“We should get you to—”
“NOW!”
As gently and quickly as he could, he helped Elle lay herself down over the cool floor. She felt as if her blood was sizzling, sweat coating her hot skin. She placed her hands over her stomach and cringed when more pain hit her.
“The baby’s coming,” she said, unable to see Duncan through her tears. “Duncan, the baby’s coming right now.”
She felt his fingers brush over her arms before she felt her dress move up over her waist. A small part of her was surprised how indifferent she was to that—to all of this—but then she spread her legs wide and decided to focus on more important things.
“Duncan, Duncan,” she whimpered, reaching outward.
“I got you,” Duncan said somewhere in front of you. “I got you. I’m here.” She felt him squeeze her leg. “It’ll be okay.”
It was several horrible hours later when the baby was finally out of her. Elle was so sore and relieved she sobbed and let her body fall back onto the floor. Still, as overwhelmed with sensations as she was, she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Is the baby alright? Duncan?” For the second she waited for his answer, ice-cold fear gripped her heart.
“He’s perfect,” Duncan said. “He’s healthy and perfect.”
Elle’s head fell back against the floor, a sigh of relief bursting from her mouth. “Thank God.” She closed her eyes and let her mind swim in and out of consciousness. She trusted Duncan completely, and she had no qualms over letting herself fall into a coma of sorts.
She wasn’t sure how much time had gone by when she felt something being placed over her stomach and torso. She heard the little whimpers—felt the little squirming—and she forced herself to open her stinging eyes and look down at her son. She didn’t get the best look at him from the angle she was at, but that didn’t matter. She knew Duncan was right; this little boy was perfect.
“Hold on to him, okay?” Duncan instructed gently, crouching over her. “I’m going to carry the both of you to bed.”
Elle’s arms cradled around her baby boy. Once he was secure, Elle nodded toward Duncan.
Duncan awkwardly scooped his arms beneath her legs and her back. It took him a moment to get to his feet, but once he was standing, he had no problems carrying the two of them. He stepped over Peter’s body, and Elle’s mind reeled at that; she had nearly forgotten about him—about what she had done to him.
She closed her eyes tight and pressed her face against her son’s head. She could not make herself feel guilty over murdering someone like Peter—someone who was going to kill the best man in Elle’s life. All she could feel in that moment was relief and love as she inhaled deeply.
Duncan lowered himself, placing her on top of their bed. She was so tired; she was practically limp as her husband situated the pillows behind her head. Her eyes wandered over her son—the warm little bundled that meant everything to her. She cried and smiled. “I love you,” she said to the child. “I love you so much.”
Duncan situated himself beside her and peered down at the baby. “What’s his name?” he asked her.
Elle hadn’t even thought of that—not in that moment, at least. Through all the months she considered various names, none of them sounded ideal to her any longer. She shook her head, her eyes still glued to the infant. “I don’t know. Nothing seems right.”
Duncan placed a kiss against her temple. “What was his father’s name?”
She nearly sobbed. The question itself, and the tender tone it was asked in, was too much. “S-Sam.”
“Samuel. That’s a good name. Strong. Biblical.”
She had considered it earlier, but she hadn’t been sure if Duncan would have appreciated being reminded of her husband. But by the way he was speaking now—by the way he was pressed so closely to her and protecting her—she nodded. Then a surge of determination shot through her. “Samuel Duncan Aster,” she said. “It’s perfect.” Torn between so many emotions, she turned to Duncan.
He backed away a little, revealing his wide and glazed eyes. God, he was perfect, too.
Elle smiled at him. Not caring if it was right or wrong any longer, she said, “I love you, Duncan.”
His breath hitched. He stared at her intently, like he wasn’t sure if she was delusional or not. Before she could repeat it—louder and firmer this time—he whispered, “I love you, too. Both of you.” He shifted his wonder-filled gaze to the baby. To Sam.
Elle laughed, joyous. She also turned back to their son and felt Duncan’s head press against hers a moment later.
Epilogue
Duncan woke to the sound of Sam’s wails in the crib at the end of the bed. The child was over four months old now, and his lungs seemed to be stronger than ever.
Groaning, Duncan turned to encircle his arms around his wife, only to discover she was no longer in bed. Tired as he was, he forced his eyelids apart and allowed his vision to adjust to the darkness. Then he turned toward the crib.
Elle stood over it, her hand no doubt skimming over the baby’s head. She whispered soft nothings, but that wasn’t calming Sam down in the slightest.
Duncan stretched before releasing a long sigh. “Did you feed him?”
“Yes,” Elle said grouchily.
“Clean him?”
“Yes.”
“Why’s he crying then?”
She turned, and though it was too dark to be certain, Duncan could swear that she was glaring at him. “How the hell should I know?”
He smirked. Both of them loved to sleep as often as they could, and little Sam had been forcing them to cut back. It was tough, his fatigue heaviest within his skull. Stretching one more time, Duncan forced himself to get out of bed and assist his wife.
“I don’t know what to do,” she said over Sam’s wails. She leaned against Duncan when he wrapped a languid arm around her. “I’ve tried everything.”
Duncan peered down at his son and thought. “Ma used to give me whiskey when I was fussy.”
Elle reeled in his arms. “Really?”
He had to laugh. “You never heard of doing that?”
“No. That sounds dreadful!”
Duncan hummed at that, and let his mind drift for a bit. The piercing sounds of Sam’s cries were aggravating things he had actually started to get used to. He rubbed his jaw and yawned. “Well, I don’t know. You want to rock him?”
“I did that for hours.”
Duncan reached in the crib and ran his fingers over the baby’s arm. Sam was shaking his fists in the air as if the world had done him a great injustice, but before Duncan knew it, the baby was moving his little arms and grabbing Duncan’s finger. Duncan watched, mesmerized, as Sam slowly tugged his finger until it was inside the infant’s mouth.
Silence fell upon the house.
“Thank the Lord,” Elle breathed. “He just needed something to suck on.”
Duncan smiled down at his quiet boy. The moment was calm, affection warming Duncan’s heart and soothing him.
But then his back started to ache.
“Am I supposed to stay like this all night?” he whispered into Elle’s hair.
She snorted. “I guess so.”
He tightened his grip on her and pulled him to his chest. “You’re staying with me,” he said, grinning with a sense of triumphant.
She chortled softly before a big yawn got the better of her. Smacking her lips together, she rested her head beneath his chin. “Okay,” she said sleepily.
Duncan’s smile softened. The two most important, precious beings to him were within arm’s lengths. Just being near them…it was all that mattered. As uncomfortable and exhausted as he was, there was no other place he would rather be.
*****
THE END.
Love Unexpected
Mail Order Bride
CHRISTIAN MICHAEL
Chapter 1
Belle Lane felt as if her hands were tied and, in a way they were. Her brother had practically sold her off as
a bride to some wealthy man out West and now she was on a train headed West without one notion as to what to expect. How could John do this to her?
The train was nearing its destination and she had run out of options. She’d tried in vain to think of a clever way out of the situation, even going so far as to consider getting off at one of the stops before she reached her destination, but then she hadn’t known what she would do. She had no money, no resources, and no real skill aside from caring for children and cooking.
Besides, the stories she’d heard of the West were frightening. It did not sound conducive to a single woman living on her own.
So here she was, still on the train and about to meet the man she would marry.
Her hopes of one day falling in love and marrying a man who would care for her sunk lower in her stomach. Any man would willingly purchase a bride from their brother could not be on the up and up.
Could she protest in town? Perhaps beg the sheriff to have mercy on her and find her a better situation. The notion had weight, but she wasn’t sure how she would even find the sheriff’s station with her husband-to-be finding her first. John had said Dennis Gaston would be waiting for her at the train depot and he had her photograph so he would recognize her.
Wonderful, she thought. She wouldn’t know what he looked like until the moment she laid eyes on Denis, and she had a feeling he would be old, bald, and ugly.
She bit her lip to keep from laughing.
If her brother hadn’t spent every last ounce of their inheritance money this never would have happened. And yet Father had still insisted on naming him beneficiary despite the fact that Belle was older by a year. Hadn’t Father seen his coming? All of Mother’s pleadings hadn’t done any good either and here they were.
The train slowed and she collected herself. She was a lady of poise and determination. She loved to read and she would pass her time as this man’s wife living out her days reading and caring for his house, even if she never cared for him. That was most likely.
“Right this way, Miss,” the train attendant said. He directed her to the end of the car and held her elbow firmly until she stepped off onto the platform bustling with men and a few women walking to and fro.
Her eyes rose and she searched the faces looking for passengers. Her eyes rested on an elderly looking man who held her gaze.
I was right, she thought, and made her way toward him.
“Hello,” she said with a bland but determination air. It was better to get this over with now so she could face up to her future. “I’m Miss Lane.”
“Howdy,” the man said, his eyebrows rising and his eyes taking in every bit of her.
She shuddered and swallowed past the lump in her throat.
Just as she was going to say they might as well make their way to the church a voice behind her said, “Miss Lane?”
Startled, she turned and her eyes collided with a tall man, his fair completion showing off ruddy cheeks and reddish hair that had been tamed at one point that day but now flew in all directions after being held captive by his hat.
“I’m sorry, you are?”
“Dennis Gaston. Your future husband.”
Her eyes rounded and she looked back to the older man, amusement in his eyes. “I’d marry you in a second, darlin’ but I think this fellow has prior claim.” The man shuffled off and Belle admitted to herself that she was pleasantly surprised by Mr. Dennis Gaston.
***
She’d thought she was marrying Otis? He wanted to laugh out loud but there wasn’t time for that. Instead he tilted his head in the direction of his wagon. “Shall we? The pastor is expecting us.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You were informed we are to marry immediately, were you not?”
She cringed and he realized he’d sounded more like a businessman and a fiancé. “That is, your brother told you?”
“He did,” she admitted, “I suppose I just didn’t think right away meant the minute I stepped from the train.”
“Well, it does,” he said. His tone was even, but his words had the desired effect.
“By all means, lead the way.”
Her sensed her sarcasm but didn’t acknowledge it. If she wanted to make snide comments he’d allow that, for now. It would appear neither of them were pleased about this union and yet here he was, marrying again. If it could have gone any other way…
But no, his hands were tied. He was a slave to his company and, as far as his future business associate still knew, he was married. That persona needed to be upheld if he were to gain favorable ground.
The silence between them stretched on and he wondered if he should say something. He ground his molars instead. This was going to be more difficult than he thought. Just looking at her made him think of Maddie…
No, he couldn’t go there. Her death was over a year ago and they had moved on. They’d had to.
Mercifully, the church came into view and he was distracted by the process of marrying the woman he’d paid an arm and a leg for. He cringed. When he thought of it like that it made him feel like a scoundrel. Some man who had to buy a bride. But then again, her brother had said she was happy to come be his wife.
Looking down at her, her light brown hair framing an oval shaped face with ruby red lips and eyes downcast, she didn’t look happy.
They said their vows in a quiet way that would almost be considered reverent but was more likely due to the fact that neither of them were very happy about this situation. It would have been almost comical if he hadn’t been the one living it out.
Then, when they had signed the documents making everything legal they set out for his wagon out front.
He helped her in, feeling a strange sensation as her hand rested light in his, and then he climbed in next to her.
“Do you live far out of town?” Those were the first words she’d spoken to him aside from their vows in the past few hours.
“Not too far.”
They rode on in silence until he turned down the long dirt road that led to his ranch.
“Oh,” she said. He knew she was surprised at the grandeur of his house. He felt the prick of pride but squashed it down. None of this would matter if he didn’t sufficiently impress Thomas Sullivan.
When he pulled up in front of the house a ranch hand came over immediately to take care of the wagon and he led Belle inside. She stood just inside the doorway and stared around at the large, lodge style entryway. It was meant to impress and he could see that it had sufficiently done its job. She was stunned.
Then the sound of feet running his way drew his full attention. “There you are, Minnie-girl.” He swung is daughter up into his arms then turned to face Belle.
The look of complete shock on her face struck him as odd. In the interest of full disclosure, he’d told her brother John all about his daughter. He assumed the man had relayed that information, but the look on her face said otherwise.
“Let me guess, your brother also didn’t tell you about Minnie.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. Then, recovering quickly, she looked up at Minnie still in his arms, “Hello. My name is Belle.”
“I’m Minnie. I’m six.” She grinned and he could see his daughter’s magic smile was already working wonders on Belle’s heart.
“It’s nice to meet you.”
“Remember how I told you that Belle would be coming to stay with us?”
“Yes,” Minnie said.
“Well, here she is.”
He put Minnie down and turned to Belle. “We can discuss…logistics later. But for now I need to go check in with my men. Minnie and Cook can show you around.”
Belle nodded but didn’t say anything so he turned and left, hearing her strike up conversation with his daughter.
The familiar hurt entered his chest again, but he squelched it. Belle wasn’t Maddie and this wasn’t the past. He had to remember that.
Chapter 2
Belle couldn’t sleep. She’d laid down for
a nap earlier in the day while Minnie rested and now it had completely thrown off her schedule. How was she supposed to adjust to a new life like this when so much continued to be a surprise? At one point she had imagined the best-case scenario. That the man she would marry would be kind, understanding, and have a desire to get to know her. Now she realized she had built up too many hopes.
Slipping from the covers her stomach grumbled. Dinner had been tense with Dennis arguing with Cook about something inconsequential as she’d tried to distract Minnie. Was Dennis always in a bad mood? Either way, she was hungry now. Maybe a trip to the kitchen was in order.
She pulled a shawl tightly around her shoulders and opened the door. It creaked a little but not in a way that would wake anyone, thankfully. Then she walked down the hall and made her way downstairs to the kitchen.
Finding a loaf of bread, she cut off a hunk and slathered butter over it, relishing the yeasty, sweet taste. She looked around the kitchen and then wandered back into the front room. The vaulted ceiling was something she’d never seen before and she still couldn’t get over the shock of it.
Everything about this house—about Dennis—screamed out for attention. It wasn’t in a completely arrogant, opulent way, but she could tell that appearances meant everything to him.
She finished off the bread and dusted her crumb-encrusted fingers on her nightgown. One last look around the entryway confirmed her earlier thoughts and she was about to head back upstairs when she saw a door on the other side of the room that she’d missed. Cook and Minnie had given her the formal tour but they hadn’t showed her this room.
Curiosity pushing her forward, she crossed the room and came to the door. She reached out a hand but hesitated. This was her house now, but it didn’t feel like it. Not yet, and not with Dennis’s attitude being what it was, but he shouldn’t scare her. He was her husband wasn’t he?
In a stroke of boldness, she reached out and opened the door. Immediately she was greeted by the sight of dark leather, a large desk strewn with papers, and shelves and shelves of books. It was stunning and caused Belle’s heart to race. She just wanted to look through all of the books and pick one out to read in the cushy looking leather chair, but she held back, still staying at the entrance to the room.
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