Olivia snuggled closer. He was warm and solid against her cheek, but something was still off. She had never felt feelings like this for Christopher in all the months they had written to each other. Something had changed, but what?
Fingers of unease plucked at her sub-conscience as if trying to tell her something she didn’t understand. She reached for Christopher to ask him to explain what was happening, but he faded into the darkness.
Chancellor Evans Garrison sat in his seat on the train to Creede and refocused on his work. At least he tried to. He had wanted to look over the financial statements for his brother’s estate before he arrived in town, but his unexpected companion made that almost impossible for him to do so now.
Chance had paid good money to have that seat next to him remain empty. He had explained to every passenger who had approached him about the seat next to him that he had paid for the seat and he intended to use it to organize his work. Of course, that wasn’t the real reason.
Chance shifted in his seat and tried to redirect his thoughts back to the mindless exercise of his brother’s financials, but—he struggled to concentrate. He was still trying to come to grips with the reality that his brother was dead.
The woman next to him shifted pulling his attention back to his irritation with her. Everyone else on the train who approached him to sit there understood. Why couldn’t this persistent young woman?
He supposed he could have insisted she find another place to sit. After all, he had a legal right to the seat, but he didn’t relish the idea of drawing everyone’s attention to him. It hadn’t helped either to have the young woman literally fall into his lap. He hated public scenes.
Thoughts of a particularly embarrassing scene just last week still made him pull at his collar. Women were notorious for causing a commotion, especially when they had set their matrimonial cap in his direction without consulting him first.
He cut a discreet look at the silhouette of the woman seated next to him. She was slumped against the window, the soft curve of her face visible to him. She hadn’t moved in a while, so he assumed she was sleeping. His concentration broken, he lay his papers in his lap and openly studied her features.
She was a beauty, he would give her that. Her hair, thick and dark, was piled high on top of her head in a becoming arrangement of curlicues. Her face, flawless and undamaged by the sun, told him she was a pampered miss. Perhaps someone’s sister. Or wife.
Chance’s gaze dropped automatically to her ring finger. No ring. He chastised himself immediately for even looking. It wasn’t as if he was interested in marriage. To the contrary, he’d run fast and furious from the claws of the beautiful women he had known, and their matrimonial minded mothers, during his thirty-one years.
A confirmed bachelor, he had managed to maintain his bachelorhood and the freedom that came with it—unlike his brother.
The thought of his brother’s death punched him in the chest yet again. It didn’t seem possible and yet the letter his brother’s attorney, Hiram Hanover, had written informing him of Chris’s death, was tucked away inside his coat pocket. If he closed his eyes, he could see his brother’s friend and attorney’s distinctive scrawl delivering the bad news.
A ghost of a smile tugged at Chance’s lips when he thought of his fun-loving brother. Chris had married a beautiful young debutante as soon as he had graduated from college. Then, he and Tessa had four children in quick succession. Six years to be exact. As much as he loved his nieces and nephews, the thought of having all those children screaming and leaping about made Chance’s skin itch.
He adjusted in his seat to find a more comfortable position and accidentally bumped the woman sitting next to him. She adjusted her position in return and turned toward him, resting her cheek against his shoulder.
Chance froze. What the hell? He should wake her, and yet when her scent drifted up to him, a quietness fell over him and caught him by surprise.
Ever since the restless days of his youth, he’d had a nervous energy about him—a sense of urgency that kept pushing him to keep moving, refusing to allow him to linger in one place too long. Another reason the thought of marriage made his skin itch. The words “tied down” described the sensation perfectly.
He studied the woman’s face again. Long dark lashes swept across her cheeks. She had a heart-shaped face he found enchanting. Enchanting? Where the hell had that thought come from? He must be more exhausted than he realized.
Chance refocused his attention to his papers on his lap. They were some of the financial records Hiram had sent to him with the letter that bore the awful news that his brother—had died. He still couldn’t wrap his brain around the terrible news.
He had known something had been off when he received Christopher’s letter a few months ago begging Chance to come visit him and his children. It wasn’t like his fun-loving brother to be so philosophical, but his letter was full of what ifs and should have beens.
Chance had been too busy putting the finishing touches on his new hotel, so he wrote back to his brother and promised him he would come in late spring and spend some quality time. Why hadn’t Chris just told him he needed him? If he had only known Chris was ill, he would have dropped everything and rushed to be by his side. It was an opportunity lost he regretted and regret was a bitter pill to swallow.
His heart ached at the knowledge that Chris’s infectious laughter wouldn’t greet him when he stepped off the train in Creede.
Nerve endings fired at his fingertips and pulled him back to the present. His arm had gone to sleep. He needed to adjust his arm from underneath his unwanted companion’s head. He cut another look down at the woman resting against his shoulder, her face so close, he could feel her breath feather across his chin. Small jerking movements indicated she was dreaming, and by the smile on her face, she was enjoying it.
A soft sigh from the woman leaning into him pulled his gaze to her lips. They were full and bow-shaped. And they looked soft—the kind of lips he liked to kiss—
What on earth was wrong with him? He wasn’t some undisciplined rake. He was a distinguished businessman and a member of Boston’s elite. Perhaps he had been without female companionship for far too long. He would rectify that when he arrived in Creede. For the moment, he needed space.
“Miss. Miss.” He jostled the woman with his left hand. A small groan escaped her lips and she flung her arm across his body, then her delicate hand slid into his lap. A jolt of desire hit him hard at the place where his manhood and her hand met.
“Miss, please wake up.” He had never been so discombobulated around a woman in his life. “Miss—”
Dark lashes rose up, revealing two wide-set almond shaped eyes the color of a clear mountain lake reflecting dark pine trees. Confusion marred their beauty for a moment before realization reflected in their dark green depths.
The woman’s eyes rounded in shock. She bolted straight up and pulled her wandering hand to herself. Her face blushed with embarrassment.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled before turning toward the window busily tucking a few stray curls back into her hair pins, her back once more rigid against the train’s hard seat. She straightened her clothing and sat with her hands crossed in her lap.
Chance turned his attention back to his paperwork but he couldn’t help wondering about this paradoxical little miss. One moment, she was sprawled across his lap. The next she was hugging the window as if she couldn’t bear to touch him. Another moment, she was fast asleep against his shoulder while her hand roamed freely. Then, she was pretending to be prim and proper. What was her story? More importantly, what was her game? Women always had a motive behind their coy behavior. He was confident this woman was no different.
The train conductor walked down the aisle announcing the train’s arrival at their destination in ten minutes. Good. He needed a bath, a clean bed, and a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow, he would meet with Chris’s attorneys and friends, Hiram Hanover and Liam O’Brien, for the reading of his b
rother’s will.
Since Chance was the only living relative of those children, he had spoken to the Dean of Admissions of the best boarding school in Boston to inform him he would have two new students come fall. He hadn’t hired anyone to take care of the two youngest children, but that would be easily rectified once he returned home.
He left explicit instructions for his estate manager to completely renovate the third-floor bedrooms of his house on Beacon Hill. His brother’s children would want for nothing.
Chance had already made plans to stay the summer with his brother before he heard the news of his brother’s death. Besides, he could run his business from anywhere a telegraph office and a bank was located.
He would stay the summer as planned, but now he stayed to give his nieces and nephews time to get used to the idea of moving to Boston and then he would take the children back east. It was what was best for them.
Perhaps he would keep Christopher’s home and property in Creede. It made sound investment sense. Wealthy tourists had discovered the hot springs just south of town, and since he had made his vast fortune by building elegant and exclusive hotels for people with money, he might just consider building a hotel out here. Why not? If the crowd on the train was any indication, it could be another money-making proposition.
He collected his papers and stuffed them inside his leather case. A small hand reached out and touched him on his sleeve. He looked down at it, so small and dainty. He had to admit, he liked the way it looked on his arm.
Chance looked up at its owner. He raised his brows in question and waited for the woman to get to her point. He watched her take a breath as if searching for courage.
Right on time, the train chugged into the busy mining town of Creede. His distracting companion spoke. “I want to offer my heart felt apologies to you, sir. I—for my most inappropriate behavior.”
The train came to a stop, steam spewing from both sides of the train. The conductor opened the car door and passengers on the train stood to leave. Chance gathered his satchel and his coat and stood too.
The woman was as determined to deliver her apology as she had been to usurp his seat. “It would appear I was much more exhausted than I thought. The trip from New York City has been rather exhausting.”
Chance stood next to her and looked down at her, fascinated by her disheveled appearance. He wondered what her hair would look like out of those hair pins—
Shocked at the turn his mind had taken, he abruptly turned from the woman and stepped into the center aisle. “Apology accepted, ma’am. Now, if you don’t mind, I have someplace to be.”
He could tell by the shocked expression on her face, and the becoming shades of embarrassment on her flawless features, she thought his demeanor rude. He wasn’t usually so boorish to women, even those he wished to get rid of. He promised himself he would apologize to her if they ever crossed paths again.
He turned down the aisle and pushed his way through the departing passengers. Now that he was here, he was suddenly very anxious to see his brother’s children. And, visit his brother’s grave as if somehow that would make this nightmare seem more real to him.
Then, tomorrow after the reading of his brother’s will and he was named executor of the estate and guardians of the children, he would insist Hiram and Liam take legal action against the woman he firmly believed perpetrated fraud against his brother in his weakened state of mind—one Miss Olivia Palmer.
Chapter 2
Olivia stood, watching the retreating backside of the man she hoped to never lay eyes on again. She had never met a ruder gentleman in her life.
“Miss?” A gentleman waited for her to step into the aisle.
“Thank you, sir. That is very nice of you.” She nodded her appreciation and picked up her traveling satchel. It was good to know there were at least some proper gentlemen on the train.
The remaining passengers clogged the center aisle, everyone eager to meet their loved ones waiting for them on the depot platform.
Her rude traveling companion was nowhere to be seen. Good riddance to him. She took her place in line and inched her way to the end of the car and out the door.
“Oh my, it’s so beautiful here.” Olivia marveled at the scenery around her. The mountains rose on three sides while the valley in front of her was lush and dotted with trees.
“Excuse me, miss, but you’re blocking the door.” It was the man who let her out into the aisle.
“I’m so sorry.” She side-stepped out of the way to allow the remaining passengers to exit. She looked at her surroundings. The streets were teaming with freight wagons and carriages and men on horseback. Women in pastel summer dresses walked up and down the boardwalk. A collective orchestra of voices hummed in the background. It reminded her of the streets of her own neighborhood back east and it made her feel welcome, like she had come home.
“Miss Palmer?” She heard her name called from nearby. She turned to see a hulking giant of a man with his hat in his hand. This wasn’t Christopher. She wanted to take out his picture just to be sure even though she knew their features were nothing alike.
“Um, yes,” she answered. “I’m Miss Palmer. And you are?”
“I’m a good friend and business associate of your groom. My name is John Malone and I’m here to escort you to his house.”
“Of course, Mr. Malone. I’m just surprised he wasn’t able to meet me himself.”
A sadness crept over the man’s face. “He would have if he could have, Miss Palmer.” The big man stepped aside. “His home is only a few blocks east of Main Street. I have my freight wagon and team right here to help you with your things.”
“Thank you, Mr. Malone. The conductor said we can collect our trunks at the baggage car.”
“Please, call me John. Let’s get you settled in the wagon and I’ll drive down to the baggage car.”
“Thank you, John. That’s very kind of you.” She allowed the man to help her up onto the large wagon. In front of her were six very impressive bay draft horses. She marveled at them when their owner joined her on the wagon seat. “They are quite an impressive team, Mr. Malone. Quite impressive indeed.”
Her escort unwrapped the numerous reins curled around the brake handle and held them between his enormous hands. “Thank you, ma’am. They are my pride and joy. See the front horse on the right? That’s ol’ Gus. He was my first business purchase. He’s gettin’ on in age now and I’ve tried to retire him twice but he near tears down the barn door when he thinks I’m gonna leave him behind.”
Olivia smiled. “I understand his passion for his job, Mr. Malone—John. I’m a school teacher and I have a passion for teaching. That’s why I’m here, you know. Mr. Garrison and I have an agreement—an unconventional one perhaps, but it seems to suit both of our needs. I just can’t wait to get started.”
Mr. Malone didn’t say anything. Instead, he snapped the reins against the giant rumps in front of her and the great beasts bolted forward, nearly unseating her.
“Sorry, ma’am. I shoulda warned you to hang on. My wife nearly lost her seat too the first time she rode in my wagon. Anyway, I shoulda said something.”
“No apology necessary. Is my new home far from here?” Olivia’s excitement was barely containable. It had been such a long trip and she was excited to meet her new family.
“Not far at all.” It seemed her companion was a man of few words. Well, it didn’t matter. She just hoped her new husband was more amiable to conversation. There was so much she wanted to discuss with him. The children. The school. The future.
Her escort drove the wagon and team of six down the street and stopped in front of the train car that held her trunks. She had intended to hire someone to load her trunks but there was no need for that. Mr. Malone lifted all three of her large trunks with ease. Once settled back on the seat, he snapped the reins and turned the team around in the street heading in the opposite direction.
Olivia enjoyed the brief ride down Creede’s main
street. It seemed everyone knew John Malone. Men and women alike waved in greeting. Some even called out his name.
The town was alive with activity. Women holding children by the hand, crossing in front of the slow-moving wagon. Wooden store fronts lined the street displaying their wares behind glass windows, hoping to entice buyers to come inside.
“What a beautiful town you have here. Where was the school located before it burned down?” Olivia wanted to get settled at home as soon as possible so she would be free to hire carpenters to rebuild the school. Then, she could prepare the school for fall classes.
“It is at the other end of town.” Again, the man had few words to say. He turned his team down a side street and stopped in front of a lovely two-story home with a whitewashed picket fence surrounding the rather large yard.
“Everyone is waiting inside.” He reached up and took her hand to help her down the steep iron steps to the ground. “We’ll come back and get your things after you have a chance to meet everyone.”
“Meet everyone? Oh, how wonderful! I’ve thought about Christopher and his children so much during the last few months. I hope I won’t disappoint them.”
“I’m...sure you won’t.” Mr. Malone escorted her through the little white gate and up the cobblestone walkway. The porch was covered by the roof of the second floor and it wrapped around the front and south side of the house. It was a lovely home and it was going to be hers. She couldn’t have been happier.
Olivia stepped upon the porch and was nearly to the front door when it opened and a lovely blond woman stepped out to greet her.
“Olivia, I’m so pleased to see you made the trip in good health. I’m Grace, John’s wife. Please, come inside.”
Olivia followed Grace inside the beautiful home. The room was full of people. This was so unexpected and a little unnerving. Her gaze shifted around the room, but there was no sign of her groom or his children.
Olivia's Obligation (The Alphabet Mail-Order Brides Book 15) Page 2
