Johanna Lindsey - A Man to Call My Own

"I told you I didn't."

"And I told you I don't believe you. I was there! Yes, it was me. So you can't deny you called me by her name. You were sure it was her!"

"Hell, Mari, that's what this is all about?" he said incredulously. "Yes, for the briefest moment I did get a little confused and thought it might be Amanda. Your boldness just surprised me. But only for a moment."

As she turned away from him, she saw his shoulders slump. She really didn't care. Just as on that day in the stable, she was going to say nothing.

MARIAN WASN'T SURE WHAT to say to him, or if she could even get any words out past the lump in her throat. Was she just supposed to believe him, when all this time she'd been sure he was still pining for Amanda?

Everything he'd said sounded good. Too good. That was the problem. How could she just accept it all when she'd drawn such opposite conclusions? It would mean she'd been an utter fool. That she'd let her difficulties with her sister go too far.

But she did owe him a better explanation than she'd given. She turned back to him—and found him gone.

She caught her breath in surprise. She hadn't heard him leave. And he'd left with the wrong impression. That wouldn't do. He'd intruded in her room several times that day, she could do the same to him.

But he'd left the hotel. She began to panic, imagining what he must be thinking. She should just wait for him to return, but she couldn't. She had no idea where he might be, but she'd find him. He hadn't been gone that long.

She found him on a corner in the center of town, just standing there with his hands shoved in his pockets, as if he'd been doing the same thing she'd done earlier—wandering aimlessly in thought. It was very late in the afternoon, almost evening. Businesses were closing for the day; people were rushing home from work, making the sidewalks and streets much more crowded than usual. It was the heavy traffic that had probably stopped him where he was.

He was drawing curious stares from passersby because of his Western-style coat, boots, and the wide-brimmed hat that Easterners weren't used to seeing. At least he wasn't wearing his gun holster. That had been packed away since they'd reached Chicago.

She approached from behind him. At least she'd had the presence of mind to wear her veil again. She'd already seen three people she knew, though they hadn't recognized her.

A crowded corner wasn't exactly the ideal place to have a conversation, but no one else was standing still, so she didn't think they'd be overheard. She was josded a few times before she got up the nerve just to say what needed to be said.

"The moment the notion took hold that you thought I was Amanda that day, it colored my judgment on everything else."

At the sound of her voice he turned around. Realizing where they were, he took her arm and started walking, so at least no one passing would hear more than a word or two of what they were saying. "I knew you were angry. I was going to explain, but Amanda never gave me a chance to. I was shocked, more than anything else, when she claimed what she did. I knew deep down that you were the woman I'd made love to, but when you didn't correct her outlandish insinuations, I didn't know what the hell to think anymore."

She started blushing, and told him, "I suppose I didn't have enough confidence in myself to speak up immediately. I still couldn't believe that you'd prefer me over Amanda."

"But I did," he insisted.

"Let me finish. I wasn't supposed to be the sister of choice, for any man. For a long time I went through a lot of effort to make sure I wouldn't be."

"Why?"

"To prevent exactly what happened. Why do you think Amanda claimed what she did? It wasn't just about the inheritance. It was because she was jealous that you could want me instead of her. It's always been that way with her. It's why I tried to conceal the fact that we are twins. My disguise, the insults, were to make sure men would only notice her."

"So she might get jealous. That was no reason for you to change your appearance completely and live with that lie indefinitely."

"I felt it was. You see, it never failed that if a man showed even the slightest interest in me, or vice versa, she'd lure him to her instead, by any means, even making love to him if that's what it took. And after she rubbed it in my face that he was hers, she'd then cast him aside, inflicting a good deal of emotional pain in the process to punish him for having thought about me in the first place. I didn't want to see that happen to you."

"You couldn't tell me that at the time?"

"That I'd fallen in love with you? No, Amanda had to get married first before I could admit to that."

He stopped, grinned, tilted her face up to his. "You love me?"

"I didn't say that, I said—don't confuse the issue. I'm trying to explain—"

"Darlin', nothing else matters if you love me."

She should just accept that, grab her happiness, and to hell with everything else.

"Yes it does. Aside from my feelings, I still don't see how you could love me, me, when you didn't even know the real me. It's just this face, her damn face—"

"It's time for you to hush up again, Mari," he said gently and lifted her veil so he could cup her cheek. "You think I don't know you? You're the one who showed such concern for me that you nearly chewed my tail off for it when I stood down those stage robbers. You're the one who showed remarkable courage— or foolhardiness—when you thoughtlessly tried to take on a mountain man four times your size just to help me. You're kind, you're considerate, you worry about others' feelings— maybe a little too much. I admire your gumption; I admire your talent. Actually, I think you're kind of wonderful. You're the one I fell in love with, Mari, and before I ever saw your real face, before I knew you were her twin."

She stared up at him in awe. "You really mean it, don't you?"

He cupped both cheeks now. "I want you for my wife. Will you marry me?"

She threw her arms around his neck. She laughed. "Oh, yes, yes! If you hadn't asked, I probably would have."

He laughed as well and started to kiss her, but someone bumped into them with a mumbled apology. Marian was jarred enough to regain an awareness of where they were. This really hadn't been the place for such a conversation. And she thought she'd recognized that voice. She turned to look, but didn't see anyone in the crowd whom she knew—and then she did and went very still.

"What's wrong?" Chad asked.

She looked back at him, her eyes wide. But then she shook her head. "Nothing. Just my imagination seeing things."

"Bridges?"

"No, it—" She didn't finish, looked down the street again, frowning. "I know I'm being silly, but let me make sure. I'll be right back."

She hurried in the direction she'd seen the man go. Chad was close behind her, but she didn't wait for him. There was just no way in hell she could be right about who she'd seen, and it would only take a moment to prove it.

She caught up with the man, tugged on his arm to stop him. "Papa?"

He turned around, gave her an annoyed look, then continued on his way, leaving her standing there in utter shock.

Marian didn't recall much about getting back to the hotel. Chad must have found them a carriage for hire because she vaguely recalled sitting in one. She was just too dazed. So many thoughts were racing through her mind. How could it be possible? Nothing fit. It didn't make sense! Everything kept coming back to one glaring fact. He knew her, and still kept right on going.

And he'd spoiled the happiest day of her life. That was the only thing that had happened today that didn't surprise her. So typical of her father, but so utterly ironic, since for once, he didn't do it deliberately.

Chad escorted her straight to Kathleen's room. And her aunt only had to see her face to ask in alarm, "What happened?"

Chad answered, after he sat Marian down on the sofa, "She thought she saw her father."

"That isn't possible."

"I know, but the resemblance must have been close enough to—"

"It was Papa," Marian interrupted quietly, glancing up at her aunt. "He looked directly at me, not a foot away from me. It was Papa."

Kathleen sighed. "Well, I can't say I'm delighted to hear it. The best thing Mortimer ever did for you gals was to the. So he couldn't even do that right?"

Marian was coming out of her daze. She shot to her feet in agitation. Her aunt had been alone in her room when Chad brought her there, but it was getting close to the dinner hour when the rest of their party would be joining them. Kathleen's room was larger than the other rooms so a dining table had been set up in it.

"Mandy is going to go crazy over this news," Marian predicted.

Kathleen disagreed. "She'll probably be too happy to ask for explanations."

"I thought y'all buried him?" Chad said.

"We did, but it was a closed casket. I never thought to ask why."

"So the wrong man got buried, and your father has been missing all this time. Amnesia?" Chad guessed.

"That would certainly explain it," Kathleen agreed.

"I suppose it would," Marian added, frowning deep in thought. "Except—he would have had to only just gotten his memory back today, or within the last couple days."

"Why?"

"Because Albert's sister is living in our old house, which means Albert is, too," Marian said. "Papa probably doesn't know that yet."

"And how'd you find that out, when you were supposed to be lying low?" Kathleen asked.

Marian made a face. "I went for a walk. I didn't intend to go in that direction, I just wandered there aimlessly and happened upon Albert's sister coming home. But I took precautions," she added, tapping the veiled bonnet that was still on her head. Then she removed it. "No one recognized me."

Kathleen nodded, and said, "You know, there's another explanation that just occurred to me."

"What?"

"The man you saw might be your father's twin."

"He didn't have one."

"Maybe he did. They run in our family. And I wasn't around when he was born, to know one way or the other. There could have been two of them. Our mother was certainly selfish enough, and lacking in motherly love, to have given one of her babies away if she didn't want to be bothered with two."

"That's a bit far-fetched," Chad said.

"Yes, it is. But crazier things have happened," Kathleen insisted.

"Except he knew me," Marian reminded them.

Kathleen blinked, then said in exasperation, "That's right, you said you were standing right next to him. So what did he have to say about all this?"

"He didn't stay to chat, and I was too shocked to follow him again. I got his annoyed don't-bother-me-now look that he always reserved just for me."

Chad patted the seat next to him on the sofa to lure Marian back down. She obliged, and they both got a raised brow from Kathleen when his arm went around Marian's shoulder and she didn't shrug it off.

"There's more news to impart today?" Kathleen wanted to know.

"Yes," Marian said, with a slight blush and a grin. "But now isn't the best time to mention it.

Kathleen chuckled. "Congratulations anyway."

"For what?" Amanda asked as she sashayed into the room without knocking, Spencer close on her heels. Before she got an answer, she said, "Dinner isn't here yet? I'm famished."

"You ate enough for two people at lunch, and the sun hasn't even finished setting yet. What have you been doing to work up such an appetite?"

Kathleen had asked the question in all innocence, but Amanda blushed furiously, while Spencer stood there smirking. "Oh," Kathleen said, then quickly got back to answering Amanda's original question with a grin. "Mari and Chad have finally figured out that they like each other."

"Thanks to my help," Amanda crowed.

Kathleen and Marian both stared at her incredulously, but Chad whispered in Marian's ear, "I'll tell you about it later, but she is actually responsible for my persistence today."

"Amanda doing me a good turn?" Marian whispered back with a soft snort. "When cows learn how to—"

"You're procrastinating, darlin," he cut in. "Just tell her and get it over with."