An Inconvenient Bride

by Blythe Carver

  He was no one compared to Lewis, or to Rance, or to Mason. These were the sort of men the Reed women chose for husbands.

  How could he ever compare to that?

  How could he have been so careless as to allow himself to fall in love? It would never bring him anything but pain, nor would it serve as anything but a reminder of how he fell short.

  He squelched these thoughts as the door opened behind him, and prepared himself for what was to come. He expected Holly to join him, as that was her way. She never knew when to leave well enough alone.

  Only it wasn’t Holly. It was Lewis who stepped up beside him and admired the view as Roan had just been doing.

  “It is a beautiful piece of land, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “It is, in fact,” Roan agreed. On that, there was no argument. It stretched out for miles in all directions, and it was all Reed land. He imagined riding Merlyn over so much flat, open space, letting him stretch his legs in a way he never could while in the mountains.

  There was a peace here, a stillness in the evening which stirred the same dark, quiet piece of his heart that only the mountainside had ever stirred before. Looking down over the wide, fast stretches of land which unfurled at the base of the mountain. He had always felt like a king, surveying his kingdom.

  He would never be king here. Then again, he was not truly king on the mountain, either. There were other men there, men who would always want to fight and steal that they might take what he had earned. What little there was.

  “I’m sure you can understand now how reluctant I was to allow a group of strangers to come in and take this from me. At least, that was how I saw it at the time,” Lewis explained. “A bunch of city-slicking women who knew not the first thing about ranching. I thought they would come in and take it from me, not to mention everything else in my life. My position, my security, everything I had ever worked for.”

  Roan could understand this, for he had only just been on the verge of asking himself if he could have given up what he’d built on the mountain. He’d earned a good reputation over the years as a fair and honest man in a trade, to say nothing of the quality and value of the pelts which he traded.

  “But they didn’t,” he observed. “You are still here, working the land. Doing what you have always wanted to do.”

  He looked to Lewis, who rubbed the back of his neck with a rather chagrined smile beginning to spread. “It might look that easy on the surface, but there’s much more to it than that. Sometimes, a man has to look at his life and accept that things are going to change in a way he couldn’t have predicted. Yes, I can have what I’ve always wanted, but only if I wait a year and live with my sisters-in-law. Even then, we have not yet discussed what will be done with the ranch once the girls earn it. And I have to accept that. I have to trust that whatever happens, happens the way it was supposed to be. Yes, I can try and struggle and fight to bend things to my will, but in the end, I can’t control everything. That isn’t easy for a man to accept.”

  Roan stared off the distance, shaking his head. “No. I would suspect it isn’t.”

  “Then, there are times when we must do what we never expected we would do. Especially when we do it because we’ve come to care for someone else more than we care for ourselves.”

  Roan had the sneaking suspicion Lewis meant far more than he said. He turned to him, facing him head-on. “What is it you’re trying to say?”

  Lewis grinned, always good-natured. “Now that you mention it, I was about to make a suggestion.”

  23

  “Good night,” Molly whispered, leaning in to kiss Holly’s cheek. “Tonight, I sleep.”

  Holly cupped Molly’s cheek in one hand. “Don’t tell me you haven’t been sleeping.”

  “Don’t tell me you would be able to sleep if I had gone missing.” Molly smiled. “There was nothing else to do but worry for you. Now, I have nothing to worry about. You’re here, where you belong. Where you are loved so deeply. I cannot begin to tell you…”

  Holly shook her head, willing back the tears stinging behind her eyes. “Let’s not speak of it,” she hastened to reply. “I can’t stand it. Just know that I was worried for you, too. All of you.”

  With another kiss, Molly went to her room and closed the door. Holly wondered if her twin would ever know how she envied her. Her happiness, her security. Knowing her man loved her so.

  The joy of being able to love him freely. That was what weighed heaviest on Holly’s heart as, instead of going to her room, she went downstairs.

  If only she could love Roan openly. Throughout the evening she had noted the little looks Molly and Lewis exchanged, the way Rance’s and Phoebe’s hands always found each other whenever the two of them were in close proximity.

  How she had longed to touch Roan’s hand, to pat his leg. Small gestures such as those, completely innocent but speaking to a deeper intimacy which they would never share.

  There was no hiding her tears this time, and she collapsed onto the sofa in the parlor and wept, cradling a small pillow in her arms and holding it against her chest.

  She had never felt so utterly alone, especially not while in the presence of her sisters. Even Rance and Mason had spent the night, intending to bid farewell to their guest in the morning before taking their brides to their home in town.

  Even in a house full of people, Holly might as well have been back on the mountain. All by herself.

  Would she ever be able to feel the same again? Would she ever return to the person she had once been? The ranch had already changed her so—she suspected that none of her friends or even her students back in Baltimore would recognize her now—but this? This had altered her down to her very soul.

  She had freed herself from her captors, had escaped into the mountains. Had fallen in love, had nursed a dying woman and come to love her child. She had even killed a man, something she still had not shared with her sisters.

  Some things needed time before she could give voice to them.

  The house was so quiet now, when it had only just been full of life and laughter hours earlier. She’d done her best to play the part and be jolly, in spite of how every moment she wished she could pour her heart out to the man she loved. A man who might as well have been on the other side of the world rather than seated directly at her left.

  Soft footsteps echoed down the stairs as someone approached. A heavier tread, not one of the girls. She sat up, quickly wiping away her tears and struggling to contain herself should she be discovered.

  Rather than turning right to enter the parlor, the footsteps moved away, toward the study.

  She listened as whoever it was pulled the stopper from one of the decanters and poured a drink.

  This was intriguing. Who could it be? She tiptoed from the parlor, forgetting her misery for a moment, and through the half-open study door saw Roan sipping a whiskey.

  Her breath caught. She did not want him to see her. Holding her skirts close to her body, she took one backward step in hopes of fleeing upstairs before he took notice.

  Naturally, then, a floorboard squeaked underfoot.

  His head snapped around, his eyes meeting hers.

  There would be no fleeing now. Instead of stepping away, then, she marched forward.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you,” she murmured.

  He looked down at the glass, then at her. “I hope this does not look the way it likely looks,” he grimaced. “I don’t wish to give the impression of taking advantage of Lewis’s hospitality.”

  “No one would ever think that, but it surprises me. I did not take you for a drinking man.”

  “Typically, I am not. My father was a Scotsman through and through, and therefore appreciated his whiskey. He trained me to drink, and to drink well. I simply do not keep it at home, for it is a remembrance of him I would rather not visit. Tonight, I needed one more drink before bed.”

  “Is it not comfortable for you?”

  He had taken the last of the bedrooms, th
e one which had been Molly’s until Molly took the master bedroom with Lewis.

  “On the contrary. It is perhaps the most comfortable bed on which I have ever…” He stopped there, still staring down into his glass and swirling the liquid. “But I could not sleep. I could not even bring myself to close my eyes.”

  “Why? Something upset you? You did marvelously well tonight.”

  “Nothing like that,” he murmured.

  His brow creased as if in concentration. Or consternation. She could not tell which.

  “It did strike me, however, that everything will change tomorrow. I will take Edward home with me, and I’ve never been alone with him before.”

  Yes, he was more concerned with Edward than with her. She knew this would be the case, did she not? Why did it come as a surprise, then? Why did it hurt so?

  “That’s natural. You will do what’s best for him. Trust your instincts, and you will be fine.” She did what she could to inject a positive note into her voice, but she feared she’d fallen flat.

  At any rate, he hardly looked comforted by this. “And what of you?”

  “What of me?”

  “What will you do here?”

  She shrugged, looking around the room to avoid looking at him. He would certainly see the pain written all over her face if given enough time. “What did I do before? Wait for the year to be over, I suppose, and think about it then.”

  “That sounds very nice for you.”

  How did he manage to inflame her anger with only the slightest word, the slightest sentence? “What do you mean by that?”

  He shrugged, lifting the glass to his lips. “Having so much time before you have to make a decision. Sitting here, passing the days. Knowing you will be taken care of no matter what the decision. You will have a home, or you will have the money from the sale of the ranch.”

  “How dare you?” she hissed, closing the door so as to avoid waking anyone. “You would come into my home and speak to me that way, after everyone was so kind to you today? And I thought you were getting along with the men, especially with Lewis. He seems taken with your abilities.”

  “Certainly, he was,” he muttered before placing the empty glass on the desk. “But it doesn’t matter. None of it does. Tomorrow, I will return to my life, and you to your own. This was nothing but a…”

  “A what?” she prompted. “Come, now. The whiskey has given you extra bravery. What is it you wish to say?”

  “Watch what you imply,” he warned.

  “I know exactly what I implied, and I should’ve said it straight out,” she fired back, still fighting to keep her voice low. “Now that you’ve had your drink, you can say what’s on your mind. What is it? That you still think you’re better than me, than any of this? None of it is good enough for you. Even now, when you’ve seen how pleasant it could be for you here, you refuse to listen to me. To accept what I offered.”

  “I will not accept charity,” he spat.

  “Who is offering charity? Not me, certainly. Lewis would work you from dawn through dusk, make no mistake about it. But it would be a good living, in open country. With a child to consider. What are you going to do with him out there? How can you possibly hope to raise him?”

  “I thought you just told me my instincts are true and I ought to do just splendidly,” he reminded her.

  “And I said that because it seemed like the right thing to say at the time,” she admitted, her face flushing painfully at being caught in a lie told for the sake of his feelings. “In reality, I believe you to be a prideful, stubborn fool who would rather cut off his nose to spite his face than admit he needs help. You need help with Edward. Why doesn’t that matter?”

  His dark gaze was locked on her face.

  She threw her hands into the air. “Why don’t I matter?”

  She hadn’t expected to say it. Neither had he, judging by his stunned silence.

  Sputtering, she tried her best to explain herself. “I mean, why doesn’t it matter that I offered this to you with nothing but the best intentions? Do you care nothing for what you’ve done to my feelings? You make it seem as though we aren’t good enough for you, as though all of this is beneath you. I know the truth. You are afraid.”

  His eyes widened. His nostrils flared.

  She feared she’d just made a grave mistake.

  “Afraid?” he whispered, brows lifting. “That is what you think of me? That I am afraid of—what? Your life?”

  “Yes, I do.” Why not own up to what she’d said? It wasn’t as if this could possibly get any worse. She would never see him again after he left in the morning. “You care more for your pride and the fear that you wouldn’t be able to make a life out here than you do for your nephew, who could be happy here. With all of us. A family. Not just you, and the pelts, and Merlyn. What sort of life is that?”

  “It was good enough for me,” he snarled.

  “And look how you turned out,” she spat.

  “Enough of this. I’m through arguing with you. You aren’t my responsibility any longer, so I do not have to listen to your prattle.”

  “This is prattle?” she asked, truly and fully furious now. It was nearly impossible to hear anything over the rushing of blood in her ears. How dare he? “When I care enough to try to make your life easier, you dare accuse me of prattling?”

  “I never said I wanted an easy life. My life is my own, no one else’s.”

  “Congratulations, then, for you will have no one to blame but yourself when everything falls to pieces.”

  “I suppose you’ll never know, will you?” he reminded her, his voice cold.

  He might as well have hit her. She certainly felt as though he had, air forcing itself from her lungs like she’d been kicked. She took hold of a small table to steady herself and looked down at the vase sitting in the center.

  Without thinking, she picked it up and pulled her arm back, prepared to throw.

  He caught her in time, his hand closing over her wrist.

  Rough, careless, he fought the vase from her grip and placed it back on the table without letting her go.

  He then pulled her to himself, his hand tighter than ever. His lip lifted in a snarl, his eyes narrowing as he took her in.

  She stared up at him, defiant. Let him see how she hated him. How the very sight of him sickened her. How it didn’t matter in the slightest that they were pressed together, that his breath was hot on her face and somehow made goosebumps rise up all over her skin.

  How could he infuriate her so when she loved him to the depths of her soul?

  He crushed her to him then, kissing her roughly this time when he had been so sweet and gentle before.

  Rather than repulsing her, however, this inflamed her passion more than she ever could’ve imagined. She reached up, taking a handful of his glorious hair and pulling him closer, desperate to take every last moment she could manage.

  A sob swelled in her chest, and she could not tell whether it was one of grief or one of joy.

  Perhaps both. Was it possible to feel grief while in the grip of complete joy? When he held her, kissing her hard, leaving her helpless like this… she could describe it in no other way.

  Her lips stung when he pulled away, and they both breathed like horses after running a great distance.

  He took a step back, looking her up and down, fists clenched as he fought with himself.

  Why was he fighting?

  What was he fighting?

  She would never know, as he barged past her and out of the room, then up the stairs without another word.

  Leaving her alone again, with only the taste of him on her lips.

  24

  He paced back and forth in front of the door, waiting for someone to finally wake and descend the stairs. Why did they all insist on sleeping so late on this of all mornings?

  It was not late, not truly, but it felt that way to him after spending such a fitful night tossing and turning.

  The whiskey had not help
ed at all, thanks to what came after it. He’d never known such suffering as he had that night, knowing he’d hurt her and then used her so brutally. Kissing her the way he had, holding her as he did. Rough, brutish.

  The fact that she’d responded favorably hadn’t helped matters. In fact, he was more certain than ever that he’d never understand her.

  There was no call for him to do so, which meant it was just as well.

  He would have left already if it were not for the baby. Why was he foolish enough to agree to let Edward sleep in Holly’s room? He’d been waiting nearly an hour for one of the girls to go in and take him.

  He knew well enough that he could never be so bold. Not even after he’d kissed her until it hurt.

  Footsteps.

  Finally.

  He came to a stop, looking up the stairs. For some reason, the sight of Cate, out of all of them, granted added relief.

  “I need your help.” He kept his voice low, going to her before she reached the last step.

  “What is it?” she whispered, immediately excited by the notion of intrigue.

  “I need you to go to Holly’s room and take Edward from it. It’s time for us to go.”

  Her face fell. Damn it all.

  “You’re leaving? Before breakfast? But… we would all like the chance to say goodbye…”

  “I’m afraid I’ve already overstayed my welcome.”

  “Isn’t that up to us to decide?” she asked, eyes wide and innocent. She hadn’t the first idea what he suffered.

  “Please. It’s time for me to go. I’ve spent far too much time here already. I have traps that need checking, and…”

  “Never fear,” she murmured, sounding terribly disappointed but willing to assist. “I understand. I only wish you would stay. For everyone’s sake.”

  “What does that mean?” he asked, but she was already halfway up the stairs, and he would not shout after her. He’d already made enough of an undignified cad of himself.