For Love of Liberty Page 13

  Rounding the corner of the back porch, he paused, Mrs. Poppy’s pump deserted in the moonlight, silent and still. Head cocked, he scanned both garden and yard, straining to hear over the trill of tree frogs and the faraway sound of the hoedown.

  “Blue blazes, Libby, where the devil are you?” he mumbled to himself, well aware he didn’t have much time before he needed to get back. Closing his eyes, he halted, focusing hard on sounds in the backyard.

  And then he heard it. The faintest hitch of someone crying, coming straight from the Poppys’ personal outhouse at the far corner of the yard. A faint sniffle harpooned straight through his heart, and guilt immediately doused any frustration she’d riled with the stupid bucket of water. With as much stealth as he could muster, he made his way to the shed and quietly tapped on the door. “Libby, I know you’re in there, so will you open up please?”

  “Go away, I don’t want to dance.” The nasal pout in her voice made him smile.

  Head bowed, Finn butted a shoulder to the door. “Good, because neither do I. I want to talk.”

  “Well, I don’t want to talk either, Finn McShane, so just go away.”

  “Can’t,” he said with a heavy sigh that sealed his fate. “Because those tears you’re crying are tearing me up.”

  She sniffed. “Why? Because you’re guilty as sin?”

  He expelled a noisy breath, wishing with everything in him he could just court her the way that he wanted. “No, darlin’, because I’m pretty darn sure I’m in love with you.”

  “Horse apples!” she shouted, and he grinned when she kicked the door.

  He rattled the latch, which she’d secured on the inside. “Come on, Libs, open up so we can talk face-to-face, please?”

  “No. Go talk to Jo Beth, you low-down, womanizing skunk.”

  Finn banged his head against the door. “You are making me crazy, you know that?”

  “Good!” she yelled through the crack. “You’ve made me crazy for years, so why don’t you go back to your crowd of admirers?”

  Finn slammed a palm to the door, his voice a harsh whisper. “Because I don’t give a rat’s tail who admires me, Liberty O’Shea. The only reason I paid any mind to any girl tonight is to throw people off that I care about you, so you may as well open up because I sure don’t want to break the door.”

  “Ha! The only thing you’re good at breaking are women’s hearts, you … you … letch!”

  “Okay, that’s it.” Finn scoured the ground for a stick. Muttering under his breath, he snapped one off a tree and rammed it beneath the latch of the outhouse that he built for the Poppys, flipping the wooden bar with ease. He yanked the door open, and Liberty jumped back, almost falling onto the wooden commode. Latching onto her wrist, he dragged her outside and around the back, ignoring her hissing and harping as he pinned her to a tree. “So help me, Libby, you are going to hear me out if I have to die trying,” he said, tone rough.

  “Good! That’s the best idea you’ve had yet!” She broke free, nails flailing. “I’ll bet Jo Beth will cry a bucket of tears, and if she’s smart, she’ll throw them right on your casket.”

  “Whoa!” Finn quickly immobilized her, risking life and limb to cut loose with a grin. He gentled his hold. “You know, Liberty Bell, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous.”

  “I’ll-give-you-jealous—” Battling tooth and nail, she jerked her knee up with a grunt.

  He dodged her thrust and braced her to the tree once again, his laughter husky and low as he gave her a crooked smile. “Come on, Libs, admit it—you’ve fallen for me, haven’t you?” She growled and tried to knee him again, and he locked her with his leg. “Because I sure have fallen for you, darlin’.” He lowered to tease her earlobe with a playful tug of his teeth, then laughed out loud when she bucked like a bronc in a red-hot stall. “I want to court you, Libby,” he said with a chuckle before he silenced her with a kiss so deep, there was no room for protest. Her thrashing slowed as she went limp against the tree, chest heaving as hard as his when he finally gave her some air.

  His breathing was as shallow as hers when he forced his gaze from those wet, parted lips up to moss-colored eyes, hazy with desire even in the moonlight. “I know it didn’t look like it tonight, Libby, but I’m crazy about you, sweetheart, and I know from that kiss that you’re crazy about me too. So all I’m asking is you give me a little time to settle my affairs, and then I’ll marry you so fast, your head will spin.”

  “It already is,” she muttered, voice breathless and lips in a pout.

  Gaze soft, he cradled her face in his hands. “Oh, honey, you haven’t seen anything yet,” he whispered, bending in to slowly nuzzle her neck, “but you have my solemn word, Miss O’Shea—you will.” Eyes sheathing closed, he lowered to seal it with a kiss.

  Two palms rammed hard against his chest, pushing him away. “What about Jo Beth?” she rasped, eyes as glazed as his.

  He gulped, the dilemma he faced dousing some of the heat in his blood. Today was Jo Beth’s birthday, so he didn’t have the heart to end it with her tonight, especially when he’d promised to take her home for cake with her family. Instead, he’d planned to tell her a week or so after the festival, giving her time to calm down and him a chance to pay off the loan.

  But looking at Liberty now, he knew he needed to do it sooner rather than later for both women’s sakes. And for his own self-respect, he realized, even though it might jeopardize that stupid loan. Sucking in a deep breath, he gently fondled a silky strand of her hair, his gaze soft with regret. “I’m working on it, Libs, I promise, so I’m asking you to trust me.”

  She arched a brow. “Trust you.” Those beautiful lips quirked in an off-center smile. “The boy who put a worm in my coat pocket and snails in my lunch pail?”

  He managed a sheepish smile. “That was the old Griffin McShane. The new one is out-right crazy about you, Miss O’Shea, and hog-tied in love.” He pressed a kiss to her nose. “Gotta go, Libs, but I guarantee it’ll be worth the wait.” He brushed a tender kiss to her lips before turning to leave.

  “It better be, McShane,” she called after him, “or you’re in a whole heap of trouble.”

  Mouth dry, Finn strode back to the barn with a lump in his throat as “sticky” as the situation he’d somehow backed himself into. He sure didn’t need Liberty O’Shea to remind him he’d be in trouble, because deep down he had a gut-gnawing suspicion …

  He already was.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “I think tonight’s the night.”

  Liberty froze behind the wall of quilts as she counted the evening’s food and drink proceeds, Jo Beth’s whisper capturing her attention.

  Bettie Boswell squealed. “How do you know?”

  “Because it’s my birthday, silly, and because Nellie Sue told Kristi Lemp that Finn came in to the mercantile a few weeks ago and”—Jo Beth giggled and did a little hop—“bought a wedding ring for me! So I think that gorgeous man is finally going to propose.”

  Liberty went stone still while the shadows beneath the quilt danced for joy.

  A throaty laugh drifted beneath the comforter wall. “Besides,” Jo Beth whispered in a sultry tone, “a man doesn’t kiss a woman like Finn McShane kissed me the last time we all went to dinner unless he’s serious, remember?”

  “How could I forget?” Bettie said with a sly chuckle. “You had razor burn for a solid week.”

  Razor burn. Liberty’s eyelids shuddered closed, experiencing a little “razor burn” herself, slicing right through her heart.

  Jo Beth released a heavy sigh. “I know, and don’t forget Milo told you Finn wouldn’t even think about marriage until his land was free and clear and the silver mine up and running. Well, his loan is almost paid off—”

  “Thanks to you,” Bettie interjected, “sealing the deal with the best rate in town.”

  Sealing the deal. Liberty slowly sank onto a hay bale while tears welled in her eyes, the memory of her father’s words piercin
g her to the core.

  “He’s nothing but a womanizer and fortune hunter, I tell you, selling his soul to George Templeton, no doubt sealing the deal by courting his daughter.”

  “I know, although that man is so darn stubborn, can you believe he actually balked at first?” Jo Beth asked, disbelief threading her tone. “Thank goodness Daddy explained it was his way of investing in Finn’s mine.” She huffed out a sigh. “Apparently legitimate investment is the only way to get around Finn McShane’s pride. Which is why Daddy has promised further investment down the road, claiming Finn is ‘more of a son than a client.’”

  Bettie squealed again, her shadow hugging Jo Beth’s. “Oh, Jo, Finn would be a fool not to propose!” she gushed. “And I am so excited Milo and I will be there tonight to see it!”

  “I know!” Jo Beth’s voice turned sour. “And we could have been on our way right after the dance if that snotty Liberty O’Shea hadn’t insisted Finn and Milo stay and clean up. I never could stand her, always actin’ like she’s so all-fire smart, and she’s even worse now with that fancy degree.” Her annoyance blasted out in a noisy sigh. “I don’t know how Finn can stand working with the woman, as downright bossy as she is.”

  Bettie leaned close to Jo Beth, her voice lowering to the level of gossip. “Milo says she drives poor Finn crazy, butting heads over every little thing, but Finn knows how to handle her.”

  Jo Beth snickered. “How? With a bit and bridle?”

  “Nope, he just rails right back when she gives him trouble, apparently, which according to Milo is as often as the sun sets and rises. Claims Finn said she’s a spinster in the making.”

  Nausea curdled Liberty’s stomach.

  “You girls ready to go?”

  The blood instantly drained from Liberty’s face at the sound of Finn’s voice, her body flushing hot and then cold.

  Milo’s chuckle carried over the quilt. “Imagine they are, Finn, since there’s a triple layer chocolate cake just waitin’ for us over at Jo Beth’s.”

  Finn’s husky laughter shrank Liberty’s ribcage till she thought she couldn’t breathe. “That’s right. We have an awful lot to celebrate tonight, Miss Templeton, so let’s see if we can’t make this the best birthday ever.”

  “Oh, I hope so,” Jo Beth said with a soft giggle, all voices fading as the two couples obviously made their way to the front of the barn.

  Body numb, Liberty slumped on the hay bale, head in her hands while tears stung in her eyes. Bettie had said Finn would be a fool not to propose and she was right. Finn McShane was a lot of things—a rogue, a tease, and a tyrant among them—but the man was definitely no fool. Her heart broke in two as a sob wrenched from her lips.

  No, that title belonged to her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Oh my goodness—I can hardly believe we won!” Kitty said with a giggle while she, Martha, and Liberty admired the 1st-Place ribbon that fluttered at the front of their schoolhouse booth.

  “I know.” Liberty’s tone was lackluster. She should have been giddy with excitement like the swarms of children buzzing the festival grounds after too much rock candy, but somehow the win was bittersweet.

  Somehow? Libby cast a razor-thin peek over her shoulder at Finn’s booth, where a host of children and ladies still hovered despite the fact that all booths were now closed for the potluck.

  Martha gently brushed the blue ribbon, a look of awe shining on her face. “I honestly didn’t think we’d stand a chance since Finn’s booth is so amazing, but I’m overjoyed we did.” She looped her arm through Libby’s. “What are you going to do with your share of the award money, Libby?”

  Hire a gunslinger. “I’d like to donate it to the National American Woman Suffrage Association, I think.” So women can put reprobates like Finn McShane in their place.

  “I’m going to buy that dress I’ve been drooling over in Mort’s Mercantile,” Kitty said with a thrust of her chin, “then donate the rest to Pastor and Mrs. Poppy for that church bell they’ve been wanting so badly.” She looped an arm around Martha’s waist. “How ’bout you, Martha?”

  Martha sighed. “I would love to buy a year’s supply of Mrs. Poppy’s award-winning cake because nobody bakes like the pastor’s wife.”

  Kitty laughed. “I’m with you there. Mrs. Poppy’s cakes always give me a warm, satisfied feeling inside, so it’s no wonder she wins hands-down every single year.” She nudged Liberty’s shoulder with her own. “Sorry your chocolate fudge pie came in second, Libs, but at least you get to enjoy Mrs. Poppy’s award-winning cake at her house later tonight. And with the most handsome man in town to boot.”

  “Not if I can help it,” Libby muttered, eyes narrowing when another glimpse at the V&T booth revealed the blackguard was flirting his fool head off.

  Kitty blinked, confusion furrowing her brow. “But I thought you said you and Finn talked everything out last night. That you were looking forward to seeing him at the Poppys’ after the fireworks so you could serve him a piece of your famous chocolate fudge pie.”

  “We did,” Liberty said with a tight smile. “And I most definitely am.” Her gaze was a knife point. Laced with a double dose of ipecac.

  “All this talk about food is making me hungry,” Martha said, “so we should probably close up and go to the potluck.”

  Liberty checked the watch pinned to her bodice. “Great balls of fire! I need to round up those performing in the talent show to give them final instructions.”

  Kitty tapped Liberty’s arm. “Uh, don’t look now, Libs, but your handsome co-chair is headed this way.”

  Liberty glanced over her shoulder, and sleet shot through her veins when she spied Finn breaking free from his crowd of admirers to amble her way. “Tell him I left for the potluck,” she hissed, pulse pumping as she darted around the booth to enter the back. Before he could make it to their side of the field, Liberty had the makeshift schoolroom doors bolted tight. Her breathing shallowed as she wedged herself deep in the corner.

  “Congratulations, ladies, on the win,” she heard Finn say, “although I sure hated to lose that prize money.” He paused. “Where’s Libby?”

  “Uh, she l-left for the p-potluck, I think,” Kitty lied, the wobble of her voice far from convincing.

  “Are you sure?” Finn’s tone clearly conveyed his doubt, and Libby squeezed her eyes shut as he continued, barely able to breathe. “Because I could have sworn I saw her over here.”

  “She w-was, Finn, but she didn’t want to be late for the potluck,” Martha volunteered in a weak tone.

  Kitty’s voice rose several octaves. “But we’re on our way there now, so why don’t we walk over together?”

  “Thanks, Kitty, but I’m on my way to help Milo shut down his booth, so I’ll see you ladies there, all right?”

  “Sure,” Kitty and Martha said in unison, and Liberty allowed a slow release of air through her lips. The last thing she wanted was to speak with that womanizing skunk right now, and after dessert at the Poppys’ tonight, she planned to never talk to him again.

  Waiting in silence for several moments to make sure the coast was clear, Libby tiptoed over to peek out the back door and expelled a silent sigh, satisfied that she was finally alone. Relieved, she slipped out to make her way to the potluck, where at least she could disappear into the crowd.

  “Howdy, Libs.”

  Liberty vaulted at least two inches in the air before she whirled to see Finn butted against the side of their booth, arms in a casual fold.

  He delivered a lazy smile. “I thought we decided the potluck would be in the barn.”

  “Blue blistering blazes, you scared me half to death!” she rasped, hand to her chest as she forced herself to breathe.

  His smile faded as sobriety bled into his tone, gaze tender. “And you’re scaring me half to death too, darlin’, the way you’re avoiding me like you are.”

  Her jaw hardened as she glared right back, not willing to give him a chance to soften her defenses. “I’v
e been busy,” she said, spinning on her heel to take her leave.

  Finn fell into step beside her, his long legs easily keeping up with her hurried pace. “Yeah, busy avoiding me, and I want to know why.”

  She yanked her skirts up to quicken her stride, ignoring him and all the curious stares coming their way. “Why don’t you ask Jo Beth, you … you … wolf in sheep’s clothing!”

  “Whoa!” He clamped a hand to her wrist to turn her around, latching firm palms to both of her arms. “Where in tarnation did that come from?”

  “From the lips of a woman you’ve bamboozled for the last time, Finn McShane, so you can just pack up your sweet talk and peddle it to Jo Beth.”

  “Now just hold on right there, woman, because we need to talk.”

  She jerked free, eyes blazing like wildfire. “You mean ‘kiss,’ don’t you, Finn? Because that’s how you get your way with all the ladies, isn’t it, you two-timing Romeo?” Reloading with another ragged breath, she blasted him with everything she had, taking deadly aim. “Well, I’m done talking or whatever you want to call it. Because you are nothing but a low-down, no-good womanizing varmint, Finn McShame, just like your father, cheating and stealing from innocent women before you leave them high and dry.”

  His face went so pale, she could see the black stubble on his jaw. Her heart lurched at the pain she saw in his eyes and knew she should stop. But all she could see was all the times he’d hurt her over the years and taken advantage whenever it suited his fancy. In the space of one ragged heartbeat, the fire in her belly whooshed out of control and she stepped in to bludgeon his chest with a finger. “My daddy said you were a fortune hunter from the get-go, but I didn’t believe him till now, playing one banker’s daughter against the other. I didn’t trust you growing up, Finn McShane, and I sure don’t trust you now. As far as I’m concerned, this is just another one of your pranks to hurt me all over again, and there’s nothing you can do or say that will change my mind.”