The Lawman Claims His Bride (Love Inspired Historical) (20 page)

“That’s my hope as well,” she said carefully.

“Then you understand why I have to leave for Denver in the morning.” He sounded as sorrowful and unhappy as she felt at the news.

Nevertheless, her heart sank. After this afternoon, Megan had hoped he would find it difficult to walk away from her. “So soon?”

His shoulders tensed as he strode to the window and rested his hand flat against the glass. “I have to find Kincaid’s killer. I want this over,” he ground out. “For us both.”

She stood frozen in place, staring at his back, trying to pinpoint what she heard in his voice. “I want that, too.”

“Then you understand why I have to go back now.”

Not really. There was something he wasn’t telling her. “Maybe you could explain it to me.”

He pushed away from the window and started pacing through the room. Back and forth. Back and forth. Every few steps he shot her an odd look, one filled with ambivalence, as if he was trying to sort through several conflicting thoughts.

“My father has a theory about your memory loss.” He changed direction and headed straight toward her. “The more I consider his suggestion the more I agree he’s probably right.”

Her knees suddenly felt wobbly and she lowered to the edge of the bed. “What is this theory?”

Logan sat next to her. There was genuine agony in his eyes. “He thinks you might know Kincaid’s killer and that’s why you can’t remember what happened in Mattie’s boudoir.”

His words staggered her. “That can’t be.” She blinked up at him, her hand clutched around her throat. “Do you truly subscribe to that...theory?”

“You must admit, from a certain perspective, the idea holds considerable merit.”

She folded her hands tightly together in her lap in the hopes they would stop trembling. “It makes no sense at all, not from any angle.”

She could not believe,
would
not believe that anyone she knew could kill.

“We know Kincaid tried to attack you.” Logan touched the wound at her throat, swallowed several times, then lowered his hand. “Perhaps whoever else entered that room did so to rescue you from the outlaw. Does that sound...” He looked intently in her eyes. “Possible?”

Megan shook head.

“Think, Megan.” Without warning, he pulled her against him and stroked her hair in a slow, mesmerizing rhythm. “Think back to that night and try to remember what you saw.”

Lulled by his touch, she closed her eyes and tried to recall the events of that evening. Only misty images floated through her mind, images too muddled to make out clearly.

“I don’t remember a thing. Oh, Logan.” She gripped his shirt in her fist. “My mind is too fuzzy. The memories simply aren’t there. And now my head hurts.”

“I’m sorry, Megan.” Logan kissed her hair. “We won’t talk about this anymore. Why don’t you close your eyes and rest a while. We can talk later.”

“No.” She scrambled off the bed. She wasn’t going to cower from whatever was hidden in her mind. Not anymore.
Not. Anymore.
“I want to remember what happened to me.”

He stared at her for a long moment without speaking. “But your headache.”

“Please, Logan. Let me try again.”

He nodded slowly. “All right.”

“You said you think I might know the killer. Do you have someone in mind?”

He nodded again, but didn’t respond right away.

When several seconds ticked by and he still didn’t answer, Megan lost her patience. “Well? Who do you think it is?”

“Your guardian, Marc. Marc Dupree.”

Chapter Twenty

“N
o.” Megan staggered away from Logan. “Not Marc.” Horror filled her eyes. “He could never kill a man.
Never.
”

Logan thought about Marc’s odd behavior the day he’d shown off Megan’s paintings. The man had been unusually nervous. Logan had chalked it up to guilt, guilt over failing to protect Megan. But what if it had been more, what if Marc
had
killed Kincaid? “It’s possible.”

“No.
No.
Marc is a godly man. He taught me that all the ways of the Lord are loving and faithful and that we’re supposed to love our enemies. He wouldn’t murder an innocent man.”

“Kincaid wasn’t innocent.” Logan knew he had to be careful with his words, but Megan wasn’t hearing him. No, she was
refusing
to hear him. “I’ve seen men do far worse when it comes to protecting their family. And for all intents and purposes, Megan, you are Marc’s family.”

She shook her head vehemently. “Even if Marc had come upon us, even if he had killed Cole in an attempt to protect me, he would have never left me alone in Mattie’s boudoir. He would have taken me with him.”

Logan had thought of that, had found hope in the possibility, but there was enough suspicion to implicate Marc. And Logan couldn’t ignore any possible scenario just because he wanted a man that he admired to be innocent of murder.

“And besides.” Her eyebrows slammed together. “Marc wouldn’t have allowed me to go to jail for something he did.”

“You make a valid point, Megan, but I still have to question Marc directly.”

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “What if he did kill Cole? Then what?”

Logan looked away from the hurt in her eyes, the accusations. “Then I have to arrest him.”

She gasped. “Even if he did it to protect me?”

“Yes.”

“Even if killing Cole saved my life?”

Logan swallowed. Seconds ticked by before he could answer her question. If Marc had saved Megan’s life, no matter what that entailed, Logan would want to give the man a medal. But matters were never that simple. Murder was
always
complicated.

“I’m a lawman, Megan. Sworn to uphold and protect. I have to do what the law dictates, even if it goes against what I want to do or what I
feel
is right.”

“You would arrest the man who raised me, the man who was a father to me most of my life?”

“I would ensure he was given a fair trial.”

She regarded him with an appalled stare, giving him the impression she considered him unreasonable.

Logan couldn’t blame her for that. This was a hard conversation for them both. But he was not one to shirk his duty. If Marc was guilty, Logan would arrest him.

Heavyhearted, he rose and strode to the door but stopped with his hand on the knob. “I’ll let you rest your head for now. I’ll—” he swallowed hard “—see you in the morning. I’ll have my mother bring up a tray of food for you.”

He waited for her response, half hoping she would call him back to her and they would talk this through, maybe come to some understanding that would relieve the tension between them.

“Yes, Logan.” She let out a choked sob. “I think that’s best.”

He shut the door behind him with a final click.

* * *

The next morning Megan awoke to a muddy, gray dawn and a pounding headache. She hadn’t slept well. Nor had Logan returned in the night, though she’d prayed he would come back to apologize, to tell her he’d been dreadfully wrong to accuse Marc of murder.

They’d both gone to bed angry. As a result, she couldn’t escape a vague sense of rejection.

Let not the sun go down upon your wrath.

Megan had done the opposite. But so had Logan.

Maybe it wasn’t too late to fix this mess between them. Surely her husband hadn’t left for Denver yet, not without telling her goodbye. She climbed out of bed and quickly dressed.

She found Logan in the kitchen, alone, staring into a mug of strong-smelling coffee.

“Good morning,” she said softly, her voice skipping over the words.

He looked up and held her gaze. Exhaustion was etched in his features while his red-rimmed eyes told of his own sleepless night.

She wanted to erase the sorrow she saw in his eyes. Their argument suddenly seemed smaller in the gray light of dawn. She loved this man. They just needed to talk matters through, come to an understanding that would satisfy them both. Give and take, wasn’t that the basis of a strong, godly marriage?

“Oh, Logan,” she reached to him, “I’m sorry I let you leave our room angry.”

He was out of his chair and pulling her into his arms halfway through her short speech. “No, Megan, I’m the one who’s sorry.”

They held each other fiercely.

“I don’t want to fight with you,” she said, clinging to him harder still. “I don’t ever want to go to bed angry with you.”

“Never again.” He kissed her then, with the turbulent emotion of someone who’d nearly drowned but had just been rescued at the very last moment.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he whispered in her ear. “And I can show you how sorry I am.”

She felt her eyes narrow in feminine triumph. “I like that idea.”

He chuckled then set her away from him. “Afterward, we can talk about the situation with Marc while I pack.”

“You’re still determined to go to Denver this morning? Can’t you wait—” She broke off, realigned her thoughts. “Until my memory returns?”

“No, Megan. I can’t.” He gave her one long, frustrated stare. And they were right back where they’d started. “I’ve been hired as the U.S. Marshal of this territory. I have to fulfill my duty.”

“You mean arrest Marc.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I won’t know until I review all the facts once again.”

Megan swallowed three times. Each time a hot ball of dread expanded in her throat. Maybe if she was with Logan when he confronted her guardian she could prevent an unspeakable tragedy. “Take me with you.”

“You’ll be safer here.”

She turned cold with foreboding. Something deep within her told her that if she let Logan out of her sight, if she let him leave now, nothing would ever be the same between them. “Please, Logan. I should be with you when you question Marc. It might help me remember what happened.”

“It might hurt. I can’t take that risk.” His eyes darkened. “You’re my wife, Megan. It’s my job to protect you.”

She gasped. “How can you say that? When you’re heading back to arrest Marc for protecting me?”

“I didn’t say I was going back to arrest Marc. I’m going back to get answers.”

So cold, Megan thought. Who was this cold man? “Do you really think your notion of protection is any different than Marc’s?”

“You’re intentionally misunderstanding me.”

“Am I?” She rose onto her tiptoes so she could look him eye to eye. “If you had been the one to come across Kincaid when he was attacking me...” She ignored his flinch and continued. “What would you have done?”

“That’s not a fair question.”

“It’s a valid one. Logan, I’m not as fragile as you think. I can handle whatever happened that night, even if it means discovering that I know the killer personally.”

“If that were so then you wouldn’t have lost your memory in the first place.”

She reared back as though he’d slapped her. “You think that little of me? That I’m so weak-minded I can’t face the truth?”

He rubbed a hand down his face and let out a weary burst of air. “Megan, I don’t think you’re weak-minded, however—”

“However?”

“However—” he gritted his teeth “—you were attacked by a very bad man.” He glared at the wound on her throat. “That sort of trauma would make even a strong-minded person buckle.”

His words told her what he really thought of her. She was only a woman to be protected, not loved. “Why did you marry me, Logan?”

Her question obviously took him off guard. “What?”

“Tell me why.”

“Because I love you. I’ve always loved you. From the first moment I saw you.” He started to lift his hand to her, but dropped it when he caught her expression. “I waited five years to claim you as my bride.”

Five. Long. Years. By the end of that time, Megan had feared he would never come back. That he would find someone else. Or maybe quit loving her altogether. The reality was so much worse. “Why didn’t you come home sooner? Why did you wait so long?”

“I needed to make my own way in the world. I needed to be able to provide for you and our family.”

She lowered her head and blinked back the tears welling in her eyes. “Your mother told me about their wedding gift.”

“What does that have to do with this?”

“Everything.”
She lifted her chin until her gaze met his again. “You could have brought me here years ago.”

“Your life is in Denver.”

“My
life
is with you. It’s always been with you, even when you were a thousand miles away.” She stopped, drew in a careful breath and began again. “You don’t love me, Logan, not really. You only love the image of me you’ve created in your mind.”

“How can you say that after yesterday, after what we shared in the cabin together?”

“I forced your hand.”

“No, Megan.” He knuckled a lock of her hair off her cheek. “You didn’t force me to do anything I haven’t wanted to do for years.”

She desperately wanted to believe him. “Then stay here just a few more days, and help me regain my missing memory.”

“I have been helping you. That’s why I bought the sketchbook for you.”

“What?”
It was her turn to be thrown off guard.

“I figured that if you started to draw at your leisure you might eventually come across an image from that night, one that would unlock the rest of your lost memories.”

A hysterical laugh bubbled in her throat, but she shoved it down with a ruthless swallow. She’d thought the sketchbook had been a simple gesture of love, a confirmation of his admiration for her talent.

How could she have been so foolish?

Her tears begged for release. She let them come, let them fall unchecked down her cheeks.

“Megan, please.” Logan’s voice filled with genuine horror. “Don’t cry.”

Unashamed of her tears, she stared at him through her watery vision.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“How am I looking at you?” She swiped at her cheek with the back of her hand.

“Like I’ve just broken your heart.”

“You have.”

He lifted his hand.

She shifted to her left.

He frowned, but didn’t reach for her again. “I was only trying to help you,” he said. “I had nothing but good intentions.”

“You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t believe you.” She didn’t bother hiding the hurt in her tone.

“Don’t be cynical,” he said. “That’s not you.”

“How would you know what is or isn’t me?”

“I
know.
”

He was wrong, so very wrong. He only knew her as he wanted to see her. A woman who needed his protection, a weaker individual than himself. She might as well have been made of china and placed on a shelf. “You’d best start packing if you want to make it to Denver by noon.”

He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the sound of his mother’s voice coming from the other side of the door. “I’m telling you, Cyrus, I heard something.”

“You’re mistaken, Annie,” came the gruff reply. “It’s too early for anyone to be up.”

“I know what I heard.”

Before either Logan or Megan could school their features into blank expressions the older two Mitchells swept into the kitchen.

“Oh.” Logan’s mother came to a swift halt. “I knew I heard voices, I...” She let her words trail off and angled her head. In the next moment, her brows pulled together in a frown. “Well, then, we’ll just leave you two alone to finish your conversation. Take all the time you need.”

Her manner was light and breezy, but she gave her son a warning glare before turning Cyrus around and marching him out of the kitchen.

Megan rushed forward to stop her in-laws’ retreat. “No. Stay, please.” She focused on a speck just over their heads. “Logan and I are through.”

Letting out a sharp hiss, Logan moved forward. “No, we’re not.” His boot heels clicked on the parquet floor right before his hand rested on her shoulder. “Megan and I still have a few matters to discuss before I leave for Denver this morning.”

Before I leave.

Megan struggled to control her temper as she turned to face her husband. A battle seemed to wage behind his eyes, as though he didn’t know what to say next. His confusion almost melted her anger. Almost.

“Will you take me with you?” She held her breath. It wasn’t fair to put Logan on the spot in front of his parents, but she might not have another chance.

“It’s too dangerous.” His eyes took on the hard, determined look she’d seen too often since he’d found her in jail. In the past four days that look had been enough to send a shiver of fear running through her. This time, a surge of anger reared. Anger so strong her entire body shook.

Nevertheless, she found the inner strength to speak calmly. “Can we discuss this further?”

“I’ve made my decision. You will stay here, under my family’s care.”

Megan sighed at his imperious tone. He hadn’t heard a word she’d said this morning.

Bella used to tell her a woman could stand anything if she prayed hard enough, hoped long enough and loved well enough. But looking at Logan’s unrelenting expression now, Megan feared he would forever see her as nothing more than an object to protect. Not his wife. Not his partner in life, just a weak woman in need of a strong man to take care of her.

“Well, then, I suppose I’ll see you when you return.”

She walked out of the kitchen without another word.