The Hog-Tied Groom (The Brides of Grazer's Corners #3)

by Charlotte Maclay

  “I prefer to sleep nude.”

  Letter to Reader

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  Copyright

  “I prefer to sleep nude.”

  Charity’s eyes widened, and forbidden images popped into her head. Fascinatingly masculine images.

  “Unfortunately, with this shackle around my ankle, I won’t be able to get my pants off.”

  “What a pity,” she said drily.

  “I knew you’d be disappointed.”

  What she was was a nervous wreck.

  By the time they got into bed, her mouth was dry and her heart was beating as if she had a severe case of old-maid palpitations. She could barely draw a steady breath.

  Garrett was impossibly large in her double bed, his broad shoulders and enticingly bare chest taking up far more than his half of the space. Her mind kept cycling over the awareness that this was—or should have been—his wedding night.

  And the foolish, impossible fantasy of her being his bride.

  Dear Reader,

  In the tiny Western town of Grazer’s Corners, something is happening.... Weddings are in the air—and the town’s most eligible bachelors are running for cover!

  Three popular American Romance authors have put together a rollicking good time in THE BRIDES OF GRAZER’S CORNERS. On the satin-pump heels of Jacqueline Diamond’s The Cowboy & The Shotgun Bride and Mindy Neff’s A Bachelor for the Bride, this month Charlotte Maclay brings you The Hog-Tied Groom.

  If you missed any of these titles, you can order them by sending $3.99 U.S./$4.50 CAN. to Harlequin Reader Service at 3010 Walden Av., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269 or P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3 Canada.

  You’re invited to all three weddings.... Who’ll catch the bouquet next?

  Happy reading!

  Debra Matteucci

  Senior Editor & Editorial Coordinator

  Harlequin Books

  300 East 42nd Street

  New York, NY 10017

  The Hog-Tied Groom

  CHARLOTTE MACLAY

  TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

  AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

  STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

  PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

  Chapter One

  If she hadn’t needed the money so much, Charity Arden would never have agreed to photograph Garrett Keeley’s wedding that afternoon.

  She remembered all too well how the camera loved his ruggedly handsome good looks. The devi-lmay-care twinkle in his eyes and that cocky grin slipped right past the welcoming lens, imprinting themselves on the film in the same way they left their mark on a woman’s heart.

  She ought to know, she thought as she checked to be sure she had enough film to properly record Garrett’s wedding to Hailey Olson. Of course, if things went as they had these past two weeks in Grazer’s Corners, yet another bride would vanish from the church, dragged off to who knew where by people unknown, and Charity would be out another job as official wedding photographer, losing the income that went with it.

  “At this rate, I could be flat broke in a month,” she mumbled, twisting the focus rings on her camera to make sure they were all functioning perfectly.

  The morning sun drifted through the lace curtains of the old farmhouse that was her home. Her studio and darkroom were nearby in the barn. Dust motes danced in the air like a summer blizzard.

  These wedding-day disasters were costing Charity a fortune in film that wasn’t worth developing, though the Grazer Gazette had purchased one shot of debutante Jordan Grazer in full wedding regalia leaping onto a motorcycle behind a leather-jacketed hunk—name unknown.

  That picture had made a perfect companion piece on the front page of the weekly newspaper for Charity’s slightly out-of-focus photo of the presumed gangster who had made off the previous week with the newly elected town sheriff, Kate Bingham.

  But none of that had produced anything like the income two full sets of wedding photos would have generated.

  On the good-news side, the only person she could imagine kidnapping Hailey Olson would be Charity’s brother, Bud. He’d have more sense. She hoped. Forget that Bud and Hailey had been an item some years ago. Parental disapproval on Hailey’s side had quashed any future for that romance.

  After all, crossing the metaphorical tracks in Grazer’s Corners was a real stretch. Bud and Charity, and their pig farm, definitely sat on the wrong side.

  Checking her watch, she wondered where said brother was. She was counting on Bud to return home by the time she had to leave.

  She picked up her khaki fisherman’s vest from the old oak dining table and checked the pockets to make sure her assorted filters were in place. She’d be taking some of the photos outdoors on the town square across from the church and she wanted to be sure—

  At the sound of a vehicle on the gravel driveway, she glanced outside. Bud’s battered panel truck was just coming to a stop at the front of the house.

  Relieved he’d made it home in time, she went back to checking her equipment. A few moments later, she became aware of particularly heavy footsteps on the porch. The steps creaked more loudly than usual. The planks groaned. Finally the screen door squeaked open.

  Looking up, she stared at her brother. “Why on earth are you bringing a sack of feed in here? Take that on out back and—”

  Her mouth clamped shut.

  Two legs stuck out of the feed sack Bud had slung over his shoulder—legs tied together with a thick rope and dressed in tuxedo pants with a black stripe down the side. The sack’s occupant was wearing shiny black leather shoes—shoes big enough to belong to a man fully as tall and big as Bud, who measured six foot-plus and weighed well over two hundred pounds. All of it solid muscle.

  Charity did not like the feel of this.

  “What have you done, Bud?”

  The feed sack uttered an unintelligible sound.

  “You’ve gotta help me, sis.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so.” Fraternal love had its limits, including serving a lifetime sentence for kidnapping. And she had a horrible, sinking feeling that was exactly what was taking place in front of her astonished eyes.

  None too gently, Bud lowered his burden to the living-room couch. It wasn’t a particularly comfortable couch. The cushions were lumpy, with one or two springs threatening breakout.

  The sack groaned.

  “You can’t do this, Bud.”

  “Hailey and I have it all figured out.” Her brother straightened and flexed his shoulders—the broad shoulders of a man who worked a subsistence farm before and after an eight-hour shift on the job that really paid the bills. “She’s leaving a note for her folks saying she and Garrett are impatient and didn’t want to mess with all the formal wedding stuff. So they’re eloping.”

  They? Charity suspected it was Bud and Hailey who were on the lam.

  Gazing at the feed sack, noting long legs and the outline of shoulders almost as broad as Bud’s, Charity knew her first guess had been right. “That’s Garrett in there, isn’t it?”

  The sack grunted affirmatively.

  �
�You’ve got to keep him here, sis. Two or three days.”

  Days? She nearly choked on the idea. “I can’t do that!”

  “Sure, you can. All we need is a chance to get married in Las Vegas and then...” A crimson flush stole up her brother’s suntanned cheeks. “You know, consummate the marriage. After that, her folks can’t do anything—”

  “How ’bout getting a judge to send you to prison for the rest of your life for kidnapping?”

  More affirmative grunts from the captive in the sack. Loud ones. With his feet hog-tied together, Garrett banged his heels on the living-room floor hard enough to shake the whole house.

  “I’m not kidnapping Hailey. She wants to marry me.”

  “You’ve kidnapped Garrett, Bud,” she wailed. “You could go to jail—”

  “There’s no sheriff in town. Once this has all settled down, I’ll work it out with Garrett—” the sack shook its entire torso negatively “—and with Hailey’s folks. It’ll be all right. You’ll see.”

  Charity didn’t think so.

  Hoping to avoid getting kicked, she approached the kidnap victim cautiously. Apparently his arms were tied behind his back, or he would have been doing even more flailing. She tugged at the feed sack until she could pull it free.

  Garrett had unfairly attractive eyes with long, sandy-brown lashes and squint lines at the comers. Normally Charity thought of his eyes as hazel with a few flecks of gold, though sometimes they could look almost green. Now, through some trick of the light, they appeared black.

  And furious.

  He grunted a string of sounds that were no doubt unpleasantly descriptive expletives. A wide piece of silver duct tape across his mouth prevented him from expressing himself more clearly. Not that she had any trouble understanding his thoughts.

  He was going to kill Bud the first chance he got. Then he’d probably strangle Charity, too.

  She sighed. If the truth were known, she’d been no more happy about the marriage of Garrett and Hailey than her brother had. But for far different reasons and without any right to feel that way.

  “We can’t do this, Bud.”

  Garrett shot daggers at Bud, then included Charity in the barrage. That hurt. Couldn’t he tell she was trying to talk her brother out of his crazy scheme?

  “Sorry, sis. For a lot of stuff.” He darted a glance at Garrett, then back to his sister. “But Hailey and I love each other. This is how it’s got to be.”

  Bud produced a set of leg irons like those worn by chain gangs. He shoved the coffee table out of the way and knelt in front of Garrett.

  “Where’d you get those?” Charity asked.

  Garrett’s eyes widened; he kicked at Bud with his feet.

  “From the sheriff’s office. Nobody’s there these days. Door’s unlocked.”

  “No, Bud,” Charity warned. She grabbed her brother’s shoulder and tried to push him away. His well-muscled frame wouldn’t budge. “You’re carrying this whole thing too far.”

  One heavy metal bracelet snapped closed around Garrett’s right ankle. The two-foot-long chain rattled.

  “For heaven’s sake, Bud, you can’t—”

  The second cuff snapped into place around Charity’s left ankle.

  “No! Are you crazy—?”

  “I love you, sis. Three days.” Standing, Bud brushed a quick kiss to her cheek, then backed toward the front door. “That’s all I need. And maybe... well, maybe other things will work out, too.”

  “What are you talking about? You can’t do this. Give me the key, Bud. You’ve taken this joke far enough.” Good heavens! She didn’t want to be shackled to Garrett Keeley for three days. Not even for three minutes!

  A series of grunts emphasized Garrett’s full agreement.

  “Sorry, sis. There’s lots of feed in the shed for the pigs. You won’t be needing to go to town, so I disabled your car. The phone, too.” With a sheepish shrug, he turned and went out the door.

  “Bud!”

  She ran after him. And made it all of two feet before she went splat on the floor, her ankle still firmly chained to Garrett’s. The air left her lungs.

  Somehow Garrett managed to get to his feet. Grunting what sounded like a whole string of orders, he hopped in the direction Bud had fled. But Charity hadn’t regained her breath yet and was still flat on the floor. When Garrett reached the limits of the chain, he went down to his knees.

  Twisting, he glared at her. Obviously he was no more pleased with the situation than she was. Understandably. But Lord help her, Bud had never asked another thing of her in his entire life. Her big brother had been her protector, her friend, someone she could rely on when times got tough. He’d been there for her ever since their mother had deserted them and, as orphans, they’d moved to the farm to live with their grandparents.

  Now Bud had asked a favor of Charity without knowing all the implications of his request. Because she had never told him.

  Too late to say no, she thought grimly.

  “Why don’t I take off the duct tape?” she suggested as a beginning step to calm Garrett’s fury.

  He nodded.

  “But no yelling at me. This wasn’t my idea. I’m a victim here, too.”

  His grunt sounded somewhat calmer.

  Her fingers trembled slightly as she caught the edge of the tape. She hadn’t been this close to Garrett for more than eight years. His eyes were on her, studying her, still blazing with fury. He wore his hair a little longer than he used to, expertly styled to allow the variegated blond waves to curl at his nape. Waves like warm velvet, she recalled.

  She gave the tape a hard tug and dragged it off all at once.

  “Ouch! Dammit!” Lifting his shoulder, he wiped one side of his mouth on his tuxedo shirt. Diamond studs marched down the stiff front. “You didn’t have to take all the skin off, too.”

  “Look on the bright side,” she quipped. “I’ve just waxed your mustache for you. Women pay good money for—”

  “You know I’m going to kill your brother when I get my hands on him,” he interrupted.

  She grimaced. “I figured you’d feel that way.”

  “Yeah.” Garrett glanced around the room, fury and frustration seething in his gut as he sat there on the floor feeling like a fool. The truck had already driven away, Bud behind the wheel—presumably Garrett’s bride-to-be waiting for him somewhere down the road. This was the damnedest mess Garrett had ever gotten himself in. Hell on his ego to have his bride run off with some other guy two hours before the wedding. “I thought it was the women in this town who got kidnapped on their wedding day.”

  “Guess you’re the exception that makes the rule.”

  Smart mouth!

  From two feet away, she met his gaze levelly with her toffee brown eyes. Her lips didn’t so much as twitch at the “joke” her brother had played on Garrett. And on her, too, he realized.

  “You didn’t know what Bud was up to?” he asked.

  “Not a clue. I was just getting my gear ready for the wedding.” She nodded toward the dining-room table and her camera.

  It looked like she was telling the truth. But how could Bud and Hailey have pulled off this body-snatching job without somebody knowing it was coming? “Think you can get me untied?”

  “Sure.”

  He turned his back so she could work on the rope Bud had bound around his wrists. He’d never been in Charity’s house before. It was an old farmhouse east of Grazer’s Corners, close enough to the Sierra foothills to be able to see them on days when the San Joaquin Valley wasn’t too hazy. And far enough from town to keep the smell of pigs away from the folks who lived there. Most of the time.

  The house was like the farm, a little run-down. The hodgepodge of furniture might have been new in the 1930s but now looked worn. Except for an overflowing stack of Farm Journal magazines, the place was neat enough and there was a hint of cinnamon in the air. Or maybe that was Charity’s scent he was catching, kind of spicy and fresh.

  He wis
hed she’d get the damn knot loose. He hadn’t seen Charity in a long time, but he remembered....

  “Can you hurry it up a bit? I’d like to get untied before the next rains come.” Given the dry summers in central California, that would be months from now.

  “It would be easier with a knife. You don’t happen to have one on you, do you?”

  “In my pocket.”

  There was a very long pause, the silence dragging out for several heartbeats. Garrett knew she was considering sliding her hand in his pants pocket. If he hadn’t been so damn mad about being kidnapped by her brother, he might have enjoyed the thought. But not now.

  “Why don’t we try to make it into the kitchen?” she suggested, breaking the silence. “I’ve got a sharp butcher knife that should do the trick.”

  “Okay. You get up first.”

  She did that easily enough. He was going to have much more trouble, trying to maneuver himself to his feet, particularly with his bum knee. He’d already landed on it once. The recently repaired joint couldn’t take much more pounding.

  Using all the muscles and flexibility he’d honed during his abbreviated NFL football career, he heaved himself to his feet. He wobbled, fighting for balance. Charity steadied him. She stood about five-seven, and he could feel she had a lot of strength in her arms. She wasn’t anything like Hailey, who was on the petite side and wore designer clothes, carefully manicured nails and artfully applied makeup.

  Charity had always seemed more elementally female, an earth-mother type. A single braid hung down her back, loosely tied, her hair golden brown like weak coffee when the sun caught it just right. Her sundress was plain at best, though it did show off her tanned shoulders nicely. Overall, Charity was not Garrett’s usual style.

  “You ready to try?” she asked.