The Wrong Bride_A Christmas Mail Order Bride Romance

by Natalie Dean

“Jack!”

  “BRIDGET?!” he cried out his eyes wide. “You shouldn’t—Ah!”

  “Don’t argue! We need to get you out of this trap.”

  He hissed and pointed a shaking finger to a metal rod that lay on the ground. “Go get that bar!”

  She grabbed the bar and swung around, jamming it between the trap’s powerful jaws. She’d seen Jack set these traps up before and she’d seen him release them. She grabbed the bar and pulled down, arms shaking with the effort. In her mind, she could hear Willam. She could hear his voice.

  You’ll wilt and die out here.

  She wasn’t going to let him be right. She let out a loud, animalistic noise as the jaws finally opened and Jack’s leg was freed. He scrambled away from the trap and hoisted himself to his feet as the wind picked up and the first beam cracked.

  “We have to go!” he cried, limping towards the door.

  He was moving too slow, and Bridget knew it. She ran up to him and draped his arm around her shoulders, pulling him toward the doors, urging him to move faster. They passed the threshold and had made it maybe a hundred feet away before a loud snap echoed through the storm, and the barn caved in on itself.

  They glanced back for only a moment before making their way back to the house. They fell into the door, and it opened easily, swinging on its hinges and threatening to come off completely. Bridget ran over and slammed it closed, using all of her weight. It shut, and she locked it, sliding down to the floor, her legs shaking from the effort it had taken to get Jack into the house.

  She pulled herself up and grabbed her apron before collapsing beside Jack, panting. “Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine. Thanks to you,” Jack grunted, struggling to slip his boot off.

  Blood had pooled in the boot and soaked through the sock. Bridget winced at the sight of his foot before helping him to his chair. She took a moment to slip out of her overdress, glad to have the weight taken off of her shoulders. Then she grabbed some bandages and whiskey, settling on the floor near his bloody foot.

  “I’m not much of a nurse, you know,” she said, her voice shaking just a little as she cleaned his wound with the whiskey.

  He hissed and jumped a little, reaching for the bottle and taking a swig, watching as her fingers worked to wrap the bandage around his foot. “It’ll do until we can get to the doctor.”

  She nodded and fell silent, her hands shaking. Once the bandage was tied off, he reached down and took her hands. “You’re shaking, darling.”

  Bridget looked up at him and then down at her apron. Slowly, she reached into the pocket and pulled out the watch. It was still wrapped in strips of baby blue silk. “When I saw that barn swaying and shaking…I didn’t think I was going to get to you in time,” she admitted, holding the watch out with both hands. “I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to tell you how I felt.”

  He took the watch and slowly unwrapped it, smiling softly. It wasn’t until he opened it and saw the engraving that his eyes widened. “Bridget.”

  “I’ve never been good at telling people how I felt. I was always taught to keep my emotions hidden, but I don’t want to do that with you. I want you to know exactly how I feel.”

  “Bridget. You don’t have—.”

  “No. I want to say it,” she said firmly, and he knew there was no arguing with her. “When I saw you go out that door, I just wanted to grab you and tell you I loved you. Then when I saw those horses and I didn’t see you…I’ve never been more scared in my life. I never felt regret like I did at that moment and I never want to feel that way again. So, Jack, I love you,” she whispered.

  He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, rubbing her back gently. “I love you too. I do. You came in here and turned my life upside down, but I love you for it.”

  She smiled and leaned into him, holding him close. It was then that she knew she belonged here, and no one would ever make her doubt that again.

  Epilogue

  After that night word spread of her bravery. It started with the neighbors and spread through the town like wildfire. Soon even Willam was patting her on the back, assuring her that she had more than proved her strength.

  She didn’t need their approval though. She already had the only validation she would ever need. When Jack smiled at her, it was like the sun itself was opening its arms to her, letting her know she was right where she needed to be.

  After the storm, they rebuilt the barn as best they could. Bridget was finally welcomed into the community, and after all the suffering, it seemed that life was finally on track. The following spring, just as the storms started to sweep in, she found out she was with child. Before she came to Montana, the thought of having a child would have horrified her, but now she only felt excitement.

  She leaned against the trunk of the only tree the winds hadn’t swept away and smiled, running her hand over her round belly. The wind picked up and carried the sweet smell of blooming daffodils. Roan and Jack were in the creek, splashing each other with the water and laughing. They looked so happy. This was her little family and while it had been broken at first, they managed to pick up the pieces and put them back together, creating a masterpiece.

  Roan settled on a rock, laying out and bathing in the sunshine as Jack ran up the hill, his pants soaking wet. He settled beside Bridget and sighed, resting his head on her belly.

  She smiled and put her hands in his thick hair, sighing. “Do you hear anything?”

  “Just a heartbeat.”

  “That’s good, though.”

  Jack nodded and sat back up. “It’s all I need to hear,” he said, putting an arm around her. “You know. I know this isn’t New York, but I hope it makes you happy.”

  “I never would have been this happy in New York.”

  “What? Why?”

  She smiled and looked at him, pressing a kiss to his Jaw. “Because I never would have met you in New York.”

  He chuckled and kissed her tenderly, cupping her cheek. “I love you too, darling.”

  She meant every word. All this time, she thought she would find her happiness in wealth. As the sun kissed her face and the laughter of her daughter floated on the wind, she couldn’t help thinking how silly she’d been.

  This was the happiness she’d been searching for.

  THE END

  My Cowboy Hero

  By Eveline Hart

  Book Description

  My Cowboy Hero

  A Western Romance Novella

  “If you’re still breathing, then you can still fight.” That’s what he said to me. The words were like fire. They burned through me and lit me up.

  Mariana hated the thought of being married off to someone she didn’t know. Since he was well off, she thought she might be okay with it, but nothing prepared her for this. And now…she’s pregnant.

  Then there's Liam. He's beautiful and rugged at the same time. She feels so comfortable around him. And even better than his good looks and easy conversation is the fact that he makes her feel safe and loved. She never knew what love was until she met him.

  Liam thinks Mariana’s a bit stubborn and sassy, but that’s part of what he likes about her. He feels that the life she lives doesn’t have to be her fate. He plans to make her see that she doesn’t have to take it.

  Will Mariana get to be with the man of her dreams? Or is she doomed to this life she’s living?

  Chapter 1

  “You certainly have a beautiful daughter, Arnold.”

  From a very young age, that’s what people always said about me. The comments echoed in my head like a mantra. I was beautiful, and my brother was strong and handsome. Those words and those expectations set the stage for the rest of my life.

  I came from a wealthy family who expected me to conduct myself like a lady. I was to sit quietly, my ankles crossed, and my body strapped into a corset I could barely breathe in. When men cast lustful glances in my direction, I was expected to smile sweetly and accept it because one day, o
ne of those men might be my husband.

  My father was one of the first men to settle California, and he built an empire on the gold he fished out of rivers and dug out of the ground. He spent his younger years working himself into the ground, and it all paid off. We had a vast fortune and neither I, nor my brother, ever knew anything other than luxury.

  Many men made their fortunes out west. It was a thriving society that easily rivaled the East in terms of culture and extravagance, and I was right in the center of it all. I spent my youth going to dances and being paraded in front of men with round bellies, lecherous desires, and heavy pockets. I was a commodity before I even understood what my lot in life was going to be.

  My long, golden hair and emerald eyes made men turn their heads. My ivory skin was closely protected by my mother who rarely let me go outside and never without a hat. She wanted to keep my skin as smooth and white as porcelain. My delicate figure was guarded just as closely. I ate very little and when I did, I took nibbling bites that never seemed to satisfy my hunger. My fingers were delicate and only good for pouring tea and stitching. Everything about me was delicate and borderline frail. My mother, who always held her head high, waist sucked in with a corset, always told me that if I wanted to be a true lady I needed to have a slight figure and robust morals.

  There was one other thing women were expected to be; stupid. No one ever said it directly, but I’d heard my mother say “books will be the downfall of women,” more than once. Even though my mother didn’t care for me to read, I did it anyway. I wanted to learn about the world. I wanted to learn more than cross stitching and the proper way to serve tea. I didn’t want to be a proper woman.

  I spent my entire life trying to avoid the trope of getting married and having as many children as possible, but I was never brave or confident enough to leave my comfortable life behind. I would watch women married to farmers and ranchers and be jealous of them, knowing I would never have their freedom. The only way I could fight my fate was to be as disinterested in marriage as possible, but that wouldn’t be enough.

  It was the day of my eighteenth birthday, and I shifted on the padded seat of the carriage, clutching a single suitcase that I’d filled with books. I was on my way to meet the man I had been married off too. I had not even known of the arrangement until my father sat me down at his desk and instructed me to sign the paper in front of me. It was a marriage license, and I knew I couldn’t refuse.

  That’s what brought me here, to this dreary mansion. The driver offered his hand and helped me out of the carriage, leading me to the heavy oak and brass doors. I lifted the knocker and let it fall, wincing at the metallic sound that was so loud it scared the birds out of the nearby trees.

  A tall, gangly man in a butler’s uniform opened the door and swept his hand towards a grand staircase. I watched as a grey-haired man in a velvet lounging robe waddled down the stairs. He was almost as round as he was tall and I couldn’t help the way my heart dropped into my stomach. This man, Reynold Harvey, made his way to me slowly, panting and out of breath by the time he reached me. It was clear he’d spent his time wallowing in decadence. The overwhelming smell of his cologne burned my nose and made my eyes tear up. I coughed and turned my head from him. That was the first mistake of many.

  “How dare you!” he roared.

  I flinched and looked up, gasping as his fat, sausage-like fingers tangled in my hair. He yanked me down until I hit the cold, stone floor. I yelped as pain shot through my knees, but the staff just looked away. It was almost as if they were used to seeing this sort of thing.

  “You will curtsey when you meet me!” he snarled.

  His yellowed teeth were bared, and every word that left his lips was dripping with hatred. I hadn’t been here but two minutes, and I was already considered a failure as a wife.

  “I-I’m sorry!”

  He yanked my hair again, and I screamed as hot, searing pain radiated through my entire skull. His eyes were fixed on me, his cheeks red from the effort it took to make it down the stairs.

  “You will call me ‘lord, ’ and you will present yourself as a proper lady! Now try again!”

  He released my hair, and I rose on shaking legs, afraid that if I even breathed wrong, he might hurt me again. My curtsey was shaky, but it seemed good enough for him.

  “I-I’m sorry, my lord,” I whispered.

  He snorted and shook his head. “Get her out of my sight,” Reynold said, waving his hand. “Take her to her room.”

  The butler nodded and took my arm, leading me up the grand staircase. He moved quickly, patting my arm in a weak attempt to comfort me. I wasn’t sure there was anything anyone could do to comfort me right now.

  Chapter 2

  The first week in the mansion was absolute hell. No matter where I was, or what I was doing, I was on my toes, ready to skitter away at even the slightest sound. I was terrified of what my husband was going to do to me and I was terrified of angering him. The only comfort I had was the fact that I had my own room. I could hole up in it and lock the door, praying that he wouldn’t try to come in.

  I was young and inexperienced in the ways of marriage. My mother had sat me down shortly before I was sent away and explained to me that my husband would want to lay with me. That was all she told me. She said that he would take my clothes off and I needed to let him do whatever it was that men did to their wives. I couldn’t argue, and I couldn’t refuse him. He was my husband, and it was my duty to keep him happy.

  The conversation made little sense to me at the time, but as evening drew closer, I was starting to feel a chill run up my spine. I couldn’t explain why, but I was afraid of what was to come. Something in my gut told me that it wasn’t going to be pleasant.

  I brushed my long golden hair and glanced out the window. I’d opened it earlier that evening to let in the cool, fall air. There was a crisp smell that reminded me of home, and the cool breeze was more than welcome. Fall was around the corner, but that didn’t matter much in California. The days would remain warm and the evenings would be chilly at best.

  My hands were shaking, and it was making it difficult to braid my hair. I eventually gave up and set the brush and ribbons down on the vanity. My things barely fit on it, but I was too nervous to ask for something better. Did I have a right to ask? Would it even do any good? I imagined it wouldn’t.

  The scent of roses filled the air as I spritzed on a bit of perfume and ran my hands down the pink, silk robe my husband had delivered to my bedroom door that morning. The maid who’d handed it over instructed me to wear it before going to Reynold’s room. I didn’t understand, but I didn’t ask questions either.

  The clock on the wall beside me chimed nine times and with every chime, the lump in my throat got bigger. I pushed away from my vanity and picked the edge of the robe up off the floor as I left my room and wandered down the hall. The wooden floors creaked under my feet no matter how softly I treaded. I wasn’t sure why I was being so careful. He knew I was coming and was most likely waiting for me.

  I came to his door and lifted a shaky hand before I pushed it open. Reynold was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in his white starch button down that was just a bit too tight around his belly. His bow tie was still firmly tied around his fat neck and his pants settled at his waist. I took him in for a moment, and he grunted.

  “Well, are you just going to stand there or are you going to come in?”

  As the door slammed shut behind me, I jumped, swallowing before moving forward. I closed the space between us quickly, and he looked me up and down.

  “You smell nice,” he commented, his eyes fixed on my chest.

  His gaze was filled with perverted intent, and it made me feel dirty. I tried not to focus on it, but it was hard to ignore the way it made my skin crawl. The silence was thick and uncomfortable, but I didn’t know what to say or do. This was a whole new world to me, and I didn’t know what my role was.

  “Are you just going to stand there?” he gr
owled. “Undress me!”

  The barked orders made me jump, and I started to undo his necktie and then the buttons on his shirt. The white button down slid off his wide shoulders and fell onto the bed. His skin was pale and shined with sweat. The strong smell of cologne wafted into my nose, and I had to fight a cough. I didn’t want to make the mistake of accidently insulting him again.

  His skin was pale and clammy looking, and just sitting there he looked exhausted and sick. I stared for a moment, my shaking hands reaching for his pants. I managed to undo them, and he stood to step out of the black slacks, leaving him in only his undergarments. I’d never seen a man so undressed and to think that my first intimate moments with a man would be spent with Reynold made tears burn behind my eyes. This wasn’t what I wanted, but somehow I’d found myself here.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” he snapped, grabbing my arm so hard I yelped.

  He yanked me close, and I could feel his fingers digging into the soft flesh as tears came to my eyes. If his aim was to hurt me, then he was doing a fine job. He shook me hard and grabbed my other shoulder, his thumb sliding under the thin straps of my slip.

  He tore the robe off and the slip fell from my thin frame, pooling on the floor in a useless pile. I tried to cover myself, but soon he had me by the arm again and tossed me to the bed. My bare skin brushed the imported cotton sheets, and if the encounter hadn’t been so violent I might have actually enjoyed the feeling of the soft fabric against my skin, but it was hard to focus on anything other than the crushing weight over my body. It was hard to think of anything but the pain that burned from the inside out. I was thankful for the sheets, but only because it allowed me to hide my face and hide the tears that rolled down my cheeks.