The Barefoot Bride (6 page)

“No.” She didn't care if he was a doctor. He was a stranger. But his practiced hands made short work of the buttons on her bodice. Molly gasped as smooth, cool metal touched the skin above her left breast. The gasp set off a fit of coughing. Seth turned her over and patted her back. When she quieted, he laid her back down flat and once again placed the stethoscope so he could hear her heart.

Molly shivered at the slight touch of his fingers on her skin around the edges of the instrument. He moved the metal disc around as he checked her lungs. His fingertips left a spot of heat everywhere they touched. This had to stop. She didn't want to feel so—so— much.

“Doctor Kendrick,” she managed to whisper, “please stop.”

“I'm almost finished,” he said, and continued what he was doing. “I don't think any permanent damage has been done,” he announced
at last. “Can you open your eyes, Mrs. Gallagher?”

Molly squinted her eyes open and quickly closed them to shut out the bright sun.

“Let me help you up.”

Seth's arm surrounded her shoulders, and in short order she was nestled in the cleft created between his thighs as he knelt on the levee. As soon as she was upright, the bodice of her dress, which was still unbuttoned, fell open. She grabbed awkwardly to save her modesty, only to have Seth reach over her shoulders and matter-of-factly begin to button her back up again.

Molly closed her eyes, but she could do nothing about the flush that pinkened her skin and raced his buttoning fingers to her neck. There was no respite even when he removed his hands, for the heat kept on rising right up her neck to her cheeks.

“I … I think I can get up now,” she said, anxious to remove herself from the embarrassing position between his legs.

Once again that muscular arm slipped around her. At the same time Seth rose, he lifted her effortlessly to her feet. Once they were standing, she saw that his sodden clothes—black broadcloth suit, white shirt, and string tie—conformed revealingly to the
shape of his body. And she realized her wet bodice must be clinging to her like a second skin.

“Are you all right?” she asked, crossing her arms protectively to cover herself.

“Fine,” he said with a brief, reassuring smile.

The smile softened his face but was too quickly gone. “It was courageous of you to jump in after me,” she said. “You saved my life. I can't thank you—”

“I didn't jump in after you.”

“You didn't?”

“I was pushed.”

“Are you sure? Whoever would do such a thing?” But Molly had an awful, sinking feeling who it might have been. Suddenly she realized her children must be worried about her. She searched the spot on the main deck where she had been standing with the doctor. Sure enough, Whit was leaning over the rail with a smug look on his face. Well, he wasn't going to be looking quite so pleased with himself when he had to apologize to the doctor. She cringed at the thought of introducing them to each other. But of course it must be done. And the sooner the better.

Molly had already opened her mouth to speak when it dawned on her that she hadn't
seen Nessie standing anywhere near Whit. She whirled around to look again. The little girl was gone. Her heart began to pound when another look did not reveal her daughter. Where was Nessie? Had she wandered off the
Viola Belle
alone? Was she now lost in the crowd?

Immediately, all thoughts of conciliating the man beside her fled. Molly didn't bother to explain where she was going, just lifted her soggy skirts in both hands and shoved her way through the gathered crowd toward where she had left her children.

“Wait!” Seth called. When Molly didn't even slow down, he hurried after her.

Molly hadn't a thought to spare for the towheaded waif in baggy trousers standing on the foredeck glaring daggers at her. She headed straight for the boy neatly dressed in knee-length trousers and a jacket, standing nearby.

“Where's Nessie?” she demanded of her son.

Surprised at his mother's question, Whit looked around in genuine consternation. “She was right here a minute ago.”

“Was that before or after you pushed Doctor Kendrick into the river?” Molly demanded angrily.

“Before.” Whit grimaced as he realized what he had just admitted. “I don't know where Nessie—” The boy snapped his mouth shut, scowling at something over his mother's shoulder.

Molly turned to discover that her husband-to-be had joined her. Had he heard Whit's confession? Her face paled when she saw the white lines of fury around his mouth. A quick look revealed bunched fists. For a moment she thought he was going to lay violent hands on her son. Every muscle in her body tensed to stop him.

But when his powerful hand closed around cloth, it was the small towheaded child dressed in a wrinkled cotton shirt and baggy corduroy pants that he held in his grasp.

“Would you like to explain what happened here?” he demanded of the child.

“It was an accident!” the urchin said. “I tripped.”

“And just happened to fall against this particular woman?” the doctor asked in a sarcastic voice.

Molly suddenly recognized the impish face as the one she had seen leaning over the rail when she landed in the river. In the same moment she realized that the child was not a boy, as she had first thought, but a girl with
her hair tied back with a string at her nape. She put a calming hand on Seth's sleeve. “I'm sure it must have been an accident, as she claims.”

“You are, are you?” he snarled.

Molly drew back, astounded by the violence in his eyes and the harshness of his voice. She opened her mouth to tell him it was only a little water and that she would dry, but sneezed instead.

She watched through watery eyes as Seth turned his fierce look back on the rumpled girl and demanded, “Apologize to the lady.”

The girl's chin came up pugnaciously. “No.”

Seth's face was both furious and incredulous. “No?”

“I won't apologize.” The girl's voice rose in distress as she cried, “I'm not sorry I did it. I hope she catches pneumonia and dies. She should go back where she came from. I don't need a mother!”

Confused, Molly turned to Seth for an explanation.

“This devil's helpmate is my daughter, Patricia,” Seth admitted through clenched teeth.

“My name is Patch,” the girl muttered.

“You have a
daughter?”
Molly asked in
amazement. “But you never said a word about having children.”

“It's why I need a wife,” he admitted in a gruff voice. “You can see she needs a woman's influence.”

“It appears so,” Molly agreed with alacrity. “Even so—”

Whit interrupted with, “She's the one who gave me the idea to push
him
into the water, Mother.”

Molly felt her heart miss a beat as Seth turned his steely gray eyes on her.

“Did I hear the boy right?” he demanded.

“That depends,” she hedged, lowering her lashes so she wouldn't have to deal with those piercing eyes of his. “What did you hear?”

“Are you the boy's mother?” Seth demanded with asperity.

Molly's chin came up, and her eyes met his. “And what if I am?” She shot a quick glance at his daughter. “Surely what's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander.”

“Look, lady—”

“Watch how you talk to my mother,” Whit warned.

“Yeah, well you watch how you talk to my pa!” Patch retorted, putting herself toe to toe with Whit.

“Whit!”

“Patch!”

Both parents grabbed hold of their respective children.

“I'm sorry Whit pushed you in,” Molly said.

“Out here a man speaks for himself,” Seth said, his eyes meeting Whit's. “What have you got to say for yourself, son?”

“I'm not your son,” Whit retorted. “And I'm not sorry. I'd do it again! I wish you'd drowned. I wish we'd never come here. You'll never be my father!”

Seth's steely gaze never left Whit's face.

Molly's dark brown eyes flashed at Seth.

Patch focused glaring blue eyes on Molly.

Whit's sea-green eyes shot daggers at Patch.

Any second, fireworks were bound to explode.

Molly nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a hard tug on her sodden skirt. She looked down to see Nessie standing with her thumb in her mouth. Molly had completely forgotten about her daughter in the confusion. She reached down to lift the child into her arms. At the same time, she realized that if she held Nessie close to her, the child would get wet. She ended up holding the little girl the outstretched length of her arms.

Seeing her difficulty, Seth took the child from Molly and seated her in the crook of his arm. “And who might this be?”

Molly swallowed. “My daughter, Agnes. We call her Nessie.”

“You have a son
and
a daughter?” Seth asked in a carefully controlled voice.

Molly's spine stiffened. She arched a brow as she stared him down. “Yes. It appears we have three children between us.”

“Don't marry her, Pa!” Patch cried. “That boy of hers is a danged rowdy one, for sure. And that one you're holding—why, she's still a baby! She'll drive you crazy in a week with her whining and crying.”

Patch's argument left something to be desired, since Nessie hadn't made a sound since she'd arrived on the scene. But Molly took one look at Seth's daughter and saw the genuine distress in Patch's blue eyes at the sight of her father holding the other little girl.

“Perhaps this isn't going to work out after all,” Molly said.

“Why not?” Seth demanded.

Molly's eyes slid away from his steady gaze. “I should have told you about the children.”

“Dang right you should've,” Patch was quick to agree.

“I was no more honest than you were/’ Seth conceded. “And the fact that you have children doesn't change things. I still need a wife. And my daughter needs a mother.”

“Dang it, Pa! I don't—”

“That'll be enough, Patch,” Seth said in a warning voice.

“Send her home, Pa,” Patch begged. “Send ‘em all home.”

Molly could see that Seth was torn. It was clear he would have walked over fire for his daughter. And Patricia—Patch—wanted them gone. But Molly needed a home for her children. If she had to fight Patch, she would do it.

Seth saw Molly's shoulders square for battle even as her black lashes lowered onto pale cheeks in exhaustion. A strong, inexplicable need to protect rose within him. He thought of a line in her second letter. After explaining that her parents and husband were all dead, she had written,
I am alone in the world now.
Now he knew she had meant that she alone was responsible for the welfare of her two children. Where would she go if he decided not to marry her? And after all, he had been no more honest than she had been.

He put a finger under her chin to lift her face up toward him. “Molly?”

At the sound of Seth's voice, Molly's lids lifted, and she saw that his hard gray eyes had softened. She let herself hope.

“Molly,” he repeated, as though the name were foreign and not a perfectly ordinary Irish name. “I have a preacher waiting. If you'll still have me.”

Molly refused to look at Patch. The child wouldn't have changed her mind, and Molly felt her pain too strongly to ignore it. “Seth, I think—”

She was interrupted by a cry from shore.

“Hey, Doc! Pike Hardesty gunned down a man in Bassett's saloon. Better come quick!”

Seth cursed under his breath. “I've got to go,” he said, quickly handing Nessie over. “Hardesty doesn't often miss. It'll be a near thing at best, and if I don't hurry, I'll be no help at all. I'll meet you at the hotel in town when I'm finished.”

“Say, Pa,” Patch said. “Maybe she should go along.” When her father frowned, Patch added, “I mean, maybe you oughta find out if she's any good at nursing before you agree to marry her. After all, you don't want a wife who faints at the sight of a little blood.”

Molly swallowed hard. “Blood?”

Seth slanted a look at Molly, who had turned a little green at the gills. “I could use
the help.” He looked at Nessie in her arms. “But I understand if you can't leave your daughter.”

“Whit can look after her,” Molly said. Seeing the mutinous look in her son's eyes, she added, “I'll just walk them to our stateroom. I'll be back in a minute.”

Seth watched her walk away, graceful despite the weight of the water-soaked skirt. He had taught himself to ignore women's bodies when he was doctoring them. But he hadn't been able to ignore Molly Gallagher's. He had seen the shape of her breasts through the wet cloth. Worse, the chill had made her nipples peak. He had been very much aware of her as a woman every moment he was unbuttoning her dress. Nothing with Molly Gallagher was turning out as he'd planned. How in the world had things gone so awry?

“You better be careful, Pa,” Patch said.

“What?” Seth replied absently, unwilling to give up watching the widow Gallagher.

“She looks like more trouble than she's worth,” Patch said earnestly. “And think about that whiny baby, Pa. It'll be a misery for sure having her around the house. And lord knows what mischief that boy'll start. I—”

“She's going to be my wife, Patch,” Seth
said. “And she'll be your mother. Her children will become part of our family. You'd best get used to the idea.”

Patch shook her head no. “I won't stand for it, Pa.”

Seth hardened his voice against the pain he saw in his daughter's eyes. “You don't have any choice.”

“Durned if I don't!” she cried. “Marry her if you gotta, Pa. But she ain't gonna be my ma. And they ain't gonna be my kin!”

Seth clenched his fists as he watched Patch thrust her way through the crowd on deck and scramble down the gangplank. He was doing this for her own good. Someday she would thank him for it. He shoved a hand through his damp hair in frustration.

“Shall we go?”

The sound of Molly's husky voice sent a shiver down Seth's spine. She hadn't taken the time to comb her hair, but she had grabbed a shawl to wrap around the bodice of her dress. He forced himself not to remember the way the wet material had clung to her figure. There would be time later to think about the hell on earth he had created for himself with this marriage of convenience.