Chapter Seven

An hour later, Cordy tamped down her nerves by attacking the miles of cloth spread over the dining room table. She should have been sewing up a bridal gown. Not a foolish screen of only estimated dimensions.

Yet she was about to marry the man of her dreams. Had she lost her own mind? Her heart ground to a halt before turning into a hurricane.

Why had she done it? Why on earth had she agreed? Not the exhibition; she was desperate and had no choice. But marriage?

She stuck her finger again, with a needle as long as a snake.

Well, it was simple. Clancy had never said the word please ever. Never. Hawk said it one time and she landed in his arms like she belonged there.

And it felt right. She couldn’t miss the chance that she did belong there. That it was true love brewing in her heart.

Oh, Hawk. Her heart sang. The soft touch of his hand. Her heart melted anew. The caring caress in his tone. She put down the needle to touch her lips and imagined his fingers there. His Stetson. Closing her eyes, she relived every dream she’d done. And at the scent of cloud and sky and man, her blood streaked up and down her body just at the thought of him. How his fingers might feel drifting over her in the dark. She coughed away the racy thought.

And darkness reached for her with an ugly hand. Part of her despised giving in to it all again—a man asking for something only to get something. Just like Clancy. Then she remembered, too. The heart wanted what the heart needed. What if she hadn’t run into Katie Haynes today to hear those very words? Did she need Hawk as well as want him?

And now, Hawk as her husband?

Every cell of her body shimmied at the thought.

At the reality. Yet they hadn’t even kissed. Maybe he wanted merely another business arrangement after all.

Men!

She heard the front door, and the wondrous outdoor fragrance of him landed on her shoulders. Her ire fled. She’d long since drawn the front window curtains to prevent being the brunt of rampant curiosity. The exhibition certainly, for here she was building the foolish screen. But mostly, her sudden betrothal. Maybe, with the privacy, he’d kiss her now.

He didn’t. But before her heart fell too far, his strong fingers started to ease the tension from her shoulders. Air left her lungs at the mere heat of his hands.

“Good afternoon, Cordy. Fifty-three entrants so far, and contracts duly notarized,” he said, somehow shy. “Does no one in town have one of Mr. Singer’s machines?”

Of course, but she couldn’t confess she’d never used one. “Hawk, I’m doing all right,” she said although every inch of her life was stretching beyond imagination.

He sat next to her. “How I wish you were at work on a bridal gown.” The warm words landed on her hair, and his arm rested strong yet gentle across her shoulders. For a delicious second, she cuddled into him. Pretended it was real.

Her heart jumped into her throat, and she stabbed her finger for the thousandth time. “Um, I doubt you do.” Nervous laughter bubbled. “This isn’t a real wedding, anyway.”

His face softened. “I mean my vows, Cordy.”

For a flash, she drowned in his gaze, but the weight of the vow she was about to take shook her core. Nor did he lean to kiss her. “Tiny bloodspots dot this thing like ants after a chicken bone.” She tried to keep her tone light, but hurt at his non-kiss raged anew. She made a face at him. “You didn’t need to invite the whole town. The top citizens would have been sufficient as witnesses.”

The warm hands again. “I had little choice but to include everyone. Your announcement that you once had feelings for me ‘back home’ is the talk of the town.”

“Well, I had to say something. No one marries a man she’s known for a single day.” Except her. And deep down, Cordy wanted to. Hadn’t she found her cowboy, a man bound for the west and its endless skies? And if he needed help owning land, didn’t she have the citizenship he needed?

Hawk tsked with his teeth. “At any rate, the wedding must be public and widely known for the marriage to be realistic.”

“But it isn’t real. I’m just convenient.” She swallowed a sob of doubt. “And everyone watching…thinking something is true that isn’t true one single bit.” For the thousandth time, Lambert Truefitt and his nasty friends stood around her in the Bronckton Quadrangle, jeering and pointing. Tears she couldn’t stop dripped to her nose.

Hawk moved to hold her within the circle of his arms, as close and wonderful as he had on the boardwalk outside when proposing his, well, proposal. “I do wish…” His tone turned warm, almost loving. “Chicken bone or not, I do wish you had time for a lovely wedding gown and veil. Every man wishes to gaze upon his bride’s rapture as she strides up the aisle to him.”

His eyes softened as his gaze brushed her. It almost felt real, so she crushed her rapture. Every bride wished the same. But it wasn’t real anyway.

“My Sunday best will have to do.” Her heart skipped a sad beat. Last she recalled, she’d spilled coffee across her Sunday best and hurriedly hid the splotch with a brooch. She forced a shrug beneath his caressing fingers. “That’s all my mother did. Mrs. Hackett doesn’t stock bridal gowns at the mercantile.”

“She might have another lovely dress,” he murmured close to her hair.

His scent of pine and ocean and forever drifted up her nose and would linger until she died. “Well, we need the money for other things.” True but her heart hurt, and the mercantile’s lacy hat flashed in her head. “As it is, Miss Geraldine is helping Lisa Pelton bake the wedding cake.”

Hawk tightened his arms, and though desperate for his kiss, Cordy found her senses. After all, he considered the act meaningless. That cooled her quick but also put her in mind of a bridal night, and she pushed him away. If a kiss meant nothing, she wasn’t about to become victim to a bridegroom’s insincere lust. She trembled anyway.

Practically reared, halted thoughts of a honeymoon. “Hawk, you ought to alert Sheriff Pelton that your life is in danger.”

Hawk, obviously distressed that she shirked him, stared at her for a while. “No. Eadweard is ever a gentleman.” He rubbed the top of her hand. “He will not lie in wait or perform a secret attack. At best, it would be an affair of honor.”

Cordy snorted. Her needle jabbed again. “Oh. A duel. A practice outlawed in at least eighteen American states.” She couldn’t recall if Nebraska was one of them. “You’re likely to land yourself in jail if not a coffin.”

Hawk in a coffin? Why had the words left her mouth? No!

“I shall be fine. I promise you that, Cordy.” He stuck his finger inside a long curly lock of her hair. Her breath hitched without a sound. “You will not be wife and widow the same day.”

Widow. Wife. Nerves clawed across her back. Clancy, dead from a gun. “I warn you, Hawk.” Her voice turned abnormally harsh. “I couldn’t bear the man I lo—, I mean, another man in my life dying on the ground in his own blood.”

His tender gaze warmed her through. “Cordy, don’t trouble your thoughts. I, I’ve been a second. In a duel. I know what transpires.”

Dropping the needle, she rose, hands on hips in her governess way, and sniffed, loud. “Davina again?”

“No. No.” His cheekbones turned the color of fine wine. “No. There was a beastly cretin at college, a few actually, who humiliated my housemate’s cousin, a most virtuous young lady. My mate and I finally had enough and called out the ringleader.”

She stiffened, yet rather pleased at Hawk’s reaction this time. Apparently scum like Lambert existed everywhere, and Hawk had stood up in a righteous cause for innocence. “Did you…he…they?”

He burst into laughter. “No. They ran off like rats escaping a sinking ship.”

“I can’t see how that comforts me.” She sat back down close to his warmth and tangled her fingers in the cloth. Instead of his hair. “Not that I want you to have shot someone, honorably or otherwise. It means you are inexperienced, and Mr. Muybridge obviously is not.”

“We shouldn’t worry. It won’t come to that. Not if I’m respectably married. That’s the reason for everything.”

Yes, when the reason should be love. Sparkles. Her heart tumbled even though she told it not to, and she grabbed the edge of the old mahogany table. Cordy could not explain her feelings, but the confusion thrilled her. Something in the last twenty fours had tied her and Hawk together. She felt it, and he knew it. His confidence comforted, not irked her.

And she’d given him her word. That meant something. Her very own parents had made a loveless marriage work. So she wondered why the walls around her started to close in. Hers wasn’t loveless. Not on her part, at least.

Cordy tossed away the screen. Her world was changing so awfully fast. “Listen, Hawk, I need some air. Can we perhaps wander over to see the, the progress of the exhibition?”

“Of course. I thought you’d never ask. I’d love to show you off.” His lips slowed over the words, and his face glowed. “Some of the riders are already practicing.”

“How? I’m still working on the screen. And the framework can’t possibly be finished.” Sudden fear roiled through her. “No. I changed my mind. You need to stay inside. We won’t be married for hours, and Mr. Muybridge might already be in Paradise.”

Hawk’s lips once again twisted deliciously to one side of his mouth. “Well, the wire did say tomorrow. But truth to tell, Gunnar has been on the lookout for a stranger in town.”

“Well, thanks to our Help Wanted, and your busy posse, there are many strangers here. All of my rooms are booked.” For a brief flash, delight at an improved financial status cooled the heat of terror, and she smiled.

Hawk smiled back and her heart jabbed a rib. “Muybridge has a very distinct appearance, Cordy. I’ve described him perfectly. My—posse as you refer to them, will spot him right off. And besides, I already told you, he will pursue the path of honor.”

Him, lying in a pool of blood? She shook her head to rid the dreadful thought. “Honor? It’s a strange honor, shooting someone. And don’t get me started on war. Or hunting.” She picked up the needle from the ground and plunged it into a pincushion shaped like a strawberry.

He touched her cheek, and her heart hitched. She was about to be this man’s bride. She gulped behind the ruffle of her collar. What would tonight be like, snug in his arms? Learning the power of his body?

Or would he shirk her? Would it be merely a business arrangement after all? Her hands trembled against both sides of her face.

“Cordy, everyone loves a story with a good ending. Even Muybridge. We are fine. Our marriage is believable, particularly with everyone attending the wedding.” He glanced at her with such tender eyes her spirits tickled. Shirking seemed less than likely. “Which, by the by, Reverend Satterburg told the congregation to gather at the church after supper. What time would that be on a clock?”

Somehow, he was so adorable she laughed. “Around six. The lamplighters will be finishing up by then.” But it was already three. Nerves rattled again. “Let, uh, let me freshen up. I agree. I should take your arm for a stroll. As newlyweds ought.”

“Yes, we’ll act the lovebirds.”

Yes. Act the part. Disappointment clanged anew. She stared down at her fingers, pocked with needle pricks. Oh, where were her gloves? Her heart smacked her ribs, and her eyes started tears. Why couldn’t it be real? With her head high, she broke from him and headed to her room. If she could feign grief over Clancy, yes, she could feign love for a cowboy she’d fallen for in some other life.

Although in this life, it had really happened. She wasn’t pretending at all.

In her room, she splashed cold water on her face to hold down the heat just the thought of Hawk brought upon her, decided to leave her hair down. It seemed more bridal somehow, since she’d have no veil. Her Black Watch woolen dress would do fine for a public promenade. Her mother had taught her how to dress with an East coast cachet, and her style, while not costly, would quite fit with her well-bred fiancé’s.

Despite her flowing hair, she stabbed a pin through a straw flower-pot hat and smirked at its artificial violets. Would she even have a wedding bouquet?

Wedding. The word started to terrify her more with each heartbeat. And thrill her, too.

She breathed slowly as she left her room, but he stole it anyway. By the front door he waited, holding out her burnoose, so gallant, so handsome…she had never felt more alive.

“You look beautiful.”

Shy, pretending he meant it, she spread her hands across her skirts. “Oh, it’s all just everyday.”

“No. Your hair. It’s perfect.” Hawk ran a finger down it, and she trembled. What…what might those fingers do to her elsewhere? Then she shut her thoughts. It wasn’t a real marriage, after all. They’d not even kissed.

He took her hand. “Let’s go show you off.”

Something struck her and it was akin to panic. “My gracious, Hawk. Am I to become Lady Shockley?”

He bowed with little nod. “But only in England. Here you can be, can be Mrs. Shockley.”

Her heart leaped into her throat. That sounded real at least.

Outside, Paradise moved around her like she’d never seen it before. As if the air had somehow grown clearer. As if her life was starting anew once more. False-front buildings and here and there, one of brick, framed themselves against a blue sky. Clouds scudded by like fat sheep leaping through the air. It was a pretty little burg, although a man from London must think it hopelessly humble. Lady Shockley? She shivered. Clancy had ridiculed Paradise constantly, and he’d never even made it to Montpelier.

She grasped Hawk’s arm, and felt a spark even through the woolen sleeve of his duster. A few housewives had gathered, but from the shouts on the air, most of the action was indeed occurring past the livery and down First Street. But one of the women caught her eye and turned her back. Cordy shivered with more than a tuft of cold wind. With more than Hawk’s handsomeness. Mrs. Albert Schneider was notorious for her tittle-tattle. What had a Meeker done now?

Their footfalls matched each other in rhythm. The wind was cool, but the streets dry. She prayed for good weather during the exhibition. But another thought pressed harder.

“Hawk, I do want to help you, and I’m going through with it.” Her steps slowed and she gazed up at him. Oh, he was lovely but… “But marriage isn’t so simple for me. It takes away everything. Good heavens, Lady Shockley? And you’ll be owner of my boardinghouse!”

“Which, by the way, will have no vacancies this evening.” His warm smile wrapped around her, and she snuggled into his shoulder as their speed deepened. “Our plan is already working, Cordy. Soon we’ll have the finances we both need. Yes, every room’s been let.” His smile pittered through her heart.

But she pulled away as the reality frightened her. Could they pull off both a fake marriage and a fake wedding night? With a full house of lodgers, she couldn’t very well skulk in her housemaid’s room off the kitchen with its narrow bed. Everyone would soon know. The gossip would be murderous if Paradise’s latest lovers already had trouble.

Lovers? She shivered in a way she never had before. Did she want a real wedding night after all? Or was it impossible, sharing the bedroom of a man who couldn’t deign to kiss her?

“Perhaps I should stay in and start supper.” She rushed to say, surprised her voice made sounds. “I’ll need a stop at the mercantile.”

Hawk smiled. “I will help with everything.”

Breath hitching, she smiled back. That he would, she knew for sure. Not at all a namby-pamby dandy, his years at a ranch in the Wild West without valets and butlers had taught him much self reliance and expertise with everyday tasks. He’d told her of greasing wheel axles, preparing meals from a chuck wagon. Even rinsing dirty stockings.

His lips brushed the top of her head. “And not to worry.” Cordy trembled to her toes. “I consulted with Mrs. Hackett. She has delegated various women to bring a dish or two to the boardinghouse.”

“Oh. A potluck.” Goodness, Hawk had thought of everything. His hand tightened over hers, and her heart burst. Despite knowing him but a day, could they possibly have a chance? Mail order brides wed unknown men all the time. And in his circles, arranged marriages were expected. At least she and Hawk were both were eager for the Wild West and starting anew. And—her pulse jumped. Her husband had heated her blood from the start.

Yet doubt waggled in her mind again. Was she to go through it all once more? Was Hawk like Clancy, ever in a pickle—needing something, usually at her expense? Even now, in a marriage proposal that should have been a moment of love and passion, Hawk merely needed her.

But no one stirred her like Hawk Shockley. He’d made a serious mistake in his younger days, just as she had with Lambert. They already had that in common.

And she didn’t dare take the chance that someone might kill this magnificent creature. She laid her free hand over their clasped ones, and tightened her fingers around his. Like she’d never let go. He smiled down at her just as one of his henchmen trotted town the street toward them. Both feet off the ground.

“Hawk. Hawk. We need ya to check the frame. Gunnar’s claiming he knows best.”

Gunnar? Cordy chuckled, doubted it. “You are needed elsewhere. The biddies have all noticed us. Now go check the progress.” She tried to sound married, then sighed. “Here’s Katie coming at me like a tornado anyway, and I’m in for a big scolding. Hawk, I’ll find you in a bit.”

Fire in her eyes, Katie Haynes grabbed Cordy’s arm and dragged her to a bench in front of Graybill’s. They’d have some privacy behind the shoemaker’s public water trough. “Honestly, Cordy? Three hours ago, you rail at me about love and Charlie and marriage, and can’t bother to mention you, yourself are getting married. Today?”

Cordy heated with embarrassment. “It’s complex, Katie. It’s quick, but there are good reasons.”

“So you knew him back in Vermont? And he suddenly shows up and…” Katie’s eyes narrowed. “Does it have something to do with your foreclosure?” Her face softened. “Did Mr. Shockley come to town to get you out of trouble?”

“Well, the exhibition is his idea.” Guilt pummeled her, but tried to shrug off Katie’s concern anyway. “We’ve made some arrangements.”

“Oh, I see.” Katie hissed, fingers tightening even more. “You’re marrying him for his money.”

“No. No, Katie. Honest. I’m not keeping secrets. Hawk is a second son and needs money, too. But that’s not why I need to marry him.”

Sudden doubt clobbered her. How did she know? The wire had been cryptic at best. How did she even know EM was Eadweard Muybridge? How…? She gulped. How, in spite of his fancy Lucchese boots, did she know Hawk was even a nobleman’s son?

Nerves rustled the back of Cordy’s neck. The sensible nature that had allowed her a cross-country move to start up a business at only twenty clanged its warning bells now. Maybe he was a swindler or confidence man. Or worse, an outlaw. What had she done, allowing herself to be turned by a handsome head? And her heart stolen as well.

Cordy shivered. Was her trust, her love, misplaced? The wind had turned cold.

“You make so little sense.” Katie’s prettiness turned to a glaring frown. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Love for Hawk flickered, but so did doubt. And how could Cordy continue to lie to her closest friend in Paradise? She tapped nervous toes against the boardwalk. “Oh, Katie, I didn’t know Hawk until yesterday. We both needed a quick financial venture.” She coughed into her palm, mortified. “I made it up, us knowing each other before, so I didn’t sound quite so, so half-rigged. And now he’s convinced me to marry him! And I agreed. With my whole heart.”

Katie wrapped Cordy close. “Well, he is beautiful. And smart. I can understand why you’ve gotten swept away. Your eyes glow with dreams.”

“But dreams aren’t real.”

“You can make them real.” Katie brushed her fingers through Cordy’s long hair. “You remember my mama was a mail-order bride who married the wrong man. But she fell for him straight away and soon, convinced him it wasn’t a mistake.”

“I know. And yet…”

Katie stopped, stared deep into Cordy’s eyes “You know, you haven’t struck vows yet. If you’re doubtful, you can put it off for a while. Or change your mind entirely if you’ve got cold feet.”

“I know that.” Cordy’s heart sank at the reality. Her guests had all paid in full. She had enough money now to settle at the bank and leave town. “But I don’t want to. Katie, what if the threat is real? What if his life is truly in danger? And more than any of it, I want him. I want him so.”