felt sure his mother could probably hear every word that passed between them.
With the mastery of a man well practiced at disrobing females, he drew her shirtwaist down over her shoulders and peeled the sleeves off over her hands. Pulling her gently to her feet, he quickly untied her petticoats and bloomers, then skimmed the lot, along with her stockings, down her body. Franny shivered. As familiar as she had been with men, none had undressed her since her initiation into the profession. Nor had a man looked upon her when she wore nothing but a chemise.
Chase didn't linger over the chore. The instant she was stripped to the one undergarment, he pressed her back onto the bed and helped her to lie down, fluffing the feather pillow for her head and pulling the quilt up under her arms. It would have pleased Franny more to have it tucked to her chin. But she supposed that was asking a bit much of a newly married man. Naturally he wanted to regard his wife.
Which was exactly what he proceeded to do.
Franny felt like a bug pinned to velvet. She started to close her eyes, but Chase forestalled her by touching a fingertip to her cheek. She settled her gaze on his dark face. Leaning over her as he was, he looked immeasurably broad across the shoulders, and his mahogany hair fell in glistening waves across his high forehead. The dark planes of his handsome face hovered scant inches from hers, making her feel breathless. Their marriage had taken place with dizzying speed, and she felt trapped. It was rather like testing cold water with the tip of one's toe, only to have someone shove you in from behind. Shocking. She felt as if she were about to go under for the third time.