A Kiss to Dream on Mass market paperbound - 1998

Excerpt

Arliss leaned against the side of the church trying to calm  her breathing down, trying to stop the spinning in her head. The sight of  Gideon Forbes in the distance momentarily comforted her, the way it had so  many times in a past that was just laced with disasters. But when there  was no sight of her groom, when it was clear that Gideon was walking up  the path alone, her breakfast came barrelling up her throat and . . .  well, at least she'd been careful enough to miss her new pale kid  boots.

"Where is he?" she asked after she'd reluctantly accepted  Gideon's clean white hankie and wiped her face. "It's after ten  o'clock."

"You're sick," he said, touching the corner of her mouth with his sleeve.  His eyebrows seemed to frown along with his lips. Gideon always looked as  sad as Slick looked happy.

"Where's Slick?" she repeated, carefully controlling her breath so that  she wouldn't appear as frantic as she felt. There was no sense in jumping  to conclusions, even ones as obvious as this. She had to be mistaken.  After all, Slick had promised. He'd sworn.

Gideon ignored her question. He put a big hand under her arm and with a  surprisingly gentle tug tried to pull her from the wall. "I'll take you  home."

"I'm not going home," she said to him, as if by will alone she could make  Slick appear. "I'm getting married, today. Now."

The sad way he looked at her was worse than anything he could have  said.

Still, she asked again. "Where is he?" Slick had told her long ago that  Gideon made it a rule never to play poker. Now she saw why, as his eyes  darted in the direction of the train whistle and then fell to the  ground.

Instead of confirming what she supposed she already knew about Slick,  what she'd always known in her heart, he told her again, "You're sick.  I'll take you home." Two whole sentences. For Gideon Forbes this was a  long conversation, more than he usually said to her in an entire  afternoon.

"He isn't on that train, Gideon, is he?" she demanded, her breath coming  in hard little puffs as she fought against dry heaves and the truth. "Tell  me you didn't let him get on that train."

"I'll just go tell them inside that you're sick." It was as though he  refused to hear her as he gently let go of her arm and took a step back to  make sure she was steady enough on her own two feet.

"Botheration, Gideon! I'm not sick," she said, heaving and sobbing and  sliding down bumpily against the church siding. "I'm . . . I've a . . .  that is, I'm practicing lullabies, Gideon. I'm . . . in the family way."  As an afterthought she mumbled, "But it seems I've got no family."

Even through her tears she could see it shook him. He spread his feet  slightly, as if he could withstand the blow more easily that way, and  tipped back his hat to swipe at his brow. "Did he know that?" he asked  real softly, quietly, as if it would be their secret.

She couldn't look at him. A man like Gideon Forbes couldn't possibly  understand. For sure he'd never wanted something so badly that he'd let  himself be fooled into believing the unbelievable. He'd never been so  strongly tempted that he'd allow himself to do something he knew he  shouldn't do.

"Did he?" His voice was stronger this time, harder, before he softened it  with her name. "Lissie? Did he know?"

She nodded. Why else did Gideon suppose Slick ever agreed to marry her?  And why else would he have run?

"I could wire the sheriff in Helena," he offered. "After I take you  home."

She shook her head. She could get on the next train and follow him, but  if he didn't want her here in Granite, he wasn't any more likely to want  her in Helena, where there were women and gaming tables and . . . "My  money!"

She'd given him all her savings to make arrangements for a suite of rooms  in Mrs. Bailey's boarding house. No wonder the woman hadn't seemed to know  what she was talking about this morning. Arliss had let herself believe  that Slick had made Verna Bailey think the rooms were a surprise.

Just like she'd convinced herself that Slick would be there this morning.  Just like she'd convinced herself that he'd be there when she swelled like  a watermelon and presented him with an extra mouth to feed. Just like . .  .

"What money?" Gideon asked, his voice drifting down from way above  her.

Any woman could fall in love with the wrong man and get carried away by  passion--but to turn over all she had, even when all she had was eleven  dollars and eighteen cents! It was too embarrassing to admit. She opened  her mouth to speak, but no excuse came out. Gideon Forbes surely thought  badly enough of her without knowing the extent of her stupidity. Lord knew  she'd given him enough reasons over the years.

And every time he'd caught her, he'd just shaken his head at her, a soft  half-smile forgiving her stupidity again and again.

Except of course, that time she'd fallen out of a tree Slick had dared  her to climb. She'd lain on the ground laughing afterward, and Gideon had  actually growled at her like some papa bear sick to death of his cub's  shenanigans. You coulda got hurt, he'd hollered at her, and Slick  had told him he was scaring her--standing over her like some giant and  making noises.

But she hadn't been scared. Not of Gideon. Maybe his hugeness seemed like  a threat to Slick, but to her it had been a comfort, always.

And Lord, she needed comfort now.

Someone knocked on the stained glass panel above her head, signaling that  it was time for the bride to get herself to the front hall of the  church.

"Oh dear God!" she whispered. "All those people in there waiting."

"I'll take you home," Gideon said for the millionth time. "Or do you want  me to get your pa?"

"My pa? No, don't get him, poor thing. He's arranging all his flowers in  there like the right arrangement's gonna make up for the wrong groom. He  thinks I'm just having an attack of nerves out here. What'll I tell  him?"

"He'll understand," Gideon said, leaning his rifle against the church and  crouching down beside her. Even so, his head was far above hers. One hand  hung limply between his knees, the knuckles bruised. Slick had said Gideon  had a gift for stopping a fight with words, and if that failed, just one  of his punches could put an end to a riot. She supposed there was some  hungover cowboy or miner waiting in the church and wearing one of Gideon's  shiners like it was a medal. "Everyone'll understand."

"No." She said it so calmly she actually surprised herself. "My papa  won't. There isn't a person in there that will. And I can't say as I blame  them. Decent women are gonna cross the street to avoid me. Every man will  think he can have his way with me. Remember Rose Perkins? How everyone  turned their backs on her? How no one even came to the funeral when her  baby died? Papa had to provide those flowers for nothing so that at least  that baby would go out of this world right and proper."

She looked up at Gideon and sniffed. Someone banged again on the window  and she heard the church doors open. Her father called her name--once,  twice, a third time.

"Do you have any money on you? Enough for a train ticket somewheres? I  could leave town before anyone knows, and you could tell them Slick and I  just ran off and eloped. That would work. And I could get a job somewheres  and--"

Pulling his cuff down over the heel of his hand, Gideon brushed at her  tears and dried her face. He pushed the hair out of her eyes and dusted at  her cheek, looking every bit as sad as she felt, then shook his head at  her. "I don't think so," he said, dropping his eyes to her belly shyly as  if she needed any reminding.

"I don't have any choice," she admitted with a ragged sigh. "There's a  whole church full of people just waiting to say "I told you so' about  Marcus Mallard's wild child. It would kill my pa."

Gideon frowned at her as if she were some child talking gibberish.  Slowly, tentatively, he reached out and petted her, his hand tracing her  back so lightly he was almost not even touching her. It was truly amazing  that a man so big could manage to be so gentle. It was all she could do  not to lean into him, get lost in him. "There's another choice," he said,  followed by so long a pause she was sure he was just trying to come up  with something, anything, to keep her calm. "'Fore you say no outta hand,  promise me you'll think about it."

"Oh, Gideon," she sighed. "I don't want to have Slick arrested." You  couldn't order someone to love you and put him behind bars because he  didn't. It would be nice, but still you couldn't do it.

"I'll marry you, Lissie," he said. At least, that was what it sounded  like. But she was weak, and tired, and the church bells kept ringing above  them, and clearly she hadn't heard right.

Okay, it was probably true that Gideon did have a soft spot for her, like  Slick was always saying. But still, a man, any man, would want to know the  woman for whom he was giving up his freedom loved him. Gideon certainly  couldn't believe that. Why, this was the first time she'd ever looked  close enough to see that his brown eyes were flecked with gold.

And a man would want to be first with his wife, even if he didn't wait  for the Lord's blessing before they went ahead and cleaved. And Lissie  wasn't just ruined. For the love of God, she was carrying Slick's seed in  her womb! Gideon couldn't want her. She was just so crazy with shame she  was hearing things.

Gideon backed up from her a step or two. "If you don't want to . . .  "

"Want to?" she asked, this time studying his lips intently as he spoke,  so that there'd be no mistake.

"Lissie?" her father called. He was closer, probably not more than a few  feet away, but Gideon's bulk hid her from him. "Slevin? You out here?  Everyone's waiting."

Gideon looked over his shoulder and back down at her. His eyes locked  with hers. "Marry me."

Slick had gotten down on one knee in the snow. He'd kissed her hand--the  palm, not the back--and promised her a ring, and flowers that would put  her father's to shame, and given her his grandmother's garnet earrings.  And in exchange he'd taken her innocence.

No. That wasn't fair. She'd given him that--her gift to him for finally  asking.

Then, of course, being Slick, he'd hemmed and hawed about a date until a  few weeks ago when she'd told him she was carrying. But he had vowed he  loved her and would stand by her, and went straight away to the minister  to set the date. And then that night, in the dark, what she'd let him do .  . .

And even after that, he'd run out on her and her baby. Lord, but she was  dumb. Loving a man who was only interested in planting his seed in her,  and then leaving her to face the town alone.

And did he care? She'd been an idiot, one of those pathetic morons born  with only half a brain, falling for a man like Slick.

Gideon stood towering over her like an oak tree in the rain, sheltering  her just by being there. He rubbed his hands on his pant legs, watching  her. He even managed to look hopeful instead of trapped. Well, wouldn't it  serve Slevin Waynick right if she did marry Gideon Forbes? Wouldn't that  be something when he came back for her and she was the wife of Deputy  Forbes?

"Gideon? You seen Lissie?" her father asked, and she watched as he shook  his head. "I'll try the other side. I don't know where that girl . . . "  His voice drifted away.

"Why would you want to do this?" She kept her voice down, not wanting her  father to hear her and return. Again she brushed at the hair in her eyes  and smoothed the front of her dress in a hopeless attempt to make herself  presentable.

He shrugged and raised an eyebrow at her as though she ought to know the  answer to her own question. It brought to mind each and every time he'd  rescued her from some mess Slick had suckered her into. The time she'd  worn the beautiful dress Slick had presented her with for the Miner's  Ball, only to learn that he'd stolen it off Hattie Agrin's clothesline.  Lord, how Gideon had blushed when he'd told her she'd have to return it  and she'd fingered the buttons as if she meant to take the dress off right  there in the Grange Hall!

And then there was the time she'd gotten drunk on Slick's special fruit  punch and taken off her stockings and climbed into the horse trough on Elm  Street. She'd been more slippery than an eel when Gideon, his breath  ragged and his heart pounding against her own, had finally fished her  out.

And then there was the time she'd gotten lost in the blowing snow on the  way to meet Slick, and Gideon had managed to find her. Oh, but he'd been  mad at her then!

Still, he'd covered for her, over and over--each time making up some  excuse for the foolish things she'd done.

"Habit?" she suggested to him.

"Something like that," he agreed. "You know what they say about a friend  in need--"

"Arliss Mallard, where are you?" her father demanded, his quavering voice  at odds with his angry words.

"Over here, Marcus," he called over his shoulder, then stepped aside so  that her father could see her plainly standing within his shadow.


It took a minute for the crowd to figure out what was going on. Gideon  didn't blame them, he was not too clear on what had happened himself. No  doubt they all supposed he was just some overanxious best man, waiting at  the front of the aisle for the bride and groom to show up. But he was the  only one waiting there when Marcus walked down the aisle with Lissie, and  he was the one that stayed there with her after her father kissed her  gently and took his seat.

The Reverend Lambert leaned forward and inquired in a whisper as to  Slevin's whereabouts.

"There's been a slight change in plans," Gideon said. Beside him, poor  Lissie looked a little unsteady, and though he hesitated at first, he  decided it would probably be best if he put his arm around her waist. It  felt like heaven, that tiny little waist of hers finally in his hand. He  didn't even care when the people behind them gasped and began  whispering.

"Gideon!" Berris's gasp was ripe with the shock of the entire  congregation. He didn't bother to turn, not even when he heard his father  order his sister in hushed tones to sit back down.

He could hear Slick's name bouncing off the arched ceiling, and he bent  slightly at the knees and the waist until he could whisper near Lissie's  ear.

"You're sure?" He certainly didn't want to force her into anything.

"If you are," she answered, looking wholly miserable.

He wasn't the least bit sure, but he nodded at the reverend anyway and  reluctantly let go of Lissie's waist.

It was a blur leading up to the moment when Reverend Lambert asked him  for the ring. At first he just stood there, gawking at the reverend's  request, staring at the man's waiting hand. And then he remembered his  duty as best man had been to hold the ring for Slick. He reached into his  jacket pocket and produced the copper band of flowers Lissie had pointed  out to Slick at Hughes' Mercantile months ago.

The reverend instructed him to place it on her finger, and Gideon took  her tiny hand into his huge one. Clumsily he slipped the thin