The Courting of Widow Shaw Read online

  “I dreamed of you. And when I woke, you were here.”

  “You dreamed of me?”

  “You were in a garden. And you picked a pretty rose.”

  “And what did I do with my rose?” she asked, breathless from the image.

  “You gave it to me.”

  He bent his head and kissed her again. Her heart flipped, the exquisite emotion far too overwhelming to deny.

  When he pulled away slightly, she shook her head. “We shouldn’t.”

  “Because I’m your enemy?” he asked.

  “Because we’re not married.” And we never will be. Of that, Glory was certain. To entertain romantic notions of Steven Harding would be simply foolish. “It’s sinful.”

  Steven splayed his hand in her hair, his fingers weaving through to stroke her head softly. “Tell me, what could be more sinful than a man’s cruelty to his wife, to hurt her in unimaginable ways? No sin is greater than that.”

  The Courting of Widow Shaw

  Harlequin Historical #710

  Praise for CHARLENE SANDS’s previous works

  Winning Jenna’s Heart

  “A finely tuned and heartwarming traditional romance about pioneer spirit, the mythos of the land and two people becoming one.”

  —Romantic Times

  “Author Charlene Sands has a great talent for weaving an exciting plot and characters together and this gives Winning Jenna’s Heart a poignancy that will appeal to all lovers of romance. A book you will truly enjoy.”

  —Reader to Reader.com

  Chase Wheeler’s Woman

  “A humorous and well-written tale,

  this book belongs on your reading list!”

  —Romantic Reviews Today (romrevtoday.com)

  Lily Gets Her Man

  “Charlene Sands has written a terrific debut novel—this is an author on the road to success!”

  —Romantic Reviews Today (romrevtoday.com)

  #707 THE COUNTESS BRIDE

  Terri Brisbin

  #708 THE UNEXPECTED WIFE

  Mary Burton

  #709 A POOR RELATION

  Joanna Maitland

  CHARLENE SANDS

  THE COURTING OF WIDOW SHAW

  Available from Harlequin Historicals and CHARLENE SANDS

  Lily Gets Her Man #554

  Chase Wheeler’s Woman #610

  The Law and Kate Malone #646

  Winning Jenna’s Heart #662

  The Courting of Widow Shaw #710

  Other works include:

  Silhouette Desire

  The Heart of a Cowboy #1488

  Expecting the Cowboy’s Baby #1522

  To my dear friend Geraldine Sparks. Your friendship, wisdom and elegance are a wonderful source of inspiration.

  And to Carol and Joe Curesky—dear friends through the miles, but always close in my heart. Thank you for your love and support.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Prologue

  Flames disturbed the black starless night with brilliant blinding color. Steven Harding immediately raced his horse in that direction, the red-orange blaze his beacon, guiding him to a small house outside of town. Past midnight, Steven knew most miners slept the sleep of the dead, too exhausted by a workday filled with breathless heat to allow the scent of smoke off in the distance, to wake them.

  As he came to a clearing, he saw the burning house. His mare spooked, the smoke and violent flames making her jittery. “Whoa, there, Fancy.” He dismounted and quickly walked her back behind a tree, shielding her from the view and tied the reins to a tree branch.

  With a kerchief to his mouth, he ran to the house, squinting his eyes against the billowing cloud of smoke. Ashes flew up and swirled in the air, the scent of wood-burning destruction all around.

  Dread filled his heart when he saw her.

  Gloria Mae Shaw, his nemesis, the woman out to destroy his mother’s livelihood, lay on the ground, just steps away from the burning building, holding a bloody knife in her hand. And just in front of her, a man who was most likely her husband, lay dead in a red pool, cut up bad from a knife wound to the chest.

  The woman moaned.

  Steven went down on his knees, gently lifting her up in his arms. Her beautiful face was bruised, battered brutally, and Steven instantly knew her pain had not been caused by the flames, but by the hands of a man.

  Steven cursed under his breath. What kind of man could be so cruel? What fool thought to ease his hardships and frustration on a lovely young woman? Steven pushed blond strands of her hair away, mindful to keep his fingers light on her face. “Glory. Glory, can you hear me?”

  She moaned again, a slight whimper of agony that slashed straight through his gut. Wood splintered, a big blast caused by the wild flames. Steven had no choice but to move her, to get her to safety. Soon the cabin would collapse, and they’d be engulfed and surrounded by fire.

  He eased her up into his arms. Good God. She’d been a nuisance, a thorn in his mother’s side, but Steven had always secretly admired her. He’d dreamed of one day holding the golden-haired beauty, having the right to touch her intimately, with reverence, the way she deserved. It had been a fool notion for sure, since they lived in different worlds, he being brought up in a brothel and she, the daughter of the late Reverend Caldwell. But he’d never imagined holding her like this—with pain trembling from her lips and fire ready to end her life. No, his dreams of Glory hadn’t been tainted with bitter reality, they’d been mere fantasy. But now, as he gazed down at her near-breathless body, he knew he had to help her.

  Dark bruises testified to the treatment she’d endured. If she’d done this, if she’d killed her husband in order to defend herself, Steven couldn’t blame her. But others would, murder being a vindictive crime that warranted proper punishment.

  And Steven would protect her. He’d take her away and hide her for the time being, allowing her injured body to heal until they could get at the truth.

  He owed her that and probably much more.

  With the utmost care, he carried her limp body to his horse and mounted quietly, his movements cautious as he adjusted her in his arms. Like a raggedy doll, she clung to him, barely.

  “Just a while longer, Glory. Hold on,” he whispered then eased his horse forward, back to Virginia City.

  To the last place anyone would ever think to look for Gloria Mae Shaw.

  Chapter One

  Virginia City, Nevada 1869

  Steven stared at Glory’s sleeping form resting on his bed, her breaths shallow but steady. Her head moved slightly, pressing against the goose-down pillows and matting down her thick blond hair. It seemed more an involuntary movement, a struggle to find comfort under the thin cotton quilt than a sign of her awakening. He’d listened to her anguished moans in the night, a sound he hoped he’d never hear again.

  The door creaked open. “Steven,” Ruby whispered, popping her head inside, “you sure you don’t want to call the doctor?”

  Steven strode quietly to the door, giving a last quick glance at Glory before stepping out of the room. He faced Ruby. “We can’t chance it.” He filled his lungs, drawing a
ir deeply. When he let down his guard, the fatigue he’d battled during the night hit him with unflinching accuracy. “No doubt they’ll be looking for her in the morning.”

  “She killed her husband,” Ruby said, shaking her head. “Can’t say as I blame her none.”

  Steven scrubbed his jaw, wondering. “I don’t know that for sure.” Although he’d seen the evidence, the bloody knife in her hand, her husband’s gutted body beside her, Steven just wasn’t certain.

  “The gal’s trouble, Steven. You shouldn’t have brought her here. Your mama would be the first to say so.”

  Steven winced and searched Ruby’s light-brown eyes. She was a favorite at Rainbow House, intelligent enough to engage in conversation and pretty enough to keep the men lining up. She was one of the oldest, too, nearing thirty, and one his mother held in high regard. “My mother wouldn’t want her strung up, Ruby. Don’t forget Glory’s father saved my mother’s life.”

  “He took a bullet for her. I know. Everyone knows that. Reverend Caldwell saved Lorene. And we’re all glad he did. It’s a shame he had to die because of it, but that’s what got his daughter hell-bent on closing down Rainbow House. She’s out for revenge, posting those signs, writing articles on the sins of the flesh and stirring up trouble.”

  “Nothing’s gonna close down Rainbow House, Ruby. My mother’s got the finest house on C Street.”

  Ruby chuckled, a grin spreading wide across her face. “I know that, too. But what were you thinking, bringing a young gal like that in here? I bet that gal’s never even stepped over to this side of town before, much less entered a whorehouse. Soon as she gets wind of where you brought her—”

  “There’ll be hell to pay. I know. But I can’t take her to my place.”

  “’Cause it’s not finished?”

  “Hmmm, and the ranch doesn’t have the comforts she needs to heal proper-like. She’s better off here in a warm bed, with all the necessities.”

  His ranch house, his dream of starting a business of his own, was nearing completion. He’d worked on neighboring ranches outside of Virginia City for years, making his way as a wrangler, then as foreman, earning enough cash to build a ranch of his own. At Lorene’s insistence, he’d left Rainbow House when he was fifteen. His mother had set down the rules. He wasn’t to partake of the “ladies” of the house. She’d wanted a better life for her son. He understood that reasoning better now, at twenty-six, than he had at the age of fifteen.

  But he’d kept a room on the third floor, alongside his mother’s room, for the times when he was in town. That’s where he’d brought Glory. He’d have to keep her here for the time being. It was the safest place for her to hide.

  “Or maybe you’re thinking it’s not suitable being alone way out there with her?” Ruby asked, sidling up next to him. “Is that it, Steven? You don’t trust yourself being alone with Gloria Mae Shaw?”

  Steven narrowed his eyes and pressed his point. “This is the safest place for her. Nobody’d ever come looking for her here. And Emmie knows something about doctoring. She’ll see that Glory heals proper.”

  Ruby snickered, baiting him. “She’s a pretty little thing, when she’s not all banged up.”

  Steven frowned at the reminder of the beating she’d endured. Why, Glory was just about the prettiest woman he’d ever laid eyes on, all spitfire and determination, her light-blue eyes sparkling, her hair glowing gold under the sunlight. He’d seen her a time or two marching down the streets of Virginia City, with those doggone silly posters, nailing them into wood posts, straightening them up like one would tidy up a picture, as if that would make a difference.

  “And who do you suppose is gonna watch over her all day? Lorene’s gone on a trip to San Francisco. She’s not here to mother the gal. Your mama put me in charge and I aim to do a good job with the girls. So don’t you go pointing your finger at me, I’ve got enough to handle. And the others already said they want no part in doctoring the troublemaker.”

  “She’s the one in trouble now, Ruby. I’ve got to help her. If her father hadn’t died saving my mother’s life, Glory wouldn’t have rushed into marriage with that no-account miner. She wouldn’t be lying in there, struggling to breathe.”

  “She made her choices, just like the rest of us.”

  Steven nodded, understanding the plight of Ruby and some of the other girls. Many hadn’t been left with any choice but to work in a brothel. His mother had done the same when his father abandoned his family. Lorene had made do and tried her hardest to give her young son a good life. She’d done what she had to in order to survive. Steven had come to understand that. She was what she was. But Steven couldn’t fault her. She was a good businesswoman and kind to her girls, taking them in and caring for them when they, too, had had nowhere else to go. “And didn’t Lorene help all of you, when your choices went bad?”

  A look of resignation crossed Ruby’s face and she sighed. “So, you’re intent on keeping her here?”

  “I am,” Steven said, realizing now he had no other choice. Glory needed tending. She needed someplace to stay. As far as he knew, she had no other family in town, aside from her brother-in-law, Ned Shaw. But would he doctor and protect her if he suspected she’d killed his brother? Steven doubted that.

  Glory lay injured and alone in that bed with nowhere to go and no one but Steven to rely upon. “You’ve got to keep this a secret, Ruby. And make sure the girls know to keep their mouths buttoned up good and tight. You tell them we’re doing this for Lorene as much as for that girl in there. Lorene would want Glory to be tended properly. She’d want her protected.”

  “The girls won’t say a word.”

  “I intend to keep her safe, Ruby. I owe her that much.”

  Ruby smiled then and lifted her red satin gown as she turned to head downstairs. “She’s all yours, Steven.”

  Steven stood outside Glory’s door, shaking his head with a frown pulling at his lips. The woman didn’t know him. She wouldn’t want to know him. But he saved her from death. And he’d protect her. That’s where it would end.

  Ruby had been wrong about Glory.

  She wasn’t all his.

  Glory Mae Shaw could never be his.

  Steven reentered the room. It was almost morning, but he didn’t trust leaving Glory alone for too long. He stood at the foot of his large bed, noting the empty space next to Glory, the inviting sheets calling to him. A fool notion of sleeping next to Glory, just to comfort her cries in the night, crept into his brain. But he didn’t dare climb in. Glory wasn’t a woman who’d appreciate waking up with a strange man in her bed.

  He scratched his head, watching her sleep. Her breathing seemed steadier now, and a bit stronger. Emmie had given him instructions on how to dose the laudanum. She’d said it was sure to ease the pain, allowing the patient to get some rest. And the painkiller seemed to be working.

  Steven let go a long sigh, dismissing the comfortable bed. He pulled up the cane-back chair he’d spent most the night in, and planted himself down. Folding his arms across his middle, he slouched a bit, trying for comfort but getting only more of the same, an awkward respite.

  But soon, Glory’s whimpers, her low muted cries woke him. He rose and went to her swiftly. She thrashed about with eyes closed, body swaying and her head tossing to and fro wildly. Coming down on the bed, he lifted her gently, taking her into his arms. “Shh. Shh, Glory,” he murmured into her hair. “Shh. Go back to sleep.”

  She moaned softly. So pitifully softly that Steven barely heard her.

  “Shh. It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe now,” he whispered again and again, until she calmed down, her cries quieting. “You’re safe now,” he said once more, lowering his head against the pillow and taking her with him. He held her loosely, her face against his chest. He waited until her ragged breathing steadied once again, then closed his eyes.

  Allowing much-needed sleep to claim them both.

  Morning dawned too soon and much too bright, fighting through
the darkness to bathe the room in sunlight. Steven grimaced against the light, squinting his eyes open. He didn’t need to turn to know that Glory’s soft body curled up beside him, her rounded curves pressed against him, making his tired bones come alive in a quick flash. He had one arm wrapped around her shoulders, her head on the pillow next to him. She appeared better this morning, her restlessness from the night seeming to have faded into a peaceful sleep.

  Steven inched his way off the bed, making certain not to cause a disturbance. He stood over her, as he had so often during the night, watching her sleep.

  Good Lord. He’d slept with her.

  And the irony seemed far too harsh to lift his spirits this morning. Because in the past, he’d had thoughts of Reverend Caldwell’s daughter, of holding her, of touching her and making her his. But Steven wasn’t a fool. He knew her to be a decent woman, one who’d rather be cast off than take up with the likes of him, a man who’d been raised in a whorehouse, a man who knew the “soiled doves” and considered them, friends.

  Steven moved away from Glory and shed his clothes quickly, removing garments that had been layered with ash and smoke from the fire. He splashed water on his face from the gilded pitcher on his dresser, dressed in clean clothes, then combed his dark hair and brushed off his dusty boots before putting them on.

  He strode down three flights of stairs, the third floor being designated for Lorene and her family, the second floor leading to the famous Rainbow rooms, each one decorated in a different color, suiting the women who entertained there. The main floor housed both the kitchen and entertaining parlors.

  As he descended the stairs, Steven marveled at the contrast between the deathly still morning and the late-night goings-on at Rainbow House. At any given time during the evening, giddy laughter filled the halls and piano music poured out from the main parlor. The scent of cigar smoke flavored the rooms, along with the distinguishable pungent smell of liquor. Whiskey. Jamaican rum. French wine. Always the finest—always the best. Rainbow House had a reputation for pretty girls and the finest amenities.

  As a young boy, Steven had always enjoyed the silence of the morning best. Back then, he could pretend he lived in a real house, with a mother who worked over the cookstove making crescent biscuits and sliced ham for breakfast, and a father who’d take him out for a day of regular chores. Well, he’d gotten that life, deplete of the family, when he’d taken up ranching. Only the mother had been a craggy old “cookie” named Marty who baked the best damn cornbread in ten counties and the father had been a ranch foreman who shouted tall orders from an even taller horse.