“Well, it certainly must be exciting,” Hannah said as she picked up her fork.
“Are you feeling better?” Rafe asked, the memory of her slumping to the ground forever burned into his mind.
“Oh, yes.” She looked down, as if she were embarrassed at the memory. “I’ve never fainted before.”
“I can assume you’ve also never been shot at before, or had to press your hand against a man’s side to keep him from bleeding out,” Rafe said. “It was admirable, you keeping your head like that. He might not be alive if you hadn’t thought to slow the bleeding.”
Her eyes met his, her fork stilling against her plate as a flush spread across her face. “Thank you. It didn’t occur to me to do anything else.”
Hannah wasn’t what Rafe had expected at all when he’d been roped into this marriage idea. She didn’t appear afraid at all when he’d first met her, and what she’d done up in the mountains had taken a great deal of courage. Where most people—both men and women—would have huddled up and thought only of themselves, Hannah had saved a man’s life.
Yet looking at her now, with her delicate features and pretty red hair, he couldn’t imagine her living day to day in Perseverance. Just the thought of half the men in town eying her as she went to the general store made Rafe clench his fork a little too hard. And it wasn’t just Hannah—none of these women belonged here. Perseverance might be safe enough for a man like Rafe, but it wasn’t yet a decent enough place for the ladies across the table.
Rafe stared moodily at his plate as Hannah chatted with the woman seated next to her. Before he’d had a chance to eat half his dessert, Cabot called an end to the dinner. Rafe stood, slapping his napkin on the table and trying to square his fears with what he knew was ahead of him.
The ladies gathered near the door to the parlor, Hannah with them. Rafe watched her talking easily with her friends, and he wondered what she thought of him. Did she see a ruffian, or a man who was doing what he was meant to do with his life?
Cabot clapped Rafe on the shoulder. “That went well. Were you pleased with your conversation with Miss White?”
They hadn’t spoken much, Rafe realized. After he’d let his thoughts get the best of him, she’d talked more with Cabot and his bride-to-be next to her.
“I suppose,” he said. “I still think this entire thing is a terrible idea.”
Cabot gave him that friendly grin he reserved for anyone he was trying to sway to his side. “You’re nervous, that’s all.”
“It’s not my—”
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Two o’clock, before the saloon gets too crowded. And Garland?” Cabot fixed him with a stern look. “Don’t be late this time.”
Chapter Six
Hannahstifledayawn.She’d stayed up far too late with the other girls the night before. They had all congregated in Mercy’s room at the end of the hall. Hannah hadn’t said much. The words she’d overheard from Rafe before they had dispersed for the night sent her questioning everything.
Even after she had gone to her room, she’d spent hours staring at the ceiling. But no matter which way she thought through his words, the meaning was clear: he didn’t wish to marry her.
Now she stood in a room over a saloon that doubled as a church, torn between deciding whether she was grateful he was here or angry at herself for not packing her bag this morning to return to New York.
Rafe was here, on time with the other men. He clearly meant to go through with a marriage he didn’t want. Hannah chewed her lip as he approached her. It wasn’t too late to turn and leave. But even as the thought flitted through her mind, she knew she wouldn’t. Not when the other girls were beside her and counting on her to be here with them.
Rafe greeted her as if nothing had changed. Before Hannah could formulate some sort of greeting in return, the minister called for the group to come before him.
The ceremony was quick. Hannah was grateful she wore gloves when Rafe took her hands in his. He didn’t have a ring for her. Noneof the men did except for Dr. Stanton, who explained that the ring had belonged to his late mother. Natalie gave him a shy smile while Vivi pouted behind her.
The minister said a few last words while Hannah attempted to convince herself that being trapped in a marriage with a man who didn’t want her was better than worrying about Jack Donahue trapping her in the rear garden back in Manhattan. She no longer had to look over her shoulder, she reminded herself. This marriage was the price she had to pay for her safety.
“Is it all right?” Rafe said, interrupting her thoughts.
Thinking he was asking ifshewas all right, Hannah nodded, heartened by his concern. Maybe he didn’t despise her so much after all.
But then he leaned toward her, so close she could feel his breath on her lips. Hannah froze. Rafe hesitated a moment before pressing his mouth against hers.
Hannah jerked to life, pulling back so fast she almost stumbled. Rafe caught her arm as his eyebrows rose. His face darkened with an emotion Hannah couldn’t place, but he quickly schooled his expression. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Hannah swallowed, her heart pumping as heat seared her cheeks. All around them, the other couples were pulling away, gazing at each other as if all was well.
The ceremony was over. She pulled one of her hands from Rafe’s grip and pressed it to her face. Had she been paying attention, she would have known what was coming. He watched her now as one of the other men spoke to him, and she avoided his gaze. It was embarrassing, to have reacted the way she did, but the second his lips touched hers it felt as if she’d never left New York. As if she were still in the tiny, dark garden behind the orphanage and trying to break free as Jack Donahue held her arms and forced a kiss on her.
“Can you believe it?” Mercy flung her arms around Hannah, yanking her away from the dark place in her mind. “We’re married women!”
