by Amy Sandas
“Working,” he stated without bothering to glance in her direction.
“Is Alexandra in the house?”
Now he did send her swift look. Who?
Before he could voice the question, a rider came thundering up on horseback. Dirt stirred in the yard as Randall pulled up alongside the wagon and hopped to the ground before his horse completely stopped.
Dean stepped down from the wagon as his brother tossed a wide grin at the woman still seated in the buckboard.
“Well, who have we here? My brother heads off to town for supplies and comes back with a beautiful woman. How come I never get so lucky?”
“Because Pilar would kill you,” Dean grumbled.
Was Randall really going to pretend he had no idea who this woman was, with her fancy bridal gown and Eastern airs? Maybe he should have punched his brother in the nose like he’d wanted to when he’d brought that damn brochure home those weeks ago.
“Besides, you should know,” Dean said as he went to the back of the wagon to start unloading the things that would be needed in the house. “You brought her here.”
Randall gave him an uneven, squinty look of confusion, while the Eastern woman frowned. The frown made the outer corners of her eyes tilt up even more, and the jut of her chin brought Dean’s eyes to the purse of her lips. They were awfully pretty lips.
He quickly looked away as he hefted a crate filled with canned goods in his arms and walked up alongside the wagon to set it on the porch.
“What are you talking about?” Randall asked, automatically walking to the back of the wagon to grab the next crate before following Dean’s path to the porch.
As Augie’s successor, Dean had received firsthand instruction on every aspect of how the ranch worked. Randall, younger than Dean by three years, had learned by following his older brother around and imitating his actions—at least until he’d get bored and wander off, leaving the rest of the work to Dean.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know,” Dean said as he passed his brother on his way back for another crate.
“Sorry, Brother,” Randall replied with a grin. “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”
His brother’s perpetual good nature was too much for Dean today. He slammed the last crate onto the porch and rounded on Randall. “The bride from out east. From the pamphlet you showed me.”
Randall stopped beside the wagon with a sack of flour hefted over his shoulder. His expression of confusion deepened, then twisted into a look of shock as he looked up at the woman who still sat in the wagon, her gaze darting swiftly from one of them to the other as though she couldn’t quite make out what they were saying.
Randall’s gaze slid back to Dean as he asked in a tone thick with incredulity, “You sent for one of them Eastern women?”
“Just a moment,” she said.
“I didn’t. You did.”
Dean and the woman in the wagon both spoke at the same time, but Randall didn’t seem to hear either of them. He shook his head in amazement. “I can’t believe it. It’s about damn time, but I never woulda thought you’d actually go for the idea. I’ll be damned. When’s the wedding?” he asked with another grin.
Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “You missed it. Judge Wilkerson married us in town. Meet my new bride.”
“What?”
This time, it was the woman and Randall who spoke in unison.
“That is quite enough. I am not going to listen to another word of nonsense from the two of you.” Her words dropped fast and sharp as she suddenly rose to her feet. Grasping her voluminous skirts in both hands, she lifted a foot over the sideboard as she started to disembark from the wagon by herself. “I do not know what kind of twisted farce you two seem intent upon playing out, but it is far from amusing and I have had more than enough of it.”
As she shifted her weight to the lower step, the wagon rolled a bit. She swayed to compensate for the change in balance and tried to bring her other foot around to a more secure position, but her skirts got in the way, and in a twisting flurry of white, she started to tumble.
Dean made it to her just in time to grasp her around the waist and bring her safely down to the ground. It didn’t take much effort. Despite the layers of material floating about her legs and the stiff corset encasing her waist, she was surprisingly light and, once her feet were free from her skirts, rather graceful as he set her down in front of him.
She wasted no time thanking him for saving her from a face full of dirt as she shrugged off his hands with a fierce glare of indignation that sparkled little gold flames in the depths of her green eyes. Stepping away from him and Randall, she swept her skirts out of her way and lifted her chin to pin them both with a stern glare.
“I demand that you bring me to Alexandra immediately.”
Dean scowled. That was the second time she’d said that name. “Who the hell is Alexandra?”
She took a slow breath and brought her hands up to smooth the material of her dress where Dean’s hands had grasped her middle. Her jaw was tight and her tone stiff as she replied, “My friend, Alexandra Kincaid. The one who sent you to pick me up in town.” Her eyes met his intently—insistently.
A chill ran down Dean’s spine.
“I’m afraid we don’t know any Alexandra Kincaid. This here is the Lawton Ranch,” Randall replied, still smiling, though a wary look had entered his blue gaze.
Dean stood still and silent as he watched the woman’s reaction. Her eyes darted wildly around before returning to him. Distrust, shot through with anger and confusion, flashed in her gaze, though she managed to keep her expression amazingly neutral. “If Alexandra did not send you, then who are you and why did you bring me here?”
Dean could feel Randall staring at him from where he stood beside the wagon still holding that damn sack of flour. His brother’s silence only solidified Dean’s terrible suspicion. “Why did you come to Montana?” he asked, his body already tensing in anticipation of her reply.
She narrowed her gaze. “I already told you.”
“Why are you dressed in a wedding gown?” he pressed, feeling the back of his neck getting hot.
She stiffened sharply. “That is none of your business.”
An icy chill cut through his unnatural sweat as he acknowledged that he might’ve made a terrible mistake. He was very rarely wrong about anything, but as the truth started to sink in, he realized this mistake was worse than any he’d ever made. Remorse burned heavy in his gut as he thought over everything she’d said and realized that not once had she admitted to being a mail-order bride. He’d just taken one look at her and assumed.
Shit.
Refusing to glance toward Randall, Dean kept his gaze pinned on the proud and angry woman.
“What exactly is going on here?” she asked. Her tone was sharp but controlled, while her eyes held a barely banked golden fire.
Dean took a long, fortifying breath. “You recall that little meeting in front of the judge?”
“You mean the one you dragged me to without the courtesy of an explanation—no, without any courtesy at all?”
Dean lowered his chin. “Do you know what that was about?”
She planted her hands on her hips. “I am not an idiot. We stood in as witnesses for that young couple’s marriage.”
Aw, hell.
Dean forcefully released the tension in his jaw enough to respond with one word. “Nope.”
She stiffened. Her eyes grew big and dark. “Of course we did.”
“Holy shit,” Randall hissed.
Dean tossed a silencing look at his brother. “Shut up, Randall.” Looking back at the redhead, he felt a sickening twist in his gut.
She shook her head in a decisive rejection. “No. I do not accept this. The two of you have obviously lost your minds. Those young people in town were clearly smi
tten with each other. Of course it was their marriage.” Her eyes found his and she insisted with calm command, “You are mistaken.”
Dean felt her hard gaze like a fist to the gut. All he could do was give a negative shake of his head and watch as her subtle, hopeful expression dropped away to be replaced by a sudden storm of furious outrage. The show of temper came on so swiftly that he nearly took a step back. He didn’t. But only because he figured he was due the blast she was about to deliver.
“How dare you…marry me? You married me! We are married. Husband and wife. Oh God, this cannot be happening.” She stepped up to him and jabbed a finger toward his chest. Though she was not close enough to touch him, Dean could feel the fury radiating off her in waves. She was a slim woman and tall, though still a few inches shorter than Dean’s six foot two, and she was a sight to behold in her righteous indignation. “You listen to me, Mr.…”
“Lawton,” Randall offered helpfully when her words stumbled to a halt. “Dean Lawton.”
Dean was going to kill his brother.
The woman didn’t even flick a glance at Randall. “I did not run away from one wedding only to be strong-armed into another. You will fix this, and you will fix it now.”
Dean took a slow breath, taking some time before answering, hoping it would give her temper a chance to ease. Then he replied in as even a tone as he could muster. “I can’t. Not tonight,” he added when she immediately opened her mouth to protest. “By the time we get back to town, the judge will be home, and he does not take house calls. We’ll go back first thing in the morning to get an annulment. That’s what I meant to do eventually anyway.”
She sucked in a swift breath at the last, her expression shifting into one of shock. “That is what you meant to do anyway? An annulment, you mean? Is that what you meant when you said the marriage wouldn’t last?”
“Uh-oh,” Randall muttered as he took a giant step back.
Dean’s hands fisted as his sides. Why the hell was Randall still hanging around? For the show, obviously.
“You married me with the full intention of someday dissolving the marriage?”
Dean figured silence was his best response to that question, considering the bright pink that had entered her cheeks with the revelation. Damn, but the woman had a temper.
“I have never in my life met a man who was so dishonorable. You are despicable,” she said with a harsh narrowing of her gaze. She drew in a slow breath and closed her eyes for just a moment. When she opened them again, her expression had shifted to one of calm dignity. And just like that, her temper was back under wraps. The only remaining evidence of her wrath were the licks of golden flames in her eyes. “I am finished with this conversation,” she stated with astonishing control. “Be ready to take me back to town first thing in the morning, Mr. Lawton.”
With those final words on the subject, she swept up her skirts with one graceful arc of her arm and strode proudly up the porch steps and into the house, allowing the door to slam shut behind her.
Chapter Five
“Why are you still standing there?” Dean bit out between clenched teeth.
Randall finally carried the sack of flour to the porch and dropped it on top of one of the crates. “Helping,” he said with a grin.
“If you value your life, you’ll get yourself gone real quick,” Dean warned. He could see the laughter about to burst from his brother’s chest. The man took nothing seriously.
Randall gestured toward the wagon. “Did you manage to pick up my package? I’d understand, I suppose, if the task got lost in all the excitement of your nuptials.”
“Randall.”
“Sure do wish I could have been there,” Randall continued in a remorseful tone. “Family should be present for such an auspicious event.”
“Randall.”
His brother chose to ignore the warning tone in Dean’s voice, though he did start sidestepping toward his horse. “I’m sure you made a handsome groom.” His grin was downright irritating. “An ornery one, but handsome.”
“Dang it, Randall. Get!”
“I’m gone,” his brother replied with one last laugh and a leap into his saddle. Dean watched his brother ride away. Mainly because he didn’t know what else to do. Then he remembered the wagon still half-full of supplies that needed to be taken to the barn.
Grateful for the task, he jumped into the driver’s seat and drove around the house to the barn beyond, silently fuming over everything that had happened over the past few hours.
He’d made a mistake. A big one. Huge, to be honest.
Dean didn’t often make mistakes. He made choices and decisions all the time. Some turned out well, some not so well, but those were simply the consequences to having more than one option. He always made the best of any outcome he received.
He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d made a true error.
The woman inside the house deserved an apology. And an explanation.
Well, as good a one as he could manage without coming off as a complete jackass.
Truth to tell, he was a jackass.
He’d completely lost his head when he’d seen her there, stepping out of the post office in that white gown, all ruffled and laced and fancy. She had been so obviously out of place on that dusty boardwalk, looking exactly like the images of those women in the pamphlet Randall had brought home several weeks ago. Ladies of the East willing to travel to the Western Territories for promise of a husband.
Randall had thought one of those ladies would be the perfect solution to Dean’s problem—never mind the fact that Dean didn’t have a problem.
Dean had been stunned by the sight of her. Stunned by the thought that his brother would go ahead and bring one of those brides to town without consulting him. Whether Dean wanted her or not, she’d become his responsibility the moment she’d stepped from the stagecoach, and in his frustration, he’d acted without fully thinking things through.
He stopped the rise of his panic by reminding himself that he’d be taking her back to town first thing in the morning to have the little civil union annulled. It would be like the whole thing had never happened.
Except for the woman’s righteous fury over having been manhandled into a marriage she didn’t want. Even if she had come to Montana expecting marriage, she was dead right about the fact that Dean’s actions had not been honorable. He had behaved as despicably as she’d accused.
His only excuse was that he’d lost his head. It was not something he did often.
Reckless behavior ran in the Lawton bloodline. His granddad Augie Lawton was well known for his hotheaded bluster and damn-the-consequences attitude, and Dean’s dad had been as impulsive and wild as they come. More so even than Randall.
Dean had always believed those family traits had skipped over him. But today had proven otherwise.
The woman had been right on another score as well. He’d have to make this right.
But first, he had to finish unloading the wagon. And he really should go fix that hitching rail. And hadn’t the boys mentioned something about a warped floorboard in the bunkhouse? He should probably check it out before it got worse. Then he’d go talk to…his wife.
Shit. He didn’t even know her name.
* * *
Courtney stood alone in the center of what appeared to be a small parlor. She’d been standing there a good fifteen minutes and was still fuming. She had never before experienced such a complete unleashing of emotion. Had never had reason to give such a scathing speech to anyone.
In all honesty, it had felt wonderful. The release of tension was noticeable almost immediately. She was still furious, but at least the anger wasn’t all pent up inside her like a volcano desperate to erupt.
If her parents knew she had let loose with such a display of temper and lack of self-control, they would have expired on the spot. Su
ch things were simply not done. In addition to wealth and influence, her family was dedicated to the strict cultivation of dignity, virtue, and restraint in all things.
Though she felt a little better after her tirade, it was an uneasy feeling. She was not accustomed to behaving in such a liberated manner. It was confusing and exciting and more than a little scary.
But this was what she had chosen. This, over a life of buttoned-up boredom, of passionless companionship.
It had been the right choice. Right?
Courtney nearly groaned. She needed to get to Alexandra.
Seeing her old friend was the only thing that made sense in her flight from Boston. Though Alexandra had been raised in the West, she had spent several years being groomed by her aunt in Boston. Alexandra would understand in an instant what Courtney had been going through since she’d made the decision to jump out that window.
Those men outside—Dean Lawton and the other one, Randall, who hadn’t been able to stop grinning during the whole disastrous revelation—were strangers.
They were also quite possibly completely insane.
What kind of mess had she landed herself in?
Her fury threatened to slide into despair with that thought, but she held it in place.
This was not part of the plan, and it was assuredly not her fault. She thought she had been helping a young couple get married. Of course, the cowboy’s rough demeanor had caused some wariness, but how was she to know his manner was anything out of the ordinary?
Alexandra had told her more than once that the men who carved out their lives in the Western Territories were very different from the gentlemen in Boston. Courtney had simply had no point of reference to imagine just how different they were. The other man, Randall, looked a lot like his brother, with the same lean height, sandy-brown hair, and light eyes, though his features were less angular and his expressions far less fierce. But he too behaved very differently from the gentlemen back home, with his loose-limbed movements and overt, friendly demeanor.
Taking a heavy breath, Courtney strode toward the wide window overlooking the front of the house. The wagon was no longer outside. She had been so wrapped up in her righteous anger that she hadn’t even heard it being driven away. Both men were gone as well.
