A/N: After five and  half months of feeling like a medicated zombie, I have finally stopped taking my bipolar meds (I'm going to find other less damaging ways to manage my disorder) and the urge to write is returning! I hope y'all enjoy the chapter. 

Chapter Forty-One

Zachary stood beneath the large oak, his back resting against the rough bark as he puffed the cigarette between his lips for all he was worth. Lamp and lantern light illuminated the darkening park. Water trickled in the large stone fountain and the aroma of flowers filled the evening air.

It hadn't been hard to decide that this was where he wanted to become Samantha's husband. Neither of them were church going people and most of their most loving and intimate moments had taken place outdoors among nature. And so, Zachary had found a preacher, found the nicest place in the park, and now was simply waiting for his woman to show up.

"You sure you don't mind sharing your wedding?" Timothy asked, tapping his fingertips on trousers of his dapper black suit. Zachary was wearing a similar suit and he felt awkward as hell.

"Of course, I don't mind. I would want you here as my best man even if you weren't getting married."

"Why don't you look nervous?" Timothy demanded, tapping his fingers harder. "I'm scared as hell the woman is gonna change her mind."

Zachary blew out a long puff of smoke. "She would be a fool to change her mind, Tim. She would never find a better husband than you'll be to her."

Tim's green eyes widened. "Oh..." He smiled. "Thanks Zach.. that means a lot."

Zachary tipped his head. "I mean it. And if it makes you feel any better, I am nervous." Something he wouldn't have admitted to most people. "Nervous that something will happen to take this away. I just want to marry the damn woman and get our lives started. I've wasted too much of my life and lost too many things in my life and I'm not eager to waste or lose anything else."

Tim nodded as he patted Zach on the back. "You won't lose anything else. Neither one of us will. Only good things for Zachary Marston and Timothy O'Neil from here on out."

A chuckle rumbled from Zachary's chest. "That sounds damn good, Tim."

Tim put his hands in his pockets and rocked back. "Sure does. Don't it?"

The clearing of a throat behind them reminded Zachary that the preacher was there. He turned to face the man who offered a friendly smile. "Do you men want to say special vows to your ladies or simply repeat simple ones after me?"

"I'm not much of a public speaker." Zachary shook his head. "I'll just repeat after you."

"Me too." Tim agreed.

The preacher nodded and went back to scanning a piece of paper. Zachary took another puff of his cigarette. "I'm surprised you don't want to say your own vows," he admitted. "You've always been a talker."

"Haha." Timothy kicked at the stones. "There's a lot I'd like to say but Eleanor is a lot like you. She's not much for public speaking."

Exhaling a swirling cloud of smoke, Zachary smiled. "Don't worry, Tim. You'll have the rest of your life to talk the lady's ear off."

Silence fell between the men. In the distance the faint laughter of children could be heard as could the din of the city. Zachary hated cities. He was growing more and more anxious about the fact that Samantha was out in that city without his protection. Sure, he knew Sam could handle that gun of hers just fine but Zach knew all too well that an evil enough group of men wouldn't be deterred by a woman with a gun—Clinton Matthews and his followers were evil enough men.

Letting out a growl, he tossed his cigarette down and killed it beneath his boot. Shoving himself away from the tree, Zachary decided he was going to have to find his woman and if he had made a mistake in trusting that big-bellied man, Charles Finn, from the hotel, Zachary would kill him so slowly he would be begging to simply die.

"Hey, there they are...." Tim's nervousness was plain to hear in his squeaked out announcement. Why was the man so nervous? Surely he realized that any woman would be lucky to have such a loyal and good man as a husband. And the life he was offering to Eleanor, the future he wanted to give her and the babe, was better than any Eleanor could have without him—Eleanor was a smart woman, surely, she realized that for herself. Not to mention the rather steamy kisses the couple had been sharing all week on every boardwalk in Hackney—they loved each other even if they hadn't admitted as much to one another just yet.

And maybe they had. Hell, Zach didn't know. It wasn't any of his business.

His eyes found Samantha and his throat seemed to slam closed as he struggled to swallow.

His woman was goddamn breathtaking.

Her wild red curls were barely tamed, pulled back from her face and falling across her slender shoulders. She was all wrapped up in white silk that glistened in the growing lantern light around them, illuminating and accentuating every curve of her feminine body. The dress flared at her hips, hiding the shape of her legs but that didn't matter—Zachary had every inch of her memorized and he was pretty good at using his imagination.

Her eyes met his and Zachary nearly ran to the damn woman, wanting nothing more than to taste those lightly painted lips that curved into a smile at the sight of him. The din of the city disappeared, the bird song seemed to cease and the faint laughter of children could no longer be heard. Not a thing in the world existed except his Sam as she began to close the distance between them. As a matter of fact, Zachary hadn't even noticed Eleanor's presence at all until the woman gasped, raised the skirt of her white lace dress, and took off at a run in the other direction and away from her waiting groom.

***

Eleanor had no real idea of where she was going, she only knew she had to get away. It was too much. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think—only one resounding word kept repeating in her mind. Fraud. She was a fraud. A pregnant whore all dressed in white lace and preparing to marry a man far too good for her as if she deserved it. She didn't. Neither did Timothy. He was an amazing man. A man who deserved a woman he could proudly walk down the street with without hearing whispers of what a fool he was.

In her tear blinded state, Eleanor could barely make out where she was running as she dashed down the darkening city streets. She found herself crashing into a man's back, nearly knocking them both to the ground. He turned quickly and caught her arm to steady her. "Are you okay, Miss?"

Eleanor yanked away and shook her head before continuing her desperate attempt at escape. No. No, she was not okay. She had tried so hard to make herself believe she deserved a good life with a good man but she didn't... she didn't deserve Timothy O'Neil. And he didn't deserve her—he deserved so much better.

"Eleanor?!" Timothy's voice rang out behind her and she cursed under her breath, turning a corner quickly and slipping into an alley as she continued running.

"Ell! Stop!" His voice was closer. "Would you just stop and talk to me?"

Eleanor didn't dare look over her shoulder to see how close he was. Her lungs were beginning to burn and the tears were falling harder.

"I think you should know...." He managed to pant out around breaths as he continued to chase her—she could hear his boots pounding the bricks and cobblestones behind her. "I'm pretty good at running.... And I won't stop chasing you... until you stop... and talk to me.... I deserve better than you continuing to shut me out...and running off..."

His words slammed into her and Eleanor knew he was right. She stopped her running and placed her hand against a brick wall beside her to steady herself and catch her breath—keeping her back to Timothy.

She could feel his presence behind her as he too came to a stop. He was close and her body trembled. Timothy held such a power over her. Simply knowing he was there, feeling the sensation of him near her, had Eleanor's entire body aching with a want and a desire for not only his sexual touch but also simply his touch in general. Timothy made her feel a peace and a contentment when he simply held her close that Eleanor had never felt before in her life.

How would she ever live without him?

"Care to tell me what this is about?" Timothy asked after several long moments of silence. His voice sounded strange. She slowly turned and felt her own throat clog with emotion when she saw the tears in his red-rimmed green eyes.

"Tim.. you're crying..."

He sniffed and swiped the sleeve of his black suit across his face. "Damn right I am. What did you expect? My woman, who had seemed eager to have me as her husband all week, just caught sight of me standing there ready to marry her and took off running like the hounds of hell were on her heels." He stopped and swallowed hard, his throat working as he shoved his hands deep in his trouser pockets and dropped his gaze. "Do you not want me, Ell?"

Eleanor's heart ached. She hated seeing Timothy look so broken—and hated more that she had caused his pain. He shrugged as a tear plopped on the toe of the dusty boot he was wearing. "I won't force you to marry me, Eleanor. I won't get angry and I won't cause trouble if you walk away from me."

Just as his mother had walked away. Just as his stepfather had beaten him and walked away. Just as Zachary had gotten lost in his rage and walked away. Eleanor wanted to kick herself. She did not want to be one more person who walked away from Timothy O'Neil. He was the best man she knew. He made her feel safe, warm, protected, and wanted in a way she had never felt wanted. She wanted to be his woman—she wanted to build a life and a family with him, but couldn't he see that she didn't deserve him at all?

"Talk to me, Eleanor." He raised his gaze to meet hers, a fresh tear slipping down his cheek. "I deserve that at least."

Eleanor closed her eyes and swallowed hard as she wrapped her arms tight around herself feeling such an imposter in her white lace gown—she felt dirty in a way she never had before. A nasty whore all wrapped in a pretty, white lace lie. "Why?" she whispered. "Why do you want to marry me so badly?"

His brow furrowed as he wiped his arm across his face once more and offered a frustrated shrug. "This again? Ell, I don't know how to be any more open, honest, and plain with you than I've already been."

She wanted to scream. But instead she turned away from him, unable to look at the pain she was inflicting on him any longer. Didn't he realize that her own heart was shattering?

"You deserve better, Timothy." She finally whispered, her gaze was on the dirty stone alleyway beneath her feet and yet her eyes weren't seeing it—they were busy working with her imagination to create a happy future with Timothy and the baby growing within her—pretty little lies she did not deserve.

"Dammit, Ell... I don't want better. I happen to think there is no one better. You are who I want."

Eleanor shook her head. Before today she had convinced herself that marrying Timothy was right. She had let herself believe those pretty little lies her imagination dreamed up—but when she had seen him standing there in that suit looking more handsome than any man ever had before it had all become too real. The white lace against her skin, the happy smile on his face as he'd taken in the sight of her—it was wrong.

"Why? Don't you realize how many men have touched me? I'm dirty, Timothy. I'm not fit to be a wife."

Eleanor nearly gasped at the uncharacteristic string of curses that flew from Timothy's mouth. After a rather colorful thirty seconds, she heard him take a deep breath and she could practically picture him pushing his hand through his messy blond hair, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels.

"Okay. Maybe you're right. Do you know how many women have touched me? I'm dirty. I'm not fit to be a husband."

Eleanor felt her temper flare. "Tim, this isn't a time for jokes."

"I'm not joking—just showing you how ridiculous you're being. We've had this conversation a dozen times in a dozen different ways and I'm tired of having it. I want to be with you but I can't make you want to be with me and I'm tired of getting hurt every time you change your mind about our future."

"Dammit, Timothy!" Eleanor threw up her hands and whirled around. "Why are you so damned determined to be a hero?"

His sad face nearly had Eleanor leaping into his arms to soothe his hurt. His lips curved in the faintest of smiles that did not reach his eyes. "Timothy 'Hero' O'Neil, remember?"

Her mind drifted back to the night at the diner. The night she had gotten her first real look into the man Timothy was. The night he had gone to battle with every single enemy that dared present itself to her. Yes, she remembered her hero. But it wasn't right. He shouldn't have to be a hero simply to be with her. He would always be facing fights because of the judgements of others. Timothy deserved a better future than that.

When she didn't reply, Timothy sighed. He reached out and took her hand in his, his touch so very gently as he stroked her wrist with his calloused thumb. "You have to stop this, Eleanor. I want to be with you. And as far as being a hero goes, I never have been the heroic type. I've always been the man standing behind the hero throwing out a wise crack now and then." He shrugged and swallowed hard. "What can I say? You inspire me."

Eleanor tilted her head, unsure what to make of that statement. "I inspire you?"

"Yes." Those deep green eyes were earnest as they seemed to look into her very soul. "You inspire me to be a better man. I want to be your hero. I want to make you smile. I want to give you more happy days than sad. I want to ease that weight you seem to carry around on your shoulders all the time. I want to go to battle against any and every person who wrongs you. I want to be your man and give you everything you've ever wanted and will ever want."

Eleanor couldn't seem to breathe as she listened to his passionate words and saw the emotion shining out of his gaze. Tim seemed to be running out of things to say. He heaved out a sigh. "Dammit, Ell, I love you."

She was certain her heart ceased to beat for several seconds. Drawing a breath seemed impossible. Love? A man loved her? Timothy O'Neil loved her? Even knowing all he knew about her he loved her.

Following her silence, his shoulders fell as he swallowed hard. Eleanor wanted to speak but could not seem to remember how words were formed. "I love you, Ell, and it's okay if you don't love me back. It won't change how I feel about you or the life I'll build for you and that babe. I'll be a good husband to you and a good father to our child if you'll stop running away and just give me chance."

The words he was saying seemed too good to be true and yet the raw honesty in his eyes made it impossible for her not to believe him. Surely a man could not fake what she saw staring back at her. "Love? You love me....how?"

Timothy frowned as he scratched his jaw. He looked down at her hand held gently in his and ran a finger over the diamond ring he had placed upon it the night he'd asked her to marry him. "I don't know exactly when it happened or how. All I can say for certain is that I do love you and anytime I look in my future, the only person I can see beside me is you."

"But people will say...."

"We've talked about that until I'm blue in the face, Ell," he reminded her, though his voice remained gentle. "I don't give a damn what people say. They say lots of things. They say I'm a no good gambling drunk who does nothing but fool around spend too much coin at the brothel. They've been talking about Samantha the woman with no last name who lived among drunks and whores before moving on to Zachary—and lets not forget Zachary. Folks say he's a no good murderer who has spent the last five years killing everyone he met, not to mention that he slaughtered his entire family and is now a violent, angry, dangerous man who may just kill everyone in town if the mood strikes him."

Eleanor snorted. "That's ridiculous. You are an amazing man and they can choke on their judgements. Samantha is the kindest woman I have ever met and Zachary—while he is quite bristly—has done nothing but help that town since he came back to it."

Timothy nodded. "Exactly. Folks are gonna talk about everyone no matter what. It doesn't mean they're right. You can't live your life worried about what they're gonna say. They don't matter. All that matters is you and me and the life we can build together."

"You make it sound so easy."

"It is that easy," he promised. "If you choose to marry me, I'll be a good man to you, Eleanor. I'll never judge your past because it's over and done and there's nothing that can be done to change it—just the same as I can't change the things I've done before. I will love you, honor you, respect you and never make you question or doubt how I feel. Maybe, someday, you'll find yourself falling in love with me too."

Suddenly Eleanor knew. Everything became clear to her in that very moment and all the broken pieces of her life fell into place. She could have a happy future with Timothy, the baby in her womb, and the family they would build. She could be a good wife. She could be a good mother. She did deserve a happy life—a happy life with Tim. She had been so very foolish to so stubbornly believe otherwise.

"Tim?" she whispered, reaching out her free hand and laying it on his cheek. "I love you too."

The smile that split his boyishly handsome face took away any and all traces of the sadness that had been there moments before. "You do?"

She nodded, hoping he would see the sincerity in her eyes. "I do."

Timothy let out a quiet laugh and brought his brow down to rest against hers. "I'm damn happy to hear that." He lifted his head, pressed a kiss to her brow, and stood straight. "No more running away? I can't watch your back walking away from me again."

Eleanor shook her head and stepped closer, pressing her body close to his and resting her head against his heart. "I'll never leave you again. I'm sorry I hurt you...."

Tim's arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly. She felt that familiar warmth begin low in her core and spread throughout her. Timothy lowered his lips to her ear and when his teeth grazed her tender flesh, Eleanor's knees buckled. Only Tim's arms holding her tight kept her from falling on the stone alleyway.

"I think we should go get married now," Timothy warned, standing straight, pulling away and adjusting the trousers of his suit in an attempt to hide the arousal Eleanor could see there.

A blush stained her cheeks as she averted her gaze. "I think you're probably right." Eleanor was going to become a wife—Timothy O'Neil's wife—and she was finally going to experience true lovemaking with a man who wanted to see to her pleasure instead of only his own. Though she had laid with Tim before, she knew this would be different. He was different. Her body trembled with anticipation.

Timothy held out his arm and Eleanor slid hers through. "Let's go then, Ell. We may not be having that double wedding after this. Zachary is not a patient man. He probably already made Sam marry him, tossed her over his shoulder and locked her away in the hotel."

"As long as I become your wife today, I don't care about anything else—except maybe finding my own self locked up in that hotel."

At the sight of her wink, Timothy nearly tripped over his own feet. His cheeks flamed red and he nodded, tugging at his shirt collar. "Let's get going then. I sure would hate to disappoint you."