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“Oh dear! I’m forgetting myself, aren’t I?” Blushing prettily, Savannah interrupted his musings. She straightened into a formal posture, then … curtsied? Holding herself stiffly in that pose, she inclined her head. “This is a very great pleasure for me. I’m indelibly charmed to meet you, Mr. Corwin.”
She sounded as though she were arriving at a highfalutin ball—one presided over by kings and queens. Her stilted manner was so at odds with her casual way of touching him that Adam almost laughed. Instead he gazed at Savannah’s downcast lashes, proud nose and full lips … and something inside him gave way.
If she wanted to appear sophisticated and proper to him, he would not prevent her from it. Except in this one instance.
“Please,” he said gruffly. “Call me Adam.”
“Informal address already? After only one meeting? I sincerely doubt that would be—” She broke off. She gave him a tentative peek, then closed her mouth. Her chest expanded on a giddy breath. She gazed downward again. “Very well … Adam.”
The breathy way she said his name made tingles race up his spine. Against all reason, he wanted to hear it again.
“Adam,” she said experimentally, not knowing how handily she obliged him. Along with her tone, Savannah’s posture eased. Relaxed now, she nodded. “Yes, I think Adam will be fine.”
But all at once, Adam wasn’t fine. Frowning with an unwanted sense of revelation, he remembered the other odious strategy Bedell had used when setting up his latest mark. When corresponding with Savannah, Bedell had used Adam’s name.
It was an audacious tactic—and a taunting one, too. After all the months Adam had spent tracking Bedell, the confidence man had gotten cocky. He’d deliberately used Adam’s name in his newest double-cross scheme, and that detail had truly rankled.
It had bothered him so much, Adam guessed, that he’d shoved it clean out of his mind. Mariana had given him no end of grief about Bedell’s ploy, though. Every time she’d copied down one of Savannah’s letters, she’d teased Adam about “his” woman, reading aloud Savannah’s usual greeting in mocking, overgirlish tones.
My Dearest, Kindest, Most Longed-For Mr. Corwin….
Foolishly Adam had set aside that detail. Bedell’s theft of his good name had galled him, but since he’d never expected to meet Savannah in person, he hadn’t counted on its potential consequences. Now those consequences batted their eyelashes at him, creating an unexpected thrill in the pit of his belly.
Damnation. This was troublesome. His initial fascination with Savannah, kindled by her letters and her picture, was fast becoming something more. Adam didn’t understand it. In all his days, he’d met saloon girls, pert prairie homesteaders, dance-hall ladies, society belles, soiled doves and down-home women who could make a man propose with a single, cinnamony forkful of their prizewinning apple pies. None of those women, however appealing, had ignited his curiosity the way Savannah Reed did.
He already knew a handful of her hopes and dreams. Now he wanted to know her. He wanted to call her Savannah; wanted to have a right to do so. He wanted to make her smile at him again.
Telling her about Bedell wouldn’t accomplish any of those things. But now that Adam had met Savannah, the thought of Bedell hurting her—stealing from her—troubled him all the more. He couldn’t let that happen. But suddenly, he felt too woozy to reason out how he could stop Bedell from getting to her.
Doubtless that was because of the tincture she’d given him. Cursing the medicine’s sedating effects, Adam nonetheless knew he needed it. His shoulder blade throbbed, his ribs ached and his head … Wincing at a fresh wave of pain, he raised his hand.
“Oh!” Savannah grew instantly alert. “Does it still hurt?”
Hazily Adam noted that her formality had dropped away. Apparently she wore her fancy comportment the way Bedell did his various—and fraudulent—accents and manner isms. and names. Savannah’s curtsies and timidity and cordiality seemed to sit outside her, somehow. They weren’t nearly as much a part of her as were her golden hair and capable hands and intelligent gaze.
“It doesn’t hurt so much that I’ve forgotten all my manners altogether,” Adam gritted out. With strict determination, he lowered his hand. He smiled, the better to ease Savannah’s worries about his condition. “It’s my honor to finally meet you, Miss Reed. Until now, I’d only dreamed about this day coming.”
That much was true. Fruitlessly but unstoppably, Adam had whiled away the long hours on Bedell’s dusty trail by fancying himself as the one who’d come west to be with Savannah. He’d have sooner curried his horse with his teeth than admit it.
“And I’m the one who should protect you.” Fighting against the drowsy effects of the tincture, Adam fisted his hand in the soft bed linens. Roughly he said, “I will protect you, Miss Reed. I promise you right now—I swear I’ll keep you safe.”
He gazed straight at her, willing her to understand exactly how much he meant it. In that moment, he would have let Bedell bash him in the head with a branch twice over, just to save her.
“Oh, that is sweet of you, Adam. Thank you ever so much.”
Clearly Savannah didn’t know what he was talking about, but she smiled at him all the same. That was good. She did not, he noticed dispiritedly, suggest that he call her Savannah. That was bad. Her omission made him yearn for that privilege with an intensity Adam would have found laughable a day ago.
“But don’t be silly! You don’t have to protect me.” Savannah curled her fingers trustingly around his. She laughed. “It seems everyone always wants to protect me! First Mose, now you. But all you have to do is marry me, just as we agreed.”
Marry me. At those words, Adam stilled. He had to tell her about Bedell. Right now. But all at once, he felt even wearier than he had just a moment before. He cursed the medicine he’d taken. His tongue felt thick. His eyelids felt heavy. His head drooped. Dumbly he repeated her words. “Marry me?”
“Yes. I’ll have some questions for you first, of course.” As though she were considering quizzing him then and there, Savannah gazed directly at his face. She seemed to lose herself in his medicine-hazed eyes. Then she shook herself. “We’ll get to that when you’re feeling better, I reckon. And naturally we’ll want to spend some more time together first, to ensure a successful partnership. You do know how I feel about compatibility, don’t you?”
Adam did. He’d read her views at length in her letters to Bedell. Prompted by an absurd and inescapable desire to please her, he said, “You believe husbands and wives should be as close-knit as friends are, able to talk and laugh equally.”
His reward was a beatific smile. In response, his heart skipped a beat. All his life, Adam had felt gruff, tough, ready to take on bad men of every variety and bring them to heel. But now, suddenly, all he wanted was another of Savannah’s smiles.
“Why, Mr. Corwin! You did pay attention to my letters.”
“I treasured every last one of them.” Even though those words were accurate, Adam felt a fraud saying them. Further wearied by his recitation from those letters, he thumped his chest. “I carried them next to my heart the whole way here.”
“Hmm. You’re getting a bit tired now, aren’t you?”
“Tired?” He realized he’d closed his eyes. He wrenched them open to see Savannah’s amused expression. “No. Not tired. I’m never tired. I can ride for days, track a man for miles, shoot from the saddle and never miss. You can count on me, Miss Reed.”
His assurance sailed right on past her. She laughed and patted his hand. “I think someone’s been reading too many dime novels on the train. Don’t fret, though. When it comes to our marriage arrangement, I know exactly what I’m getting.”
“No, you don’t.” Urgently, Adam caught her wrist. Bedell might be near, he remembered. He should warn Savannah. “Your groom is not who you thought he was! He’s … he’s …”
He blinked, trying to summon the appropriate words. His tongue roved around his mouth in search of them. While he struggled, Savannah slipped from his feeble grasp. She fussed over him, fixing his bandages and checking for fever.
At last, Adam found the words he wanted.
“Your groom,” he announced gravely, “is a bad man.”
She gazed at him. “Well. He’s certainly not able to hold his medicinal tinctures for neuralgia, I can say that much for certain.” A new smile quirked her mouth. “Sleep now. That’s the best thing for you. I’ll be back later to check on you.”
Drowsiness flooded him. Adam bit the inside of his cheek, deliberately rousing himself. “Wait. You don’t understand—”
“I understand all I need to.” In a dreamy blur of feminine fabrics and floral fragrance, Savannah made him lie back. She stroked his arm and tucked in the quilts again, her face open and kindly. “I’d wondered how you would take to me, when we met, too. After all, we shared a great deal with each other over the wires, didn’t we?”
“No. You have to listen to me now,” Adam insisted, trying again to broach the topic of Roy Bedell and his scheme. “It’s important. Your groom is not who you thought he was! He’s—”
“He’s everything I could have asked for.” Savannah smiled. She brought her mouth next to his ear, letting her breath tickle his skin in a sinfully pleasurable way. “He’s even better than I imagined. You’re even better, Adam. I’m very, very pleased.”
She liked him. At the realization, Adam groaned. Under the influence of that damnable tincture, he felt as clumsy as a youth, as green as a new field agent, as needful of sleep as an express rider on the last leg of a weeklong journey. But he couldn’t help grinning as Savannah’s approval washed over him.
“And since you likely won’t remember this when you wake up.” Still hovering above him, Savannah touched his cheek. She rested her palm against his skin, then gazed unabashedly at him. “I guess I can be forthright. I think you’re beyond handsome, too. So far, it’s been all I could do not to swoon over you.”
Adam turned his head on the pillow, bringing his gaze to hers. Plainly startled to find herself the subject of his attention—however bleary—Savannah blinked. Her cheeks pinkened.
“Now sleep,” she blurted. “You’re clearly hallucinating.”
Then she bustled from the room and returned to her desk.
Chapter Five
Flustered and a bit overheated, Savannah headed blindly for her telegraphy equipment. On the way there, she almost collided with Mose. He stood inside the doorway as she passed through, a few steps from the desk they shared. He wore a knowing look.
She knew what that look was for. She’d gone in to check on Adam Corwin not only because it was her duty as his fiancée and provisional nurse, but also because she’d promised herself that she’d get to the bottom of the mysteries surrounding him. His well-laden gun belt. His habit of carrying contraband knives. His tendency to whack Mose and disappear into the woods for long stretches.
Instead she’d mooned over her mail-order groom like the most quixotic of heroines from an oft-told fairy tale. Bothered by the way she’d abandoned her stated goals upon her first up-close view of Adam Corwin’s handsome blue eyes, rugged features, and sneak-up-on-you smile, Savannah released a pent-up sigh.
“Don’t tell me, Mose. I already know.” She held up her hand to ward off her good friend’s inevitable lecture. “I’ll do better next time, I swear. I was unprepared, that’s all.”
That much was true. She’d been unprepared for the jolt of Adam’s deep, masculine voice as he spoke to her. Unprepared for the impact of his protective nature. Unprepared for the way caring and honor and goodness had flowed from him to her in a perceptible wave, just like sunshine across a shadowy field.
Savannah had been truthful when she’d confessed that she’d wondered how her husband-to-be would react to her. Of course she’d been anxious. But if his forthright looks and bedazzled grins were anything to judge by, she needn’t have worried.
Adam truly liked her. The proof was all over him.
And she liked him, too. Perhaps foolishly. There were so many things she didn’t know about him. But she’d taken to Adam Corwin in an innate, gut-level way she couldn’t deny. She didn’t trust him—not yet—but she did trust her instincts about him.
Everything else she needed to know she would learn quickly, Savannah assured herself. Perhaps by tossing a burlap sack over Adam’s head when they were together, so she could question him without being distracted by his wonderful brawny muscles and his manner of watching her with captivating, enthralled attention.
It was a good thing Doc Finney’s tincture had made him so loopy, she decided. If Adam had been the least bit sensible—if there’d been any chance he would remember her hasty admission—she never would have found the courage to be so bold. As it was, she could scarcely believe she’d whispered the truth to him.
It’s been all I could do not to swoon over you.
The remembrance should have been mortifying.
Instead, for a lifelong romantic like Savannah, it was … thrilling. She’d thought she’d settled for a practical, arranged union. Now she almost dared to hope she and Adam might find something more.
“I don’t often lapse in my etiquette. Not these days, at least.” Savannah edged past Mose, then sat at her telegraphy desk. The wires were silent, so she hugged herself, remembering. “But there’s something about Adam! I plumb forgot about showing him how ladylike I could be. And when I remembered to put my good manners on display—well, I could tell he appreciated it.”
He’d greeted her curtsy with something very much like hushed reverence. Savannah had savored that. And although she’d wobbled a bit while performing the maneuver, she felt proud of herself for having carried it off—just like her book instructed.
It was important to her that she erase all traces of her unconventional upbringing. She didn’t want Adam to know that she’d grown up backstage at dozens of grimy theaters like the Orpheum. She didn’t want him to discover that she’d learned to read by perusing playbills or to know that her mother and father had tossed her onstage like a living prop when she was scarcely more than an infant—and had gone right on doing so when her babyish antics had earned them bigger laughs and more pay.
With a significant—if stagey—cough, Mose interrupted her reminiscences … or maybe that was too grand a word to use for them, Savannah reasoned sadly. Most of her memories were disreputable, after all. Not that she’d had a choice in that. At least not until she’d grown to adulthood.
Even after that—even after she’d struck upon the notion of forming a new life for herself—she’d stayed mired in her old one for a time, Savannah recalled. It had taken her several hardworking years to save a nest egg large enough to allow her to escape the stage and prosper after she’d done so.
“I heard what he said.” Mose crossed his arms, giving her one of his most fearsome looks. That same expression and pose had, over the years, driven away dozens of no-good backstage Jonnies. “He just told you he’s a bad man, Savannah!”
She scoffed. “He didn’t mean that the way it sounded. It’s obvious he’s gotten some wrongheaded notions about life out here in the Wild West—probably from those dime novels people read. He’s worried that I want some sort of gun-slinging hero for a husband. I find his attempts to fit that mold quite endearing. He’s doing it to impress me. Adam is clearly a—”
“That’s another thing.” Appearing further disgruntled, Mose frowned. “Adam. Do you really think it’s smart to get so familiar with the man so soon? I thought you were all het up about behaving properly and so forth. That’s what that etiquette book of yours is for, isn’t it? So why in the devil would you—”
“He asked me to call him Adam. It’s only polite to comply.”
Mose gave her a chary look. Stubbornly he lifted his chin. “I notice you didn’t tell him to call you Savannah.”
“Well.” Savannah intended to save until she trusted Adam fully. But she didn’t want to admit as much, especially to an already skeptical Mose. She shook her head. “Honestly. Were you eavesdropping on us the entire time?”
Her friend had the good grace to appear embarrassed.
“This is a mighty small station. A man can’t help but overhear.”
“Well, try a little harder not to, would you, please?”
“Humph. Not while you’re busy making eyes at that man, I won’t. I practically raised you. I won’t shirk my duties now.”
“I know. You never would.” Overcome with fondness for him, Savannah smiled. She squeezed Mose’s shoulder, remembering all the times he’d told her funny stories, found her places to sleep backstage, brought her hot meals when her parents forgot….
If not for Mose, she would have had a sorely neglectful childhood. Gruff as a bear and just as strong, he had made her feel protected and cherished. He’d had no patience for Ruby and Jim Reed’s ambitions—or their shared fondness for liquor. These days, Mose was older and a little frailer than he’d been as a stagehand for hire, but he was still beyond lovable to her.
“That’s why I’m going to ask you again.” Mose leveled her with a serious expression. “Are you sure about this marriage scheme of yours? You’re not hitched yet, you know. It’s not too late to go on to San Francisco.”
“I’m not going to San Francisco!”
“All right, all right. You don’t have to get testy.”
“I’m sorry, Mose. It’s just that I’m done with performing. Beyond done with it. It was never right for me. I just didn’t know any better. Being on stage was all I ever had.”
“You were powerfully good at making a crowd happy.”
At his loyal declaration, Savannah smiled. She had earned her share of applause over the years. “What I want now is to make a husband happy. That’s all. I’ve been dreaming of having a regular, ordinary life for so long. I tried to grab hold of it in Ledgerville, but that didn’t pan out. Now I have a new plan, and I’m certain it will work, as long as I’m patient.”
Mose looked away, clearly longing to argue with her … but unwilling to do so. Savannah knew he was entertaining the same unhappy memories she was. They’d had this conversation before—before one enterprising gossip had tacked up that incriminating newspaper story for all to see. Before the rumors had flown around Ledgerville in a matter of days. Before the townspeople there had shunned her. Before the sheriff had confronted her.
Before her fair-weather friends had suggested she leave Ledgerville on the first train out and never come back.
Even Alistair Norwood, the young telegraphy operator who’d taught her all she knew about operating the equipment, had been unable to stick by her. Usually so willing to buck the system, Alistair had turned unexpectedly cold when faced with her past.
Until the scandal had turned up in Ledgerville, Savannah had actually believed that her family’s story—and the notoriety it had engendered—would not follow her west. She’d truly thought that the newspaper coverage had been confined to the New York City tabloids. Those dirty papers had found the news of a husband-and-wife theatrical team who’d swindled the city’s theater owners out of thousands of dollars in extortion money too outrageous not to print. Especially given the shocking detail that Ruby Reed had willingly seduced those theater owners herself in order to set them up for her husband’s extortion demands. The fact that their daughter, dancing sensation Savannah Reed, hadn’t been involved in their schemes hadn’t mattered one whit. To everyone who read the papers’ breathless daily reportage, Savannah was as good as guilty, too. She was a “Ruthless Reed,” as the papers had deemed the family after her parents’ arrest. That was all that seemed to matter to anyone.
That, and the fact that a glorified dance-hall girl couldn’t possibly be considered marriageable by any decent man.
“I know you’ve put a pile of faith in your marriage plan,” Mose said. “But do you honestly believe changing your name will be enough? You could have done that much without a husband.”
“Only by lying. And I refuse to do that any more than necessity demands.” Uncomfortably Savannah thought of the show of feminine frailty she’d carried out for Dr. Finney. If she were truly that delicate, she’d never have survived this long on her own. “Surely I’ll be forgiven the occasional fib, given the circumstances. Besides, it’s not as though I set out to find myself a mail-order groom on purpose, you know. The idea didn’t even occur to me until I met Mr. Corwin over the wires. When we struck up our friendship, I felt truly blessed to have found a kindred spirit.” She cast a wary glance at the other room, where Adam was sleeping. “The fact that our marriage will allow me to finally have a real home life is just an additional benefit. I promise I’ll make him happy, too. He won’t regret marrying me.”
Already she could picture the scene—the two of them, hand in hand, leaving the church as husband and wife. The wives and mothers and women of Morrow Creek welcoming her, as a happily married woman, into their quilting circles and sewing bees. The men in town tipping their hats respectfully at her … instead of offering her that hungry, unsettling leer she’d grown used to back in the city. Dreamily gazing past her telegraphy equipment, Savannah imagined herself raising children, fussing over her husband, celebrating Christmases and birthdays as a family.
That was all she truly wanted—all she’d ever wanted. But she couldn’t have any of that if she were still Savannah Reed, The Seductive Sensation of the New York theater circle. Yes, men had wanted The Seductive Sensation. But they hadn’t wanted to marry her. They hadn’t wanted to be seen with her in daylight.
Like Warren Scarne, they’d only wanted to use her.
“I have a lot of love to give!” she assured Mose. More than anything, she hungered to love and be loved. Her heart fairly pounded with the necessity to give to someone special. “I know I can be a good wife to Adam. And he can be a good husband to me.”
“Humph.” Her friend frowned. “He’d better be good to you, or I’ll know the reason why. That’s for certain.”
Smiling, Savannah patted his arm. “There you go protecting me again. I promise, Mose. I’m much stronger than I look.”
Dubiously he raised his eyebrow.
“I am! I’m very strong. Since we came out west, I’ve gotten quite good at swinging an ax to split firewood. I’ve learned to haul heavy buckets of water, drive a wagon, fix the shutters—”
