Mail Order Bride: Journey of The Bride Complete Volumes 1 and 2: A Mail Order Bride Historical Western Romance

by Mary Fox

  “No,” Paul said, his voice holding caution as he spoke.

  Courtney chose that moment to move toward the men. She smiled up at Brandon with as much sweetness as she could manage, and was glad that he seemed to appreciate what he could see. “My name is Courtney le Brush,” she told him. “I am your wife.”

  Chapter Four

  The reaction to her statement was instantaneous. “What?” Brandon snarled, his appreciation dying in a wave of anger. His nostrils flared and he looked at his brother. One moment he stood next to Courtney, and the next he had his hand wrapped around his brother’s throat and the man pinned up against the door of the ranch house.

  “What did she say?” he snarled. Paul choked on the air around him.

  “Brandon!” Courtney snapped. She hadn’t expected him to hear her, but she had to try. She was surprised when the large man turned his head, letting her know he was listening to her. “Put him down.” He growled and tightened his grip. “Now.” She put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at him, unafraid of him.

  He laughed at her, dropping Paul and turning around to look at her. She didn’t flinch as he stalked closer to her. She tipped her chin up in defiance, wondering if he’d hurt her. Somehow, she didn’t think he would. God, she wanted him to kiss her though—and more.

  His eyes roamed over her once more. “Did you put him up to this, Miss le Brush?” he asked.

  She stared at him, appalled at his accusation. “Excuse me?”

  A smirk crossed his face. “Did you put my brother up to this?”

  “No!” she cried. “I would never—” He turned away from her before she could finish her statement.

  “Paul, what kind of a joke is this?”

  There was tightly-held anger in his voice, and Courtney noted how he kept clenching his fists as if he really wanted to hit something. Or someone, she thought wryly.

  For all that he was smaller than his brother, Paul didn’t back down. Instead, he grinned at Brandon. “You needed a woman to help you out around the ranch, Brandon. You need a good woman who will warm your food—and your bed.” There was a smug grin on his face when Courtney glanced back between the brothers. Even Brandon eyed her from the corner of his eyes. Her knees felt weak again, but she refused to show it before the two men. She’d forgotten about that possibility. When she signed the paperwork and became Brandon’s wife, she’d installed her obligation to wifely duties like sex.

  She held her breath, looking up at Brandon with wide eyes, refusing to back down. He turned away, facing Paul again. “I don’t need a wife, and I don’t want a wife, Paul, and you know why.” His words came out between clenched teeth, as if he was fighting the urge to bite off his own tongue.

  Courtney crossed her arms over her chest. “Enlighten me then,” she snapped. “Because I was never informed.”

  Brandon spun around to face her once more, but then he glanced up, at the crowd of hired hands gawking at the spectacle they were creating and he cursed under his breath. Without another word, he took Courtney by the arm and led her into the house, shouting behind him for Paul to follow.

  The door banged closed behind them, and Courtney yanked her arm out of Brandon’s grasp with a huff. She glared up at him, rubbing the spot where he’d grabbed her. He hadn’t hurt her.

  On the contrary, his hold had been rather gentle despite his anger. It had scorched her though, and she knew it wouldn’t take much to entice her into his bed. Already, she wanted this argument said and done. She longed to stand on the tips of her toes and brush her lips against him. She wondered if his beard would tickle when she kissed him, wondered if he’d—

  “I don’t want a wife,” he said, snapping her out of her fantasy and back into reality.

  “Why the hell not?”

  Both men stared at her, as if they’d never heard a woman curse before. Maybe they hadn’t. Even Paul’s wife hadn’t struck Courtney as the kind of woman who cursed when she was angry. Courtney wasn’t even that angry yet. She was frustrated, but not angry. She’d been warned that Brandon would act this way. In fact, she’d expected worse. This was going rather well compared to what she’d imagined. She was just ready for it to be over.

  “His last fiancé ditched him,” Paul answered after several moments of silence passed.

  Courtney stared at Brandon in horror. He’d been engaged before? That was news to her.

  “Shut it, Paul,” Brandon snarled.

  “She deserves to know,” Paul snapped in return. “If you want to tell her, be my guest, but one of us needs to tell her.”

  Brandon turned away with another curse, running his hands through his dark hair. Paul waited, silent. Courtney waited for either to explain.

  “Paul’s right,” Brandon told her, turning back to them. His eyes held hers as he stalked closer. For a moment, she had the urge to flee, but she fought it and stood her ground, waiting until he came to her. He stood just before her. “I was engaged about three years ago. Her name was Emma Phillips. Pretty lass, although I’d mark that you’re prettier now. I was in love with her, but I wasn’t good enough for her in the end. She took off with another fellow without so much as a goodbye.”

  For several moments, silence filled the room. Brandon turned away from the two, hooking his thumbs in the loops of his jeans and looking down the hall.

  “You didn’t love her,” Courtney said in a low voice several minutes later.

  Both men’s attention snapped back to her, but her eyes were only on Brandon. He looked at her as if she’d said that the sky was green. “What makes you say that?” His words were cautious, as if he expected a snake to pop out of the brush and bite him.

  “If you loved her, you would have gone after her,” Courtney said. “If you loved her, you would have fought for her. You may have lost. She may have turned you away, but at least you would have tried. At least you would have shown her you wanted to make it work.”

  He stared at her for several moments. She waited, wondering what he would say to her. After a while, he narrowed his eyes at her and then turned his attention to Paul. “I take it those papers I signed the other day were marriage papers, not hiring contracts?”

  Paul gave him a sheepish grin, but he didn’t seem to regret anything. He seemed proud of himself in fact. “You have to admit she’s not a bad catch, Brandon.”

  Brandon’s gaze returned to Courtney for a moment, but then he looked at Paul. “Show the men where they’ll be bunking at night and then let them know I’ll be out in a few minutes,” he said.

  Paul winked at him. “Sure thing boss.” He left without needing to be told again.

  Alone, Brandon stalked toward Courtney and tipped her chin up. His mouth brushed hers in a chaste kiss.

  “Don’t tell me that’s the best you’ve got,” Courtney said when he pulled away.

  He frowned at her. “You’re going to be the death of me, aren’t you?” he asked.

  “I’ll try not to be. Now give me a real kiss.”

  “A real kiss huh?” he asked. Then his mouth lowered on hers, drawing her to him. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight against him. Her hands slid up over his chest and up into his hair. Her fingers curled into his hair, refusing to let him go as his tongue tangled with hers. She clung to him, desperate for his touch, his taste. He filled her senses, drowning her in his masculinity.

  A hearty moan escaped her throat before she could stop it. He groaned, his hands moving up to cup her face, turning it to gain better access to her mouth. They kissed over and over again, each time, tasting more and more of one another with each kiss.

  When they finally pulled away from one another, Courtney smiled up at him. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” she asked. They were both panting for breath, although he gained his faster than she did. She reached a hand up to touch her lips, which were bruised from their kisses. It was an exhilarating feeling. She’d never been kissed before—not like a man kisses a woman—and she loved it, she loved the way he kis
sed her, loved the way he left her breathless.

  He grunted in response. It would have deflated her if she hadn’t seen the pleased look in his eyes. “It wasn’t bad.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Wasn’t bad?” she repeated, placing her hands on her hips. “Brandon—”

  He groaned, closing his eyes and looking up towards the ceiling. She paused, closing the distance between them and placing her hand on his chest as she stood up on the tips of her toes. “Brandon,” she whispered into his ear, testing a theory.

  He groaned again, leaning down and taking her mouth again. This time, their kiss was sweeter and longer. His hand slid down her cheek and down her side, pausing at her hip to pull her tighter against him, but then it continued downward, clasping her hand in his fingers before he released her mouth. He stepped back then, bringing her hand up to his mouth and kissing the back of her hand.

  “We shall continue this discussion later, Miss le Brush,” he said. His eyes never left hers as he spoke and a shiver of delight washed through her. The way he looked at her made her wonder if there would be much discussion at all, or it was just going to be more kissing and touching. She didn’t know which she’d be more excited about, learning more about Brandon or kissing him. She wanted to do both.

  She only nodded at him, biting her lip to keep from launching herself at him once more. She needn’t have tried. He growled low in his throat, leaned forward and took her bottom lip in his mouth, suckling it for a moment before he released it. He turned away from her after giving her a last quick kiss. He grabbed a shirt from the back of a chair and pulled it on. She watched him grab his hat from beside the door and pull it on his head. He spared her one more glance before he walked outside, but then he was gone, the door swinging shut behind him.

  Courtney released her breath with a heavy sigh, sinking down into a chair before her legs collapsed under her. God, could that man kiss. She ran her fingers through her hair, wondering how she must look. She’d acted like a wonton woman, something she’d never done before. Goodness though, Brandon made her want to do things she’d never thought of doing before.

  “Are you alright, Miss le Brush?”

  She looked up at the sound of Paul’s voice and smiled, smoothing her skirt and pretending nothing was wrong. “Everything’s fine,” she assured him. “Let’s bring everything in so I can get a meal started. Long journey like that, these men’ll be starving before too long.”

  Paul have her a knowing grin and followed her out of the door. He chuckled as they carried in the packages from the wagon. “I knew you two would get along,” he told her.

  She laughed. “I’m not too certain of that quite yet,” she informed him, “but there is definitely the possibility.” She remembered the way he’d kissed her, the way he’d groaned, the way she’d moaned. She wanted all of that again. If she hadn’t been carrying anything, she knew she would have touched her mouth where he’d bitten her lip.

  Once everything was carried inside and put away in its proper place, Courtney took the time to familiarize herself with the kitchen and where things were. Then she pulled out a couple of pots and pans and started cooking. Paul asked her if she needed any help with anything, but she only waved him away. “Go make sure your brother doesn’t kill anyone out there and let them know they’ll hear the cowbell outside when supper’s done.”

  He nodded and disappeared out of the kitchen before she could ask anything more of him. Looking about, Courtney brushed her hair back out of her face, rolled up her sleeves and set to work.

  Chapter Five

  Supper was a success. The men gathered outside at a row of tables where Courtney served them tin bowls full of soup. She hadn’t known how much to make and knew that if she made too much the soup would keep overnight better than anything else she made if there happened to be extra. She served all the hired men first, learning names as she placed bowls before them all. She warned them she may not remember all their names, to which they assured her they didn’t mind.

  Brandon held back, watching her from the edge of the crowd, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes shielded. She knew he watched her though, knew it like she knew the sky was blue.

  When she served him his meal, he thanked her, a small smile crossing his face the first time. She stepped back and waited, wondering what he would think of it. It really had been a long time since she’d cooked for anyone and she worried that the other men were being nice because they thought it in her power to fire them. No need to tell them she wouldn’t even if she did. Somehow though, she knew Brandon wouldn’t mince words with her. If her cooking was bad, he’d tell her it was.

  He ate in silence, taking several bites before he seemed to realize she was watching. Then he glanced at her where she stood with her hands behind her back, awaiting his assessment. He nodded his approval. She beamed at him, turning away and practically skipping back to the kitchen. He liked it. He liked her cooking. Maybe there was hope that this would work after all.

  As she passed the table, some of the men asked if there was enough for second helpings. She assured them there was and told them they could come get themselves more if they liked.

  Inside the house once more, Courtney dished herself a bowl of soup and sat at the table there, relishing in the silence inside the house even as she heard the night noises outside. That would take some getting used to: the crickets and the frogs singing. In the distance, a coyote howled, but it didn’t bother Courtney. She closed her eyes and smiled to herself.

  Every once in a while one of the men would come help themselves to another scoop of soup. Beyond a smile in their direction, Courtney didn’t interact with them, choosing to eat in silence so that she could explore the house afterwards. She asked that the dirty dishes be stacked on the table and assured the men she could handle them herself. She set to work after eating, filling a bucket with water and scrubbing the dishes with water and scouring food off with sand. Then she set them out to dry and explored the house.

  Outside, the men grew loud with the sounds of song and conversations. Laughter filled the air and there was an overall sense of companionship amongst the men. She was glad. That would mean few fights in the long run.

  Upstairs, Courtney paused in front of the closed doors and looked around. A feeling that she was being watched nagged at her, and she wasn’t sure she liked it. A shiver passed through her body and she returned her attention to the task at hand.

  “That room’s off limits,” a steel voice said behind her just as she turned the knob and started inside.

  She slammed the door shut, spinning around and flattening her back against the wood, her hand pressed over her heart. She stared up at Brandon, who stood at the head of the stairs, his arms crossed over his chest as he looked at her through narrowed eyes. Even angry, he made her heart pound in her chest.

  That wasn’t something she had expected. She’d known what marriage would mean and had accepted it. She hadn’t counted on being attracted to the man she’d marry. It was nice. Unexpected, but nice.

  “I… I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I wasn’t trying to be nosy. I’m just tired. I want to sleep.”

  He didn’t say anything right away. He simply watched her, as if trying to consider something.

  “So you’re my wife?” he said after several moments.

  “That is what I’ve been told,” she countered.

  Brandon nodded, the barest movement she wouldn’t have seen if she hadn’t seen the bob of his hat atop his head. Then he strode toward her, his gaze hot as he came closer and closer until he had her pinned against the door.

  “And do you know everything that entails?” he asked. There was heat in his gaze, but it was the gruff tone in his words that left her breathless. Her eyes moved down to his mouth and she swallowed hard.

  “I think I’ve figured it out,” she whispered, closing her eyes and taking a shattering breath.

  It was that moment he chose to capture her mouth with his. He demanded he
r attention, drawing her lips to his. She melted into him as he commanded she relinquish herself to him. His tongue swept across her bottom lip, seeking entrance to her mouth. With a moan, she surrendered completely, and their tongues danced with one another.

  His hands slid up her sides, cupping her breasts through the fabric of her gown and she moaned again. Her stomach felt tight and heat pooled between her legs. He was promising a release she didn’t even know she needed until that moment.

  “Fuck it,” he growled against her mouth, pulling her tight against him as he reached around her and opened the door. He shoved her inside, slamming the door shut behind him. Then he grabbed her and pushed her up against it, his hands sliding down her sides to the edge of her skirt and up under them.

  His mouth assaulted her mouth, her neck, her shoulders, every bare piece of flesh he could reach. All the while, his hands roamed over her heated flesh, touching her and sending spirals of heat through her. She gasped for air, desperate for something she didn’t understand.