She squared her shoulders and rubbed her palms down the sides of her long skirt. “Please forgive me, Mr. Stevenson. I did not mean to...to take advantage of your precarious position. I was desperate and not thinking clearly. I certainly do not expect you to enter into a sham marriage with me when it was Millie to whom you made the offer.” She took a breath. “I will wire my father to send me funds to repay you for the ticket and money I used to make the journey. And to pay you for a room if you will be so kind as to allow me to stay here in your hotel until the money arrives and I can purchase a ticket home.” Please, Lord, let him agree. And, meantime, help me to convince him to—
“I’m afraid not, Miss Winterman.”
“But—”
“When you used the ticket and the money I sent, you bound yourself to fulfill my proposal for an in-name-only marriage. The details of the agreement are in this letter that was in your possession.”
What was he saying? “But, Mr. Stevenson, that letter was written to Millie. You expected her to—”
“Come and marry me. That is true. But she chose to betray my trust.” He set down his cup. “Let me make my position perfectly clear, Miss Winterman. I—do—not—want—to—be—married. But if I am not married by midnight tomorrow, I will lose this hotel and all that I have invested in it to the town’s founder.” His gaze fastened on hers, held it captive. “The marriage I proposed to Millie Rourk was an in-name-only one with no intimacy involved because I do not care who I marry. What I care about is this hotel. That is why I chose Millie Rourk out of the many respondents to my postings. As a maid, she would know how to cook and clean.”
Her stomach sank. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Stevenson.”
“You won’t, Miss Winterman. I’m not going to lose all I possess because you have changed your mind about obeying your father’s wishes and returning to marry this man you said you detest.” He stepped to the shelf by the door, lifted his coat off the peg and shrugged into it. “The only man you are going to marry, Miss Winterman, is me. And you are going to do so right now. You are sufficiently warmed to walk to the church. It’s not far. We will discuss the details of our arrangement when we return.” He put his hat on his head, lifted her coat off its peg and held it out to her. “Shall we go?”
She could stay! The strength garnered from her fear of being forced to return home drained away. She made her wobbling legs move, walked over to him and turned her back. His hand brushed against her neck as he helped her into her coat. She jerked away. The spot spread warmth into her back and shoulder. He waited patiently while she fastened the coat and pulled on her gloves, then he extended her hat and opened the door.
“There’s one thing more.”
What else could there be? And what did it matter? Emory would not find her here. She was safe from his threats. She lifted her muff from its peg and looked up at him.
“John Ferndale knows I was...am...reluctant to marry. Therefore, it’s important that he believes this marriage is a normal, lasting one. And, as small as this town is, that means that whenever we are in public we will behave like loving newlyweds. In private, there will be no personal contact, as we have discussed. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I hope you can put on a good act, because right now you look scared to death.”
She lifted her chin. “It is acceptable, even expected, for brides to look a little frightened on their wedding day, Mr. Stevenson. I will play my part well.”
“You’d better let me do all the talking until we have a chance to work out a story about our courtship.” He ushered her through the hotel lobby to the outside door. The wind howled, rattling the windowpanes. He frowned, tugged his hat more firmly on his head. “I’m sorry to make you go out in this weather, but if you’re to stay here, our wedding can’t be delayed until tomorrow. There’s no chaperone.”
She stiffened, fixed her gaze on him. “There’s no need for one.”
“True. But that knowledge is ours alone. To everyone else, we are a loving bride and groom. You’d best leave that muff here so you can hold on to me.” He pulled the door open.
Snow blew into the room, plastered against their coats. She staggered backward. He slipped his arm around her and steadied her, stepped to her side. His body blocked the main force of the wind. She tossed her muff onto a nearby chair, grabbed hold of his arm and walked with him into the storm.
* * *
“We’re almost there.”
Virginia kept her head ducked low and braved a glance around Garret. Faint spots of light glowed dimly ahead. A gust of wind swept swirling snow toward them. She jerked her head back behind the protection of Garret Stevenson’s broad shoulders and tightened her grip on the gloved hand he held out behind him.
“The snow’s drifted across the walk. Stay in my tracks.”
His pace slowed. His booted feet swept side to side with each step, creating a path for her. She added his thoughtfulness to the few facts she had learned about this man she was about to marry, and hurried her own steps to stay close. Her head butted his back. “Oh!”
“Sorry.” He turned and looked down at her. “I should have warned you I was stopping. Hold on to the railing while I clear a path up the steps.”
He stepped forward and the wind hit her, whipped her long skirts to the side and drove her against the railing. “Oof!” She grabbed for a handhold, fought to stand. Hands grasped her arm, pulled her upright. Garret’s strong arms slipped around her waist and beneath her knees, lifted her. Snow crunched beneath his boots as he carried her up the steps and across the stoop. The buffeting wind stopped. She blinked to clear her vision, looked at a red, snow-spattered door and blinked again as it was opened slightly.
“I thought I heard footsteps.” A slender man in a black suit pulled the door wide. Garret stepped into the church, and the man closed the door behind him.
“You’re supposed to carry your bride over your threshold, Garret.”
Heat flowed into her cheeks at the man’s smile. Bride. Her stomach churned.
“In this weather, we’re fortunate to have made it here at all. It’s blowing up a blizzard out there!” Garret lowered her until her feet touched the floor, stood behind her with his hands resting on her shoulders. “Pastor Karl, may I present my bride, Virginia Winterman. Virginia dearest, this is Pastor Karl.”
Dearest. She made note of the endearment, straightened and drew in a breath. She coughed and took another. Snow fell from the fur brim of her hat and melted on her cheek.
“A pleasure, Miss Winterman. Welcome to Whisper Creek. I promise this is not our typical weather. At least I hope it isn’t. None of us have been here long enough to know.” The pastor smiled, dipped his head in a small bow.
She shivered, tried to keep her teeth from chattering, and to return his friendly smile. “Th-thank you...”
“Hold still.” Garret brushed the snow from her hat onto his gloved hand and dropped it onto the rug they stood on, removed his gloves, slid his hands beneath the long curls dangling down the back of her head onto her shoulders, and shook them. His action kept the snow from melting on her neck and sliding down her back. Cold as it was outside, his hands were still warm. She resisted the urge to lean back against them.
“You and your bride must be freezing, Garret. Come stand by the stove and warm yourselves. Ivy will be along in a minute. She went to the house to check on the children.”
They followed him to the stove. The wind howled. The windowpanes on the side of the church rattled.
A door slammed somewhere in the recesses of the back of the church. Quick footsteps sounded. A short woman hurried into the sanctuary, ducked out from under a heavy wool blanket thrown over her head and shoulders, and gave it a brisk shake. Snow flew every direction. “Konrad, I don’t know if they—oh. You’re here.” The woman tossed the blanket over a pew and hurried toward
them. “I wasn’t sure you could make it through the storm, Mr. Stevenson. This weather is the worst I’ve ever seen. The parsonage blocks the wind from the path or I’d never have made it back. I wouldn’t have tried if I weren’t needed...” The woman stopped beside the pastor, held her hands out to the stove and smiled.
“Miss Winterman, this is my wife. Ivy will be your witness. Ivy, Miss Winterman.”
She looked down into Mrs. Karl’s warm, blue eyes and some of the tension in her shoulders eased.
“Not for long.” Garret’s deep voice flowed over her. “I’m sorry to rush this, Pastor Karl, but it sounds as if the storm is getting worse. And Virginia is so slight, she had a hard time staying on her feet on the way here. I’d like to get back to the hotel.”
“Yes, of course. You’re right, Garret. I’ll get right to the ceremony. Step up beside your bride.” The pastor looked at his wife and smiled. “We’ll dispense with the song, Ivy.” He cleared his throat. “And I’ll just get to the important part. Oh, did you bring a ring, Garret?”
“No.” He looked down at her. “I’m sorry, dearest, I didn’t know the correct size. I’ll send for a ring after the storm passes.”
She stared up at him, taken aback by the look in his eyes, the warmth in his voice. Garret Stevenson was a good actor. Or a practiced lothario. The thought was discomforting. So was the silence. Her answer was expected. What would she say if this wedding were real? She pulled in a breath, spoke softly. “I don’t need a ring, dearest. It’s your love that is important.”
“Well said, Miss Winterman.” The pastor smiled at her, then shifted his gaze to her groom. “Garret Stevenson, wilt thou have this woman for thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s holy ordinance—”
She stared at the pastor, listened to his words. This ceremony was real. Garret Stevenson would be her husband!
“—forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
“I will.”
She glanced up at Garret. How could he say that so calmly and surely? This was real.
“Virginia Winterman, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband—”
She jerked her gaze back to the man in front of her. He was a pastor...this was his church...she was making a vow before God! Her breath froze in her lungs. A tremble started in her knees, spread through her. How could she do this? If she said yes, she would be married to Garret Stevenson. Her chance for love and happiness would be over. But she had given him her word. If she didn’t keep it, he would lose all he possessed. And she would go home to a forced marriage to Emory Gladen.
“—love, honor and keep him, in sickness—”
God knew she had given Garret Stevenson her word! And God honored those who kept their word. He that sweareth to his own hurt, and changeth not.
“—and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
Changeth not... She had to keep her word. She buried her shaking hands in the folds of her damp coat and lifted her chin. “I will.”
“Garret, you may kiss your bride.”
No! Garret’s hands clasped her upper arms, turned her toward him. Panic surged. He lowered his head. She closed her eyes. His lips were hot, soft, gentle on hers, and then they were gone. She opened her eyes, stared down at the floor and resisted the urge to press her fingers to her mouth.
Mrs. Karl stepped into view, held her hand out. “Congratulations, Garret. You have a beautiful bride. I wish you every happiness.” The woman leaned forward, gave her a brief hug. “And for you, my dear.” The woman stepped back. “I made a cake to celebrate your wedding. It’s at the parsonage...”
“How kind of you.” She smiled at the pastor’s wife, then looked up at Garret to take her cue from him.
“Thank you, Mrs. Karl, but I think we’d better get home. I’ll need to borrow a lantern, Pastor.”
“Of course. There’s one on the shelf by the front door for just such a purpose. No hurry about returning it. You can bring it back on Sunday.”
Pastor Karl walked with them to the door, placed a hand on each of them. “May the Lord bless you both with ever increasing love, happiness and healthy children.”
Guilt rose, settled in her heart. She had kept her word, but all the same, she would be living a lie. There would be no such blessing from the Lord for her. Or for Garret Stevenson. Not now. Not even God could bless a pretend, in-name-only marriage.
Chapter Two
Garret set the oil lamp on the shelf by his hat, slapped the snow from his leather gloves and shoved them in his coat pockets. “If I may, before you take off your coat...” He lifted her dangling curls and once again shook the snow off them. “No sense in letting this snow melt and wet your gown...”
“Th-thank you.” Lord, please let him think my stuttering is from the cold, not nerves.
He nodded, helped her from her coat and hung it on a peg. “Give me your hat and gloves. I’ll take care of them. You go warm yourself by the fire.”
“All right.” She handed them over to him and hurried toward the warmth of the blazing logs as fast as her trembling legs would carry her.
There’s no chaperone...
The words he’d spoken earlier had echoed through her mind all the way back from the church. Theirs was to be an in-name-only marriage. Why would he even mention needing a chaperone? She lifted her hand, touched her cold fingertips to her mouth. The kiss had surprised her. She’d thought he’d make some excuse. But at least it hadn’t been cruel. A shudder shook her.
“There must be at least twelve to fifteen inches of snow out there, and it’s still coming. There’s no telling how deep it will be before morning.”
She pounced on the subject. If she kept him talking about the weather, she could delay any discussion about their sleeping arrangements. Please, Lord... “You sound worried.”
“I’m a little concerned.” He sat on a chair by the door and tugged off his boots, put them on the small rag rug under the shelf. “I’m wondering if this is normal for this area. If it is, it could be a problem.”
“I don’t understand.”
“If it’s this deep here in the valley, I can’t imagine how much snow there must be up in the high elevations. It might be enough to shut down the trains. And that means no guests for the hotel or dining room. And no supplies coming through. No coal...”
“Oh.” She turned to warm her back at the fire. “I didn’t realize how dependent Whisper Creek is on the railroad.”
“It’s completely so.” He shoved his fingers through his hair and came to stand beside her on the hearth. “Mr. Ferndale has declared there will be no ranches in this valley. And he owns all of the land. The problem is, until there are some farms and ranches in the area, we have no source for food other than what is shipped in. If we get snowbound, that could be a real problem. Especially if I had a hotel full of guests to be fed.”
“What can you do about that possibility?”
“Not much. Order in enough food supplies to fill the icehouse and storage pantry in case of emergency. But even that wouldn’t last long if the hotel was full of people.”
She lifted her hems enough to allow the heat of the fire to reach her shoes. The loops over the buttons were too stiff with the cold to unfasten. “It sounds as if you need to buy a ranch.”
“Spoken like the daughter of a wealthy man.”
Her cheeks warmed. “I’m sorry. I’m not accustomed to discussing business problems. Father believes women need to be protected from such things.”
“No need to apologize. It’s a good idea. If things go as well as I hope with the hotel, I might just do it. There have been rumors of some cowboys from Texas buying land for a ranch in the next valley. They may not be adverse to an investor.” He lifted his foot and wiggled his stocking-clad toes close to the fire. “Ah, that feels good
.” He repeated it with his other foot. “Sit down and I’ll take off your boots, so you can warm your feet.”
“No!”
His eyebrows shot skyward.
She swallowed hard. “That is...no thank you. My feet are fine.”
“Miss—er—Virginia, if this arrangement we have entered into is to work, we’re going to need some rules. The first is honesty.” His gaze fastened on hers. “I told you earlier I did not care who I married, that what I care about is saving my hotel. Let me explain further. I do not care to have any personal relationship with any woman, now or ever. You have no reason to fear me. There was no motive other than normal politeness in my offering to remove your boots. I’d do the same for a sister. Now, sit down and let me remove your boots. You might as well be comfortable while we discuss the rules for our arrangement.”
His voice was polite, businesslike and a touch bitter. She had misjudged him. “Very well.” She moved to one of the chairs, sat, arranged her long skirts and straightened her leg.
He went down on one knee, propped her foot on his other knee, pushed her hem above the fur trim at the top of her boot and rubbed the heel of his hand quickly up and down over the buttons. Warmth from the friction loosened the loops. Obviously, he had done this before. He unfastened the buttons and pulled her boot off, set it aside and cupped her cold, stinging foot in his hands. She could have purred, it felt so good.
“Your feet are fine, huh? Your toes feel like ice.” He rubbed her foot a minute, then lowered it to the floor and lifted her other foot to his knee.
“What is your sister’s name, Garret?”
He chuckled, slipped her skirt hem over the top of her boot. “I don’t have a sister.”
She jerked her foot back. “You said honesty was the first rule of our arrangement!”
“I was honest. I said I would do the same for a sister—not that I had a sister.” He grabbed her foot by the boot heel and put it back on his knee. “That is something we should know about one another. We might be asked questions.” All trace of warmth left his face and voice. “I have no family. And, if I remember correctly, you said you are an only child—with a father, a cousin and an unwelcome, determined suitor.”
Mail-Order Bride Switch Page 2
