Justin's Bride. Susan Mallery

that had kept the suitors away. He remembered the taste of her mouth and the passion she hadn’t been able to control. That wouldn’t have contributed to her unmarried state, either. Seven years ago she hadn’t known exactly what went on between a man and a woman but she’d been eager to experience as much as convention allowed an unmarried couple. She’d even been willing to experience a little more, he remembered, then cursed the heat that flowed to his loins. So why hadn’t she married?

      “I say, do you know who I am?” Colleen demanded a second time.

      Justin had grown bored with the game. He walked back to his desk, turned the chair around and sat in it. He moved the box to one side and picked up a sheet of paper.

      “I remember everything about you, Colleen, including the Sunday you went running out of church so fast that you didn’t see the pile of horse manure right below the steps. You slipped and got green muck all over your dress. You cried because you smelled, and no one would sit next to you.”

      Colleen flushed an unbecoming shade of red. From the corner of his eye, he saw Megan’s shocked look. Justin sighed. Maybe he had gone too far with the story, but he didn’t care. Colleen had been younger than most of the other children Justin had gone to school with, but her tender years hadn’t gentled her spirit. He recalled how, during recess, she’d stood with the older children and taunted him. At five, when her soft voice had still lisped like a baby’s, she’d sung the singsongy school yard refrain of “Justin is a bastard.” Megan had been one of the few who hadn’t joined in. She’d turned away from the taunting children.

      The mocking song had continued until he was strong enough to beat up any boy too dumb to shut his mouth and until he’d become good-looking enough to distract the girls. But he’d never forgotten.

      Colleen tugged at her cloak and approached his desk. Rage radiated from her. He wasn’t impressed, although Megan seemed bothered by her.

      “My husband is an influential man in this town,” Colleen said.

      “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Justin leaned back in his chair and smiled.

      “You’ll never be sheriff here, Justin Kincaid. I’ll see to that.” She pointed at the box on his desk. “Don’t bother unpacking. You’ll be gone before sundown.” She turned to glare at Megan. “I’m glad Papa’s dead and not here to see you shame the family this way.”

      With that, Colleen spun on her heel and marched out of the room. Justin stared after her. When he’d first seen Landing on his return to town, he’d realized there had been a lot of changes in the time he’d been gone. New buildings had sprung up along Main Street. Most of the people he’d seen were strangers to him. But he counted on some things to be the same. He’d expected trouble and had assumed old man Bartlett would still be around to give him hell. He’d spent his whole life trying to hate that man, but found he couldn’t even dislike him. The man was Megan’s father. Justin knew that if he had a daughter like her, he wouldn’t have wanted a boy like him around her, either. He’d always understood Mr. Bartlett’s feelings, even though he’d never let on.

      “I’m sorry about your father,” he said. “I didn’t know he was gone.”

      Megan looked surprised. “Thank you,” she said cautiously, as if she wondered if he was going to say something else. “He passed on about five years ago.”

      “Who runs the store? Colleen and her husband?”

      Megan laughed. The sound hit him square in the chest, like an unexpected blow. Her laughter always made him think of summer. He didn’t know why, but even now he pictured the two of them on the banks of that stream east of town. Her blond hair streaming around her shoulders, her hazel eyes gazing up at him in adoration. He shook his head to banish the memory. He had no time or interest in the past and if he remembered anything, he would do better to recall their last hour together before he left town. That would be enough to cure any man of dreams.

      “Colleen married a minister.” She leaned forward in her seat and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Mr. Estes. I think he was here before you left. He’s a few inches taller than you, but he has no hair.” She giggled. “He did have hair then, I think. Or parts of it.”

      Justin smiled in return. “A minister? Figures. I’m surprised you didn’t marry one, yourself. Megan Bartlett.”

      She swallowed. The blush climbed rapidly from the collar of her dark blue dress up her pale throat to her cheeks. Unlike the flush of rage that had made Colleen look harder, this pink hue made Megan more beautiful. He studied her mouth. It was uneven, with the bottom lip fuller than the top. He’d teased by telling her that it made her look as if she was always pouting. When she’d become self-conscious, he’d whispered all the things her pout made him think about doing with her.

      Stop! he commanded himself. He couldn’t keep doing this. He couldn’t keep going into the past and finding the good memories. He had to hold on to his anger until he could come to grips with seeing Megan again.

      “I never said I was married,” she said, smoothing her hands over her full skirt. “You assumed.”

      “So neither of us married.”

      “I didn’t wait for you,” she said hastily, as she raised her chin higher. “Don’t think I did.”

      Her words brought another revelation. After all this time, Megan still had the power to hurt him. Of course she hadn’t waited. She’d made it very clear what she thought of him and his marriage proposal. He gripped his hands so tightly, he thought he would split the skin over his knuckles. He forced himself to relax. Eventually, he wouldn’t care anymore. Time away from Landing had taught him that.

      “I never thought you waited for me,” he said mildly and rested one ankle on the opposite knee. “Until you mentioned it.”

      “Justin.” Megan shook her head. “You haven’t changed at all.”

      “Oh, but I have, sweet Megan. I’m a different man. Much more dangerous.”

      “I suppose you’re right. There are parts of you that seem the same, but other things are different.” She studied him. He liked the way her gaze lingered on his face, focusing on his mouth. It was almost like being touched by her. The steady glance, the sudden panic as she realized she was staring. The careful looking away, only to have her eyes flicker back again and again.

      “What has changed?” he asked, liking the way he flustered her. She might not have waited for him, but she hadn’t forgotten what they’d been to each other.

      “You used to be nicer.”

      He’d expected many comparisons but not that one. He threw back his head and laughed. “Nicer? I was never nice.”

      “You were to me.”

      His humor fled and with it his desire to continue this conversation. “Are you surprised? After what happened?”

      “You’re still angry with me.”

      He wanted to deny it, but what was the point? They both knew the truth. “Yes. I am still angry. It’s been seven years, and I figure I should have forgotten it by now, but I haven’t. If nothing else, Megan, you were supposed to be my friend.”

      “I was.” But her actions then belied her words. She dropped her gaze to her lap, where her fingers twisted together nervously.

      “Then why didn’t you believe me?” he asked.

      “I wasn’t sure. Everyone said you did it.”

      “I said I didn’t.”

      She looked up at him. Sadness widened her eyes, darkening the hazel color to gray. “I know. Later, when I knew you were innocent, I didn’t know where you were. I wanted to write and tell you I was sorry.”

      He stood, walked over to where she was sitting and held out his hand. She stared at his outstretched palm for several seconds, then placed her gloved fingers on his