Bride of Shadow Canyon. Stacey Kayne

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ why did he have to do that? She didn’t want to accept anything from a man who thought she was a liar. Her stomach churned loudly as she eyed two fish fillets, three biscuits and half an apple. More than she’d eaten in a week. That too surprised her.

      Most folks attempted to starve her, judging her appetite by her size, but she was certain Jed had given her exactly half of all the food he’d prepared. The succulent aroma tortured her senses. Hungry enough to eat her boots, she broke off a piece of fish and popped it into her mouth. She shuddered from sheer delight. He’d seasoned it—with lemon juice and salt.

      After spending a week eating mostly dust and a bit of dried beef, she was certain no finer tasting food had ever touched her tongue. The man knew his business when it came to cooking. She wondered if there was anything he couldn’t master. The probable answer to that question sent a frown sliding across her face.

       Pompous know-it-all.

      For all his skill and know-how, Jed Doulan was positively infuriating.

      

      After eating and doing the chores he’d assigned her, Rachell sat by the fire, stitching the fabric she’d cut up with the shears she’d found in the leather pouch, and intermittently looking at the bedroll spread out on the other side of the low flames.

      I don’t need his lousy blankets, she told herself, trying to ignore the cold shivers shaking her body. She and Titus had slept outdoors without such comforts plenty of times in the past five years, although, she’d been smart enough to keep her hair dry and had been wearing more than one thin layer of cotton.

      Things just seemed to keep going from bad to worse.

      Her life had been a downward spiral since the age of eleven, the day her father had stuck her on an eastbound train. His departing words often played in the back in her mind.

       For once in your life, Rachell, try to do as you’re told and stay out of trouble.

      Good advice she hadn’t quite mastered. Here she was, in the deepest trouble of her miserable life. Miss Abigail had depicted her future as one of a penniless spinster. A wide smile of satisfaction would surely stretch the old woman’s wilted lips if she could see her now. Her headmistress had been nothing short of elated when she’d informed Rachell that, due to her father’s untimely death, she was being sent back to Louisiana, straight into a war.

      Had it not been for her second cousin and childhood friend, James Carlson, she would have been arrested for treason the moment she was escorted off the train by two Confederate officers. Instead, she’d been pulled into James’s arms and kissed flush on the mouth.

      The tension she saw behind his dashing smile was enough to keep her from questioning his strange welcome. Only when they were alone, after a rushed wedding ceremony, did she learn that her father had been hanged for treason after her brothers had joined the Union army, and she was suspected of conspiring with the north, passing them information. James had vouched for her, insisting she’d been his loyal intended.

      The following day, James had taken her to see another old friend. Titus.

      Rachell choked on a sob as the vision of his dashing smile flashed in her mind. Tears scalded her cheeks. She could still feel his strong embrace closing around her as she leapt into his arms. In that moment, she’d felt a true sense of homecoming. James instructed Titus to take her back to the Carlson estate and watch over her until he returned, warning them that the news of their marriage hadn’t been well received.

      James had severely understated his family’s animosity toward her. They’d merely tolerated the presence of a Yank’s daughter. James had only managed two brief visits over the next year, until his older brother Malcom had returned home, informing her that her husband was dead. Both of her older brothers had already been reported as casualties to the North. A week later, Malcom cornered her in the stables, claiming he would take over James’s husbandly duties. Titus came to her aid, knocking him out with the back of a shovel.

      They had to leave.

      They’d stayed constantly on the move. Singing had always paid far better than the seamstress work she sometimes took, and though Titus hated her being in the saloons, he couldn’t deny they needed the money. If she hadn’t been in those saloons, she never would have found her sister.

      It was their plan to go to California, but progress was slow. They’d been saving to purchase supplies for the trip. When she took the job with Maxwell Sumner, she’d hoped it would be her last. They’d been so close, intending to leave within the week. But they had stayed too long and Titus paid for their mistake.

      Pain surged through her as she remembered his strong body sprawled on the back stoop of the apartments, his blood pooled around him. She must have been in shock, or she never would have allowed Maxwell to lead her into his private upstairs office. In the four months she’d worked at the Nightingale Saloon, she’d never been up there. Her attention had immediately fixed on an enormous portrait hung behind his desk. A woman with auburn hair, green eyes and pale skin lounged on a green velvet couch. Her scarlet dress resembled the gowns Maxwell had given Rachell for her shows. She had immediately asked who the woman was.

      Maxwell stunned her by responding, “You, my love.” He’d clamped hands over her wrists so forcefully she’d thought he would crush her bones. His eyes had been wild with fury as he told her she wouldn’t get away from him again.

      The man was delusional. He didn’t even know her true name. Knowing The Nightingale Saloon drew a large crowd and would pay well, she’d walked in and introduced herself as Miss Nightingale. Maxwell had hired her on the spot, and he’d paid her well. And then he killed Titus.

       Because of me.

      She knew Maxwell was taken by her, but never could have imagined to what degree. It wasn’t her he was obsessed with—it was the woman in the portrait. Seeing the conviction in his eyes, she’d never been so terrified, until she saw his son board the train in Nevada.

      He wouldn’t let her go.

      Dear God. She hadn’t thought of bringing such danger into her sister’s home.

      Pulling in a shaky breath, she lifted her gaze and was startled to find Jed’s silver eyes staring back at her. He stood at the edge of the clearing, silent as a shadow, barely visible in the darkness.

      “Are you okay?” he asked.

      “I’m fine.” She turned her back to him and wiped roughly at her tear-streaked face, annoyed he’d caught her crying.

      “What were you thinking about to put such fear in your eyes?”

      “None of your business.”

      “You’re shivering,” he said as he approached her. “Here, this will warm you up a bit.”

      She shrugged his long coat from her shoulders and threw it back at him. “I don’t want your coat!”

      “Suit yourself.” Jed shrugged it back on, walked around the fire and sat on his bedroll.

      Damn, but she’s a stubborn woman. Her flimsy dress wasn’t enough to keep her warm. Long, damp hair clung to her shoulders and back in tangled clumps. She rested her head on her raised knees, clamping her arms around her СКАЧАТЬ