Instead of responding, Simpson followed me, his footsteps loud behind me.
“Julia!” I called out from the parlor.
“She's upstairs in the bedroom,” he replied with a casual helpfulness. That meant only one thing...that he was telling the truth. Dread filled my gut as I took in his loosened neck tie and lack of jacket. The placket on his pants was partially undone.
“Julia!”
I took the steps two at a time and stopped in my tracks when I saw Julia standing in a doorway. She was doing up the top few buttons on her dress and her red rimmed eyes widened with surprise. Shit. Fuck. Simpson had told the truth. She'd married him! No. No, that couldn't be right. Surely there was some mistake, but she was righting her appearance.
“Garrett, oh God, Garrett.” She took a step toward me, then paused, her hands flexing at her sides. It was as if she wanted to reach out to me but was restraining herself. “I...didn't want it to happen,” she cried, looking over my shoulder and I knew Simpson was behind me. One look at him and she burst into tears. “I'm...I'm so sorry.” No wonder she wouldn't touch me. She belonged to another. She belonged to Simpson.
I turned, grabbed Simpson by the shirt and slammed him into the wall. Paintings bounced with the impact. Rage took over and I could see nothing but destroying this man. He hated me, and had used Julia to hurt me. It was working.
“What the fuck did you do?”
He seemed nonplussed. “I married her.”
I turned my head to Julia and she nodded. Based on the way she was crying and wringing her hands, she had been somehow coerced into the union. “Has he hurt you?” Has he touched you? Has he taken your innocence?
She shook her head, but considering how upset she was, I didn't know if he'd raped her or not. It would be rape, for Julia would not willingly let Simpson touch her. We'd talked about what it would be like between us, for the attraction and desire had been obvious and heady, but I hadn't even kissed her. Yet. I'd told her of the many dark and carnal things we'd share, but I wouldn't touch her until we were wed. She’d known and accepted this, but based on of our conversations of late, she was as eager as I to consummate our relationship.
“The sheriff, he performed the...service.” Simpson's voice was rough and he was breathing hard. I wanted him to not breathe at all.
“We were about to...he was going to—” she shrugged one delicate shoulder and looked away “—use me when you interrupted.”
I growled, the sound erupting from deep in my chest. He'd taken something from me that was more precious than anything else, the action more hurtful than anything he'd ever done to me. This was worse than when he’d broken my arm or diverted the creek away from my property.
“Punch me. It won't change the fact that Julia Talbot is my bride.”
Hargraves cleared his throat. I hadn't even realized he'd come upstairs with us. My only hope was that he'd arrest Simpson and see him hanged for his crimes. Only then would Julia be free of him.
I released my hold and stepped back, taking deep breaths to calm myself.
“Mr. Simpson, you're under arrest for robbery and murder,” Hargraves said.
I ignored bounty hunter and whatever he planned to do with Simpson, for the man could take care of himself. Instead, I went to Julia. She held up her hands to ward me off, shaking her head. “No, Garrett. Please. It's true. I'm married to him. There's nothing you can do.”
Pausing, I grudgingly heeded her words.
“I...I couldn't bear it if you touched me now,” she murmured. Her voice was rough and I ached for her.
I fisted my hands. “I'll wait for him to hang.”
She shook her head, the look of pure desolation on her face. Her cheeks held no color; her lips were pinched. “Between this and what lies he spread about me, I...it's too much. I have no place to live, no job. He's...he's my husband. I have no choices.”
Lies? I could only imagine what he'd done in the two weeks I'd been away, but clearly it had been enough to destroy her life.
“You have no proof,” Simpson told Hargraves.
“Sir, it's not my job to have proof, only to bring you before the circuit judge.”
“You can't mean that, precious,” I murmured, keeping my eyes on Julia. There were two different conversations happening at the same time and all I cared about was Julia. Simpson was Hargraves' responsibility now. “There's nothing you've done, nothing that he's done to you, that will keep me from wanting you.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks and I itched to wipe them away. I took a step closer, but she stepped back, as if afraid. “If you touch me, I won't be able to survive. Wanting you and not being able to have you is going to be impossible to endure.”
“You'll be detained until he comes to town, Mr. Simpson,” Hargraves said. “You're coming with me. Now.”
“No, I'm not.”