Promise Me (17 page)

She considered her options. She could just climb into bed and ignore him. Then again, he was right about one thing—they were married, and she would have to deal with that reality sooner or later.

She turned the key and swung the door open. He stood, framed by the soft glow of the lamp, his dark hair tousled and his face grave with pain and worry.

She fought the urge to run forward and wrap her arms around him. She wanted to place her ear against his chest, to listen to the cadence of his heart beating, a sound that never failed to comfort her.

His amber eyes reflected sadness as he met her gaze. “Honey, you've got to believe me, I never planned for this to happen.”

Amanda backed away from him. Her entire body felt broken from the pain of his betrayal, and her head throbbed. “Well, at least you had some kind of plan, didn't you, Sam?” She turned to face the bed. “But the question is, what in heaven's name are we going to do now?”

Chapter Twelve

Amanda sensed him standing behind her, the warmth of his body reminding her of the long, intimate nights they had shared. She wanted to stay angry at him, but her heart fluttered a
nd her skin tingled. She needed to gain control of herself. Spinning on her heel, she stepped close enough to jab a finger toward his chest.

“How does it feel to become one of the richest men in Montana with just a few empty promises and lies? You'll never have to sell yourself again, Sam. In fact, you can buy everything you've ever wanted.” She took a step back in disgust, her eyes flickering to his face to catch his astonished expression. “But wealth is a two-edge sword,
darlin'
, and it'll buy you more pain than you can imagine.” She crossed the room and settled herself onto the bench at her dressing table.

Sam seemed frozen to the spot. She waved a hand toward the bed.

“You'd better sit down before you pass out. You're looking a bit pale.”

Sam limped his way to the bed. She should have offered to help him, but her anger kept her rooted to her seat, waiting for his response. He grimaced before settling himself onto the bed, and she averted her eyes. She'd be damned if she would summon even one ounce of sympathy for this man. He'd deceived her, used her for his own purposes, and she intended to remain furious with him.

When she finally looked at him, he wasn't quite as pale and the lines of pain had eased a bit.

“I never planned to marry you, Amanda. And I certainly don't want any of your damned money.”

She pursed her lips. “Why thank you, Sam. That certainly makes me feel so much better.” Folding her arms across her bosom, she gave him a cold glare.

His golden eyes clouded, and he shook his head. “I'm not doing a very good job at apologizing, am I?”

Amanda tossed her head and frowned. “I suspect you don't have much experience with apologies.”

A slow, sad smile crossed his face. “You're right about that. I've always considered an apology to be a waste of time. It doesn't fix what you've done, and it can't really make the other person any happier about the circumstances.”

Amanda stood up and turned to confront him, anger quickening her heart.

“I never asked for anything but protection from you, Sam. I expected you to keep me safe, but you used me as if I were a cheap whore, then told everyone in town about us. You forced me into a marriage I never wanted, and if you can't manage a simple apology for that, then get out of my room right now.”

Sam dropped his head and a dark lock of hair fell forward to obscure his face. When he lifted his gaze, a pleading look illuminated the depths of his eyes.

“I truly care about you, Amanda.” His voice was soft, the tone begging her to understand. “I didn't brag about being with you. I told you before, our time together holds some of the best memories of my life. I wouldn't share them with anyone.”

She wanted to believe him. The tone of his voice, the look in his eyes, they all begged for her forgiveness. Her breasts ached for his touch as warmth cascaded through her body, the heat pooling to moisten the place between her legs. Yet, how many times had she believed his lies? Did she really even know the real Samuel Calhoun?

“But you did agree to seduce me for money, didn't you, Sam?” She trembled with the question, because the answer terrified her.

He never blinked. He just rubbed his chin with one hand. Finally, he shrugged.

“I agreed to bed the Widow Wainwright, then ruin her reputation by boasting about it. The hope was that you'd go running out of Willow Creek and forget all about the Miners' Benevolent Association.”

The heat suffusing Amanda's body exploded into a flash of anger so overwhelming it sucked the air from her lungs. Fury blinded her. She picked up the first item she could find, which happened to be her silver hairbrush. She flung it at him. He dodged, but that increased her wrath. She reached for a bottle of lilac water.

“Wait a minute, Amanda.”

She flung the crystal container and he caught it, but the stopper had come loose, soaking his shirt with the scented liquid. He took a quick step sideways, moving in time to avoid the porcelain hair receiver, which whizzed by his head and splintered against the wall.

Amanda searched for something heavier, something that could inflict some real damage on Sam's thick skull. She rummaged through a trunk and pulled out her beautiful china doll. For an instant, she considered tossing it at Sam. But she looked at the toy and realized she was acting like a spoiled child. Grown women did not indulge in temper tantrums.

Turning, she was startled to find Sam standing directly behind her. His hands snaked out to grasp her wrists, and his face was flushed, almost feverish looking.

“I said my plans involved the
Widow
Wainwright
. I didn't know anything about you, Amanda. I thought you were some snooty rich woman, hell-bent on changing this town to make yourself feel better. But after we met in the kitchen, after you told me about your sham of a marriage to Arthur—”

He stepped closer, his lips brushing her hair. She struggled, but even though he was in a weakened state, she was no match for Sam's strength.

“After I made love to you and started to care about you, Amanda, I knew I couldn't go through with the plan.” He released her, and she took a stumbling step back, falling onto the bench and staring up at him.

He fell to his knees in front of her and took her hands gently in his. “You were in my office the day I told the other mine owners I refused to go along with our agreement. Remember how they stormed out of there?”

“I saw some angry men leaving your office, but...” She closed her eyes. Sam's words echoed in her heart.
After I started to care about you.
Her heart wanted to accept his words, to imagine that after they had become friends, then lovers, he wouldn't deceive her. Her head reminded her she couldn't trust her own judgment. She had been wrong before.

He touched her cheek and she opened her eyes. “I want to believe you, Sam, but there have been so many lies.” Tears prickled at the back of her eyes, but she fought for control. She refused to cry in front of him.

“I don't know if I can ever trust you again. I don't think I even believe what you're telling me right now.” She studied his expression, then shook her head at him.

“I don't know what to do, Sam. I need some time.” She rubbed her throbbing forehead. “Please,can't we talk about his tomorrow? I'm so tired.”

Sam stood up, a painful grimace crossing his face. A small surge of pity jolted through her, but she pushed it away. She did need to sort out her feelings regarding Sam, but not tonight. She was too emotionally overwrought to make any decisions about their future. Too torn about what she felt for him. “You'd better get to bed yourself; you've had a rough day.” She purposely inserted a sarcastic note in her voice.

Sam hobbled toward the door separating their rooms and glanced over his shoulder. “You don't have to believe anything I've told you, but believe this. I won't let anyone hurt you. Ever. I can promise you that, Amanda.”

Amanda followed him to the door and slammed it shut behind him, turning the iron key in the lock, then leaning back against it. Tears silently slid down her cheeks as she realized the only person who could truly hurt her was standing on the other side of that doorway.

***

Amanda refused to play the dutiful wife and did everything in her power over the next few days to humiliate Sam. She spurned the offer of his arm when they entered the dining room. She ate her meals in pained silence. And whenever she had the opportunity, she needled him with a sarcastic remark or a short, curt answer to his questions.

People stopped to offer congratulations or sympathy, depending upon their mood. One grizzled old man walked up to them, shook Amanda's hand, and told her he was “damned pleased you shot that son-of-a-bitch, ‘cause I been wantin' to do it for months.” At night she slammed the door in Sam's face and ignored his pleas to discuss the state of their marriage. She threw herself into the management of The Willow Creek Miners' Benevolent Association, and often returned to her office to work with Mr. Penny until nearly midnight.

It irritated her to leave the association, only to discover Sam quietly smoking his cigar on the other side of the street, maintaining a vigil. He escorted her back to the hotel, begging her to talk to him with each step. She maintained a tightlipped silence and tried to ignore his pleas for forgiveness. Yet, her attitude grew softer. He patiently waited upon her, gently abided her rudeness, and quietly endured her bad humor. She fought an ever growing battle within herself, wanting to maintain a cold indifference, yet yearning to give him a small bit of encouragement.

Today was no different, and she drummed her fingers on the maple counter while considering her dilemma. What was she going to do about Sam? It was a constant source of concern and trepidation.

The ringing of the doorbell startled her out of her revelry. It was a rare sound, since the men who now came to the Miners' Association felt welcome enough to enter without the need to request permission by pulling the bell.

Caleb's dark head bobbed up from behind a stack of clothing. “You want I should get that, ma'am?”

Amanda smiled at her young assistant. Despite all of the trouble in her life, her success with Caleb McQueen was one bright note. He had become her faithful companion, good friend, and adept student. The growing warmth of their relationship a bright spot in an otherwise dreary emotional landscape.

She smoothed her dress and nodded. “Perhaps it's a new miner, someone who doesn't understand this building belongs to everyone and there's no need to stand on formality. Do invite him in, Caleb.”

She stared at the ledger in front her and frowned. Mr. Penny had brought the figures to her this morning, telling her it appeared the Silver Slipper Mine was producing less ore than last month. The large vein could be petering out, and he suggested letting some of the men go. The decision haunted her. How could she take a man's job away? How could she fulfill her pledge to make the lives of these miners better, then snatch their very living from them?

A group of women entered the room behind Caleb, and Amanda's jaw dropped in surprise. She had asked many of the miners to invite their wives, daughters, and sisters to the association, but up to this point, none of the women had presented themselves. She didn't know if it was because of the building, or her own questionable reputation.

An older woman stepped forward, offered her hand to Amanda, and gestured toward the others.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Calhoun, we've been told you wanted to meet with some of the womenfolk. So we come to offer you our best wishes on your recent marriage.” She smiled tentatively. “We come to give you our thanks, too, for the things you're doin' for our menfolk.”

A flash of triumph rippled through Amanda. This was the very thing she'd been hoping for, an opportunity to talk to the women of Willow Creek.

Bustling from behind the counter, she removed her apron and offered her hand to the woman who had spoken.

“I'm so pleased you've come. Won't you stay and have tea with me?” She signaled the young man standing behind her. “Go put the teakettle on, Caleb, then run over to the hotel and tell Harriet I have some special guests. Ask her if she could please send over a pie.”

The spokeswoman looked horrified. “Oh, Mrs. Calhoun, you don't need to go to all that trouble.”

Amanda took the woman's rough hand in hers. “Please say you'll stay, I've hardly had any female visitors since I've been in town, and I do so miss talking with other ladies.”

“If you're sure it won't be no trouble, I guess we can stay.” She grinned at the other women. “We ain't the sort who get invitations to fancy tea parties everyday, that's for sure.”

Several of the other women giggled, and Amanda gave them all a warm smile. “You know who I am, now please tell me your names.”

The leader looked mortified. “I'm so sorry, that sure was rude of me to come bustin' in here and never even mention who we was.”