Robin Lee Hatcher by In His Arms

Author:In His Arms [Arms, In His]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

It was nearly six o’clock by the time the rented horse and buggy carried Mary along the road back toward Whistle Creek. Much later than she’d intended to return from Wallace, but she was too excited to care.

Today she had found a man who once worked with Quaid. True, it had been two years ago, but the man had known her brother. He was pretty sure Quaid was still in Idaho. He’d even promised to ask around for her, see if anyone knew of Quaid’s current whereabouts.

Sure and it would be perfect altogether if she were to find Quaid now. She would leave Whistle Creek. She would go to live with her brother. She would be safe from the law.

And Carson Barclay would be safe from her.

Her heart skittered, and her emotions plummeted, her joy and excitement immediately forgotten.

It was a terrible thing, the way she had lost her heart to the sheriff, and there was no denying it, not even to herself. It was bad enough that she had weakened in her resolve never to play the fool for a man again. It was worse that it had happened with this particular man.

Carson was going to ask her to marry him. She sensed it. He’d made it clear in a dozen different ways. But no matter how much she cared for him—or precisely because of how much she cared for him—she would have to refuse. She couldn’t marry the sheriff. Even if the truth about New York and Winston Kenrick never came out, she couldn’t live that particular lie. As Carson’s wife, always fearing the day of discovery would be a hundred times worse than anything she lived now.

She closed her eyes, giving the horse his head, and remembered the way Carson had kissed her. The brief touch of his lips upon hers shouldn’t have affected her so greatly. It had been over in an instant.

No, it hadn’t been over in an instant.

It still wasn’t over.

She drew a shaky breath, recalling the way Carson had held her close, the brush of his lips against her cheek and forehead, the gentleness in his voice.

“You thought you loved Seamus once,” she scolded herself.

But her argument didn’t work. She knew Carson was different. She knew he was exactly the sort of man she had dreamed of when she was a young girl in service. Seamus had lied to get her into his bed. Carson would never do such a thing. He was good and kind and just, and when he went to church, he did it without a heavy burden of guilt.

Mary opened her eyes and stared up at the darkening sky. “Why now?” she demanded. “Why did I find him after it was too late, after me sins were too great to be forgiven?”

As if in reply, the wind rose, drowning out the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves and the music of the river.

You could tell him what you’ve done.

Before the thought had scarcely registered, Mary rejected it. She couldn’t tell him.

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