She turned frightened eyes on him. “Why would you think that?”
“Because of what you said about being a bad mother.”
“Oh. That. Well. It’s just that I’m so ignorant.”
So she wasn’t pregnant. He felt … relieved. Flint wasn’t sure he was ready to assume responsibility for another man’s child when he hadn’t yet adjusted to the idea of being a husband. “You can learn anything you need to know,” he insisted.
She shook her head. “I don’t belong here.”
“You’re wrong about that. You have the one quality—the only quality—that’s absolutely necessary out here.”
She looked up at him from beneath lowered lashes, almost seductively, and asked, “What is that?”
Flint felt a flash of heat run through him. I find you lovely, and infinitely desirable. When I look at you, I want to hold you and put myself inside you.
Those things were true, but he doubted they would do much to convince Hannah she belonged in Wyoming. Instead he said, “When you were seeking help for your sister, even though you were lost, you kept moving. You stayed alive. Sometimes, that’s enough. You make it through one day and try to do better the next. One day at a time, Hannah. That’s how we’re going to build a life together.”
“You make it sound possible.”
“Of course it’s possible,” he assured her.
“Even though we don’t intend to love each other?”
“Mutual respect is enough. It’s plenty.”
She lowered her gaze to her hands, which were knotted around the reins, and he realized he might not have her respect. He supposed he would have to earn it. That cut both ways. He would need a wife who could do all the things Hannah couldn’t yet do. He would need a helpmate who could pull her share of the weight. It was up to Hannah whether she decided to accept that challenge and work to meet it.
And if she couldn’t? Or wouldn’t? He wasn’t going to buy trouble for himself by thinking too far into the future.
Flint wasn’t sure when the idea of marrying Hannah right away, today, came to him, but he mulled it over all the way to the fort before presenting it to her.
“What would you think if we got married today?”
Hannah’s mouth opened in an O of surprise before she shut it and stared at him wide-eyed. “What would be the point of that?”
“We can start our lives now, instead of waiting a month,” he said.
“I don’t have anything to wear.”
Flint chuckled. Trust a woman to think about the small stuff. “I’m sure one of the women at the fort will have something you can borrow.”
“Don’t you want your brother present? Don’t you want some sort of celebration?”
“We can celebrate along with Ransom and Emaline when they get married.” If they get married. “Ransom and I have pretty much the same friends. That way, they can have their anniversary, and we can have ours.”
Hannah smiled, and the dimples he found so fascinating appeared in her cheeks.
He took that as a good sign. “You’ll do it?”
“Why not?”
It never occurred to Flint to wonder why a woman would give up having a wedding day with a special dress and flowers and all the folderol that women seemed to think was so important. He was too glad she’d agreed to marry him right away.
Because he was having second thoughts about marrying her at all. Worrying about how he was going to spend his life with a woman he didn’t love. Wondering if he could help her find the rest of her family and honorably be rid of her that way. Willing himself to keep his promise and make her his wife, whether he wanted to or not.
All things considered, the sooner he married Hannah McMurtry, the better.
“How did you two meet?”
Hannah told the sutler’s wife the story she and Flint had agreed upon. Flint had thought the truth might raise too many questions about where she’d been spending her nights.
“Flint and I met along the trail north of Cheyenne,” she began. “I was traveling through on a wagon train and we had a party and Flint happened upon us and we danced together all night and …”
Hannah’s throat was too raw with emotion to tell the rest of the lie.
Fortunately, the sutler’s wife, Phileda Strauss, spoke it for her. “You fell head over ears in love,” she said with a laugh, clapping her plump hands together. “And you decided to leave the wagon train and marry Flint. How romantic! He’s a real good man, honey. And lucky to have found you. I suppose he couldn’t wait a whole month and marry you when his brother says his vows to the colonel’s daughter. He had to make you his bride right away.”
Hannah nodded. She and Flint had also come up with an explanation why she had no belongings with her. Supposedly, her family had been so upset she wasn’t going on to California with them that they hadn’t allowed her to take anything with her. She’d been willing to come to her marriage with only the trail clothing on her back. It sounded pretty fanciful to Hannah, but Phileda had bought the story with stars of whimsy glowing in her faded, moss-green eyes.
“I’m so glad I had this dress for you to borrow,” Phileda said. “I bought it off a settler’s wife. They needed the money, and even though I knew it wouldn’t fit me, it was so pretty I had to have it.”
Phileda was easily as broad as the dress was tall, but Hannah could see why she’d been entranced by it. The ball gown, with its off-the-shoulder, short puffed sleeves, and V-shaped neckline, which was cut low enough to reveal soft mounds of feminine flesh, was made of ivory satin and decorated with seed pearls and delicate lace. It reminded Hannah of something her mother might have worn to an evening at the opera.
Phileda also loaned her a string of pearls to wear with the dress. “They’re the real thing,” the older woman assured her. “Brought back from some Pacific island by my seafaring father.”
The sutler was busy dressing Flint in a borrowed string tie and suit coat, so they would look equally elegant at their wedding. The preacher at the fort had declared himself happy to perform the ceremony on short notice and was doing his best to get the officers’ wives to organize a reception after the ceremony.
The wedding itself was planned for the end of the day, so the colonel and his officers could attend. For their wedding night, Hannah and Flint had been offered the use of quarters that had recently been vacated by an officer who’d been posted back East. Flint had argued that they didn’t want to put anyone out, but he’d been overruled by the ladies.
Everything was moving so fast, Hannah barely had time to think, but she was relieved that they’d encountered no obstacles to the precipitous wedding. She couldn’t believe how close she’d come to telling Flint that she was pregnant. Thank goodness her common sense had overcome her conscience!
Flint wouldn’t have asked unless it mattered to him. And that could only mean he had reservations about raising another man’s child. That had settled the matter for Hannah. She would say nothing about the child she carried. And the sooner they were wed, the better.
Unfortunately, there were more lies ahead.
She and Flint had already shared a marital bed, so whether he chose to exercise his husbandly rights or not, she would be able to claim she’d missed her monthly courses within the next few days and announce she was pregnant at the end of the month. When the babe was born, she would pray it was small and pretend it was early.
Her secret would stay a secret forever.
The relief Hannah felt knowing that she had a father for her child had more than compensated for what she’d expected would be the lack of a special dress for her wedding or having family there to witness it. The generosity of the sutler’s wife and the people who lived at the fort, who were planning a celebration to follow the ceremony, had come as a welcome surprise.
“You look beautiful, honey,” Phileda said as she tightened the laces across the back of the elegant dress. Hannah had been surprised to discover that the gown didn’t have button
s, but Phileda said the change was one she’d made herself, in what had turned out to be a fruitless hope that one day she could fit herself into the garment.
The result was that the dress fit Hannah as though it had been made for her. She admired herself in the mirror over the dresser in Phileda’s upstairs bedroom. Her blue eyes sparkled like Lake Michigan in the sunlight. Her cheeks were rosy pink with exhilaration. Her hair was pulled away from her face and caught in a bow at her crown, then fell in soft curls across her shoulders.
She looked nothing like a widow, or a soon-to-be mother, for that matter. She looked like a princess on her way to the ball. This time, although she knew Flint would find the comparison fanciful, her very own Prince Charming was waiting for her at the end of a short walk across the parade ground. If, by Prince Charming, you meant a man who’d ridden up on his prancing charger and rescued you and carried you away to his castle.
Flint had actually done that.
But Hannah had learned a great deal from her first marriage. She no longer believed in the myth of Prince Charming. There were no perfect men. They were all flawed. Which is to say, they were all human. It took a great deal more than good looks and a prancing charger to make the kind of man with whom you could live happily ever after.
She’d seen what married life was like with Roland McMurtry. Her husband had been a plain man—except for his crinkly blue eyes—tall and stick thin. They’d spent their days as man and wife doing chores, with a lifetime of such labor ahead of them. Passion might have been in their future, but it had played no part during the journey west.
Mr. McMurtry had never raised his voice to her, but that was because he’d been too shy and self-effacing to carry on a conversation with her. She wondered now what he would have been like as a role model for their children. He’d never gotten angry with her, but she thought that was mostly because he was too tired at the end of the day to do more than eat his food and go to sleep.
That was the reality of marriage. Or so she’d thought.
Being with Flint was a different experience altogether. She compared her frank, lively conversations with Flint to the reticence of Mr. McMurtry. That alone made all the difference. But Flint also had breathtaking good looks. He was a gentle yet passionate lover. He owned a large, successful ranch and a warm, well-built home. He hadn’t promised love, but then neither had she.
What more could a woman ask?
And yet, Hannah felt a niggling feeling of anxiety. She wanted to know what had caused the torment she’d seen in those remote gray eyes. She wanted to know how Flint would act if she disagreed with his opinion about what to do in a given situation. Clearly, he had no experience with compromise. And Flint was much more prickly and far less patient than Mr. McMurtry had ever been.
Hannah sighed. She supposed that was the price to be paid when a man was strong and self-assured. Which left her anxious about what Flint might say or do if he ever found out about her deceit.
She heard a soft sigh of sound from the officers’ wives as she stepped inside the chapel and saw looks of approval on the faces of their husbands as she made her way down the aisle.
Flint was already waiting for her at the altar. He looked decidedly out of place.
Maybe it was the tie and coat, which took him out of his element, or the shave, which had left his face looking naked and vulnerable. On the other hand, he was doing a very good job of concealing his emotions. His eyes, like impenetrable gray stone, gave away nothing.
Hannah felt so much remorse for what she was about to do that she almost turned and ran. Almost. She had to think of the tiny being inside her, who deserved a better life than she could give it on her own, who deserved to be loved. And would be, if she had anything to say about it.
Hannah made herself take the last few steps to join Flint at the altar. When he reached out to her, she set her hand in his, feeling the warmth and the strength of it.
He turned to face the altar and said, “We’re ready, Reverend Scofield.”
“Dearly beloved,” the preacher began.
Hannah didn’t hear any more of this wedding ceremony than she had of her first. She was too busy worrying her lower lip with her teeth, feeling guilty. Just not guilty enough to stop what was happening.
Flint’s voice sounded strained when he said, “I do.” Her voice was no louder when she responded in kind. She was surprised when Flint put a plain gold ring on her finger. She had no ring to give him in return.
Then it was all over and Reverend Scofield was telling Flint he could kiss his blushing bride, as though it were the first time their lips would touch, when this man had already, and quite thoroughly, made love to her.
Hannah held her breath, waiting. She felt the brush of Flint’s soft lips on the edge of her mouth and glanced up as he stepped back in time to catch the look of pain in his eyes. Pain? This was different from the torment she’d caught flashes of in the brief time she’d known him.
Hannah felt a spurt of panic. Flint was the one who’d suggested the sudden wedding. Was he regretting it already? What had that look meant?
“Are you all right?” she asked, searching his eyes, which were shuttered again, showing no signs of the suffering she’d seen.
“I’m fine,” he said curtly. “Let’s go say hello to everyone.”
Hannah felt her heart sink. She didn’t understand why he’d pressed her to marry, and marry so quickly, if he didn’t want her for his wife. Why had he done it?
The answer was niggling in her mind, out of reach. Before she could find it, he put a hand to her elbow and ushered her toward the ladies who’d gathered in the aisle to wish them well.
Phileda had a hanky pressed to her mouth and tears brimming in her eyes. “Honey, you’re the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.”
“No one’s as beautiful as Emaline,” Flint said.
Phileda looked taken aback.
Hannah glanced at her new husband. There it was. It had been staring her in the face all the time! Flint hadn’t wanted to marry her. He’d wanted to marry Emaline Simmons.
But Emaline was engaged to his brother.
Hannah stared at Flint with eyes opened wide to the truth.
His jaw was taut, his lips pressed flat, as though he regretted what he’d said. But it was too late to take it back.
No wonder he’s in pain, Hannah thought. He’s married to a woman he not only doesn’t love, but one he can never love.
It was as simple—and as complicated—as that. Flint was marrying a substitute, because his brother had laid claim to Emaline Simmons.
Hannah’s heart wasn’t broken. After all, she wasn’t in love with Flint, either. But she felt justified in keeping her secret. Especially since it seemed Flint had at least one dreadful secret of his own.
Phileda tutted and said, “Surely the bride is always the prettiest lady in the room on her wedding day.”
Flint turned wary eyes in Hannah’s direction and said, “You’re certainly right about that, Mrs. Strauss. You look lovely, Hannah. I’m a very lucky man.”
Hannah smiled at him, but the smile never reached her eyes. He was lucky, all right. Lucky she didn’t reveal this sham of a marriage to his friends and neighbors. This was all playacting and, by God, she could do it as well as he could.
“Thank, you, Flint,” she replied. “You look very handsome yourself.”
She couldn’t wait to get him alone. She would demand he tell her the truth. Had she guessed right? Was he in love with his brother’s fiancée? She would forbid him the use of her body as a proxy for the woman he couldn’t have.
Hannah pulled herself up short. Who was she to be making demands? Who was she to be criticizing Flint for marrying under false pretenses? What if he became suspicious in return, when she announced so quickly that she was pregnant? Especially if she got on her high horse and denied him his marital rights?
No, she’d made this hellish marriage bed. Now she was going to have to lie in it.
How could he have been so stupid as to compare his bride—unfavorably—to another woman on his wedding day? Flint wondered. On the other hand, he’d never claimed to be in love with Hannah, and she’d certainly made no bones about the fact that she didn’t intend to love him.
“Congratulations, Flint.”
Flint turned to find himself facing the fort commander, who had his hand outstretched. Flint took it, managed a smile, and said, “Thank you, Colonel.”
“What’s your brother going to think about this?” Simmons asked.
“I’m sure Ransom will be happy for me, sir. After all, he’s going to have a bride of his own by the end of the month.”
The colonel cleared his throat and said, “About that. I’ve had some disturbing reports that I wondered if you can explain to me.”
Flint’s heart skipped a beat. He’d never indicated by word or deed that he had feelings for Emaline. How on earth could the colonel have found him out?
His stomach clenched as he had another thought. It was that accusation from the war, that label of coward. He knew exactly who to blame for that rumor. But there was no excuse that would suffice for a soldier not following orders. No excuse that could explain withdrawing when he’d been commanded—by a leader who’d then retreated behind the lines—to hold an untenable position.
Luckily, he was too surprised to speak.
The colonel had his mind on something else entirely. “I’ve heard there’s some chance the Double C won’t have enough stock to supply the fort with beef if you were to get that yearlong contract.”
Flint gritted his teeth to keep from uttering an oath. He had a pretty good idea who was responsible for putting that kind of doubt in the colonel’s mind, but he wasn’t about to make an accusation when he had no proof. Instead, he said, “We’ve had a few cows stray, but we’re rounding them up.”
The colonel tugged on his mustache and said, “Ashley Patton has been making a pretty good argument that he’s a more reliable supplier. After all, he has five times the cattle you do.”
“Which creates a big problem for him,” Flint pointed out.
Wyoming Bride Page 15
