Beau realized at that moment Eleanor McManus was the woman he’d been dreaming of. All the solitary times, making his way from Canada, through foothills and over mountains, sometimes not seeing anyone for days, he’d dreamt of a woman. A woman who would comfort him and be his partner. A woman to love. Eleanor was that woman. The filmy image in his dream that woke him sweating with a roaring need to satisfy himself was real and alive and in front of him. She took his breath away.

“What shall I do with the box, Mr. Gentry?”

It was then he realized she was holding it in her hands. “I’ve put my deed and other documents in the hotel safe, but perhaps you would prefer I carried it for you.”

“I would.” She sat the box on the bed and turned, handing him a coin. “But first I want to pay you for this room.”

“This is a twenty-dollar silver piece, Miss Eleanor. The room was only three-quarters of a dollar.”

She stepped close and wrapped her hands around his and looked up into his eyes. “You must take it. How could I ever repay your bravery and kindness and steady companionship? Your toil over my family’s graves? Your defense of me to a man not worthy to speak to you? You have been everything true, right, and gentlemanly. Please take it. You will be able to clear your uncle’s deed.”

Beau held her hands loosely and bowed his head. He was about to do the sort of thing that his mother scolded him for all those years ago. Speaking before thinking. Not considering consequences. But neither of those things were entirely true, if at all. He had considered the consequences as much as any man could. He’d thought about it for days if he was truthful with himself.

“There is something else you could do for me, Miss Eleanor. It is something far more precious, though, than a piece of silver,” he said as he looked at her. She was staring up at him with wide green luminous eyes above rosy cheeks sprinkled with freckles, her hair in a shining crown. “Will you . . . will you marry me?”

She hesitated and licked her lips.

“I will do everything I can to see to your comfort. I will build you a home, and see that you are safe, warm, dry, and never hungry. I know it is quick and our meeting was less than ideal. I will give you as much time as you need to consider this. You have been through grave changes in a short period and I don’t want you to be forced because you may feel obliged, even though there is no reason to.”

“I corresponded with William for two years, and I knew nothing of his character, or the absence of it. Your character has been tested and tried from the day of our meeting. I will not change my mind. Yes, Mr. Gentry. I’d be honored to be your wife.”

Beau inhaled sharply, feeling the elation of victory course through him, pounding in his ears and making his heart beat wildly in his chest. This was why men, the good ones, from centuries past and most likely in the distant future, too, laid down their lives for their womenfolk. His claim on her, and her willingness to accept him, felt like the triumph conquerors must have experienced when they laid waste to an army or stepped on a new land, as if they were kings of all they could see. He smiled crookedly at her.

“Are you ready for your meal, Miss Eleanor?”

Her face had gone bright red and she was blinking furiously. One tear trickled down her cheek. Beau’s success wilted under the thought that a marriage to him would make this woman unhappy. He palmed her cheek and rubbed away her tear with his thumb.

“You needn’t marry me, Miss Eleanor. I will see you situated somehow, somewhere safe and without worry, and be on my way. I will take you to Philadelphia to your aunt. Don’t cry. I’ll not impose on you any longer.”

“No, no.” She covered his hand with hers. “I am not crying because I am sad, Mr. Gentry.”

She looked up at him then and dropped her eyes to his mouth. She licked her lips and leaned up to softly touch her lips to his cheek. He held completely still, perhaps from shock that this sheltered woman had kissed him or maybe that he didn’t want the kiss to end. He could smell a lilac soap on her skin and see the gold flecks in her green eyes.

“Why are you crying then?” he whispered.

“Because my life has been turned upside down, and you have righted it. I have been dreaming that you might ask me this. I believe, even with all of the terrible things that have recently happened, I have been very blessed.”

“My granny used to say some of the very best things in life are outcomes of the very worst things.”

He escorted her to a restaurant a few doors away from the hotel, and Eleanor forced herself to stand tall, nod to others out on the street, and act with all the decorum and dignity her mother had taught her. In all likelihood, Winchester would be the town she would shop in, form friendships in, and attend church in, and she had no intention of allowing the townsfolk to shape an opinion about her that she did not deserve. She would soon be Mrs. Beauregard Gentry, and he, and the family they formed, would be respected in this town, if she had any say about it. The family they formed! Oh dear!

Even though she knew the general mechanics, her mother had promised her a more detailed and intimate description of the marriage bed before her and William’s wedding. She had never thought that her mother would not be with her when she married, though. There were moments, many of them actually, when the last days seemed like a dream that she would awake from and her family would be with her and not cold in their graves. But it wasn’t to be. She would never wake up and find a different outcome. Mother and Father and Emily and Ruth would still be dead if she lived to be one hundred years old. She looked up at Mr. Gentry.

“I am missing my parents. That is why I began to cry earlier. I wish you had known them and that they could have known you.”

“You have much to be tender over, Miss Eleanor, but I do not wish to be one of the things that causes your grief.”

“You are not. You are not at all.”

They were seated across from each other in the busy room and ordered their food from a young woman.

“I would like to hear about your family in Louisiana, Mr. Gentry. You left home with an uncle, I believe you said.”

“I am one of nine, although I am not sure where the hell my sisters and brothers are. My ma died when I was ten or so, and my pa was fond of his moonshine and didn’t last much longer. Us kids were scattered to the wind when he died. Some went out to the Texas territories. I went to live with my Uncle Chester and Auntie Dorthea, although I’m not sure I was blood-related to either of them. I loved them, though, and they loved me. Aunt Dorthea was a teacher, and I am in her debt that I can read and cipher and know some histories.”

“So you have no one?”

He shook his head. “Not after Uncle Chester died.”

Eleanor reached across the table and touched his hand. “I’m very sorry.”

“Tell me about your aunt in Philadelphia.”

“There is little to say. I met her once when I was young, perhaps eight or nine years old. She is a spinster lady without family, and we lived far away from her. I remember hearing my mother say she was very angry when Father and Mother moved to Allentown shortly after I was born, to a new church. I believe they corresponded, but she was not known to me and Father never read her letters to us. I thought about going to her when I was unsure of my future, but Mother said her last letter was written by a neighbor because she was very ill. I wondered if I would get myself to Philadelphia and find that she had passed on. That won’t be necessary now. I will have to write her and tell her of my upcoming marriage.”

“I’m determined to make my mark, Miss Eleanor. You should know that. I won’t be poor, or beholden to strangers, and I have done my adventuring. I want to claim my uncle’s land. I want to pass on a stable, prosperous piece of property to sons and daughters,” he said and looked at her steadily. “You may assure your aunt of that.”

“I cannot think of a more satisfying plan than the one you have just spoken of. Have you decided what you will do with your land? Will you farm?”

“Our land,” he said. “When we’re married, your name will be on the deed as well. I’m hoping that we’ll be able to ride out soon and see for ourselves what this land is good for.”

Her face had colored at the mention of sons and daughters, and the word marriage, invoked intimacies that were beyond her knowing. There were never conversations or discussions about procreation in her mother and father’s household. She had never attended a birthing, which her mother did with some regularity. It was not done. Young Christian women in her church, her community, her family were chaste in thought and deed. How ridiculous, considering her present situation. There was nothing to guide her, other than her own instincts and the goodwill of her future husband. Perhaps that would be enough to lead her on the mysterious path of womanhood.

But one momentous thing had occurred. She was to be a landowner with him. She was to be a partner to him. She looked up at him and felt the strangest stirrings below her waist. His looks, the way fine hairs dusted his hands and peeked out from the top button of his shirt, the clean smell of him, and how his jacket lay tautly over broad shoulders appealed to her. And not just appealed. That was far too tame a word. His lips and the way his dark eyes looked at her for a second longer than was polite had a pull beyond mere appearances. There was some magnetism between them she could not identify.

“It will be very exciting to see the land, our land, and begin to imagine what we can make of it,” she said.

“It will be.” He smiled at her.

Perhaps she was being foolish, or shortsighted, or wistful for the family roots she’d been accustomed to all of her life, she wasn’t sure. But she was compelled, though, to say what she’d been thinking since very shortly after he’d asked her to marry him.

“I believe we should be married quite soon, if you’re agreeable. Tomorrow or the next day.”

She watched his Adam’s apple bob and waited while he chewed and swallowed and took a drink of water. “I figured we’d want to take our time, seeing that you have relatives to mourn.”

“No, Mr. Gentry. If we are to raise a family in this town, I intend to do so with no rumors or shadows cast on us. We cannot travel back and forth to our property, or spend all of our time together unless we are married. Our time at the cabin was an extraordinary circumstance, I believe, and you were the perfect gentleman. But now we are both safe from harm, and I have made a commitment to you, as it seems you have to me. In any case, two more weeks will not be enough to get to know each other in any significant way. If we are to be committed to each other, forge dreams and plans together, then I say we begin from the beginning.”

“Miss Eleanor, won’t you please call me Beau or Beauregard?” he said and took her hand. “I would have married you yesterday and all the yesterdays before that, if I’d known you then. But you are adrift. Perhaps when this is behind you a few more weeks, you will meet someone you’d rather marry or find something you would rather do altogether. I have said I will release you from your promise if so, and I meant it.”

“I am as sure of this as I’ve ever been of anything in my life.”

Beau did not see any misapprehension or doubt in her looks. In fact, he saw resolve, certainty, and practicality. “Then tomorrow it is.”

She smiled at him then and applied herself to her meal. She took his breath away with her beauty and forthright nature. She would be everything he’d hoped to find in a wife, a partner.

As they walked back to the hotel, he stopped them when there were no others around them and turned her to face him. “I do think it would be best if we waited until we had our cabin habitable before we . . . before we seal the marriage. I have no intentions of being together as man and wife on a small bed in a rented hotel room.”

Her face bloomed red from her hairline to her chin. “Whatever you think is best, Mr. Gentry. Beau.”

He would bet his last penny and all of Uncle Chester’s property that Eleanor McManus was not only a virgin but also ignorant of the particulars. He sent a silent prayer aloft that he could make her first experience good enough that she’d want a second, a third, and an always.

“What do you mean you don’t think you can marry us?” Beau asked the minister. He’d made his way back to the church that Eleanor had gone to when they first arrived in Winchester after he’d escorted her to her room and waited until he heard the lock on her door drop into place.

“Are you both quite sure this is what you want to do? After all Miss McManus has gone through, her parents’ death and her own kidnapping? She may not be able to make a sound judgment in regards to something as permanent as marriage. She may not even be in her right mind.”

“Miss McManus is sane and is sure about her wishes. I have said the same things to her and she has not been moved.”

Reverend Buckland offered him a seat in the first pew in the empty church and sat down beside him. “Young ladies can be so easily distracted from good sense by the events Miss McManus has experienced. And she may be still reeling from a broken heart,” he said and stared at the altar.

“A broken heart? Over a man who would not help her give her family a Christian burial?” Beau shook his head. “Miss McManus has no veil over her eyes. She saw clearly what type of man her intended was.”

“William was to be the assistant to Reverend McManus when they arrived in Charleston. It was only natural that the eldest daughter become his bride. She would have been planning this marriage from the time the reverend made his family aware of his plans for their new home and church. I’m still hoping that things can be resolved between them.”

“She was fortunate to find out what a son-of-a-bitch her intended was before she became his wife.”

Buckland turned sharply. “I cannot countenance that sort of language. We are in a house of worship! You are not the sort of man fit to marry a young woman from a good family such as Miss McManus. I feel an obligation to guide her in her father’s absence, and I will do so!”

“But you were content to turn her away into the streets after her entire family was murdered,” he said and rose. “There is no need for you to feel any obligation to Miss McManus. I will see to her welfare as you have not.”

Beau walked out of the church as Buckland shouted at his back. He’d heard enough and made the long solitary walk to the hotel wondering what he would tell her.

“Miss Eleanor,” he whispered as he rapped softly on her door. “I need to speak to you.”

“What is it?” she asked as she opened the door a crack. “Is everything alright?”

“I just spoke to the minister at your church.” He stopped as a pair of cowboys went past him in the hallway, and two women stepped onto the landing.

Eleanor pulled him inside and closed the door. She was wearing a white nightgown, embroidered and fussed up with ribbons at the collar, underneath a long blue robe that she’d tied at the waist with a sash. Her hair hung over her shoulder and down as low as her belly in a plait. Beau’s mouth went dry.

“I shouldn’t be in here,” he said.

“We are to be married shortly, and I’d prefer not to discuss our private business in the hallway. What is it?”

“I visited with Reverend Buckland a few minutes ago.”

“And what did the good reverend have to say?”

Beau twirled his hat in his hands. “I thought you’d like to be married in a church, so I went to talk to him this evening. He’s . . . he’s not inclined to marry us.”

“Did he say why?”

“Well, in manner of speaking he did. He’s concerned that you are still feeling the effects of recent events.”

“I will tell him, if necessary, just as I’ve told you. I am not denying I’m feeling deep grief and loss over my family, and I was frightened beyond anything I could dream of when I was kidnapped. Young woman and men often marry quickly though, as life does not allow for lengthy engagements, and often marriages are arranged by parents, with little choice for either the bride or groom. But that is not the case for me. You are kind and steady in your defense of me and are planning to do great things with your life and the opportunities presented to you. Why wouldn’t I wish to marry you?”

“Reverend Buckland thought you might be nursing a broken heart.”

“I am. But it has nothing to do with William Dodgekins.”

“So you will be satisfied going to the justice of the peace or the sheriff to be married?”

She looked up at him then, her eyes focused on his. “I wish to marry you. If I knew of another church in town, I would prefer that, but I don’t, so we will be married by whoever can legally wed us.”

“Then tomorrow it is.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek, as she had done the day before, but she turned her head at the last moment, touching her lips to his. They both held still, barely meeting. He could feel the heat of her breath as it shortened and see her lashes lower. He pressed his lips to hers then and put a hand under her chin. “You are perfect,” he whispered.

* * *

Eleanor held still, even though her heart was pounding in her chest. This was what she’d dreamt of as girl coming to womanhood. What she’d imagined in the dark of her bed, with the moonlight streaming in her room through the window back home after coming upon a couple in an embrace behind the schoolhouse one day. She’d stood there, near the lilac bush, intending to cut some blooms for the altar and smelling its heavenly fragrance, when she’d heard a low moan. At first she thought someone was hurt, but there wasn’t pain in the sound. There was pleasure. She pulled a branch down and saw them. A young woman she knew and a handsome drifter who had been spending silver in the local saloon. His hat was tipped back and he held her arms and turned his head to cover the girl’s mouth with his.

It was disturbing . . . and enticing. She’d run home that evening and raced through her chores and her lessons and gone to bed early, leaving her mother to think her head was aching. In bed, she curled on her side and closed her eyes to envision the man kissing the girl, to more closely examine where his hands were, where hers were, and what he was doing with his mouth. She wondered if her husband would kiss her like that, and when she met William, she dreamt about his embraces.

But this man, her husband to be, was kissing her and it felt nothing like what she’d imagined. There were no sweet songs playing off in the starry distance, no gauzy vision of a life ever after with happy smiles, and innocence. There was instead an eruption of emotion, of urges, of wants and needs, with no rational thoughts or even a girl’s daydream to soften it. She was clinging to him, with her hands braced on his upper arms, where all that power resided. Where the strength to knock a man down with one punch and the steadiness to wield two deadly weapons was stored, yet his hand, his fingers on her chin and cheek, was exquisitely tender. She arched up on her toes to be closer.

Eleanor breathed in the scent of him. Of shaving soap, mint, and some faint note of male sweat, of masculinity, if there was such a thing. She let her fingertips travel up his arms to his shoulders, until she met with the bare skin of his neck and the tickle of his hair on her wrist. She held his head in her trembling hands, pushing her fingers through his hair and touching his ears with her thumbs. He moaned against her mouth; the feel of his breath against hers opened her lips to his. His hands circled her waist, holding her closer to him and letting the tips of her breasts sway against the hard planes of his chest, sending a shiver of nerves down her back and legs. Ahhh!

His tongue touched her bottom lip and trailed up to the corner, just grazing the inside of her mouth. Her eyes closed and she let herself feel all the sensations his touch caused without the bother or distraction of vision. He pulled away at that moment, breathing hard, and braced his forehead on hers.

“You will be my wife tomorrow,” he whispered. “I can think of nothing but that and this.”

She nodded. “And you will be my husband.”

“I’m sorry you’re disappointed about the church. The damned reverend made me mad. Maybe I could have convinced him if I hadn’t lost my temper.”

Eleanor looked up at him, determined to have her say, even if she was dim-witted and short-breathed from kissing him. “My father never used curse words.”

Beau smiled. “Have I just been scolded by my bride to be?”

“Scolded?” She looked up at him. “Perhaps you do not want to take a bride who speaks her mind.”

He held her face in his hands. “You would not be alive if you did not have a backbone, if you weren’t courageous. I am in awe of you. Say what is on your mind, as I will. We will argue and disagree sometimes, but isn’t that the nature of marriage?”

“My mother and father did not argue often, and when they did it was always behind closed doors. But they kissed each other’s cheeks and held hands and hugged and told each they loved each other in front of us. I never doubted, even on the rare occasion when I did hear angry voices, that they were truly in love and respected each other.”

“A fine example for us to live up to.”