The Savage

An awkward moment followed. Lance didn’t have a ring, and it was left to Dusty to fashion a substitute of braided leather taken from a horse’s bridle.

Summer watched with a sense of unreality. That she should be reduced to this…She might have laughed if the reason for her marrying hadn’t been so sobering. As it was, the strangeness of the ceremony hardly touched her. She felt light-headed with fatigue and the strain of the past two days, and all she wanted was for it to be over so she could get on with finding her sister.

It was only when Lance turned to kiss her to seal the vows that Summer seemed to waken. He bent his dark head and brushed his hard masculine lips over hers briefly, and she suffered an attack of nerves so strong, it was near panic. She was married to this man. This hard, unforgiving stranger. For better or for worse. And she would have to honor those vows…tonight and every night, if Lance could be taken at his word. He had made it perfectly clear he didn’t want a wife in name only.

The ride back to the livery was made in silence. When the buckboard drew to a halt, Lance sprang down and raised his arms to help Summer descend. She felt his fingers firm on her waist, all business, while his dark face remained shuttered, devoid of all emotion.

When he set her on her feet, Summer found her gaze drawn to the rough log building that was the livery stable and office—the place where she would spend her first night with her husband.

“Go on inside,” Lance said quietly as he hefted her carpetbag from the back of the buckboard.

Wanting to delay the inevitable as long as possible, Summer turned and looked up at Dusty, who sat twisting the reins in his hands.

“Thank you, Dusty. For everything.”

“Sure, Miss Summer…Mrs. Calder, I mean. I hope to God you find her.”

She gave a start at the strange new title, but managed to nod and say with determined conviction, “We will. Tell Reed…Tell Reed this is for the best.”

Dusty tipped his hat solemnly.

Forcing her feet to move, Summer entered the office, where an unwelcoming darkness greeted her. She fumbled for the lantern and matches Lance had left on the table beside the door, and busied herself lighting the wick while she tried not to think about what was to come.

She heard Lance’s low voice outside as he spoke briefly to Dusty, then the rattle of the buckboard as it moved off into the night Lance’s booted footsteps behind her as he entered the room sounded like gunshots. When the door shut softly behind him, panic welled up in her again. Summer shivered violently.

“Are you cold?” she heard him ask gruffly.

With effort, she shook her head. “Just nervous.”

Without comment, Lance set down her bag on the bed and began to build a fire in the cast-iron stove in the corner.

“You want some coffee?”

She started to say no, but then changed her mind. Hot coffee might help settle her nerves, and at the very least, occupy Lance for a few more minutes. “Yes, please. That would be nice.”

She watched as he filled the coffeepot from a bucket of water by the stove. His home apparently boasted none of the amenities the Weston ranch house had. If there was a water pump, it was outside.

Glancing around her at the crude furnishings, she found her gaze fixed on the narrow bed that was little more than a wood-and-rope frame covered with a straw mattress and a wool blanket. Hanging above it on a peg was a buffalo hide, which probably provided extra warmth in winter.

Tearing her gaze away, Summer forced herself to say calmly, “Tomorrow will be a long day. Perhaps we should get some sleep.”

“Maybe we should go to bed.”

The tone was cool, hard, inexorable. She couldn’t possibly mistake his meaning. Lance intended to claim his rights as her husband.

Lamely Summer turned to look at him. He had paused while grinding a measure of coffee beans, and was watching her narrowly. The force of that black gaze nearly took her breath away.

“Your brother may come looking for you,” he said grimly in explanation. “I don’t want to give him any reason to say we’re not married.”

She thought she understood his reasoning. He was determined to consummate the marriage so it couldn’t be annulled. But that didn’t make her feel any calmer.

Silently she nodded.

Lance seemed to take her agreement for granted, since he resumed the task of grinding. Summer didn’t know what to do with herself. She was aware of the fragrant aroma of coffee mingling with the odor of woodsmoke from the stove, aware of the heavy thud of her heart.

“Do you need to use the privy? It’s out back.”

Embarrassed at the discussion of such a private function, Summer shook her head without answering.