Just This Once (9 page)

Just who was this Ethan Savage? she
wondered, tapping a finger absently against her chin. And why in
the world had he insisted on marrying her?

Don’t start worrying about him
, she
admonished herself, her fingers digging into the soft upholstery of
the seat.
He’s not one of the orphan children, or a stray cat or
a dance hall girl being misused by her boss. He’s well able to take
care of himself without any help from you.

One thing was certain. Judging by all this
luxury and the way Mr. Latherby jumped to do his bidding, it was
clear that her new husband—her supposed new husband, who was still
in his Pullman convertible berth sleeping off the enormous quantity
of alcohol he’d consumed yesterday—must have a great deal of money.
Far more than she’d guessed when she tried to pick his pocket.

Well, it wasn’t money she wanted—it never
had been. Josie’d been without money all her life, and she knew
that it couldn’t buy her what she was after. She wanted only the
chance to get to England and search for someone she’d never met,
someone who might prove very important to her.

But she guessed that her needs, her wants,
would not matter much to Ethan Savage. He was a man determined to
see his way to his own ends, and damn whoever got in his way. Like
Snake, she told herself, hardening herself against him. All men
basically are like Snake, wanting, using, hurting—trampling over
any who get in their way, threatening and punching and even killing
when thwarted.

If she was any judge of looks and behavior,
Ethan Savage would be every bit a match for her other husband when
it came to being ruthless. He was even taller and more muscular,
and he wore his guns with a confident ease that suggested he’d be
good at using them. She’d already seen him use his fists during the
brawl at the Golden Pistol. He was good at that, too.

Her heart shivered. She already knew
firsthand that Snake could throw a good punch.

Her jaw throbbed at the memory, and Josie
forced her thoughts back to her present situation. It was true
enough that Ethan Savage might be ruthless and tough at getting
what he wanted, but right now, it seemed possible that what he
wanted might also be good for her. If this little arrangement he’d
made with her enabled her to get to England and possibly learn
something about her family, it was a good bargain. And eventually,
he’d promised her, she’d have her freedom. He obviously didn’t want
this to be a real marriage any more than she did.

He’d better not,
she thought
fiercely, twisting Latherby’s gold ring round and round her finger.
Seems to me I’d best make clear right from the start, that this
marriage is going to be in name only.

Especially since it wasn’t even legal. But
there was no way Ethan Savage would ever find out about that, she
told herself, fighting off a twinge of uneasiness. Not unless Snake
showed up blabbing that she was married to him—and that wouldn’t
happen. At least she prayed it wouldn’t happen, prayed that Snake
would never track her to England. She nibbled at her lower lip,
trying not to think of how Ethan Savage might react if he ever
learned that the woman he’d married during that ridiculous ceremony
wasn’t truly his wife.

And thank heavens I’m not,
she
thought, a frown creasing her brow. One unwanted husband who
demanded wifely duties of her had been quite enough—enough to last
her an entire lifetime, she thought, her flesh growing chilled at
the thought.

Ethan Savage may have kissed her at the
wedding ceremony, but Josie intended to make clear that that was
the closest he would come to claiming his husbandly privileges.

A flush burned her cheeks as she remembered
that kiss. She unfastened the top button of her gown as her throat
contracted. Then another one.
Arrogant, drunken man,
she
told herself, yet wondered that the kiss hadn’t repulsed her as
Snake’s had. Probably because it had taken her by surprise, she
told herself. It had swept her up before she’d realized what was
happening.

Well,
that
won’t happen again. She’d
simply lay out a few crucial ground rules for Ethan Savage, and
then chances were they would get along just fine until this sham of
a marriage ended.

Go ahead, then. What are you waiting
for?
she asked herself as she sat up a little straighter in her
seat.
You need to set things straight with him so there are no
misunderstandings. And there’s no time like the present.

She rose with a determined set to her
shoulders and plucked up her valise. She wasn’t sure if Ethan was
in his compartment or in the parlor car, and she had no idea where
Mr. Latherby was, but she decided to try the parlor car first. And
as she edged along the aisle she made another decision: If Ethan
Savage wouldn’t promise to keep his distance when it came to
matters of the flesh, she’d leave. She’d flee this husband, just as
she’d fled the other one. Once they arrived in the crowded jumble
of New York City, Josie reflected, her courage mounting, that
shouldn’t prove difficult at all.

When she reached the door leading to the
maroon and gold parlor car she saw her husband at once. He was
sprawled in a wing chair before a large table near the rear of the
car. Somehow, even in his rough western clothes, with a bandage
wrapped around his head, he looked right at home in the sumptuously
appointed car with its gold damask curtains and deep chairs.
Latherby stood beside him. Neither man was facing her as she
entered the long, luxurious car, yet their voices carried to her
clearly.

“So you see, my lord, this will never, ever
do. I tried to tell you last night—the fine print in your father’s
will clearly states that the woman you marry must be a lady of
quality.
”

Josie shrank back behind the draperies. Hot
color flooded her cheeks as Latherby’s words penetrated.

“That... that girl in there is
hardly—begging your pardon—a lady, much less a lady of quality. She
is not at all what your father had in mind—”

A brutal bark of laughter cut him off in
midsentence. “Damn my father to hell. Serves him right. I married
her, and that’s that. Who’s to know or care anything about her,
Latherby? You?”

“Ah, no, sir. However, Mr. Grismore, senior
partner in the firm, has been charged with overseeing the
fulfillment of the terms of the will. He will no doubt call upon
your lordship after your arrival in London, and when you inform him
that you have wed he’ll naturally have to make a determination.
Your father entrusted him to see that his wishes were carried
out.”

So that explained it. Josie swallowed hard
as she huddled behind the curtain. Ethan Savage was after an
inheritance. He’d needed a wife for that—but a very different sort
of wife than the one he’d chosen in a drunken frenzy.

Not an orphan, a thief, a girl who’d marry a
man to keep herself from going to jail—no. He needed a lady, a
woman who bathed in scented water, who wore satins and silks, one
who dressed her hair in a different fashionable style each day.
Someone with accomplishments, who could manage servants, do
needlepoint, and play the piano, not to mention make cool, polite
conversation with other elegant people at a dinner party without
spilling soup in her lap or dropping her elegant silver fork.
Not me,
she thought, swallowing hard.
Not me at
all.

So it will be over as soon as we reach
New York,
she realized, her fingers tight on her valise.
He’ll want an annulment. We’ll go our separate ways.
She was
surprised by the little rush of disappointment that welled up in
her chest. Wild as this whole marriage business had been, it had
served her purposes admirably, at least for the time being. And
she’d felt needed, important, for a very little while. But now, of
course, Ethan Savage would wish to be rid of her as quickly as
possible.

That would mean getting to England on her
own.

Well, fine, she told herself, setting her
lips together and clinging to the side of the car with her free
hand as the train rocked and clacked down the track. She’d managed
everything on her own all her life, and she could manage this too.
Darned if she couldn’t. At least she was out of Abilene, she
reminded herself, taking a deep breath. And with Snake none the
wiser.

“I should strangle you and Grismore.” Ethan
Savage bit the words out with grim fury. Josie peeked around the
curtain, her eyes widening uneasily as he rose to his feet. “Why
didn’t you tell me this before?”

“You wouldn’t let me, sir!”

“Damn you to hell. That little two-bit hussy
is wrong for this. She’s all wrong. I can see it now—she’d pick
Grismore’s pocket and then where the hell would I be?” He began
pacing back and forth, his long legs moving swiftly up and down the
aisle. Josie suddenly realized on a needle of panic that at any
moment he’d probably send Latherby to fetch her so he could
announce that their little farce had come to an end.

He couldn’t catch her here, listening, or
he’d call her an eavesdropper as well as a thief. She had to go, to
sneak back out to the other car. Cautiously she eased toward the
door.

But suddenly the train rocked around a bend
with a heavy jolting motion, and before Josie could catch herself
she’d lost her balance and sprawled forward on the floor. Her
valise went flying. And she landed with a graceless thump square in
the carpeted aisle.

“What the hell?”

Ethan spun around at the commotion. When he
saw his bride draped across the floor, his mouth tightened.

Latherby exclaimed, “Dear heavens!” but
Ethan was already striding past him. As Josie tried to scramble up,
he hauled her to her feet none too gently.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m fine, thank you, so don’t bother
yourself on my account,” Jo muttered breathlessly. She tried to
shake free of his arm, but when she couldn’t, she lifted flashing
eyes to his face. “Don’t worry—I’m not hurt at all.”

“You will be hurt if you don’t answer my
question. What are you doing in here?”

“I was coming to see you.”

“Why? To eavesdrop?”

“Of course not!”

His fingers tightened painfully on her
wrist. “You, my sneaky little bride, are a liar as well as a
thief.”

He said it with certainty, with disgust,
with crude frankness that sent blood roaring into Josie’s face.
Fine, if he wanted to think the worst of her, let him. She didn’t
care.

“Let me go!”

“When I’m ready.”

He dragged her back up the aisle to where
Latherby was gaping in open-mouthed dismay. The little man looked
so distressed, Josie thought he might pop a blood vessel.

“My lord, you see what I mean,” he
whispered.

“I see exactly what you mean.” Ethan pushed
Josie backward and she landed with a thud in one of the deep plush
crimson chairs. “Don’t say a word. Not one word.”

He turned his back on her and on Latherby,
and stalked to the window.

Josie rubbed her wrist. She was furious—and
totally humiliated. At that moment, staring at Ethan Savage’s
powerful frame, she’d have liked to have dragged him by his dark
curly hair out to the platform linking the train cars, and pushed
him off, sending him rolling, rolling down a gully until he landed
at the bottom—in a rattlesnake pit.

The image almost made her smile with
satisfaction. Almost. Instead she gritted her teeth, and sealed her
lips, and watched him scowl out the window, imagining all too well
what he was thinking.

She could hardly blame him—or Latherby—for
thinking so badly of her. But it hurt even so. No amount of
explaining would ever convince Ethan Savage or his Mr. Latherby
that she was not the cheap little thief they thought her to be.
She’d only stolen to get away from Snake—and she would never, ever
take a penny from anyone who looked as if they needed it
themselves. But Ethan Savage wouldn’t believe that. Or give her a
chance to explain it.

So what? Josie asked herself, shifting
deeper into the plush chair. It shouldn’t matter. Why should you
care what he thinks?

She shouldn’t.

But she did.

If Ethan felt her eyes burning into the back
of his skull, he gave no sign of it. His thoughts were in turmoil,
his jaw clenched as he fought to curb the fury inside him.

Above all else, he hated feeling trapped,
enclosed, controlled. And that’s how he felt now, trapped by the
terms of his father’s will—controlled by a cruel ghostly figure no
doubt laughing from the grave, reveling in his discomfiture.

Marriage. He’d sworn ten years ago before
all of London society that he would never marry. And he’d meant it,
that long-ago night when he’d run away. But now here he was, tied
to a cheap lying pickpocket with a mouth shaped as voluptuously as
a courtesan’s, with uptilted, violet eyes that could hypnotize
mortals and gods alike, and a heart no doubt as black as a coal
mine.

She couldn’t be more wrong for his purposes.
And she was clumsy, too, apparently, he reflected with a frown. He
could imagine the picture she’d present tumbling down the steps of
the Opera House.

Damn, he didn’t want to be married at all,
and he sure as hell didn’t want to be married to this bit of fluff
and trouble.

Feeling sweat break out on his brow, Ethan
fastened his gaze on the open prairie rolling past—thinking of the
Rockies, the Mogollons, the Sierra Nevada, of all the wild, untamed
land of purple canyons and pine-crested peaks and cactus-studded
desert he’d left behind. He couldn’t believe he was actually
heading back to London, with its crowds, its snobs, its rigid
conventions, with memories of a past he’d spent the past ten years
escaping.

Maybe he should just fold right now. Throw
in his chips and call it quits—call this whole thing off. Damn
Stonecliff Park. And damn the money. He took a breath, feeling
better already. He could let the little thief go—get off this train
and head for where? Silver City? San Francisco? Denver? Wherever
the hell he pleased.