LaceysWay (27 page)

“I just came to tell you that you were right about
everything,” she said flatly. “The baby’s J.J.’s. I’m moving in with him
today.”

“Moving in with him?” Matt gripped the bars and glared at
her, stunned.

“He asked me to be his mistress, and I agreed. I just
thought you should know,” she said quickly, and turned and fled before he could
see her tears.

Matt’s voice called after her, loud and angry. “Lacey!
Dammit, Lacey, come back here!” She ran out of the cellblock and out of the sheriff’s
office, running blindly down the street until J.J. caught up with her.

“Come on,” he said, his voice filled with victory. “I’ll
take you home.”

Chapter Fifteen

Matt sat at a table in a darkened corner of the saloon, his
back to the wall, a bottle of rye whiskey in his left hand, a shot glass in his
right.

Five weeks had passed since Lacey had moved in with J.J.
Tucker. Matt had seen her several times, always from a distance, of course.
Each time she had been with J.J., smiling up at him, hanging on his every word.
And dressed to the teeth. J.J. had obviously spent a fortune on his whore,
buying her expensive gowns of silk and satin and velvet. The first time Matt
had seen the two of them together, he had drunk himself into oblivion. Now he
spent his days at the Red Ace, drinking heavily in an effort to blot her image
from his mind, but to no avail. He had only to close his eyes and she was
there.

He tossed off another drink, his eyes dark as he thought of
Lacey carrying J.J.’s child, sleeping in J.J.’s bed, returning J.J.’s caresses.
It was almost more than he could bear.

One good thing had happened in the last five weeks, he
mused. Toby Pitman had been found dead, ambushed on the trail between Leadville
and Salt Creek.

Matt laughed softly. Pitman was dead, shot in the back by an
unknown assailant, and Matt had a perfect alibi. They couldn’t pin this one on
him, he mused. No sir. He had been in jail at the time. There had been an
inquest. Raoul Gonzalez and Lige Tanner had testified that Toby Pitman had
killed Billy Henderson. Both men had been fined heavily for perjury, and then
had disappeared. Gonzalez had been found dead a few days later.

Matt frowned. Pitman was dead. Why? Because he had killed
the sheriff’s son, or because he had been covering up for the real killer? And
where was Tanner?

He swore under his breath. It was no longer any concern of
his. He was free and that was all that mattered, except for Lacey. He couldn’t
put her out of his mind.

He had started to leave town a dozen times in the last few
weeks, but he never got any farther than the end of Main Street before he
turned back. He couldn’t leave, couldn’t leave
her
. He cursed the day he
had met her, cursed himself for wanting her, for needing her. And yes, dammit,
for loving her in spite of everything.

He stood abruptly, his chair clattering loudly as it slammed
against the wall. He took a last drink, slammed the bottle down on the table,
and grabbed his hat. Jamming it on his head, he stalked out of the saloon, and
bumped into Lacey head-on.

For a moment they stared at each other. She looked
stunningly beautiful, he thought bitterly. Her dress was of dark blue silk.
Black kid slippers hugged her feet. A diamond-studded comb glittered in her
hair.

Lacey gazed at Matt, her eyes drinking in the sight of him
as though she were dying of thirst and he her only hope of salvation. His very
nearness made her heart skip a beat.

“Excuse me, Miss Montana,” Matt said, his voice dripping
with disdain. His eyes dropped to her softly rounded belly before returning to
her face.

“Matt.”

He gestured at the packages in her hand. “Been out spending
old J.J.’s money, I see,” he sneered. “Or are you spending what he pays you to
be his whore?”

His words were like a slap in the face. “It’s none of your
concern,” she replied coolly. “Good day.”

“Good day,” he mimicked. “Is that all you’ve got to say to
me?”

“What else is there?”

“What else, indeed,” he rasped, and, grabbing her arm,
practically dragged her down the street.

“Matt, please.”

“Shut up,” he hissed. “Just shut the hell up!” His fingers
dug into her arm as he pulled her along, not caring that he was hurting her,
not caring that heads turned to stare as they passed by. Not caring about
anything but the anger coursing through him like slow poison.

Lacey had to run to keep up with him, and all the while the
touch of his hand on her arm was searing her flesh, making her heart beat fast
and her pulse race with yearning. It was only when they were out of town and
very much alone that he slowed, pulling her into the privacy of a thick clump
of trees.

“
Why
, Lacey?” he demanded, his voice sharp and angry.

She stared at Matt, unable to think of a plausible lie,
unable to think at all when he was so near. For weeks she had dreamed of him,
yearned for him, and now he was here, so near she could smell the heady,
masculine scent of him.

“Why, dammit!”

“I don’t have to explain anything to you,” Lacey retorted.
She had forgotten how tall he was, how broad, how devilishly handsome. He was
wearing black pants and a dark gray shirt and he looked rugged and oh, so
desirable. His eyes, dark and angry, were staring into her own as if he might
find the answer there. His hair, though still long, had been neatly trimmed. He
towered over her, exuding strength and masculinity, and her whole body cried
out for his touch. She longed to tell him that the child she carried was his,
that she hated J.J. Tucker, that the only reason she had agreed to be J.J.’s
mistress was to spare Matt a life behind bars. Almost, she blurted out the
whole ugly story, but J.J.’s threat held her silent.

“The hell you don’t.”

“I got tired of being poor,” she lied. She lifted her chin
and met his accusing stare. “J.J. can give me anything I want.”

“Can he give you this?” Matt rasped, and before she quite
knew what was happening, she was in his arms.

The packages tumbled from her hand as his mouth slanted over
hers, his lips hard, his kiss brutal, and she gloried in it, sighing with
pleasure as his hand moved to her back to draw her closer. His body was taut,
his desire evident, and her body reacted to his with a mind of its own, wanting
to be closer. She lifted her hand to his chest and unfastened his shirt, her
fingers moving restlessly over his hard-muscled chest, her fingers weaving in
and out of the mat of curly black hair. She pressed her body to his, feeling
his heat through the layers of her skirt and petticoats. Matt groaned low in
his throat as her questing hand traveled over his chest, gradually moving
lower, lower, until it was at his waist. Her mere touch was enough to drive him
wild and he kissed her again, harder, longer, wanting to brand her mouth with
his own. He lifted a hand to her breast, quietly cursing the layers of cloth
that barred his hand from her flesh.

He drew back to gaze into her face. Her eyes were smoky with
desire, her lips swollen from the force of his kisses. She didn’t protest when
he slowly lowered her to the ground and deftly removed her clothing, and then
his own.

“Lacey.” Matt groaned her name as the last obstacle between
them was flung aside. She was here, her eyes glazed with passion, her voice
husky with longing as she murmured his name. She was here, she was his, only
his.

Their bodies came together in a rush. Lacey was on fire for
him, eager for his touch, with no thought in her mind except to love and be
loved. She shivered with ecstasy as he became a part of her, and nothing else
mattered then, not the past, not the future, only the glorious present, and his
mouth on hers…

Matt let out a long breath as reality returned. He sat up
slowly. He had never meant to make love to her, but just being near her had
flooded his senses with desire, with memories of the days and nights they had
shared before J.J. entered the picture. J.J. Matt’s eyes narrowed as he glanced
at Lacey’s softly rounded belly, and all the tenderness he had felt for her
only moments before was smothered beneath the weight of his jealousy.

“Matt, what is it?”

He stood up and reached for his pants. “Get dressed.”

She flinched at the tone of his voice, the disdain in his
eyes. What had happened? One minute he was making love to her as if he would
never let her go, and the next he was looking at her as if she were beneath
contempt. And then she saw him look at her stomach and glance quickly away. So
that was it. He hadn’t cared she was pregnant a moment ago, but now he was
angry and jealous because he thought she had slept with J.J., that she carried
Tucker’s child.

Furious and hurt, she scrambled to her feet and pulled on
her clothes. Damn him! Why couldn’t he see that she despised J.J. Tucker? Why
was he so quick to think the worst of her?

How could he have professed to love her, to believe she had
loved him, and still think she would let J.J. or any other man touch her?

“You cad!” she hissed. “I never want to see you again.”

Before he could form a reply, she had scooped up her
packages and was walking away from him, her head high, her back rigid with
outrage.

He did not follow her.

Some perverse quirk of nature took him to the Black Horse
Saloon that night. He shot Tucker a wry grin as he settled into a chair and
tossed a handful of greenbacks on the green-baize table top. He won over a
hundred dollars on the first three hands.

Tucker sauntered over to the table as Matt raked in another
pot. “Take a break, Max,” he said, tapping the dealer on the shoulder. “I think
I’ll sit in awhile.”

The man called Max left the table and Tucker slid into his
chair. He opened a fresh deck, shuffled the cards, and passed them to Matt.
“Cut?”

Matt cut the cards and Tucker dealt three hands, one to
Matt, one to the other man at the table, and one for himself.

Matt’s face remained impassive as he looked at his cards: a
pair of aces, a pair of queens, and the three of clubs. He tossed the three
face-down on the table. “Just one,” he said softly.

Tucker’s face didn’t change expression as he slid a four of
hearts off the bottom and gave it to Drago. The other man took three cards.
J.J. took one.

Matt quirked an eyebrow at Tucker as he slid the four into
his hand but said nothing.

Tucker won the hand with a full house. “Why don’t you go
back to the Red Ace, Drago?” he suggested quietly. “I think your luck’s
changed.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my luck,” Matt retorted calmly.
“I’ll deal the next hand.”

J.J.’s gaze shifted to the other man at the table. “Why
don’t you try another game, Harry? This one’s closed for the night.”

“I think I’ll try the Red Ace,” Harry muttered, and,
sweeping his winnings into his hat, he left the table.

J.J. leaned forward, his green eyes nar­rowed ominously.
“Why are you still in town, Drago? There’s nothing for you here now. Nothing.”

“There’s nothing for me anywhere else, either,” Matt
answered calmly. “Besides, I think your sister likes me.”

“You leave Susanne alone,” Tucker snapped. “She’s too good
for the likes of you.”

Matt shrugged. “Maybe. And maybe I’ll ask her to marry me,
and then we’ll all be just one big happy family.”

“I’ll see you dead first.”

“Don’t threaten me, J.J. You might have been able to
bushwhack Pitman, but you’ll never get a shot at my back. And I don’t think
you’ve got the guts to face me like a man.”

The jibe about Pitman was a shot in the dark, but it hit
home. Tucker’s eyes widened for just an instant and his face went suddenly
white, as though he had received an unexpected blow. And then his expression
was bland again, his eyes opaque.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” J.J. said
smoothly.

Matt grunted softly. “It was you all along. You had Pitman
kill Billy Henderson, and when you didn’t need Toby anymore, you killed him,
too. Why?”

Tucker stood up, his hands clenched at his sides. “Don’t
come in here again.”

Matt rose to his feet, his hand hovering near the gun
holstered on his right hip. “You’re scared, J.J. I can see it in your eyes. And
when I find out what you’re scared of, I’ll know why Billy died.”

“Get out.”

“I’m going,” Matt said. He backed slowly toward the door,
his eyes never leaving Tucker’s face until he was outside.

Chapter Sixteen

Lacey stared at the note in her hand. It was written in
Matt’s bold scrawl.

“Good luck, honey,” it read. “I hope you get everything you
deserve.”

She pressed the paper to her breast, feeling as though her
heart would break. Matt had left town. He would always believe she had betrayed
him, that her child had been fathered by Tucker. And yet, perhaps it was for
the best. It had been hard, knowing that Matt was nearby, never knowing when
she might run into him. How long could she pretend she didn’t love him anymore?
How long before she blurted out the truth, endangering not only Matt’s life,
but her child’s as well?

Carefully she folded the note and placed it in her drawer
underneath her stockings. She never looked at it again.

Tucker could not hide his relief when he learned that Matt
had left town. His eyes, as green as the sea, glinted with triumph when he
looked at Lacey. She was his now, all his. When the child was born, he would
make her his in fact as well as in name. And perhaps, if he played his cards
right, he could find a way to rid himself of the child as well. Billy was dead
and Pitman was dead, and his secret had died with them. Gonzalez had been
disposed of, too, and Tanner would never have the guts to reveal what little he
knew.

Tucker lit a cigar, filled with a sense of satisfaction.
Next year he would sell the Black Horse and begin to cultivate a more refined
demeanor. He would buy a respectable business, attend church, donate to the
local charities. He would become a respected citizen, and Lacey would be his
wedge into society. Once he got her pregnant, she would have to marry him. She
was lovely, well-educated, obviously well-bred. No telling how far he could go
with her at his side. Mayor, perhaps, then governor. With enough money and the
right connections, there would be no stopping him.

Susanne refused to believe that Matt had left town without
telling her goodbye. She went to his hotel room, and only then did she believe
that he was gone.

With a wordless cry of despair, she sat down on the edge of
his bed and wept. Not since Billy had she cared about another human being. She
had grieved for Billy for over a year, certain her life was over, and then Matt
had come into her life, and she had realized that she could love again. She had
known, deep in her heart, that Matt loved Lacey, that he would never be hers,
but she had hoped and dreamed and she had found a new reason to live.

And now he was gone, and it was as though he had never
existed. Lacey had moved in with J.J. and Matt had left town.

Susanne stared blankly at the hard wood floor. She had not
dared question J.J. about the sudden turn of events, nor did she possess the
nerve to ask Lacey why she had decided to become J.J.’s mistress.

She kept to her room for the next several days, and
gradually she realized she had never been in love with Matt Drago, though she
had been attracted to him. It was just that he was the first person she had let
herself care about, the first man she had been close to, besides J.J., in over
a year.

For Lacey, the days and nights passed slowly after Matt left
town. She spent most of her time in the house, decorating a room for her baby,
which would be born in the spring. She had the room painted a soft yellow and
hung fluffy white curtains at the window. She ordered the most expensive crib
she could find from a mail order catalog, as well as a high chair and a
perambulator. She had money now, as much as she wanted, and she spent it
freely. If J.J. wanted her to be his mistress, he could pay for it. She spent
hours sewing baby clothes and quilts, making far more garments than one child
could ever hope to wear simply because it gave her something to do. Matt was
gone, but she still had his child to live for.

She spent a good deal of time with Susanne. They went
shopping together, buying whatever caught their fancy. Susanne bought a whole
new wardrobe, dresses and hats and shoes, lacy parasols, delicate
undergarments, silk stockings. They talked about what fun it would be to have a
baby in the house, and bought toys and dolls and a wooden rocking horse.

Gradually Susanne began spending less time at home, and when
she was there she wore a dreamy expression and often did not hear what was
being said. Eventually she admitted that she was head-over-heels in love with
Robert Morrison, the new owner of the
Salt Creek Gazette
. Susanne
thought he was wonderful, and when Lacey met him, she could understand why.
Robert was thoughtful, attentive, and polite. He had a delightful sense of
humor, a winning smile, and a strong sense of right and wrong. And it was
obvious that he adored Susanne.

No one was surprised when they announced their engagement.
J.J. promised to give Susanne the biggest wedding the town had ever seen, and
they began to make plans immediately though the wedding would not take place
until the first of March.

Lacey could not help envying Susanne’s happiness. J.J.’s
sister was radiant. She laughed easily, sang as she went about the house, had a
kind word for everyone. She attributed Lacey’s growing irritability to her
pregnancy and was constantly admonishing J.J. to be kinder and more tolerant of
Lacey’s moods, never realizing that J.J. was the cause of Lacey’s misery.

On the surface, J.J. was the soul of concern. He never
raised his voice, never complained if dinner was late or the house untidy. He
was constantly bringing Lacey gifts of clothing and jewelry, indulged her every
whim, praised her beauty.

Only when they were alone did he let himself say what he was
really thinking. And then he accused her of being a two-faced whore, of moving
in with him just to save Drago’s hide. Lacey was confused by his anger. Of
course that was why she had moved in with him. What other reason could there
have been?

And always he reminded her that she had promised to be his
once the baby was born. “I’ll make you forget Drago,” he vowed, his fingers
digging painfully into her arms, his eyes boring into her own. “You’ll forget
you ever knew him.”

She was glad when winter came. The dark clouds and
storm-darkened skies suited her mood perfectly. She spent her days sitting in
the nursery, rocking gently, her hand on her swollen belly, her eyes staring
out the window. It was her favorite room in the house. Her child would grow up
in this room. Her child. Matt’s child. She hoped for a boy with thick black
hair and midnight blue eyes.

Rocking back and forth, she watched the lightning rend the
blackened skies and she wondered where Matt had gone. Did he ever think of her?
Had he found someone else to love?

She heard the clock downstairs chime the hour, and then she
heard the front door open and knew that J.J. was home. She felt her muscles
tense as she heard him climb the stairs, and then he was standing in the
doorway, his green eyes glinting like shards of glass, his mouth turned down in
a cruel, mocking smile.

“Good evening, my dear,” he said with a sneer. “Have you no
welcome for me, no kiss of greeting?”

“Welcome home, J.J.”

“No kiss?”

Awkwardly she rose to her feet and pressed her lips to his.
He grabbed her when she would have drawn away, his arms like steel bands around
her waist.

“Willingly and with a smile,” he taunted. “Remember.”

“J.J., you’re hurting me.”

“You’re mine,” he growled. “Not his. Mine!”

Lacey stared up at him, seeing the jealousy blazing in his
eyes, smelling the whiskey on his breath, tasting it as he kissed her again,
his mouth hard and cruel as though he wanted to hurt her. She uttered a little
cry of pain as his mouth crushed hers.

“I’m tired of waiting for that brat to be born,” he rasped
as he backed her against the wall and fell against her. “I’ve been patient,
Lacey. Haven’t I been patient? But I’m not made of stone.”

She tried to push him away, but he was too heavy, too
strong. “J.J., you promised!”

“You’d let him, wouldn’t you? You wouldn’t tell Drago no.”

“J.J., leave me alone!”

He laughed harshly as he backed away from her, and for a
minute she thought she had won. But then he swept her into his arms and carried
her down the hall to his room and closed the door.

“You’ve never been in my room before, have you?” J.J. mused.

Lacey did not answer him. She was too frightened of what she
knew was going to happen. Afraid to say or do anything that would make J.J.
angry, she shook her head.

“It’s…it’s a nice room,” she stammered.

“I want you to sleep in here from now on,” J.J. said. “No
more separate bedrooms.”

She saw the look in his eyes and she dared not refuse, nor
did she object when he placed her on the bed and began kissing her. She felt
his hands fumbling with her gown, felt his mouth on hers, his tongue sliding
across her lips, and she was filled with revulsion.

“J.J., stop,” she gasped. “I’m going to be sick.”

“It won’t work,” J.J. said. “Tonight you’ll be mine.”

With a groan, she pushed him away, then turned her head and
was violently ill. Her stomach heaved until it was empty and sore, and then she
curled up on the bed, hardly aware that J.J. was suddenly sober, or that he had
called for Susanne. He left the room while Susanne helped Lacey get washed up
and into a clean gown. Lacey sat on the window seat while Susanne quickly
changed the bedclothes, then helped Lacey into bed.

“Thank you,” Lacey murmured.

“Can I get you anything?” Susanne offered. “A glass of
water, or a cup of tea, perhaps.”

“No, thank you. I’d just like to be alone.”

Susanne smiled. “You’ll feel better once the baby is born.
You’ll see.”

“Yes,” Lacey agreed. How could she explain that it wasn’t
the baby making her ill, but J.J.’s touch?

Alone, she let the tears come. “Is this what I deserve,
Matt?” she whispered to the darkness. And heard only silence in reply.