Chapter Five

For Nan, the experience inside Walter Hamm’s office passed in a nightmarish blur. Gabriel Valance’s voice rumbled distantly in her ears, and her own responses sounded tinny and unreal. Vague impressions assaulted her brain of witnesses to the nuptials being called in off the street, and then casting her horrified looks when they realized the identity of her groom. She repressed a shudder as her new husband slipped a gold band onto her left finger. He whispered that he’d gotten the ring earlier at the jewelry shop. It disturbed her that he’d been so confident she would marry him prior to meeting her, and it bothered her even more that the circlet of gold fit perfectly. She was unable to suppress the shudder that shook her body when he lightly kissed her on the lips to conclude the ceremony. Then she was unable to steady her hand as she put her name to paper. She stared blankly at the register, wondering for a fleeting instant if the huge ink blot she’d made would render her signature worthless. If so, it would be the only bit of luck she’d had today.

Walter, who’d worn a concerned expression on his bony face during the entire ordeal, tried to catch her gaze with a question in his own. Nan managed to avoid looking him in the eye, leaving him with no alternative but to sigh and say that he would go directly across the street to the Office of Public Records, Random’s version of a courthouse, to record the marriage and instruct the clerk to send copies of the documents to Denver.

Gabe wasn’t in the least rattled during the ceremony. He was well accustomed to the wary expressions of distaste on people’s faces when they first saw him, had fully expected Nan to be a quivering mass of trepidation, and was able to repeat his vows without a single qualm. He could swear to love, honor, and protect his wife until death did they part. He had to play the role of husband for only a month, after all. And then he’d be among the dearly—or not so dearly—departed. He had absolutely nothing to lose and eternal salvation to gain.

His calm lasted until he guided his bride onto the boardwalk and turned her toward her shop, which was now locked, with a closed sign hanging at an angle on the door window. What the hell am I supposed to do now? He felt so uneasy that he even hoped the chatterbox angel who liked scaring the crap out of him would materialize and give him some advice. But the ever-eloquent Gabriel had chosen this moment to remain silent. Gabe had absolutely no experience with women who didn’t earn their livings on their backs. How could he put Nan at ease? What should he say to her now? How was he supposed to act?

He knew only that she was as jumpy as a bug on a fiery-hot rock, and every time he shifted his grip on her elbow, he felt her body snap taut with what he guessed was fear. Did she think he might shove her between two buildings and force himself on her in broad daylight? And if she was this nervous out in the open, with people and wagons passing by, she’d be in a fine state once they were alone in her shop.

Gabe mentally groped for comforting sentences. I have no intention of forcing you to have physical relations with me. No, that wouldn’t work. If he said that, she’d immediately think that was precisely what was on his mind and that he meant to bed her posthaste. I’m not going to hurt you. Scratch that off the list. Then she’d have reason to believe that he did indeed mean to have sex with her immediately and was only promising to go about his business gently. Don’t worry. Everything will be just fine. That was the worst yet.

Shit. Gabriel, where are you? I need advice! Gabe nearly parted company with his boots when the angel’s deep voice finally vibrated in his ear. I have no experience with ladies, Gabe. I’m an angel, remember, not a man. Gabe circled that reply in his mind and silently shot back, But you must have been a man at some point. Right? You had to die to become an angel. Did you cock up your toes right after you were born or something? The angel’s response made Gabe miss a step, which earned him a startled glance from Nan. Clearly you’re a stranger to scripture, my friend. I was never born. God created me as an angel, and I’ve never been anything else. That made absolutely no sense to Gabe. How could somebody become an angel if he’d never lived on earth to be tested and prove that he was holy?

“You’ve never had sex?” Gabe blurted aloud.

Nan jerked as if he’d jabbed her with one of those long hat pins he’d seen in her shop. “I most certainly have not, sir,” she snapped back, “and hereafter, I would greatly appreciate any attempt on your part to speak in politer terms!”

Gabe couldn’t admit that he had been addressing someone else. He could just imagine her reaction if he told her he was conversing with an invisible angel who had not only arranged their marriage but had also told Gabe her ring size. And, damn, did that mean proper ladies like Nan didn’t refer to the activities behind closed doors as having sex? If not, what the hell did they call it? Intercourse? Physical intimacy? Before he could stop to think it through, he blurted, “Well, if not sex, what the hell do you call it then?”

The words no sooner passed his lips than Gabriel, his inconstant adviser, yelped, “Don’t ask her that!”

Nan stopped dead in her tracks at Gabe’s inquiry, causing him to jerk so hard on her arm that she staggered. He barely managed to catch her from falling. Then, with her body pressed so firmly against his, he could have sworn he felt the tips of her nipples burning their way through all the layers of her clothing and his as well. She peered up at him, looking nonplussed.

“What do we—um—call it?” she echoed. Flicking the tip of her tongue over her lower lip, which made his manhood snap to attention, she added, “I . . . well, I honestly don’t know. It is not a topic ladies discuss.”

I told you, the angel Gabriel said. Gabe was so dumbfounded by Nan’s response that he barely heard his golden-haired adviser. “Ladies never discuss it?” he asked incredulously.

Nan’s fair brows snapped together. “Never,” she affirmed. Then, taut as a fiddle string and still pressed full-length against him, she added, “My mother, who might have discussed the subject with me, died before I was of an appropriate age, and the ladies who frequent my shop . . . Well, our conversations never stray to topics of such a personal nature.”

Gabe tried to let that sink into his overtaxed brain. “Well, when people do discuss topics of such a personal nature, they refer to the act as—”

She clamped her fingertips over his mouth, sending a jolt slamming through him. “Please, must we talk about this? Having to engage in the act will be burden enough.”

Gabe searched the depths of her beautiful gray eyes, and the fear he saw there gave him pause. “Well, we’re going to have to call it something, because sooner or later, husbands and wives do discuss it.”

Her lashes, thick, luxurious, and several shades darker than her golden hair, dipped low. Then a muscle jerked in her delicately hollowed cheek. “Very well,” she said stonily. “If and when we must discuss it, we shall refer to it as engaging in the act.” He suspected she’d have used the same tone to refer to a particularly loathsome type of vermin. Besides, the formality of that phrase was above and beyond ridiculous. Still, he was on untraveled paths with this woman, and it wasn’t his aim to upset her any more than he already had.

“All right,” he consented. “I can do that.”

He hoped some of the tension might ease from her small frame, but she remained rigid. He belatedly realized that he’d grasped both her shoulders and was holding her fast against him. He released his grip instantly, which resulted in her losing her balance, which prompted him to grab her by one arm again.

“Are you all right? Don’t fall. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Let go of me. I won’t fall,” she assured him. With a glance both up and down the boardwalk, she visibly cringed and added in a fierce whisper, “We are making a spectacle of ourselves. People are staring.”

Gabe started to turn to see who was staring, but she stopped him with, “Don’t look!” Her eyes filled with supplication. “That will only make everything worse!”

How returning someone’s stare could make anything worse totally escaped Gabe, but he honored her edict.

“We must get off the street. Please. The moment news of our marriage gets out, tongues will be wagging nonstop. I don’t want to add fuel to the fire by standing here on the boardwalk like two well-rooted stumps.”

Gabe felt a little like a stump. Making his feet move required concentration. He guided his rigid bride to the door of her shop, watched her struggle with wildly shaking hands to insert the skeleton key into the hole, and, in frustrated silence, bit down so hard on his back molars that he started to get a toothache.

“Here, honey, let me.” He snatched the key from her grasp, a feat that took unerringly good aim, because the thing was bouncing about erratically in her hand. He hit the hole on the first try, gave a sharp twist, and pushed the door open. Stepping back, he gestured her forward. “Ladies first.”

He couldn’t say that she actually leaped across the threshold, but she did enter with frenzied haste. As Gabe stepped inside behind her, she whirled to slam the door closed with such force that the walls vibrated, creating a muted noise to underscore the cacophony of the jangling bell. Then, trembling like an aspen leaf in a brisk wind, she leaned against the portal, her forehead resting on the doorframe.

Feeling helpless, Gabe hooked his thumbs over his gun belt and watched her try to regain her composure. When he’d accepted this mission, he’d never for an instant imagined that pushing this woman into marriage would upset her so much. He’d had mostly his own concerns in mind, and been so glad to be offered a second chance that he’d thought of little else.

“I should have chosen Tyke,” he muttered.

She turned to stare at him, her face so drained of color that it worried him. “Pardon me?”

“Nothing. Just talking to myself.”

She straightened, unfastened the frog of her cloak, and then reached up as if to flip over the sign.

“Uh, I wouldn’t if I were you,” he said, making her freeze midmotion. “Do you really want to deal with customers right now? Chances are, the news of our marriage is traveling through town like a wildfire licking at August prairie grass. Anyone who comes in probably won’t be looking to buy anything. They’ll be wanting information, and even if you refuse to give them any, they’ll still race out to tell anyone who’ll listen every word you said, everything I didn’t say, and that you look like you’re about to faint.”

“Do I?” She touched trembling fingers to her cheek. “Look as if I’m about to faint, I mean.”

“If you turn any paler, I’m going to stand close enough to catch you before you hit the floor.”

Apparently she preferred that he keep his distance. She rubbed her cheeks vigorously with the heels of her hands. With a quivering intake of breath, she swept off her cloak, hung it on a hook by the door, and stood like a soldier at attention when she turned to face him again. “I have never fainted,” she informed him, “and I have no intention of starting now.” She peered down at her bodice watch to check the hour. Gabe hadn’t noticed the dainty little timepiece until she touched it. When his gaze settled on her chest, where he’d been trying really hard not to look, he noticed nothing but the thrust of her breasts against the blue cloth of her dress. “Laney will be back from school in an hour and twenty minutes,” she announced.

Gabe realized she was letting him know that he had a limited time if he wished to “engage in the act.” He nearly smiled, stifled the urge, and managed to keep his expression suitably solemn. “I was hoping she’d be here sooner. I’m looking forward to meeting her.”

His response clearly wasn’t what she expected. “Sooner?” she echoed in a thin voice. “I thought that you’d—”

Gabe finally allowed the grin twitching at the corners of his mouth to curve his lips. He looked deeply into his bride’s worried eyes, took a moment to think before he spoke, and then said, “I know what you thought, Nan. But you misjudged me. As I said earlier, now it’s time for the courting part to begin. ‘Engaging in the act’ isn’t on my agenda for tonight, or for tomorrow night, or for any night unless you are a willing participant.”

“I will never be a willing participant.”

Gabe was a man who enjoyed laughing. Even as a kid who’d had little to be happy about, he’d always felt better with a smile on his lips. So he allowed himself to chuckle now. “Never is a very long time, but I’ll still stand behind my word. If the moment never comes when you can willingly engage in the act, I won’t press you. It’s not my way.”

Her worried expression turned to one of pure and undiluted bewilderment. “Why on earth did you insist on marrying me then?”

He ventured a grin. “Because you’re beautiful, and I enjoy looking at you. And also because any single man with eyes who didn’t want to marry you would be a damned fool.” He glanced toward the rear door that led upstairs to her living quarters. “I’m thirty-three years old, and except for a year of my life when an elderly ex-schoolmarm took me in to clean me up and teach me to read, I’ve never enjoyed a home-cooked meal, never slept in a real bedroom, or spent an evening doing whatever it is families do after supper.” He winked at her. “If your prediction of never turns out to be true, then I’ll still count myself lucky to have the opportunity to be in your home and spend time with you and your sister.”

“Daughter,” she corrected. “You mustn’t refer to Laney as my sister. No one but you knows the truth.”

“Daughter, then,” he said with a shrug.

Well-done, the angel Gabriel murmured in Gabe’s ear. Gabe barely managed to stifle a response to his heavenly mentor. Damn. If Nan heard him talking to himself again, she’d feel certain he was crazy, and he wouldn’t blame her. The last thing he needed was for her opinion of him to sink even lower.

Time to back off, he silently conveyed to Gabriel. From this point forward, you have to leave me alone and let me handle this my way.

The angel laughed softly, causing a waft of air to tickle Gabe’s ear. The instant I leave you to your own devices, you’ll be calling upon me for advice.

Gabe couldn’t deny the possibility. He’d only ever dealt with eager, willing females, and he knew he was totally out of his depth with Nan. Even so, the angel needed to scat. I can’t say I deserve my privacy, Gabe replied in his mind, but Nan has never deliberately harmed anyone, and she does deserve hers. What happens between us from this moment forward needs to be between her and me and nobody else, not even an angel. You can’t hover invisibly in the air, watching us and listening to every word we say. It wouldn’t be right or fair to her.

Gabe heard the angel sigh. All right, my friend, I’ll leave you to proceed without my inestimable wisdom to help you along. Before I leave, however, I’d like to give you a few last words of advice. When you have no idea what to do or say next, take a moment to listen to your heart.

Gabe wasn’t sure his heart did much talking.

“Would you like to see my shop and the upstairs?”

Nan’s question jerked him back to the moment. Her nervousness and the anxiety in her expression told him she’d issued the invitation with great reluctance. “I’d love to see everything.”

She gave him a quick tour of the downstairs. He found her curtained-off workroom far more interesting than the storage closet and display areas, because it reflected more of her character. The right and left walls sported shelves and cubbyholes that held yardage, trims, and other sewing sundries, all tidily arranged. A new-looking Singer sewing machine held court at the back of the room, its gleaming walnut stand draped with what appeared to be a woman’s dress in progress. A roomy square table took center stage. Scissors, a neatly wound measuring tape, a sketch tablet, and a wine-red pincushion adorned its smooth surface.

She rested her slender fingers on the black scissor handles, making Gabe wonder if she planned to stab him. With a quick search of her expression, he chased away the thought. Nan didn’t have it in her to deliberately harm anyone, not even a man who had forced her into matrimony.

“This is where I work,” she said shakily. “I also consult with my customers in here.”

“That is a beautiful sewing machine. It must have cost a small fortune.”

Pink slashed her pale cheeks. “A necessary purchase. I’ve doubled my sales since buying it.”

She brushed by him to exit the room and turned toward the door that led to the upstairs living area. Gabe stopped her short. “Shouldn’t we lock up? Even with the closed sign showing, curiosity seekers are liable to walk right in.”

Nan glanced down at the key he still held in one hand. “Laney will be home soon, and her only way in is through the shop.” She held out a slender hand for the key. After taking it from Gabe, exercising care as she did to avoid a touch of their fingertips, she slipped the instrument into her skirt pocket. “As for the gossipmongers, as sharp as their tongues can be, most of them are honest to a fault. I doubt any of my customers would steal.”

Gabe didn’t share her faith in the goodness of most people, but then, when he thought about it, he decided that his opinion of others might be more than a little biased. He’d spent much of his life seeing the dark side of human nature, and as a kid, he’d suffered cruelties that not even Nan, emotionally injured by her father though she had been, could probably imagine. Maybe his perspective had come to him through a narrow lens, focused on the gutter scum, while Nan had seen the world through a multifaceted prism, allowing her to glimpse more brightness and hope.

Remaining two steps behind her, Gabe followed her up a steep, narrow staircase, the kind he called a neck breaker. One misstep could cause a person to take a very nasty fall, and if that occurred on one of the top risers, a somersault to death could easily result.

“You need some nice, sturdy handrails,” he observed.

“I know,” she admitted as she paused to push open the door to the apartment. “Hiring a carpenter is expensive, though. I recently enlarged the shop and our quarters after buying the place next door. The renovations, simple though they were, cost me dearly. I also paid a lot extra to put in a kitchen water pump and some drainpipes. Handrails in this stairwell must wait until next year.”

Gabe made a mental note to visit the lumberyard and the hardware section at the general store. He didn’t want Nan or Laney to take a tumble.

After passing through the doorway to enter the room beyond, Nan stood in its center with her hands clasped at her waist, the fingers of her right hand twisting the wedding band around and around as if the circle of gold seared her flesh. She waited for him to join her. He noticed that her pointy little knuckles were white, a telltale sign that she still expected him to jump her at any second. Recalling the scenes of her life that he’d been shown by the angels, most particularly the obscenely fat Horace Barclay’s sexual assault upon her person, he felt a little sick to his stomach. Nobody who’d seen all that could blame this woman for fearing men.

Most nauseating of all to Gabe was the inescapable fact that Martin Sullivan had been in his upstairs study during the attack upon his daughter, well aware of what was occurring down in the sitting room, because he and Barclay had discussed the situation and agreed it needed to happen. Nan’s premature deflowering would have ensured that she offered no last-minute objections on the day of the fast-approaching nuptials. Grinning like a cat lapping cream, Sullivan had reclined on a velvet chair in front of the fire, enjoying an expensive cigar while wreathing his head with aromatic smoke. So far as he was concerned, nothing could be allowed to prevent the wedding. Nan’s feelings about it were inconsequential. The union of the Sullivan and Barclay families would create a formidable financial alliance that would greatly benefit both men. Nan would settle down quickly enough once Barclay got her pregnant. She’d forget about her silly, girlish revulsion at marrying a much older man and focus on raising a family, just as countless other women of her station had done for centuries. Martin wasn’t about to let his daughter’s foolish notions about becoming a spinster get in the way. What a bunch of poppycock. Females had been created for one reason, and one reason only: to provide men with progeny.

Fortunately, at least to Gabe’s way of thinking, Sullivan hadn’t counted on Nan’s knitting needle coming into play, and he’d seriously underestimated his elder daughter’s intelligence, courage, and ingenuity. While Martin Sullivan had sipped fine brandy and lit a second cigar, Nan, in shock and quivering with terror, had been emptying his study safe, stuffing possessions into pillowcases, and spiriting her little sister from the huge house through the servants’ quarters.

Gabe wasn’t sure how Nan had found her way to Random. The angels hadn’t shown him that part of her life. He had glimpsed scenes of her early years here in a much smaller shop, and had seen the meager existence she’d led in order to get her ledgers in the black. He also knew that she’d done without many necessities in order to give Laney everything she’d felt a little girl should have.

In short, though Gabe knew he had only a short time to enjoy it, he was proud to be Nan’s husband. She was, in his estimation, one hell of a lady. A little too prim for his taste, perhaps, and she definitely needed to learn how to laugh. But over the next month, he’d work on that.

•   •   •

During the renovations, Nan had enlarged the kitchen, turning the previously tiny nook into a spacious room reminiscent of the few farmhouse kitchens around Random that she’d seen. There was a wide window above the new sink, which was actually plumbed, and the counter space was ample, providing plenty of room for rolling out dough and cooling baked goods. She’d even gotten a long table, large enough to seat six, because it felt homier, as if a real family lived here.

Gabriel Valance made the area seem smallish and cramped. Nan wasn’t sure how that could be. Though he was a tall and well-muscled man, he wasn’t that big. Yet he seemed to dominate the room, towering over her and robbing her lungs of breath.

“This is nice,” he said, drawing his gaze from the frilly lace curtains above the sink to scan the adornments she’d hung on the yellow walls and set on the waxed wood counters. He smiled slightly. “Your decorating talent extends to more than just hats, I see.”

Nan felt an odd warmth spread up her spine. She loved what she’d done with the kitchen, and of course Laney had given it high marks, but no one else, except the workmen, had seen the finished product. Having a stranger praise the room’s appearance felt . . . nice.

She nearly smiled, but squelched the urge. Gabriel Valance wasn’t just any stranger. He was her husband, and he might give her compliments merely to butter her up. Everything she’d heard about this man and from him made it clear that he took what he wanted. And she wasn’t at all sure she believed his avowals that he had no intention of consummating the marriage unless she was willing. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Valance.”

He chuckled. The deep timbre of his laughter was a pleasant sound, but Nan knew from hard experience that the kindliest, most pleasant of men could turn into heartless monsters in the blink of an eye. She’d seen her father charm his houseguests, then whisper a scathing remark to her mother that had shattered what little self-esteem Helena Sullivan still possessed. By the time Nan was thirteen, her mother had been slowly killing herself for years by trying, over and over again, to give her husband a son. Between miscarriages, Helena would barely give her body time to heal before she tried to get pregnant again, and her successes at that had always ended with hemorrhaging, loss of the baby, and Martin raging at her for failing yet again.

Nan’s memories of her mother’s last miscarriage, which had occurred right before Helena became pregnant with Laney, would haunt her for the rest of her life. Nan had just finished with her lessons for the day and had run upstairs to dress for their formal dinner, a daily ritual her father insisted on each evening, as befitted a man of his social status.

Nan had rounded a corner in the long hallway to find her mother lying on the marble floor in a spreading pool of blood just outside the master suite. Martin Sullivan had stood over his wife, white-faced with anger, his hands knotted into fists.

“You stupid, skinny little cow!” he’d yelled. “The midwife says it was a boy. A son, Helena, finally a son. I swear to God, you can do nothing right.”

“I stayed in bed just as the doctor advised,” Helena cried, her voice weak from blood loss and exhaustion. “It wasn’t my fault, Martin. It just happened.”

“That’s your song, and you sing it so well!” Martin toed his wife’s hip, not putting enough force behind the kick to actually do her physical harm, but jostling her body nevertheless. “Get out of my sight, you useless bitch.”

Nan could still remember how she’d stared down in horror at the spreading pool of her mother’s blood. Yet Helena had struggled to gain her feet, sobbing and begging for her husband’s forgiveness even as she slipped and fell again. Nine months later, Helena had gone into early labor and died giving birth to Laney, another female for Martin Sullivan to despise.

Jerking her thoughts back to the present, Nan gave Gabriel Valance a long, deliberate study. His eyes twinkled in the afternoon light that shone through the window. Try though she might, she could find no glint of cruelty in their dark depths. Even so, she knew only a ruthless man could kill as many times as he had and still feel lighthearted enough to laugh.

With a deliberately cool edge to her voice, Nan said, “I did the kitchen to please myself. Your opinion really doesn’t matter to me.”

He shrugged, still smiling. “Fair enough.” Glancing toward the archway, he asked, “And where does that lead?”

“The sitting room.” Nan moved toward the opening, determined to give him a tour and be done with it. “Expanding into the shop next door provided us with a lot more space upstairs as well. This used to be a tiny sitting area and bedroom, which Laney and I shared, and that was the entirety of our quarters. During the remodel, I focused mainly on our living area, so down that short hallway we now have two bedrooms, a water closet, and another room where I work at night. Laney often has nightmares, so I don’t go back downstairs to my shop after she’s asleep.”

She saw him give the horsehair settee a measuring glance and followed his gaze. He was far too tall to stretch out on it, she realized, and knew he was thinking the same thing.

“What does she have nightmares about?”

Worrying about the coming night’s sleeping arrangements, Nan took a moment to assimilate the question. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious. With you to mother her and a home as fine as this, I’d think she would be a happy, carefree girl.” He stepped over to the fireplace, glanced at the burgundy parlor chairs at each hearth corner, and then flicked a look at the empty leather sling that she used to bring up wood from the backyard pile each evening. Fingering the gray mortar between two red bricks, he asked, “Does this put out enough heat to keep you cozy on a cold winter night?”

“I keep the fire going in the cookstove most evenings as well. We stay warm enough.”

“It must be an ongoing chore to carry enough loads of wood up that staircase to keep two fires going.”

“Laney helps. Between the two of us, we manage fine.”

He turned from examining the brick to face her again. Her nervous gaze became fixed on the breadth of his shoulders. A suffocating sensation filled her throat. “In other words,” he said with a touch of amusement, “you have absolutely no need of a man in the house.”

Nan supposed she had been a trifle transparent in their exchanges thus far, but if her honesty made him feel unwelcome, that was his burden to bear. She had not entered into this marriage willingly, and she would not pretend she had.

“Absolutely no need of a man at all, Mr. Valance. If it angers you that I refuse to say otherwise, I suppose you can shoot me.” She flicked a glance at his guns. “That is your expertise, correct? Shooting people?”

“I’ve never shot anyone who didn’t try to shoot me first,” he replied. Then he arched a black eyebrow, calling to her mind the shape of a raven’s wing. “And from this moment on, my name is Gabe. If you prefer, you can call me Gabriel. But I don’t think it’s fitting for you to address me formally any longer.”

Nan couldn’t argue the point. Laney would be home soon, and somehow Nan had to protect the child from the harsh realities of this impossible situation. Laney was a spirited girl and could easily become feisty if she thought Nan might be in peril.

“How am I going to explain this mess to my sister?” Nan asked him.

His firm lips tipped into a crooked grin. “Well, now, I’m thinking you should tell her the truth: that I came into your shop, asked you to marry me, and you simply couldn’t bring yourself to say no.”

“Laney will never believe that. She’s heard me say too many times that I have no use for men and that I abhor the institution of marriage.”

“You’d better make it convincing then. Otherwise I’ll have two wet hens pecking at me, and my patience may wear thin.”

“And if your patience wears thin?” Nan forced herself to look him directly in the eye. “I truly didn’t mean to harm Horace Barclay. His death was an accident. But I will tell you right now, if you ever harm Laney, by word or by action, I’ll kill you without blinking an eye.”

He nodded. “If I hurt your sister, by word or by action, I’ll help you slit my own throat.”

That wasn’t the response Nan had expected. Mentally teetering, she wasn’t prepared when he added, “Now that we’ve got that covered, we should spend what remains of our time alone discussing our sleeping arrangements.”

Nan gulped. “You may sleep on the settee or the floor.”

A muscle began to tic in his jaw. “Not on your life. We’re man and wife. We’ll share a bed.”

“But you said you had no intention—”

“And I meant it,” he inserted, cutting off her protests. “But that’s where I draw the line. If you insist, I’ll sleep in my trousers, but that’s all the compromise I’m willing to make on that front.”

Nan realized that her arms had gone stiff at her sides and that her hands were knotted into painful fists, her nails digging into her palms. “Do you truly think I’m so naive that I believe you won’t force yourself on me? Until this marriage is consummated, I can have it annulled at any time. You don’t strike me as being a stupid man. You’ve surely considered that and plan to make this union legally binding as soon as you possibly can.”

He turned toward the sitting room window, which looked out over the main street of town. “I’m content to leave things as they stand.” He drew his watch from his pocket and perused its face. “Hamm’s office should still be open. You’re free to head out of here and file for an annulment before he closes up shop, if you like. The same goes for tomorrow, and the day after that.”

Nan felt suddenly cold and hugged her waist. “The instant I filed for an annulment, you’d pay a visit to the marshal’s office and have me arrested! I’m not that stupid, Mr. Valance.”

“Gabe—or Gabriel,” he corrected. Then he slipped the watch back into his pocket and flashed her a grin over his shoulder. “I’d say we’re off to a good start, darlin’. We clearly understand each other. That’s more than a lot of couples can say after twenty long years of marriage.”

Nan couldn’t recall ever having hated anyone quite so much. She parted her lips to fling a nasty retort at him, but just then she heard the shop bell ring, and an instant later Laney’s light footsteps sounded on the stairs.

“Well?” he said, challenging her with his gaze. “I see no point in burdening that child with this, so either slap a smile on your face or make tracks for Hamm’s office.”

Nan forced her arms from around her waist, sent him a look that she hoped sliced through him like a knife, and then turned just as the apartment door flew open. When Laney bounded into the kitchen, Nan was beaming a smile that made her face feel as if it might crack.