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She gave the slightest of head nods.
I tried to remain calm, to let Hargraves do his job, but I'd never felt more helpless in my life.
“Weak enough to be caught,” Hargraves countered. “You're pathetic, Simpson.”
It all happened so fast after that. Simpson took a step toward Hargraves and his hold on Julia loosened.
“Drop to the floor,” I shouted and Julia paused for only the briefest of moments before doing as I said.
Hargraves fired, the loud report hurting my ears.
Simpson's eyes widened as a bloodstain bloomed on his chest.
I strode to Julia and pulled her away from Simpson just before he fell to the floor. His breathing was labored and I couldn't miss the death rattle. Nothing was going to save him. I tucked Julia close into me and turned so she couldn't see the dying man, the man who'd forced her to marry him.
She was shaking and I rubbed my hand up and down her back in the hopes of soothing her, but the gesture was more to soothe me. She was whole and she was in my arms. Her scent enveloped me and I knew I'd never let her go again.
The gasping ceased.
“He's gone,” Hargraves said from behind my back. “Everyone all right?”
I pushed Julia away from me and bent down to look at her neck. The cut there didn't appear to be more than a nick and it had stopped bleeding. “Are you hurt?”
Julia shook her head. “No. I'm...I'm fine.”
I stroked her cheek and exhaled. “You are. You're just fine,” I repeated, my voice as calm as I could make it. “Hargraves, you'll take care of Simpson?”
“Absolutely. It makes it easier for me that he's dead. I can get a good night sleep at the hotel instead of in the jail.”
“Good, because I've got a bride to marry.”
Julia shook her head. “I...I can't. I'm married to Mr. Simpson.”
“No, you're not. You're his widow and you can marry again. This time, you're going to marry me.”
CHAPTER THREE
JULIA
What happened to the innocent mind of the schoolteacher? In only a few short months, my thoughts had shifted from math primers to every decadent promise Garrett had whispered to me. They were promises, I knew, for he was a man who kept his promises. That meant that my wedding night was going to be incredible. I never knew my nipples could pebble and my breasts ache at just the thought of his hands touching them. I had no idea my woman's flesh could become swollen from arousal. I had no idea that my nightgown would chafe my skin, sensitive and eager for a man's hands. Garrett's hands. His mouth, too. And his...his cock.
As I fell asleep, I thought of the last thing he said to me before we parted. “My cock, precious, is hard for you. It's been hard since the first time I saw you. Only you can satisfy it. Soon.”
***
Somehow Garrett had me bundled up and out the back door without seeing Mr. Simpson's body on the ground. While the air outside was frigid with the sun having set and the snow falling heavily, there was no scent of gunfire. Garrett's strong arm was wrapped around my waist and he kept it there as we walked into town.
So much had happened in the past few hours that my brain was muddled. The fact that Mr. Simpson was dead—dead!—made it all unbelievable. But it had happened, and while Garrett hadn't rescued me before I could marry Mr. Simpson, he'd come close enough. I'd only been married over an hour and I was a widow. “What will happen now with Mr. Simpson?” I asked. The street was empty, for it was too cold to linger.
“They'll store his body for the winter, then bury him come spring thaw.” He stopped walking and turned me to face him. “You said he didn't hurt you, but you were in his bedroom. I have to know the truth, precious.”
I shuddered at the thought of Mr. Simpson's hands on me. “He didn't hurt me. That's the truth.”
“His pants were undone and you were doing up your dress,” he countered.
“I'll understand if you've changed your mind.” Pain lanced my heart if he rejected me now. “What you saw can't be undone. My virtue really is in tatters.”
He grabbed me by the shoulders. “Whatever he did to you doesn't matter. Did you want him to touch you?” His voice was sharp.
