Read My Darling Melissa for Free Online Page A

seat, squinting, his voice low. “What happened, Rafferty? Did you have a few too many and marry a dance hall girl, or what?”
    For the first time since he’d known him, which was some twenty years, Quinn wanted to knock Mitch Williams on his ass. “She isn’t a dance hall girl,” he hissed, too loudly. All over the car heads were turning.
    “Have you consummated this marriage?” Mitch demanded in an undertone.
    “Don’t you think that’s kind of a personal question?” Quinn shot back. He could feel his neck heating up and swelling to make his collar too tight.
    Mitch shrugged. “It all depends on your answer, my friend,” he said coolly. “If you’re having regrets, and if you haven’t taken any real liberties, the marriage can be annulled.”
    “Annulled?” Quinn echoed stupidly. For all his second thoughts, that avenue hadn’t occurred to him.
    Mitch nodded.
    Quinn spat out an abrupt “No!”
    A smug grin crossed Mitch’s face. “This has all the earmarks of a real yarn. What the Sam Hill’s going on here?”
    Quinn drew in a deep breath and sighed it out again. “It all started in Port Hastings,” he began. Mitch’s eyes got wider as the story went on, and when it was over he swore in exclamation.
    “So you carried the Corbins’ baby sister off on a train and married her for her money, did you?” Mitch paused, shook his head in awe, and then chuckled. “You’re either bone-stupid or the bravest man I ever knew.”
    A drunk in the next booth voted for stupid.
    Glaring, Quinn leaned forward in his seat and demanded of his friend, “Do you know her brothers?”
    “I do for a fact,” Mitch confessed. “I grew up in Port Hastings, remember?”
    Quinn rubbed his stubbled jaw. He needed a shave, a hot bath, and a good meal.
    And Melissa.
    Before he could respond to Mitch’s remark, however, there was a stir at the back of the club car, followed by a spate of delicate coughing. Quinn whirled, full of dread, and sure enough, there was Melissa in that infernal calico dress of hers, waving away the smoke with one hand.
    Quinn cursed roundly while Mitch laughed.
    “Oh, Mr. Rafferty!” Melissa called out sweetly, standingon tiptoe to peer over the heads of half a dozen shocked poker players. “Mr. Rafferty!”
    Quinn shot out of his seat, muttering, and stormed over to Melissa, maneuvering her along the windy little walkway leading into the next car, where a few diners were lingering over lunch.
    She stared up at him with wide eyes. “Did I do something wrong?”
    Quinn realized that he’d taken a hard grasp on her arm and relaxed his fingers. Annoyed as he was, the last thing he wanted was to hurt Melissa. Ever. “Women aren’t allowed in the club car,” he informed her in a tight whisper.
    “Oh,” she replied lamely. “I forgot.” Her whole countenance brightened like a Christmas tree with all the candles lit. The scent of Quinn’s brandy indicated that she’d been fortifying her courage during their brief separation. “And there was no harm done, after all, was there?”
    Quinn wasn’t so sure about that. “Melissa,” he began in a low, impatient voice. “What do you want?”
    She beamed up at him, and he saw rainbows in her eyes. “I’ve decided that I’m ready to have that child we talked about,” she announced.
    Several forks clattered against plates around the dining car, and Quinn would have been willing to bet that more than one wine glass had been overturned. “What?” he asked, feeling and sounding as though she’d just clasped both her hands around his neck and squeezed with all her strength.
    When he saw she was about to repeat herself, he hastened to cover her mouth with one hand and pleaded, “Don’t!”
    The azure eyes looked baffled, but when Quinn lowered his hand Melissa was quiet and obedient.
    “Go back and wait for me, Melissa,” he said, feeling bold in the face of her docile acquiescence. “We’ll be in Port Riley in an hour or two, and then we