Claiming Their Mail-Order Bride: A Cowboy Ménage Romance (Montana Ménage Book 2)

by Lily Reynard

  He continued, "Look, I'm mighty grateful for your fine cooking and for helping out with chores, especially since you're going to be leaving soon."

  "I like to keep busy," she told him, trying to suppress the surge of dread that accompanied his reminder that he expected her depart on the next train.

  She added the milk and eggs into the dough and mixed them up thoroughly.

  "And I see that you remembered the biscuits." He grinned at her in a way that kindled heat in the pit of her belly.

  She was seized with sudden urge to turn, cross the kitchen, and kiss him.

  But kissing a man who had declared that he was staunchly opposed to wedding her would be both unspeakably forward and also extremely dangerous to her virtue.

  So she kept her attention on her work, rolling out the biscuit dough in a thick layer on a floured wooden board and cutting out neat circles using the mouth of a clean jar.

  "Lunch should be ready in fifteen minutes," she said briskly. "If you want to wash up while these biscuits are baking."

  As he went into the laundry room, Sarah tried to calm the anxiety she felt about her lack of progress in convincing him to let her stay on the ranch past the arrival of the next train to Butte.

  * * *

  I need to find out more about Sarah, Larkin decided that evening, after a wearying day of planting fence posts, topped off by yet another delicious meal whipped up by Walt's intended, plus coffee and more of her divine cherry pie for dessert.

  He was beginning to wonder whether he shouldn't just tell Walt to go ahead and get hitched to Sarah, since his foster brother was so sweet on her. Besides, Larkin knew that Walt would be down in the dumps for weeks if he sent his mail-order bride away on Larkin's account.

  But there were quite a few things about Miss Elizabeth Sarah Hunter that just didn't add up in Larkin's reckoning, so he aimed to go digging for the letters that she'd written Walt and see if he could unearth some answers.

  The days were getting longer and longer as May crept towards June, and the sun was still high in the western sky after dinner.

  He and Sarah were sitting companionably in the living room. She had curled up in Mrs. Edwards' old wing armchair near the windows and was reading one of the books she'd borrowed from the built-bookshelves that flanked the big stone fireplace. He had seated himself at the small folding desk against the wall.

  As he worked, he was pleased to note that she wasn't the type inclined to chatter on and on.

  Larkin finished jotting down a list of supplies that he needed to purchase on his next trip in town, including rolls of barbed wire and a couple of new axe heads for cutting the thick branches and saplings used for fence posts, then rose from his seat at the desk.

  He glanced over at Sarah with the intention of excusing himself, and found her asleep. Her head was propped against one of the armchair's upholstered wings, and the heavy book still lay open on her lap.

  He tiptoed out of the living room. Taking care to avoid the creakiest floorboards in the hall, he went into his bedroom and closed the door quietly behind him before crossing the room to the big oak dresser.

  Sure enough, Walt had stashed a thick packet of letters in their hidden compartment.

  Larkin took them, sat on his bed, and began reading them.

  The first thing he noticed was that the handwriting in the letters, while neat and legible, looked very different from that in the note Sarah had written him yesterday.

  However, the details matched up with what she'd told him about her life back in Missouri—that she'd grown up on a farm with two brothers, and that she decided to take a chance on putting an advertisement in that matrimonial magazine Walt had mentioned, because her widower father and brothers drove off anyone who tried to court her. She wanted a husband and family, so she decided to become a mail-order bride.

  Then, in her second or third letter to Walt, she described the chores that she was accustomed to doing on her family's farm. She worked a lot, and if what was written in these letters was true, then Sarah should have rough, reddened hands.

  Sarah—who had signed herself "Liza" in her letters—went on to mention an accident that she’d had with a sickle when she was ten years old. It had apparently left a scar on her forearm from the deep cut.

  Larkin frowned. He didn't remember seeing a scar while she was washing the dishes earlier. He'd be sure to look for it the next time she pushed up her sleeves.

  The mental picture of Sarah baring her arms led his thoughts to imagining her baring her entire body to him. He was sure that her hands weren't the only place on her body with soft, white skin. Her lush curves made her exactly the kind of woman he loved to bed.

  Unfortunately for him and his poor, deprived cock, Sarah came with strings—hitching strings. Exactly the kind of strings he had sworn to avoid.

  After Walt's dad had taken Larkin away from his Da and made him Walt's foster brother, Larkin had seen how tenderly and respectfully Mr. Edwards treated Mrs. Edwards, and what true matrimonial love looked like. Larkin had vowed that he would never become anything like his father. Part of that had been realizing that since he'd inherited his Da's temper, he was unfit for matrimony. Bad enough that he exploded at Walt from time to time—he didn't trust himself not to mistreat a woman if he ever shacked up with one.

  Larkin skimmed the last letter in the packet, which was short on personal details and long on requests for Walt's advice regarding travel arrangements, and yawned.

  He looked up at the alarm clock ticking steadily away at his bedside and saw that it was later than he'd thought. He eyed his narrow bed with disgust, then looked over to the bedroom door, noting a streak of lamplight spilling underneath it.

  Had Sarah gone to bed, leaving all of the lamps burning?

  Larkin scowled and stood. He swiftly replaced the letters in the dresser and closed everything up tight before opening his bedroom door.

  Yup. All of the tallow candles and kerosene lamps were still lit in the living room and hallway.

  Irritated at the waste of precious candles and lamp oil, he stalked to the living room with the intention of extinguishing all the lights. He'd be sure to have a word with Sarah about it in the morning.

  He halted in the doorway to the living room and saw that she was still curled up in the armchair, and still fast asleep.

  Larkin sighed and walked over to her.

  "Sarah?" He tapped her gently on the shoulder.

  She was so deeply asleep that she didn't stir, either at his words or his touch.

  He was amused to note that before she dozed off, Sarah had been reading one of Mr. Edwards' books about farming.

  That's the kind of reading guaranteed to put anyone to sleep, he thought wryly, remembering that she'd started the day already looking exhausted.

  He tried again to wake her, and she made a protesting noise, but her eyes remained closed.

  "Now what am I gonna do with you?" he murmured, looking down at her.

  He didn't want to leave her in the living room like this, likely to wake up stiff and sore in the morning, so he sighed and went to extinguish the lights. Then he bent to scoop her up in his arms.

  As he climbed the stairs to the attic rooms, she turned in his arms and snuggled against him, her head on his shoulder and her warm breath tickling the side of his neck. He liked how she felt, snuggled up against him.

  When he reached her bedroom, he lowered her carefully to the bed, then knelt to remove the slippers that she wore inside the house.

  Do I undress her? What if she wakes up and thinks that I'm trying to take advantage of her?

  As tempting as it was to catch a glimpse of her in just her underthings, he decided to leave her fully dressed.

  She stirred a bit when he arranged her on the bed and pulled the coverlet over her, but then she curled up on her side and fell deeply asleep again.

  I should go back downstairs now, he thought.

  But he couldn't bring himself to do it. His empty bedroom d
ownstairs suddenly seemed unbearably lonely.

  The bed up here was more than big enough for both of them.

  Hell, it looked like it could accommodate an entire family without anyone knocking elbows. He vowed that he’d keep his hands off her. He just couldn't bear to sleep alone again tonight.

  I always wake up early, he told himself. I'll be up and out before she wakes up.

  He lay down next to her and closed his eyes, listening to the gentle rhythm of her breathing.

  But despite the day's hard work, sleep didn't come. He was painfully hard, and every time he closed his eyes, he was plagued by visions of rolling over, easing up her skirts, and having his way with her.

  After a while, he rolled over and watched her sleeping, her profile limned in moonlight. Thoughts buzzed around in his head like a flock of mosquitoes. Reading those letters had raised more questions than they'd answered.

  Elizabeth Sarah Hunter, who are you, really?

  Chapter Eleven

  Sleeping in a steel-ribbed corset was fiendishly uncomfortable. Enough so that Sarah awakened to find herself in bed, with moonlight shining through the window and casting a large square of silver light on the coverlet.

  The last thing she remembered was sitting in the living room, trying to read a passage in a book and finding that she couldn't recall a word even after having reread it several times.

  Thoroughly disoriented, she looked around. It took her sleep-fogged mind a few moments to recognize the steeply pitched ceiling and the furniture as those of the upstairs bedroom in the ranch house.

  How on earth did I get here?

  She became aware of the sound of deep breathing nearby and saw a dark shape stretched out on the other side of the huge bed.

  Larkin. Fast asleep.

  Sarah came fully awake. She lifted the coverlet and gazed down at herself in alarm. To her relief, she was fully dressed.

  Glancing over at Larkin, she saw that was still wearing his shirt and trousers as well.

  Sleeping, the serious line between his dark brows smoothed out, and without the roguish smirk on his face, he looked peaceful and years younger.

  At first, he had scared her with his surly attitude and his opposition to her presence. But today, their interactions had been nothing but friendly. More than friendly in a few cases.

  And he was an extremely handsome man, with regular features and beautiful, long-lashed gray eyes.

  She felt a strong—and extremely unwise—impulse to lean over and kiss him while he slumbered, just to see what it would feel like.

  Would it be as nice and as exciting as the kisses that Walt had given her?

  What if he wakes up and either takes offense or encouragement? And which would be worse?

  Her cheeks heated at the thought.

  As a respectable young woman, she ought to raise an outcry and demand that he leave the bedroom immediately. But she couldn't bear to wake him, not when he'd worked so hard today and was probably every bit as exhausted as she was after two sleepless nights.

  I'll just go sleep on the sofa downstairs.

  As quietly as she could, she slipped out of the bed and undressed, feeling extremely self-conscious as she carefully kept her back turned to the bed.

  It was a blessed relief to unhook the front of her corset and slip out of it at last. Now clad only in her thin cotton chemise and frilly, knee-length bloomers, she hung her shirtwaist, skirt, petticoat, and the corset inside the large armoire that stood across from the foot of the bed, and reached for the nightgown hanging from a peg inside the armoire.

  She was about to pull her chemise over her head when she felt the weight of a gaze between her shoulders.

  Telling herself that she was imagining things, she turned her head. To her horror, she found Larkin awake and sitting up in bed, watching her avidly.

  "Oh!" Sarah gasped and clutched the long nightgown against her.

  "You look beautiful in the moonlight," he said huskily.

  "I—" She didn't know how to respond to that. "Ah, you brought me up here?"

  He gave her one of his slow, hot smiles. "I hope you don't mind. Your bed is a sight more comfortable than mine."

  "I—I'm going to sleep on the sofa in the living room. You can sleep here," she stammered, still clutching the nightgown to her bosom.

  "Oh, I couldn't inconvenience you like that," he drawled. "This here bed's more than big enough for the two of us. And that sofa's damned uncomfortable for sleeping. Come back here, Sarah." He beckoned invitingly.

  She hesitated, trying to decide what to do.

  "I promise I won’t lay a finger on you," he said, then added wickedly, "Unless you want me to."

  Should I do it? Can I trust him? Can I trust myself?

  What if he tries to kiss me?

  Walt had been the first man who had ever kissed her—and she had liked it, more than she probably ought to have. And his touch had awakened all kinds of new hungers inside her…hungers that had only intensified since she began spending time in Larkin's company.

  She chewed on her lower lip, unable to decide whether to yield to this wicked temptation or do the safe thing and retreat to the living room sofa.

  "Sarah." Larkin sounded a little exasperated. "Come back to bed before you catch your death of a cold. I told you, nothing's going to happen without your say-so."

  If he was going to violate me, he had the perfect opportunity earlier, when I was fast asleep and helpless, she reminded herself.

  Besides, she was getting cold. Her feet and bare arms were already icy and covered with gooseflesh. Spring days here in Montana were mild, but the nights were still chilly.

  Unwilling to undress any further with his hungry gaze fastened on her, she hung her nightgown back on its peg, then climbed gingerly into her side of the bed.

  She was chilled and shivering as she huddled beneath the coverlet.

  "I can hear your teeth chattering from here," he said, and she felt him scoot closer.

  He reached for her. "Come here. Let me warm you up a bit."

  She considered his open arms for a moment. She was tired of trying to resist temptation. What harm could a little snuggling do?

  Besides, she was really cold.

  She moved closer, and he drew her against him, curling his long, muscular frame around her and molding himself to her back.

  Warmth began to seep into her despite the layers of clothing between them, and she relaxed.

  Then she felt a hard bulge pressing against her backside and tensed.

  "I—I don't want you to think that I'm fast," she whispered.

  He chuckled with a hot puff of breath against her hair. "Believe me, that's the last thing I'm thinking. You seem pretty straitlaced to me."

  She stiffened in outrage. "I'm saving myself for my wedding night!"

  Even as she spoke, she couldn't help thinking of how strange it was to hold this conversation while sharing a bed with a man she had only met yesterday, and even worse, while actually lying in his arms.

  Larkin groaned theatrically, and his arms tightened briefly around her. "I was afraid of that."

  "Well, isn't it too bad that we’re not getting married?” She couldn't believe that she was actually teasing him…but she sensed that he was a man of his word and that she could trust him.

  He groaned again, and she giggled.

  Warmth flooded into her, dispelling the bone-deep chill. He wants me, just like I want him.

  It made her feel powerful in a way that she had never experienced before.

  If Larkin wanted to marry me, like Liza thought he did, I might have considered yielding to him tonight.

  Then she remembered Walt and felt ashamed of her impulse.

  She was so confused. Walt had seemed taken with her on first sight and eager to wed her, but then, the very next day, he'd run away to the mine, leaving her alone with Larkin. Who had made it abundantly clear that he hadn't known anything about her arrival and was dead-set against marrying her. />
  But now he appeared to be softening towards her.

  When Walt returns, will he be jealous if Larkin and I are overly familiar with one another? Is there any hope of convincing Larkin to let me stay, even if he doesn't want to marry me?

  Sarah closed her eyes, pushed down her nagging fears about what her future might hold, and tried to summon sleep.