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Michelle choked on her coffee. Kathleen? Shit!
“Are you all right?”
She coughed. “Yes. I swallowed wrong.” Her mind whirled. What should she say? “Why do you ask?”
Luther opened Hamlet. “Kathleen’s name is written on the inside covers of all of them, that’s why.” He shrugged. “So, who’s Kathleen, and why do you have her name in your books?”
Her palms broke out in a sweat, and she rubbed her hands on her skirt. The last thing she needed was Luther questioning her again. If only she hadn’t left those damn books out...
“Kathleen’s my sister.”
“Oh.” Luther frowned. “Why’s her last name Stanton and yours is Evans?”
Michelle stirred her coffee as she tried to think of something to make Luther stop probing into her past. “It’s a long story and not very interesting. I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Why not? It’s raining out. We’re cooped up in here all day. What else you wanna do?” He sat across from her. “Besides, you’re my wife and I want to hear about your relatives. After all, they’re mine, too,” he added.
“Fine. That’s her married name. She got married and gave the books to me.” She hoped it was a convincing-sounding lie.
Luther was silent for a minute. “Tell me about her. What’s her middle name? Starts with an M, according to this.”
“Marie,” she lied.
Luther’s eyes locked onto hers as he looked up from the book. “How long has she been married? Is she older than you or younger?”
She sipped her coffee before answering. “Kathleen’s eighteen, two years younger than me,” she answered. She hoped that would satisfy Luther’s curiosity.
“You mean seventeen.”
“Huh?”
“You told me you were nineteen, that’d make her seventeen.”
Luther was sharp. She never thought he’d remember what she had told him. Building lies on top of lies was turning into hard work.
“She’s seventeen, no matter,” he said. “I find it odd she married before you, her being younger and all.”
“That’s how it went,” she replied with a shrug.
“Didn’t your folks mind that she got married before you?”
She sighed. From now on, she would answer Luther’s questions as honestly as she could. It was easier than trying to remember her lies. “I told you, it’s a long story. My parents wanted Kathleen to get married because they thought it would settle her down. So they arranged a marriage between her and Roger.”
Luther arched an eyebrow. “Roger?”
“Yes. My father and Roger’s family are in the same business. One day my father brought Roger home and told Kathleen that they were going to be married. It was a business deal.” Michelle raised her tin mug to her lips and noticed that her hands were trembling.
“I guess you don’t like Roger much, huh?”
A chill ran up her spine, and she folded her arms across her chest. “As a matter of fact, I hate him,” she spat. “He was a horrible, mean person. All his money couldn’t change what he was. I refused to”—she stopped herself—“be near him.”
Luther licked his lips and spoke after a few seconds. “If Roger was so rotten, why did you let your sister marry him?”
Michelle broke away from Luther’s hard stare. She lost herself in the fireplace flames for a moment, then cleared her throat. “I tried to stop it. I told my father that Roger was abusive and hurtful. He refused to listen. Roger comes from a very wealthy family of excellent social standing. Nothing I said mattered.”
Luther rose from his chair and knelt in front of her. “Hey.” He clasped her shaking hands. “I didn’t mean to make you upset. He was real mean to you, wasn’t he?”
Her eyes welled with tears as she recalled the fights and the humiliating way Roger had treated her. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Roger’s the reason you have nightmares, ain’t he?”
She nodded. She could admit that much to Luther. “How did you know?”
“That was the one thing I made out from the nightmares. You were fighting with Roger and yelling at him to leave you alone, he was hurting you. What’s important now is that you’re here with me.” Luther hugged her and she rested her head against his shoulder. “He’s far away and you’ll never have to worry about him hurting you again,” he said, rubbing her back. “You can tell me everything whenever you’re ready. If he forced you—”
She pulled from his arms. “What do you mean, forced me? There’s nothing to tell. I told you, nothing like that happened. Why don’t you believe me?”
“I saw how you acted when you had those nightmares, Michelle. You’re my wife, and I’m concerned about you.”
“Well, don’t be. I can take care of myself,” she snapped.
Luther stood and walked to the fireplace. “I’m going into town tomorrow. I gotta pick up a few things I ordered last time. I need an answer from you tonight.”
“An answer about what?”
“Whether you’re gonna stay here and be my wife for good—or not.”
* * *
LUTHER LEANED AGAINST the mantle and bowed his head. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked Michelle about her past, but he was curious. At least now he had an idea of what upset her and gave her nightmares. But his questions had made her angry with him again.
He picked up the bracelet he had started making. He’d taken the lock of Michelle’s knotted hair and braided it around a leather thong. He would keep it as a memento, to show people how beautiful his wife’s hair was. He fingered the half-finished golden bracelet. When Michelle was gone, this would be all he’d have to prove that she had been here. He tried not to think about how empty the cabin would be without her.
“I know you’re not used to living like this, and you’re not happy with me. I’m a man of my word, and we agreed that you could leave if you wanted to.” His heart hammered as he forced the words out. “I can take you back to town early, so you can catch the coach to wherever you’re going.”
“The coach?”
“Yeah. I was hoping my luck would change and this would turn out to be a good thing, but I won’t keep you here. I’m not stupid, Michelle, I know you don’t belong with a man like me. I’m not like those fancy gentlemen back home.”
He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I thought everything would get better when you came along. All I ever wanted was to be loved and be happy. I thought I would be because I got the prettiest bride in the world. But I’m a fool.” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have expected anything. I’ve never been able to have anything good in my life.”
Michelle didn’t answer.
Why wasn’t she saying anything? She wasn’t shy. If she didn’t want to leave, she would certainly speak up. He clenched the bracelet in his hand and fought to control the tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.
“I guess it didn’t work out between us. It’ll be better for you this way. You can find another husband, a proper man who can give you nice things like you deserve, and you won’t be locked away in a filthy shack with a man like me.”
The pain tearing at his heart was too great to bear, and his composure waned. “I’m sorry I bothered you with all those questions. I’ll leave you alone so you can pack. We’ll go in the morning.”
His voice cracked, and he rushed from the cabin, too ashamed of his tears to face Michelle.
* * *
MICHELLE SAT AT THE table, stunned. What in the world had just happened? One minute, Luther was questioning her about Roger, and the next, he was telling her that she’d be better off without him. He had made his speech so fast that she barely had time to absorb it. She couldn’t blame Luther for wanting to send her away. She had been nothing but a burden to him since she arrived.
She felt guilty about lying to him, but Luther couldn’t know the truth about her past. If she told him the real reason why she had nightmares, she would have to confess that she’d been lying about her identity. If Luther discovered she had deceived him, he’d hate her and make her leave.
What should she do? Leave and keep running? Where could she go? She cradled her head in her hands. All Luther ever wanted was to be loved and be happy. And deep down, she longed for the same things.
* * *
TWO HOURS LATER, MICHELLE sat cross-legged in front of the fire. Gazing into the flickering orange flames had helped clear her mind. No matter how hard she tried to convince herself that she should move on and keep heading west, she couldn’t. She didn’t want to leave Luther. In a few weeks, the small cabin had become her home.
Luther treated her well and had the patience of a saint. She trusted him, and he sparked feelings in her no other man had before. Her skin tingled whenever he touched her. How could she abandon the first man who had made her feel special?
Instead of running away, she wanted to become the wife she pretended to be. But was it too late? Redfeather’s words echoed back to her. “Do not wound him when you leave.”
She turned as Luther entered the cabin and closed the door behind him. His long black hair hid his face. Was he angry? Sad? She couldn’t tell.
“I reckon we should leave early. You have arrangements to make,” he said, as he yanked off his boots and got into bed.
She climbed on the bed and rested her hand on Luther’s shoulder. “Luther, I—”
“Please blow out the candles so I can sleep.”
She kneaded his muscles with her fingertips. “I don’t want to—”
“Michelle, please do as I say.”
“—leave at all.”
He rolled over to face her. “What?”
“What if I don’t want to go? I never said I did. But I understand why you’d want to be rid of me.”
Luther sat up. “Be rid of you? Why would you think that?”
“Why? I know a thousand reasons why. I have the wrong clothes. I cry too much. We argue. I have terrible nightmares, and I keep you awake half the night.” She bowed her head. “And despite the fact that I’m supposed to be your wife, we’ve never... you know.”
“Hey, there’s plenty of time for that kind of stuff.” Luther cupped her chin in his hand and raised her head. “I don’t mean to pry, but I’m curious about you. You’re my wife, and I want you to be happy. I know I’m not anyone’s ideal man, but I hope you can find a place in your heart for me.”
She smiled. “You already have a place in my heart.”
Luther drew her close and kissed her. She melted in his arms and let herself be swept away by his tender embrace. Her lower body tingled as she kissed him back, tentatively at first, then deeper as her passion built. To hell with her past, this is what she wanted. Luther was the only man for her, and from now on she really would be Luther’s wife.
After a few minutes, he pulled away. “How was that?”
“Wonderful.” She pressed her cheek against Luther’s chest and wrapped her arms around his ribs. Nestled here, she was safe from the rest of the world. “I want to be a good wife to you, Luther, I really do. I’ll try harder, I swear I will.” She clutched him tighter. “But please, don’t ever make me leave, no matter what.”
“I won’t, darling. I won’t.” He kissed her again. “We’ll be together forever, I promise. Nothing on earth is ever gonna make me let you go.”
She closed her eyes and prayed he was right.
