by Tess LeSue
“Because he officiated.” Tom scowled and thumped him back.
“Fight!” Georgiana’s twins shouted, leading the children in a chorus. “Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!”
“You two always leave me out,” Matt sulked.
“It was private,” Emma said, rolling her eyes. “None of you needed to be involved.”
“Only Luke,” Matt grumbled.
“He was the only one who could do it. Stephen was off down in Amory to officiate the funeral of that old trapper.”
“I’ll never forgive you for this,” Matt told his brothers.
“We’ll add it to the list of things you’ll never forgive us for,” Luke said dryly.
“Don’t drag me into this,” Tom told him. “You mean, he’ll never forgive you for. He likes me just fine.”
“I used to. I don’t anymore. And I’m not sharing the package with you now.”
“No one cares about your package.”
“I do,” Georgiana reassured him.
“Me too.” Alex thumped her husband on the arm. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you married them.”
Matt brightened. Good. Alex would sort Luke out for him.
“Everyone hush. Get in place and behave yourselves! Alex, go get the groom!” Emma was in a state.
“Where is he?” Alex looked around, suddenly realizing he wasn’t there.
“Through here,” Anna called from the kitchen. “The poor love isn’t feeling very well! He’s overcome with nerves. And you might want to get your brother Adam in from the stables.”
“Oh glory.” Alex went flying through to the kitchen.
“You’ve got your job cut out, getting this lot to behave,” Tom told his wife, taking the opportunity to nuzzle her as she passed.
“I’ve handled worse,” Emma said, heading for the stairs. “I’ll get the bride. Luke, you go stand over there, under the mistletoe. And this time, don’t forget to say, ‘You may kiss the bride.’ Honestly, who forgets that part?”
“You did it deliberately at our wedding, didn’t you?” Tom asked his brother.
Luke grinned. “I got no interest in watching you two slobber all over each other.”
“Well, you heard her. Don’t forget it this time.”
“Do you think this’ll be the first time they’ve ever kissed?” Luke asked.
“Yes,” everyone chorused, rolling their eyes.
It had been quite a courtship.
“What is in that package?” Georgiana whispered to Matt. “I assume you’ve already opened it?”
He grinned. “You know me too well.”
She leaned over and read the address. “It’s addressed to ‘the Slaters.’ It might not have been yours to open.”
“I’m a Slater, ain’t I?” Impishly, he twitched the brown paper open, giving her a glimpse of its contents. Her eyes widened.
“Oh my,” she breathed. “There’s one for each of us . . . ?”
“And an extra.”
“Do you think that means . . . ?” She frowned. “What does that mean?”
He grinned. “You’ll have to wait until this nonsense is over to find out.”
Alex came out of the kitchen in a swirl of blue skirts, all but carrying a tall, slender man. She poured him a stiff drink from the selection on the buffet. “Here,” she ordered, “drink this. It will stiffen your nerves.”
The poor man was shaking something fierce as he drank it.
“Maybe he’s too sick to get married today, Alex,” Adam said as he followed them. He still had snowflakes in his hair. He looked plenty worried about his older brother.
“Nonsense. He just needs to pull himself together.” Alex hauled the man over to Luke. The thin man made a soft mewling noise at the sight of the mistletoe.
“You all right there, Stephen?” Luke asked kindly.
Stephen nodded, but he was very pale.
Alex straightened his collar and gave him a smacking great kiss on his cheek. “This is the best decision you ever made, and you know it.” She was welling up.
Stephen looked appalled. He’d never been good with his sister’s tears.
“Ma and Pa would be so proud of you,” Victoria agreed. Oh no, now both his sisters were weeping. He shot Luke a panicked look.
“Women,” Luke said with a helpless shrug.
Alex elbowed him in the stomach. “Don’t you ‘women’ him. Not now. Say something nice.”
“At least you’re not married to her,” he told Stephen with a grin, nodding in Alex’s direction. Then he winked at his wife. “Was that what you meant by ‘nice’?”
“Wait till I get you home,” she muttered.
“Is that a promise?”
She blushed. “You are the worst flirt.”
“I think you mean I’m very good at it.”
“Can we start this wedding yet?” Emma hollered from the head of the stairs.
“Yes!” Alex hollered back.
“My mother would be rolling in her grave at the sight of this wedding,” Georgiana sighed. “No one around here has any manners.”
“Which is just the way you like it.” Matt’s arm dropped around her shoulders, and he hauled her close.
She couldn’t argue with that.
“All right, Susannah, start playing!” Emma came dashing down the stairs and joined Tom in the crowd. She pulled her handkerchief out as Susannah started playing the piano in the corner of the room. Emma was crying before the first chord had sounded. Across the room she saw Anna and Winnie standing by the kitchen door, crying just as hard. She gestured for them both to join her and Tom. Family belonged together at weddings. She only cried all the harder when she saw how Tom put his hands on Winnie’s shoulders, to comfort her. He was a good, good man.
The room was hushed except for Susannah’s sweet playing and the loud sniffles coming from Emma and Anna. Poor old Stephen Sparrow was looking so peaky that Alex moved to stand behind him, to catch him in case he fainted. And then the bride appeared at the head of the stairs, and Alex realized that her older brother would be just fine.
Calla was a vision in lace. Thanks to Georgiana, her glossy dark hair was caught in cascades of ringlets above her ears; thanks to Emma, she was swathed head to toe in a gown fit for a princess; thanks to Alex, she was wearing a borrowed hair comb that had belonged to the groom’s mother. Her dark eyes shone as she stared down at her husband-to-be. The groom himself appeared mesmerized, his mouth half-open at the vision before him.
They made quite a couple, the painfully shy preacher and the exotic ex-whore. As Luke led them through their vows, no one in the room doubted that it was a match well made, and by the time he reached the end, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house.
“Wait!” Luke exclaimed after he’d pronounced them husband and wife. “I forgot! I’m supposed to ask you to kiss the bride.”
There was laughter, and a few cheers. But Stephen Sparrow looked fit to faint again.
“Not here,” Calla said firmly. She took his hand and led him out of the room. “This bit is just for us.”
There was whooping as the door closed behind them.
“He’s in for quite a time of it tonight!” Luke grinned.
“Didn’t our girl look beautiful?” Anna asked, mopping her face. She gave Winnie a fierce hug. “It’ll be you next.”
Emma noticed the way Winnie’s gaze drifted to Georgiana’s eldest, Leo. “Not until you’re twenty-one,” she said firmly.
“You’re being very patient,” Georgiana told her husband as he waited through the food and the cake and the speeches. It was only once they’d cheered the bride and groom off, watching as their sleigh wound down the hill into town, the lanterns glowing through the snow, that Matt brought his package up again.
“Stop clearing up,” he told Emma.
“We’re not done yet.”
“Oh yes, we are,” she disagreed. “There’re still all the dishes to do.”
“We’ll help you,” Alex sighed. “This family sure makes a mountain of dishes.”
“No, sit back down.” Matt glowered at her. “I’ve been mighty patient, but it’s my turn now. Why is it no one ever listens to me?”
“Poor Matt.” Luke rolled his eyes. “Everyone sit down. He’s clearly got a bee in his bonnet about something.”
To Matt’s annoyance they all sat. Everyone always did what Luke said. It was infuriating. “Kids,” he said, clicking his fingers at his lot and Luke’s girls, “go and do the dishes for your aunt Emma.”
They groaned.
“Do it.”
“But we want to see what’s in the package too!” Phin protested.
“Get along,” Luke told them all. “Aunt Emma and Anna worked hard all day. You go and help them out by doing the dishes.”
Matt could have kicked something. Look at that. Luke told them what to do, and they all did it, not a grumble to be heard.
“It’s not funny,” he snapped at Tom, who was smirking.
“The package,” Georgiana reminded him, patting him on the behind, none too gently. She didn’t have much patience with his bickering with his brothers. It was because she was an only child. Poor thing. He couldn’t imagine not having brothers to fight with.
Matt took center stage.
“What is it?” Alex demanded.
“Patience, big sister, patience.” Slowly, teasingly, he crinkled the paper back, inch by inch.
Luke threw a crust of bread at him. It whacked him full in the face and dropped onto the package. “Stop being an ass,” he told Matt.
Matt went to hurl the bread back at him, but Emma got in the way. “Give me that,” she snapped. “If you break any of my new things, I’ll skin you alive.”
“I hate being the youngest,” Matt muttered. “Fine. Ruin the suspense. Here.” He pulled the paper away.
“Books?” Tom said. “All this over some books?”
Matt rolled his eyes. “Yeah, idiot, all this over some books.” He tossed one to Luke. “This one’s for you and Alex.”
Luke caught it and Alex peered over his shoulder. “It’s that old book. That one about us. The Gruesome Grady Gang by A.A. Archer.”
“It’s signed,” Matt told them. “And there’s a letter in there for you, from Deathrider.”
“He’s alive!” Alex gasped. “Oh, thank God! All the rumors said he was dead . . .”
“Well, he was alive when he wrote this,” Luke said. He and Alex fell into silence as they read their letter.
“This one’s yours and Emma’s.” Matt tossed another book to Tom.
Tom caught it and stared down at the cover in surprise.
“Well?” Emma demanded. “What is it?”
“The Outlaw and the Whore,” he said slowly. “By A.A. Archer.”
“The story of Deathrider’s last ride,” Matt said solemnly, “and the death of the redheaded whore Seline.”
“How do you know that?”
“He opened the package earlier,” Georgiana sighed.
“Read the last page,” Matt encouraged his brother.
Tom flicked to the last page, and his eyes widened.
Matt grinned.
“Honey,” Tom said to his wife, “apparently you were killed by Apaches. And then I was killed by someone called ‘Bad Becky’ and her lover, ‘the Lord of Justice.’ I mean, Deathrider/Tom Slater was . . . Apparently as I died, I called your name with my final breath.”
“Of course you did.” Emma took the book off him. “Does that mean . . . it’s all over? For him? And for us?”
“I guess so. Looks like Bad Becky and the Lord of Justice collected on the bets in San Francisco. Bet they were the toast of town.” Tom turned the final page and took in an advertisement at the back of the book. “There’s a sequel coming about their exploits apparently.”
“Is there a letter for us in there from Deathrider?” Emma asked. “I’ll be put out if he’s not written to me too.”
“I have them here. One for each of you,” Matt said. He passed them over.
“I know which book is ours,” Georgiana said with a grin, reaching over Matt to pull a book out of the package.
“No, sweetheart. That one isn’t for me.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “That one’s for you and Emma to share. Although I reckon Leo might be interested in it too.” Matt met his stepson’s eyes across the room. Leo was practically an adult and had remained when the little kids went to watch the dishes. His gaze was solemn.
Emma’s head snapped up. “Why? What is it?”
“The Hog of Moke Hill,” Georgiana said gleefully, holding up the book.
“It tells the story of a filthy tyrant named Hec Boehm . . . ,” Matt said. Leo went pale and Emma’s eyes glinted.
“And what happens to him?” Emma asked, sounding greedy for information.
Matt laughed. “I don’t want to spoil the story for you, but according to our friend Miss Archer, he meets a mighty bad end . . .”
“Thank goodness,” Georgiana sighed, flipping to the end of the book. “Is this one true? Or is it made up like The Outlaw and the Whore?”
“Read your letter,” Matt suggested, “and I’ll think you’ll learn which bits are true.”
“He got married!” Alex squealed, ripping their letter out of Luke’s hand. She’d been reading over his shoulder, but now she took the letter away from him. “Rides like a Dolt actually got married! Deathrider got married!”
“He did not!” Emma snatched the letter out of her hand. “Who to?”
“Who to?” Georgiana demanded when Emma stayed silent, tearing the letter from her sister-in-law’s hand. “He did not!”
“He did!” Alex laughed, and twirled in a circle. “It’s too perfect for words.”
“Would you three witches stop speaking in riddles and tell us?” Tom demanded.
“Rides with Death,” Emma announced dramatically, “went and got himself married to . . .”
“Tell me, you harridan!”
“Ava. Addison. Archer. Herself.”
Tom groaned. “Does that mean we have to go and rescue him?”
“Don’t you dare.” Emma plonked herself in his lap. “We only just finished fixing up the house and got ourselves properly settled. You’re not going anywhere.”
“Well, someone needs to rescue him.”
“He’s a big boy,” Luke drawled. “He can take care of himself.”
“Yes,” Georgiana laughed, “haven’t you read the books?”
“What did you get, little brother?” Luke asked, wandering over to Matt.
Matt looked down at the last book. The Redemption of Ava Archer: A Setting Straight of Many Things. He flipped open to the inscription. For Matt Slater. Who was right all along.
“I got an apology.”
Luke tousled his hair. “That’s a first.”
“Tell me about it.” Matt met his brother’s gaze. “You reckon they’ll be happy together?”
“I think they’ll enjoy making each other miserable.”
They turned to look at their wives, who were gleefully hugging Emma. Tom was watching with a goofy smile.
“Just like us, huh?”
“Yeah, little brother. Just like us.”
Turn the page for an excerpt from the first Frontiers of the Heart Novel
BOUND FOR EDEN
Available now from Jove
Grady’s Point, Mississippi, 1843
ALEXANDRA BARRATT WASN’T a violent woman. Most times she couldn’t even crush a house spider. But Silas Grady was no spider. Silas Grady was a blackhearted, lily-livered, weak-kneed swamp rat. If anything, death was too
good for him.
She couldn’t believe the nerve of him, knocking on her door like nothing had happened. He was swaying on his feet and there was still dried blood stuck to his neck.
“It’s your only hope,” he said thickly. “Marry me, Alex.”
If Sheriff Deveraux hadn’t been standing right there she might have forgotten she wasn’t a violent woman and reached for the ax. But Sheriff Deveraux was standing right there.
“Marry me, Alex. I can keep you safe.”
“Safe!” White fury licked at her. He was mighty lucky that ax was out of arm’s reach. “And who will keep me safe from you?”
“Alex—”
“It’s Miss Barratt to you, and how dare you come here after what you did today?”
“What I did . . .?” He swayed, confused.
Alex said a silent prayer. With any luck she could carry this off and get out of here before Gideon showed up. Silas was a lecherous, scheming idiot, but his brother was something much, much worse. “You arrest him,” Alex demanded, turning to the sheriff.
The fat old man looked startled. He made a gruff harrumphing noise and hiked his pants up. “Now, Miss Barratt, you know I can’t do that.”
“I know no such thing. Every week since Ma and Pa died I’ve come to you with a complaint about this man.” She pointed a fierce finger at Silas’s face. “He and his brothers have terrorized us. They’ve tried to starve us out. And you’ve done nothing!”
The sheriff grew red-faced, but didn’t manage more than a mutter. It was all Alex expected from him, bloated excuse for a lawman that he was. “If you won’t do anything I’ll send for a federal marshal.”
“Now, really, Miss Barratt, this isn’t the frontier.”
“It might as well be, for all the law there is around here.” She lifted her nose in the air and tried to look imperious, which wasn’t easy considering her rising panic. She had to get out of here before Gideon came. He’d probably made it home by now and found the mess she’d left . . . Oh glory, the thought was almost her undoing. Gideon was a maniac. Who knew what he’d do to her if he caught her?
“If you aren’t going to arrest him, I don’t see what choice you leave me.” She kept brazening her way through it. Thank the Lord Silas was still concussed from that blow to the head. If he had half a brain he’d be demanding that the sheriff arrest her. He had fair cause: over the course of the afternoon she’d knocked him out cold, stolen his brother’s property and assaulted his evil witch of a mother.
