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She took a deep breath and said it all in a rush. “I’m probably not the type of woman you expected you’d marry.”
His eyes widened. “Mercy, I’m a gunfighter. I never expected I’d marry at all, or even live long enough for the thought to cross my mind.”
Her shoulders sagged. Partly in relief, though there was more than a little disappointment, too. At what, she didn’t want to examine too closely. What had she expected him to do? Declare his undying love and admiration? He barely knew her. He was only in this spot because she’d badgered him into it, and he was apparently too honorable (who knew?) to back out. And besides, did she even want him to go waxing poetic? She barely knew him, either, and what she did know was…well, colorful, to say the least.
“Hey,” he said, startling her out of her thoughts. He touched her chin, lightly turning her face to look at him more fully. “I know I couldn’t have ever expected all this to happen. But if I do have to be saddled with a wife…” That lopsided grin of his took the sting out of his words and sent her stomach careening again. “Well, you aren’t such a bad choice.”
Mercy laughed. “Aren’t you just the flatterer.”
His grin widened. “I mean it. You’re strong, brave, smart, and stubborn as a mule. That’s a compliment, by the way,” he added when she gasped. Then he just stared at her for a heartbeat, as though he wasn’t sure what to say or wasn’t sure if he should say it. Finally, he shook his head. “Your eyes are the exact color of a field of bluebells I passed once. Soft blue but with flecks of gold like when the sun hits ’em. And when you get your dander up, they flash pure fire.”
She no longer worried if he’d hear her heart. Because it had just stopped altogether.
He shrugged. “Maybe it won’t be so bad. It’s been a while since I knew where I’d be lying my head every night.”
Mercy’s cheeks flushed hot with the sudden realization that as her husband he might have the expectation of laying his head beside hers. Their engagement might have been fake, but this marriage would be very real. And he would be well within his rights to expect it to be real…in every way. And…she wasn’t sure she hated that idea.
“Of course, you can’t cook worth a damn, but with Martha feeding me lunch, at least I’ll be sure of one decent meal every day,” he said.
“Oh!” She shoved him and he chuckled, capturing her hand. And then he pressed a kiss to the back of it.
She sucked in a breath. For an inept, laze-about, retired killer, he could certainly be charming when he wanted to be.
“So?” he asked.
She slowly released her breath and stood. “All right, then. Let’s go get hitched.”
…
As soon as she agreed, Gray’s stomach dropped into his boots. He hadn’t really expected her to say no. She needed him. Josiah was still out there, ready to pounce. Gray now held four of his men and Josiah wasn’t going to let that go unanswered. If anything, the threat from Josiah was even worse.
However, he hadn’t really expected her to say yes, either. Sure, she still needed his help, but marriage was a damn permanent way to go about getting it. They probably should have had a longer discussion about what each expected after the I do’s. He had never expected to find himself married, that was damn sure, but since it was about to happen, he also saw no reason to not take advantage of some of the more entertaining benefits. Might have been a good idea to ask Mercy where she stood on all that before they were legally bound for the rest of their lives.
Aside from that, their situation probably wouldn’t change much. He assumed she would allow him to move into the main house. But if not, he would stay in his little bungalow, which was comfortable enough—if he could get rid of Jason—and they would go on as they had been.
Once Josiah was taken care of, they could see where they stood. He could always move into the apartment above the jailhouse if they got on each other’s nerves too much.
It struck him again just how little they knew about each other. How had she made it to her age—which come to think of it, he didn’t actually know precisely, though he figured she was somewhere in her late twenties or early thirties. But how had a single woman not in the employ of Mrs. DuVere made it to her age without a husband? Women were scarce in the West, especially in towns like Desolation. So, there would have been no shortage of suitors for her hand no matter her looks or disposition.
Not that she was lacking in either of those areas, despite her apparent thoughts to the contrary. She might not be what some called a classic beauty, but she carried herself in a way that demanded admiration and attention. She’d certainly captured his from the moment he’d clapped eyes on her, and that was something very few managed to do.
Her temperament could use a little work. Or maybe he just brought out the pigheaded side of her. The woman was certainly used to being in charge. Then again, she was efficient and organized and got the job done, so it wasn’t a bad place for her to be. He hated someone telling him what to do, but he couldn’t deny the results when she was the one holding the reins. Not that he would ever tell her that.
Well. What’s done was done. They’d both agreed. And now…he was about to get married. Dear God, help them both.
As soon as they walked out to join the others, they were surrounded. Mercy was whisked off by the ladies who had immediately started chattering about the perfect dress one of the girls had and a bunch of other lady stuff that his ears immediately shut out. Martha had sent Doc Fairbanks over to her shop to assist her apparently elderly grandparents in finishing with food preparation. The preacher was doing whatever preachers did before the wedding ceremonies. And Jason had been given the task of getting Gray cleaned up and presentable. Poor sod.
Doc had graciously offered the loan of one of his suits, of which he apparently owned several, as well as the use of his home for the ordeal. Jason hauled him into the bedroom and pointed him at the ewer and basin, slapping a bar of soap and a towel in his hand.
“Wash,” he said, his tone unusually confident. And bossy.
“I had planned on it,” Gray said, glaring at him. He hadn’t really planned on it, but after a glance in the mirror above the dresser, he’d grudgingly conceded he could probably use a little sprucing up. Hehadjust bathed the other day, though, so he wasn’t as bad as he might have been.
Once he was clean enough to please Jason, he pulled on the doc’s suit, which fit him better than expected. He finished the last button on the vest and then pulled on the jacket, crossing his arms a few times to get a feel for the fit. It would do.
Jason handed him his new badge, and Gray glared at it with distaste. “Is that really necessary?”
“Youarethe sheriff now.”
