Western Christmas Brides

by Lauri Robinson

  “My wife and I welcome you. There’s always room for family. Isn’t that right, honey?”

  Livy agreed, even though he’d bet all the wages he’d earned so far that she didn’t mean it.

  “The children will be so happy to meet Bentley,” Livy said.

  “Children? I thought there was only Sam?”

  “My—my—Kit. He has Emmie, his niece.”

  “Hank!” Kit hurried outside. He stood close to the liveryman and whispered, “I need a favor. When we come to town later for the reading, I’m going to marry Livy. Can you set it up for the preacher to meet us in private?”

  “Good. I reckon I don’t need to reach for my shotgun after all.”

  “You still might. I’m willing, but I’m not so sure about my bride-to-be.”

  “I hope you’re a bit more than willing. Our Livy deserves more than willing.”

  “I care deeply for her. Reckon I’m no different than anyone else in this town. I didn’t want her to be shamed in front of Edwina so I said what I did.”

  “You also said you were a banker.”

  “Livy’s cousin assumed it and so I just embroidered a little.”

  Hands fisted at his hips, Hank nodded.

  “I’ll make sure the preacher is waiting for you at the chapel after the reading.” All of a sudden, the man slapped his thigh, laughed out loud. “Help me unload all this baggage. I’ve been away from my missus for too long already.”

  * * *

  “You claimed you were not going to lie again!” Livy whispered, keeping her anger discreet. Even though it was dark and secluded in the alleyway between the bank and the general store. Not a soul was nearby but she would perish if anyone witnessed her humiliation. “I am not going to marry you!”

  She yanked her elbow out of Kit’s fingers while the bullheaded man hauled her toward the chapel. For an actor, he was very strong.

  “And I’m not going to share a room with you in sin,” he answered, reclaiming her elbow.

  She dug her boot heels into the dirt and tugged backward.

  “When I do marry someone it will not be because I was tricked into it.”

  All of a sudden Kit stopped his forward momentum, and spun about to pin her with a level glare. “Look, Livy. The reason you hired me was to keep Edwina from taking Sam. Yes, I lied when I told her we were married, but at least I made sure that won’t happen.”

  “I don’t think your motives were so pure, Mr. Kitson James.” She poked him in the chest with one finger. “I was about to send you packing—you made it impossible for me to do so. It was a purely conniving act on your part.”

  She yanked out of his hold then turned, about to walk away. True friends waited for her in the bakery.

  Drat it! Why did she have to feel a thrill at the pressure of his big hand clamped around hers when he drew her powerfully back toward him?

  “I can see how it might look that way.”

  “Yes, you can because it is that way.”

  “You are going to marry me because—”

  “I’m not.” She was not!

  “Because of Sam.”

  For Sam—yes, she’d been through the arguments in her head for the past two hours without ceasing.

  If she married the actor, Sam would remain safely with her. Edwina would not even suggest taking him away, not believing his guardian was a banker’s son.

  Kit was right about sharing a bedroom. She could hardly do that outside marriage. Since she could not send him to the barn without making Edwina wonder, for the time being, he would have to sleep in her room.

  Drat her fickle insides for dancing a little jig at the thought of being alone with him in that virginal chamber.

  “There must be another way—there has got to be.”

  “Might be, honey, if she hadn’t caught you kissing me.”

  “It was you who was kissing me!”

  She yanked away from him once again but found that she had taken a few steps toward the church instead of the bakery.

  He caught up to her, walked beside her without touching her. “Damned if I’m going to ruin my reputation and yours by sleeping in your bedroom when we aren’t legally wed.”

  She was good and caught. She could argue until the gust of wind that just dropped a snowflake on her nose turned into a blizzard. In the end it would make no difference.

  It was clear that she had no choice about her future. She could have Sam and Kit, and Emmie. Her heart softened a bit at the thought of being able to raise that sweet little girl. Or she could have no one.

  “Livy.” He touched her cheek with his glove. She stopped, glaring up at him. “I know this is all happening too fast, and that I never gave you a say-so, but we could be happy together. You know we could.”

  Of all the fool things to do, Kitson James went down on one knee, right in the alleyway between the general store and the yard of the Chapel of Grace.

  “Livy Grace York, will you be my bride?”

  For some reason it touched her that he knew her middle name. He must have been paying attention to Edwina when she’d uttered it with such condemnation.

  It sounded so much prettier coming from Kit’s lips.

  Many things would be nice coming from Kit’s lips. Blasted wayward thoughts! From now on she would not think them.

  From now on she was going to—

  “All right. I will marry you.”

  He came slowly to his feet, reaching for her as though he was going to kiss her like any newly pledged man would do.

  “But—” She held up her hand to keep him at a distance. “Only in the eyes of the law, for Sam’s sake and for my reputation’s.”

  “All right, honey. But maybe in time—”

  “I’ll seek a divorce.”

  How could he think she would welcome him into the rest of her life, into her bed, after he had manipulated her this way?

  He needed a job and a home for his niece. He had seen an opportunity to have that and he’d pounced upon it.

  Well, she would pounce upon her opportunity to be rid of him as soon as the time was right.

  “You know,” she said, when Kit knocked on the front door of the chapel, “everyone knows we weren’t married this morning. Someone might point that out to my cousin.”

  “Not once Hank Runne lets them know what happened.”

  “Everything?” Of course everything. Hank would have witnessed the indiscretion that gave Kit the chance to declare them married. “Then I’m ruined anyway—married or not, I’m ruined.”

  “I care for you—deeply. I’ll never do anything to make you feel ruined.”

  She huffed. The sound was not attractive. This was not the way she had always dreamed she’d feel at her wedding.

  “What a shame you didn’t think of that before you jumped on me at my own front door.”

  “That’s not how I recall the event. Seems to me you were just as willing as I was.”

  And that was exactly the problem with this tawdry affair. She wondered if she would have been able to stop kissing Kit even had she known Edwina was on the far side of the door.

  A few moments later she stood hand in hand with Kit, falsely pledging her troth to an actor. Staring into his sincere-looking face, she could only guess what character he was stepping into for this performance.

  And what had come over Hank? All he needed to do was witness the event. Dashing a tear from his eye seemed a bit much.

  Until she glanced up at Kit’s handsome face and saw emotion glittering in his eyes, as well.

  Without warning her heart went half-dizzy.

  She was going to have to be very careful that she did not lay it at the feet of a man who could play a part more naturally than he could play himself.

>   Chapter Eight

  Sitting at a table beside the bakery window, Kit watched a dozen snowflakes smash against the glass then drip to the sill. He’d need to get his family home soon, before a flat-out storm hit.

  His family. He let the idea roll around in his brain, sink into his heart.

  Funny how quickly a man could know a sense of bonding. He’d played the role of a family man many times. This was different. It was real and he liked the feel of it.

  He and Emmie had been a family, but now there was Sam and Livy and, all of a sudden, life seemed complete. It was as though he had been missing something—needing this tie that had fallen to him like a Christmas blessing.

  A lot of folks would feel trapped by the situation he had landed in. But he didn’t. With the dust settling, looking at the future, all he felt was grateful.

  His bride was the one who felt trapped. At the moment she didn’t appear to be distressed, talking with Edwina and sipping hot tea. Under it all, though, he sensed her misery.

  He and Livy did have something in common. They could both play a part. He wondered if the folks of Sweet Bank would be willing to do the same. It was going to take some skillful playacting to perform this drama.

  “Santa’s going to bring me my own fan,” Bentley said, sitting between Sam and Emmie while he licked cookie crumbs from his mouth. “With five blades.”

  “I wants a dolly in a pink dress,” Emmie announced. She did? Where was he going to get one of those? He sure hoped the general store had one that he could afford.

  Now that he was married, the money he had saved was no longer his own. It was for his family. He’d be a hog-tied mud licker if he was going to allow his wife to continue earning money by washing clothes in the middle of the night.

  Livy had mentioned that she wanted to get the horse ranch running again. With the small sum he had put away, he could begin that.

  As soon as Edwina went home, he’d retire from banking and become a rancher—a genuine range-riding, rope-throwing cowboy.

  “I want a game of checkers!” Sam said. “I’ll learn to win every time.”

  “I’m sure Santa is checking his list as we speak, young Sam,” said Mary Newton, approaching the table in her flowered apron. The owner of the bakery carried a steaming teapot in her hand. With a nod of her head and a lift of gray brows, she asked if anyone wanted more.

  Edwina set her cup on her saucer with a dainty click. “My goodness, this is such a quaint little place. It’s not at all what I’m used to.”

  Livy stared at her cousin, flushed and embarrassed.

  “I’ve got to say,” Kit said because he felt the need to say something, “Livy and I just returned from our honeymoon in Paris.”

  He cast a quick glance at the children. Two of them would know this was not true. Luckily, they were distracted by Sam asking what ten plus fifteen made. They were counting fingers and trying to figure it out.

  “We ate in many fine establishments, didn’t we, honey?” He liked calling her honey. Didn’t seem she liked hearing it, though.

  “Very lovely places,” she agreed with a tight smile.

  “But the truth is—” he winked up at Mary “—for all the expense, all the glitter, even the most posh of them was not as warm and welcoming as Mrs. Newton’s establishment. And the food? Not a single item compared to this delicious cookie.”

  Picking up one shaped like a Christmas tree slathered in green icing, he took a bite, making a show of savoring it then licking his lips clean of crumbs.

  “Incomparable, Mary. Wouldn’t you say so, Edwina? I know you’ve tasted the finest.”

  “I—I would say so, Mrs. Newton.” A smile that looked genuine tipped her lips. “In fact, I’ll have another.”

  Edwina picked one up, took a bite and made a show of licking her lips the same as Kit had. Her blush indicated that she might never have made a more unacceptable gesture in her life.

  “Why, thank you, Mrs. Spire.” Mary filled Kit’s cup to the brim. She winked, smiled. “It’s so nice to have you home, Mr. Kitson. We’ve missed you at the bank. My, but you and your bride have such a glow about you.”

  “It’s good to be home.”

  Hank must have spread the word quickly. It was easy to see how much the people of this town loved Livy and Sam. It seemed that they were going to keep their secret.

  Kit’s life had taken him many places but none were as fine as humble Sweet Bank. This was where he wanted to make a home—a place to live the rest of his life with Livy and the children.

  Some might say he was reckless to commit his heart so quickly. But he wasn’t. Deep down he knew this was right. It was where he was always meant to be.

  If only he could convince Livy of that.

  * * *

  Livy lay straight legged in her bed. She’d yanked the blankets to her chin, and still she shivered. Where was the nice cloud of warmth that normally built between her and the covers even on the coldest nights?

  It had been stolen from her! Yes, stolen by one sneaky low-down man of many faces sitting in a chair only feet away. She stared at his silhouette, where it was dark against the snow falling past the window.

  Even though he’d drawn a quilt about his shoulders, he trembled every now and then. Every time she thought he might have fallen asleep, his foot, which he had drawn up, hit the floor.

  Blamed man. If he didn’t fall asleep, how was she to go to the barn and wash the laundry? She owed him his wages, and unless she delivered clean shirts to Horace and a few others, she would not be able to pay him.

  If she did not pay him that would mean that their business relationship had been replaced by something else.

  If it was replaced by something else, that meant there was no reason for him to be shivering in the chair and for her to be shivering in the bed.

  It was precisely because she was watching him shiver that the warmth her blankets ought to offer her was not there.

  The man was a thief—of many things. She wondered how many times he had played one in his less than respectable career. Probably so many times that it became second nature to take what was not his.

  Like space in her bedroom, the warmth of her blankets—like her independence and the dream of a lovely romantic wedding to a man she held in high esteem.

  She did not hold Kit James, clearly an actor to his bones, in high esteem! She certainly did not!

  But...there was the one thing she did hold in high esteem. To be honest, there were two. Kisses and embraces.

  “Are you awake?” She whispered this in case he was not and she could sneak out to the barn and wash the laundry.

  “I’m as wide awake as you are, honey.”

  “I don’t like it when you call me honey.”

  “I like it just fine.” He sat up. Placed his big stocking-clad feet on the floor. The quilt fell away from his shoulders.

  No wonder he was cold! He’d removed his shirt. With the quilt bunched at his waist she didn’t know what he did or did not have on other than socks.

  She did not want to know! But then again, it was a slippery quilt. It wouldn’t take much to—

  “I just want to say thank you for that story about Paris.” She sat up, dragging the blanket with her and tucking it tight about her. “I felt so awful about what Edwina said to Mary.”

  “I wonder what we would have done? You and me in Paris?”

  “I reckon we’d have seen some fine sights.” Why was she engaging in pleasant conversation? She needed him asleep so that she could finish the chores he had forbidden her to do. As if he had the right to forbid her to do anything.

  “I reckon I’d buy you a fancy Parisian gown and take you for an elegant buggy ride along the Champs-Élysées.”

  “That’s something Edwina would swoon over.”


  “Not you, though? I reckon you’d like something else.”

  “I would hate being an ocean away from Sweet Bank. I figure there’s more beauty in our magical Christmas tree than all the lights of Paris.”

  “I like that about you, Livy.” He stood up, crossed to her bed and sat down on it. “This is a good town. Folks are dedicated to one another. Just look at how they have rallied about you and Sam.”

  “You are not permitted to like something about me.” She shoved his hip with her foot but he didn’t move. “I won’t allow it.”

  “Some things are beyond your control, honey.” He touched the blanket over her foot. She ought to kick his hand away. Cold from his fingers seeped through the blanket. Her toe was no longer so sore that she could not do it. Maybe she would, in a moment. “I like you and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  “Get off my bed! Go stand by the window and look out.”

  He shrugged but did as she ordered. She snatched her flannel robe from the foot of the bed and yanked it on, tugging the blue flowered tie about her waist.

  “All right, you may turn around.” She never should have married him. She should have told Edwina that no matter how much money, how many advantages she could offer Sam, this was home. Here he would stay.

  But she hadn’t said that. She’d gotten married instead. Not only married, but married to a man who had caught her by trickery. And she had to admit privately, a man who tempted her at every turn.

  Why had she done that? Maybe she had been lured by the very smile he was giving her now. Why, you would think she was standing here in a sheer gown that revealed everything to his gaze instead of her all-concealing robe.

  “This is my half of the room. Everything beyond that green line on the rug is your half. I demand that you keep to it.”

  “You going somewhere?”

  “I have chores that you will not prevent me from doing. I’ll return in an hour.”

  He took a long stride across the green line to stand toe-to-toe with her. She hated it that she had to look up to see his expression in the dim light.