The Unexpected Wife(59)

He snorted. “You didn’t give him everything, Abby. You were a virgin when we made love.”

Made love. She liked the way he said that. “I wanted to sleep with him. I would have if we’d not been discovered.”

“But you didn’t. Because deep in your heart you knew it wasn’t right, otherwise you’d have found a more private place to be with that twit. You’re a smart woman. Your instincts are good.”

“So my instincts are telling me that I should love you?”

“Exactly. Your instincts are just waiting for your brain to catch up.”

She lifted her chin. He was so close to her right now she had only to lean forward and she could kiss him. “But your heart will always be with Elise.” He frowned, ready to rebut, but she raised her hand to silence him. “Don’t misunderstand. I will always admire that. You truly loved your wife. She was lucky to have had you love her. But no matter what my feelings, I fear that I would always be second to her.”

He straightened his shoulders. “I will admit that a part of me died with her. But I’m not the same man I was when I met her.” Scowling, he drew in a ragged breath. “I’ve learned there’s more to marriage than love.”

“Honest to a fault,” she said grimly.

“Yes, I am. I’ll never lie to you, Abby.”

“I know.”

She looked into his blue eyes. Right now he was as handsome as any man she’d ever seen. His black hair skimmed the tops of his open collar, which revealed dark chest hair that curled up from deeply tanned skin. His lips were set in a grim line, yet she remembered how soft they’d felt when pressed against her naked breasts. “I wish you could love me.”

Before he could respond gunfire sounded. A scream echoed from the other side of town.

Mr. Barrington tensed instantly. “Stay here,” he ordered.

“The boys!” Abby said.

“I’ll get the boys. Stay.”

Wild horses couldn’t have kept her in her place.

He started running toward the party. And Abby was right behind him, running with her skirts hiked up. When they reached the picnic, her side ached from running and wisps of hair had fallen from her chignon.

A crowd had gathered into a semicircle. The fiddle player had stopped and no one was talking or laughing. Mothers kept their children close and the men stood angry and defiant. Most of them had left their guns in their wagons, in respect of the family gathering.

Abby searched for the boys but didn’t see them anywhere. Fear ripped through her body and she ran along the ring of people looking for them. Finally, she found them on the front row, just feet from Collier. She ran to the boys. The instant they saw her they broke away and ran to her. She hugged them close. Fear jockeyed with relief. “Are you two all right?”

“Yes!” Quinn said. “He shot the mama dog.”

Tommy burrowed his face in her bosom. Abby tightened her hold around his quaking body. All her men were safe and she doubted she’d ever been more grateful than now.

Abby took her first look at the shooter. It was Collier. At his feet lay the mother dog that the boys had played with earlier.

Collier’s crystal-blue eyes possessed a wild, dangerous look that made her skin itch. She remembered his sweaty hands on her body and how he had pulled her against him so that she could feel his arousal. She shuddered.

Holden, who’d been at the livery, ran toward the crowd, his hand on his gun. He pushed through the people to stand beside Mr. Barrington. All traces of the friendly man she’d known had vanished. He looked almost as savage as Mr. Barrington.

She glanced up at Mr. Barrington, but he wasn’t looking at her or the boys. His gaze was trained on Collier.

“Best you leave,” Mr. Barrington ordered.

“Miss Smyth owes me another dance.”

“She’s not dancing with you,” Mr. Barrington growled.

Laughter cackled in Collier’s throat as he stared at Mr. Barrington. “What claim do you have to her? None. But I’m willing to marry her here and now.” To emphasize his point he fired into the air twice.

Mr. Barrington and Holden drew their guns so quickly Abby only saw the flash of sunlight glint off their barrels. Mr. Barrington fired. The bullet struck Collier’s gun, knocking it from his hand.

A woman screamed. The crowd scooted back.

Abby flinched.

Collier’s gaze darted between the two men. He inspected his shooting hand before he flexed his fingers slowly.

“Ain’t I entitled to have a good time like the next guy?” Collier said. He snatched up a cookie from the table and took a bite out of it. Crumbs peppered the thick black stubble on his chin.