Montana Sky_A May Bride

by Kari Trumbo

  May narrowed her pretty blue eyes at him and the gold flecks within sparkled in defiance. It reminded him that she'd been suspect of him from the start. Hadn't she said he was nothing like she thought he'd be? He'd ignored it when she'd said it the night before, but perhaps there was more to it.

  "You are not at all the man you professed to be in your letters, Mr. Montague."

  If he laughed as he wanted, there would be no hiding his secret, because mirth in this situation would be foolish. He'd wanted to tell her to call him Randolph, but he couldn't do that now, not after Hob had mentioned his real name. It was better that way, anyway. She couldn't ever find him again if she didn't know anything about him. She was just one woman, and he didn't even know her all that well. Though, if the situation were different, he would like to.

  "Some men find it difficult to be who they are in letters. Come, let's share one more meal together, then I will help you get your ticket changed and arrange for your trunk to be taken to the depot."

  Her chin fell once again as he touched her back to lead her down the stairs. She was so petite. He had to fully extend his arm to reach the small of her back. She wouldn't last out in the world, it would trample her. He didn't really want her to, if he had to be honest.

  "Isn't there anyone in Cutter's Creek that you might miss, a reason to go home?"

  She shook her head. "I rented a small room after my father passed away, and gave away most of my clothes. I couldn't bear to stay in that house. The few dresses I brought with me are from my time with my aunt in Maine. She tried to find a husband for me while I was attending school there."

  The aunt hadn't succeeded, or May wouldn't be standing next to him. She'd put all her hopes on Montague's shoulders, and that killed him.

  May glanced up at him with her big expressive blue eyes. "I'm so sorry I threw myself at you. I was really hoping you would change your mind when you saw I was agreeable to marry right away." Her cheeks tinged a pretty pink.

  "You don't need to apologize. I'm not sorry in the slightest." He clamped his mouth shut, realizing too late what he'd just admitted.

  Chapter Five

  May couldn't help but stare into his hazel eyes. Why wouldn't he be sorry she'd kissed him, if he wanted her to go?

  He flinched slightly. "What I mean is, I understand your motives..."

  His response was weak and all those studies as a lawyer's assistant came back as questions flitted through her mind. "Mr. Montague, if you're so agreeable to kissing me, why are you sending me away?"

  She had to crane her neck to see him when he didn't look down at her. The mountain of a man would be intimidating if she hadn't already known him, known he had a meek spirit. His letters proved that.

  "It isn't that you aren't kind or that I'm not intrigued by you, May. It's just that..."

  Mr. Hob came around the corner and spotted them. His smile was just below freezing as he walked toward them in the open lobby. May felt Mr. Montague's hand tense on her back and he pulled her into his side protectively. She couldn't help but be pleased by that. At least he was a good man, even if he didn't want her.

  "Mr. Cade, I hope you have a pleasant breakfast. I've arranged for you and your miss to share a private ride this afternoon. Your carriage will be at the livery around four, and a driver will take you on a tour of the surrounding area. It looks like it will be a lovely day. You might as well enjoy it."

  Why did Mr. Hob continue to call Mr. Montague by the wrong name? It made no sense. He seemed in full control of his faculties other than that. No other lawyer she'd worked with had such issues. They had to have amazing memories.

  He tipped his hat to both of them and left. May waited for Montague to tell her that it wasn't possible, that they couldn't go because he had to get back to his ranch or whatever other excuse he could come up with. May glanced up when he didn't speak. His face was stiff, pensive.

  "Mr. Montague, while it would be lovely to take a ride with you, and I would enjoy seeing the mountains..."

  He glanced down at her and his eyes saw right down to her soul. Still pulled tightly into his side, he had to glance over his massive shoulder to look her in the eyes. "Then you shall. You can always head home tomorrow. I would like to see what Mr. Hob is playing at, wouldn't you?"

  A shiver of danger rushed up her spine recalling Hob's hold on her arm, but it was curious the way he acted.

  "Yes, I suppose I would."

  She fully expected him to let her go, the danger had long passed and they were all but alone in the lobby. Yet he didn't step away. He stared down into her eyes, and his strength, still wrapped around her, fortified her. In her weakness, she'd never felt more powerful. She leaned against him, into him. Montague blinked and then his fierce hold melted into the lightest touch, as if he wished he were not touching her at all. He turned to lead her into breakfast.

  As Montague stood, glancing over the room for the perfect table, May considered all the letters he'd sent her, and his actions once she'd met him. While it was quite possible he wasn't good with conveying who he was in a letter, as he'd claimed, there were too many questions she couldn't answer. Why did he sound so very different in person than in his letters? Why was he completely different from his cousin in every way, yet his letters had made him sound so alike? Why did Hob keep referring to this man by the name of his foreman? Had she stumbled onto something untoward? Could it be possible this man calling himself Montague, had actually done harm to the real man? It didn’t seem likely, not when he’d rescued her from Hob, but how well did she really know him?

  He led May to a seat along the wall with its dark wood paneling softly shimmering with the glow of the gas lights. Even in morning, the room gave the feel of an elegant evening supper. He pulled out her chair and seated her, finally seating himself. He tried to look calm, but the lines under his eyes and along his forehead told more than his lips could.

  "Why does that lawyer continue to call you Cade? I've worked for a few lawyers, studied with them, they don't tend to forget a face easily. Especially not one so easily recognizable." And with his softly jutting lower lip and strong cheekbones, she wouldn't forget him quickly.

  He smiled at her comment. "Well, perhaps I'm more forgettable to the less feminine set?"

  "Oh, posh." She wouldn't let that stand. His height alone would make him unforgettable to anyone paying attention. "I don't believe that for a moment."

  He sighed and scrubbed his hands down his face. Until he forced her to look at the difference in his hands, she'd all but forgotten. "It isn't anything you need to concern yourself over. I'll handle him."

  There it was again, a take charge nature that Montague had never shown. He'd never even offered to meet her until she'd asked.

  "You'll handle him?" What did she have to lose? He was sending her away anyway. "It would seem that the Montague who wrote me letters would've handed the issue off to the authorities and let them do the handling." She blinked a few times and prayed she appeared demure. She'd never tested herself in courtroom tactics, but she'd heard about them.

  He narrowed his eyes at her. "What do you mean, 'the Montague who wrote me letters'? I wrote those letters."

  Now she was certain he hadn't. And the proof would be up in her room. She would compare the writing from the letters in her trunk to the note he'd left her that first night. She'd been too excited about meeting him to even question it, and why would she? If the writing was different, it would be proof enough.

  She narrowed her eyes to match his and he sat back, staring at her, daring her to go further. She wanted to, she wanted to push him until he admitted the truth to her.

  "What have you done with Montague?" Had he been kidnapped? Killed? If she saved his life, would he marry her and live happily until death parted them? But that would mean ... she'd kissed his kidnapper!

  He laughed, a deep hearty thrilling sound that set her fool heart to stuttering over itself. "I've done nothing except sit here, May. Let's have our meal, we can take
another walk in the conservatory, then you can rest before we go for our ride."

  The back of her mind screamed for her to slip one of the knives into her pocket for her own protection. But what good would it do against this huge man?

  "Then tomorrow you will send me away. But, just so you know, I will be writing to Mr. Montague, to be certain. If I don't hear from him, I'll wire the police in Ruby."

  He grasped her hand and squeezed it, meeting her gaze again with those hazel eyes that were far too handsome to belong to a kidnapper. "I'm honored that you're so concerned about me, May. I'll write back if it means it will ease your mind."

  #

  His boss had picked the wrong man for the job. Randolph was good at keeping track of cattle, horses, feed, and everything else that was required of him, but acting like his boss wasn't one of them.

  He only had to look in May's questioning blue eyes and he wanted to give up the act. He wanted to slide off his chair onto his knees and beg her to forgive him for lying to her, and then beg her to kiss him once again. Every time he glanced at her saucy mouth, he couldn't stop remembering the feeling of it against his.

  Worse, the harder Hob pushed, the more May questioned, and she had every right to. He didn't have a clue how to proceed. All he knew was that May needed to get home. Even if he sent a hasty telegram to Montague asking what he should do, he'd never hear back in time. But May was right, Montague never would've handled the problem with Hob on his own, he'd have asked the proper authority to do the work for him, just as he'd asked Randolph to do his work for him in Sweetwater Springs.

  May didn't talk much during the meal. She just sat across from him, sizing him up. Her mind was a-whirl behind those beautiful blue eyes, and he couldn't ask what she was thinking about and risk saying something else amiss. He wasn't a fool, he was just a terrible liar.

  They both finished their breakfast and, after he paid, he led them back to the conservatory. In the morning light, all the leaves glistened and shone, reflecting the sunlight back at them. The pretty miniature tiles in the floor led them in a path and May gasped as she clutched his arm a little tighter.

  "It's so beautiful."

  He couldn't disagree, though he'd rather see real dew on plants in the real out of doors. The conservatory suited a purpose, it allowed the wealthy patrons of the Livingston to have a garden walk all year long, without the dirt and the bugs that tended to be in real gardens. It didn't suit him, though. He'd much rather stand in a field of oats with clover than a rich man's indoor garden.

  "I've never seen some of these flowers before." She tried again to engage him, but, as much as he wanted to talk with her, he had to hold back. Even having her stay an extra day was a bad idea. She should be upstairs packing and he should be at the train station arranging for her ticket.

  "Where do you think the carriage will take us and do you think it's safe?" Her grip tightened once again. When he finally allowed himself to glance at her, the blue pools of her eyes glistened, wide with worry. He gently caressed her hand, hoping to impart comfort he didn't feel, then yanked his scarred hand away to hide it. Something so ugly shouldn’t touch May.

  "I don't know that it's safe. I don't remember doing business with Mr. Hob, and I don't know what he has in mind. I'd like the chance to find out if he means me, or my spread, any harm." And he couldn't help but want to take a short ride out to see the country with May.

  "Would it be better if I didn’t go?" She turned from him and pretended to watch something across the way.

  He didn't want to leave her behind, and though she was frightened, he'd also seen excitement in her eyes. May had an inner strength that came out when she wasn't looking, and it was incredibly inviting.

  "I think it would be foolish for me to go out alone on a carriage ride for two, don't you?"

  She faced him once more, smiled and relaxed. "I suppose you're right. He planned for both of us to have to be there. Though, I don't know what he could want with me. I know nothing of Montague business."

  She still didn't trust him. Smart woman. He cursed Montague as a fool for letting her slip away. "The less you know about my business, the less you can tell him if he should ask. I'm sure you'll be perfectly safe. It's me he wants. He wants to know why I'm here and what business I'm doing."

  Her beautiful eyes brightened, and she hit him with the biggest smile he'd ever seen. "Well, don't you see? That's easy. Tell him the truth, you're here for me. There is no other reason ... is there?"

  Oh, his little May was as smart as they came. There was no question about that. The man who finally claimed her would never get away with anything.

  "You're the only reason I'm here, but I already told him that and he doesn't believe it. So, we'll have to see what else he's up to."

  “So, we will make ourselves bait for his trap? Aren’t we running headlong into trouble we don’t need?”

  “Perhaps, but there is no other way to see what he is up to.”

  Her smile turned a little wolfish as her gaze dropped to his lips. "You could pretend to actually be enamored of me. He might believe you aren’t up to anything, then."

  Little vixen. He'd show her enamored. He traced his hand up her arm, the light caress making her shiver. Her dress was so soft, nothing like the fabrics of men's clothes. It shimmered in the sunlight, brighter than the leaves. He buried his hand in her hair, her entire head cradled in his palm. Her eyes widened as he slowly captured her mouth and took his time exploring every bit of it. Though he wasn't near done, he parted from her. Her eyes were dark and hot, her lips plump with his kiss.

  "Like that?" he asked.

  All May could do was nod.

  Chapter Six

  If that was what kissing a man was like, May wanted it often. Her hands trembled slightly as she touched her bottom lip, trying to recall every sensation so she wouldn't forget later. Though, she slowed her pace as she strode toward her room, it would do her well to remember it was possible he was just as much an enemy as Hob. Something was amiss with the man claiming to be Montague, yet the pull to him was real.

  May unlocked the door to her room and quickly clicked the lock back in place once she was inside. Her heart didn't want to know if Montague was a fraud. It was ready to fight to stay with him. But her logical, analytical mind simply couldn't.

  She strode across the room to her trunk and slowly opened it. In the top drawer of the side compartment were the letters Montague had written. They may have been from a man who seemed to have a cold heart, but that's all she had. The note from the man Hob kept calling Cade, lay on her dressing table. She brought the bundle of letters over and sat down.

  It wasn't wrong to want to know the truth. Montague could be in danger. Hadn't Hob been threatening from the very first? Yes, but Cade hadn't. Was it just that Hob was confused, and she was chasing after ghosts? Did she want to be married so badly she couldn't let Montague’s disinterest rest, even going so far as to accuse him of treachery?

  The letters sat in their little bundle, but she already knew what they said. She'd read them so many times, always searching for, hoping for, the warmth she hoped would eventually come.

  She would lose Montague no matter what. It made no sense why he'd finally asked her to meet, when his letters to her had never really become personal, friendly, or inviting.

  She pulled the first letter from its envelope and opened it. The flowing, swirling penmanship was of a man who had plenty of time. How had that fact escaped her until just then? He'd claimed to be so busy that he couldn't make it to the post, but his short letters were well-crafted by a practiced hand, the calligraphy exact.

  The note from the man she kissed lay on the desk, but she didn't have to put them next to each other to see the difference. The note was in quick, sure strokes. No frivolous slant of the pen or wasted mark. Whereas the letters, though short, were covered in ink. Montague was a thinker, took his time, and asked people to do his bidding in all things...

  Including meeting her. />
  First, hot anger tore through her, then hurt. Montague, the one at the hotel, was a fraud. He'd kissed her knowing he was a fake, and she'd kissed him. Montague's lie had put her in a place where she'd been forced to trust a stranger. Her heart raced as she stared down at the letters.

  "If it were the real Montague here, instead of Cade, I would be on my way home already. He had no feelings for me at all. But, if I am to fulfill my goal to stay away from Cutter's Creek as a married woman, then I'll just convince Cade." She glanced up at herself in the mirror. It felt so long since that morning when she'd forced herself to meet her own eyes in the mirror. May set her shoulders and pinched her cheeks to add a little color.

  "Mr. Randolph Cade won't have any idea what hit him." She smiled and stood. "I've got one afternoon to convince him he needs a bride." It was time to employ some feminine wiles that she'd learned from her aunt in Maine. Cade couldn't really complain, he'd done the same to her. He’d tricked her and acted a part, now she would repay the favor.

  In her trunk, she'd packed one elegant gown in the hopes that the hotel would have some sort of special evening. Their ride would have to suffice. She used a secret bit of hair, called a transformation, woven into a braid as a circlet around her own hair, giving the illusion that she had an even fuller head of hair than she already did.

  She slipped on the frothy white gown and made sure every button and ribbon was just so. It would be chilly, but he might be tempted to put his arm around her to keep her warm.

  It was more care than she'd taken with her appearance since Caruso had gone back to Maine, and it felt wonderful. A full turn for the mirror and May stopped. Was she being brash and loud as Beau had accused? She forced herself to, again, meet her own eyes. Though she couldn't say she'd been happy the last few years, she also hadn't been herself. She'd allowed Beau, out of love, and Caruso, out of apathy, to change her. This afternoon with Randolph—for she was certain that's who he was—she would be the old May Rockford. And May was pretty and vivacious enough to woo herself a husband.