Lacey had never set foot in a church in her life.

She kept a watchful eye on the thick-beamed ceiling as she followed George and Hazel inside the one-room chapel. It was quickly evident, based on the world map and chalkboard hanging on the wall behind the pulpit, that the building doubled as a schoolhouse.

The place was packed with lumberjacks.

Hazel explained that the saloon and brothel were closed on Sundays, giving the local men no other social activity except church. As a result, the burly men all sat at the back of the room, slumped low in their seats like children forced to attend against their will. They all perked up when Lacey walked in. They whistled and called out her name, waggling their fingers to catch her eye. Not wanting another incident like before, Lacey did her best to ignore them.

"Lacey!" Nettie O'Rourke hurried toward her down the center aisle, her blue eyes sparkling. "Thank the stars yer all right. I heard what happened to ya yesterday." She frowned with concern. "How're ya feelin'?"

Lacey gave the woman a painful smile, hoping she wasn't in for another hug. "I'm still a little numb here and there, but otherwise—"

And then Nettie took her firmly by the shoulders. "I want ya to know…that I don't believe a word of it."

Lacey stepped back from Nettie's firm grip. "A word of what?"

Hazel crossed her arms. “What're you jabberin' on about, Nettie?"

Nettie glanced around to be sure no one else was listening. "Rumor has it," she whispered in her soft Irish lilt, "Lacey and Marshal Matt got ta know each other in the…conjugal sense yesterday."

George scowled.

Lacey closed her eyes as a hot feeling of embarrassment surged through her. She was going to skin those deputies alive.

Hazel gasped. She threw her arm around Lacey's shoulders and pulled her to her side. "This young lady was at death's door yesterday mornin'," she said loudly enough for the entire room to hear. "And our marshal risked life and limb to pull her out of that lake. If I hear a single word said to slander either one of 'em, I'll be servin' prune pie to the whole town come mornin'."

"And they'll be tastin' the unfriendly end of my shotgun," George added.

Lacey was grateful for their support. Even if she didn't deserve it.

Nettie lifted her chin. “As I said, I don’t believe the rumors—”

"What rumors?"

They all turned to find Matthew standing behind them. Lacey’s heart skipped at the sight of him. He was dressed in blue jeans and a white shirt, and had a black string tie around his collar. She would have smiled and said hello but her mouth had gone dry the moment she’d laid eyes on him.

"The ones flyin' around about you and Lacey," Nettie answered.

“Nettie O'Rourke,” Hazel warned, “I’ll not hear another word about this.”

George cleared his throat. "While you hens are fillin' in the rooster, I'm gonna go hunt us up some seats or we’ll wind up sittin’ in the back with the sawdust gang."

George walked off and Matthew gave Lacey a questioning look. “What’s this about?”

“Take a guess,” she answered.

His jaw clenched and took a quick glance around the room, probably searching for his three deputies. Lucky for the men, none of them were in the church.

"And how does she feel about you two?” Nettie asked.

Lacey followed Nettie’s gaze and saw Amanda Simmons standing within a burst of golden sunlight in the doorway. The woman looked like an angel in her prim hat and proper coat.

Without a word, Matthew turned on his heel and hurried toward her. Lacey gritted her teeth, longing to rip every perfect little hair out of Amanda Simmons's perfect little head.

Organ music started up, sending a hushed quiet through the small building, and Nettie hurried toward the front pew.

"Come along, Lacey.” Hazel led the way to where George was seated and they both sat down with him.

With rumors about them swirling and Matthew paying court to Amanda, Lacey’s nerves were pulled string tight. She glanced past Hazel at George, wondering what he thought of it all, and he gave her a fatherly wink. She took a deep breath and settled back onto the pew. She was safe with the Martins. They were like the family she’d never had.

She took off her coat and folded it into her lap. If Matthew wanted to be with perfect Amanda than so be it. She didn’t need a man—never had. So what if he could kiss her stupid?

She was still stewing when the man himself walked up and sat down beside her. She refused to look at him, choosing instead to focus on the tall young man stepping up to the pulpit in front of her. Reverend O’Rourke was a handsome man. She wondered if he was single…

"Good mornin', ladies and gentlemen," the reverend called out in his Irish lilt.

"Good morning, Reverend O'Rourke," the crowd replied in unison.

"Let us greet the Lord in a moment of prayer."

Lacey bowed her head, but instead of closing her eyes, she angled them toward Matthew Brady. His shirt was pulled tight over his muscular chest and she noticed how the fabric strained at his arms…arms that had been wrapped tightly around her the night before as he’d kissed her passionately under a winter moon. She suddenly wondered if he ever kissed Amanda that way and her heart sank to her toes.

The prayer ended and she lifted her head. Who cares what he’s done with Amanda, she told herself. This thing between them was nothing more than a fleeting attraction. Once the money was found, she’d be heading to California and leaving Matthew Brady behind.

She straightened her shoulders and tried to focus on the sermon.

“I’m reminded of a verse in James…” the reverend was saying.

Matthew Brady leaned close to her, brushing up against her arm. “Amanda sends her regards," he whispered.

Lacey stuck her nose in the air. “I am trying to listen to the sermon.”

“You're not supposed to listen. You're supposed to fall asleep."

She ignored him.

“I’m looking forward to tonight.”

Good Lord, she’d agreed to have dinner with him. Suddenly that didn’t seem like such a good idea.

“Five o’clock.”

“Would you be quiet?" she hissed at him.

Hazel glanced their way. Lacey gave her a hesitant smile and then scooted closer to her, hoping Matthew would stop whispering to her. But her skirt was caught beneath him. "You're on my dress," she said to him, keeping her eyes on the pulpit.

Instead of moving away, he scooted closer until their knees were touching.

She glared at him. He smiled back.

“Confess your faults one to another…” the reverend was continuing.

“We’re still on for tonight, right?” he asked.

“…Forgive as the Lord forgave you…”

“We can pick up where we left off.”

Lacey felt a hot blush burn her cheeks. She reached over and pinched the marshal on the leg.

"Ow," he whispered, chuckling softly.

Having Matthew Brady sitting beside her for almost an hour made Lacey long for the chilly morning air. The moment the sermon was over, she hurried outside into the bright sunlight. She squinted into the glare and buttoned the front of her coat against the wind.

A soft voice called out her name and she turned to see Amanda Simmons coming toward her. Lacey considered walking away, pretending as if she hadn't heard her, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Instead, she turned and waited as Amanda approached, wondering if the two of them were about to go several rounds in the church parking lot.

“That was an invigorating sermon,” Amanda said. “It felt like the reverend was preaching directly to me.”

Lacey had found the message more unsettling than enlightening. Too much talk about forgiving people who’d treated you badly.

“I…I wanted to wish you the best with Matthew."

Lacey blinked. "Excuse me?" That had been the last thing she’d expected to hear.

“He and I had a long talk about you last night."

“You did?”

Amanda frowned, puckering the perfect angle of her golden eyebrows. "He told me before the service that he saw you again last night. Didn't he talk with you about any of this?"

He'd hardly had the opportunity to say a word. "It didn't come up."

"Well, that silly man. Did he even bother to tell you that he and I have decided to end our…understanding and remain friends."

All kinds of things went racing through Lacey's mind in that moment—the fact that Matthew was no longer dating Miss Perfect rested at the very top of the list. She’d broken them up, and, for some reason, instead of feeling smug about it she felt terrible.

She wasn’t sure if it was the sermon she’d just heard or the kindness she saw shining in Amanda’s eyes, but she suddenly felt an overwhelming need to come clean. “Look, I didn't mean the things I said last night. It had been a long day and I took my frustrations out on you.”

“He makes your heart pound, doesn’t he?”

“What?”

“Matthew. Do your palms get sweaty when he’s around?”

Lacey was about to deny it, but figured why lie now? She nodded. “A bit, yeah.”

Amanda flashed a eager, dreamy smile which confused Lacey all the more.

“Listen, Amanda, I’m sure the marshal cares a great deal for you—”

"Lacey, Matthew and I have never really been anything more than friends. As you so keenly observed last night, we were just a convenience for each other. He was looking for companionship, and I was looking for a way to avoid Reginald Sterling."

Lacey cringed. “You and Reginald Sterling?”

Amanda arched a playful brow. “You said we were an immaculately matched pair."

Lacey shook her head. “I’ve got a big mouth.”

“You’re refreshingly assertive. I wish I could be more like you.”

The compliment warmed Lacey’s heart. She’d given this woman plenty of reasons to hate her. A lesser person would have held a grudge for the things Lacey had said at dinner the night before, but Amanda had yet to utter a single unkind word.

And this woman wanted to be like her?

Lacey suddenly felt completely ashamed of herself. “I’m sorry, Amanda,” she said. She was surprised at how easily those words rolled off her tongue.

Amanda smiled and slipped an arm through hers. "I'm so glad we had this talk, Lacey.”

Considering how light she now felt, Lacey was glad, too.

* * *

Matthew edged his way out of the church, past a group of chattering people, and paused at the bottom of the steps. Lacey and Amanda were standing in the churchyard, talking and laughing like two old friends.

He walked over to them, suspecting he might be the topic of conversation. He had his answer when they spotted him and all the talking and laughing ended. “What are you two giggling about?"

Lacey smiled at him, and the dazzling effect nearly stopped his heart.

"We were discussing your stubbornness, Matthew,” Amanda replied. “And whether or not a good board across the back of the head would do you any good."

"I think it would just break the board," Lacey remarked.

"While I feel that a chance not taken is an opportunity missed."

Matthew crossed his arms and took in their mischievous grins. “Well, it's nice to see the two of you getting along.”

"Ah, here you are, Brady."

Matthew scowled at the familiar voice. He turned to find Reginald Sterling standing behind him in his Sunday finery. He looked the man over from black buckled shoe to blue satin trousers, from yellow silk vest to white ruffled shirt, and almost busted out laughing. "Sterling," he greeted.

"I understand your little venture into Fairhaven yesterday produced less than satisfying results,” the man commented. “You're running out of time, Marshal.”

“Cute outfit, Sterling,” Lacy remarked. “Does it come in men’s sizes too?”

Reginald Sterling gave her a bland look. "I see your little friend is still in town.”

Lacey took a step toward him. "That's right, Mr. Peanut—“

Matthew held out his arm and stopped her. The last thing Lacey’s blossoming reputation needed was a scene in the churchyard. "One more day is all we’re going to need," he assured him.

“We?” The man scoffed. “If you mean your deputies, they’re bigger fools than you are.”

“I’m talking about Miss Guarder. She’s going to be riding with me and my men to Fairhaven tomorrow to catch Lorraine Rawlins."

Now it was Lacey's turn to looked surprised. "I am? I-I mean, I am.”

Sterling stared at Lacey and then laughed. “Based on the rumors going around, I suppose none of us has to ask what Miss Guarder did to endear herself to you.”

“You little weasel," Lacey hissed, holding onto Matthew's impeding arm. "I'd slap you if I could find your cheek beyond that giant thing you call a nose!”

Reginald Sterling rolled his beady eyes, and looked away, obviously satisfied that Matthew would hold Lacey back. But it was Matthew he was going to need saving from if the scrawny little bastard didn't watch his step. “I suggest you head on home, Sterling,” Matthew warned.

"I suggest you keep that woman on a sturdy leash," Reginald retorted. “She is clearly unhinged.”

"Is a musketeer the only costume in your wardrobe?!” Lacey shouted. "Or can we expect Little Lord Fauntleroy next Sunday!"

Reginald Sterling looked past her and settled his tiny dark eyes on Amanda. “Miss Simmons. I’m surprised to find you caught up with this…this disgrace.”

"You’re the disgrace, Reginald,” she replied. "I'm appalled at how you’ve treated a guest in our town.”

Reginald paled. “Congratulations, Marshal,” he blustered. “You’ve managed to turn her against me.” He recovered his composure and sneered at Amanda. "Tell me, my dear. Will it be a marriage of his convenience? You as his wife, and this trollop as his bed partner?"

"You're dead, pal!” Lacey shouted.

She shoved past Matthew, but he beat her to the punch; he brought back his fist and sent Reginald Sterling sprawling into the muddy snow.

Matthew shook the pain out of his hand. “The council gave me seven days, Sterling. You stay the hell out of my way until then.”

He looked over at Lacey and found her smiling at him. “I couldn't have put that any better myself," she said.

Reverend O’Rourke hurried over to Amanda. “Are ya all right, Miss Simmons? I couldn’t help but overhear.” He set flashing eyes on the mayor. “Mr. Sterling, you oughta be ashamed of yerself, sir. Sayin’ such things to a lady—and in front of the Lord’s house, no less.”

Amanda was gazing at the reverend as if he was God Himself.

The reverend locked eyes with her and his cheeks lit up like the sun. “Miss Simmons,” O’Rourke said breathlessly. “I’m…I’m, uh… That is to say…” He laughed boyishly. "Goodness, I can’t seem to remember what I was about ta say.”

Matthew exchanged a look with Lacey. She arched her brows and he realized they were both thinking the same thing.

"That's quite all right, Reverend," Amanda replied meekly. "With such a soul-stirring sermon fresh off your lips, it’s not surprising you're feeling a little undone.”

"You're very generous," the reverend said. He was gazing at Amanda as if she were the only woman on earth.

All these months and he'd never noticed. He supposed he'd been too busy worrying about what he wanted to pay much attention to what Amanda, herself, might want.

Amanda Simmons and Conal O'Rourke were in love.