Bride by Arrangement

by Karen Kirst

  The fact that Ambrose was his brother had held Frank mostly at bay throughout her marriage. In the year since his passing, Frank had steadily intensified his campaign to win her. He claimed he wanted to actually marry her. He expected her to be overjoyed. Refusing him had been the easy part. Grace knew that by fleeing Chicago, she’d become prey to his predator. She could only hope she’d covered their tracks well enough.

  She wasn’t sure exactly what he’d do if he found them.

  Tamping down her worries, she rejoined the girls and called them to the table, not interested in eating herself. Her anxiety over Frank and her ongoing deception had her stomach twisted in knots most days. She was determined to keep up her strength, however. The girls were dependent on her for everything. A pang of longing for her church family hit her. While few were aware of her private struggles, she knew she could depend on them for support if she but asked.

  Grace was putting milk glasses at the place settings when Noah reentered, hefting a huge copper tub. His shoulder and arm muscles strained as he maneuvered it into place near the work counter.

  Jane left her seat to run over to him. “Is that for us?”

  “Sure is.” Choosing a wide pail from beneath the counter, he strode for the door.

  “Aren’t you going to eat with us, Sheriff?”

  Jane’s confusion was understandable. Grace wasn’t sure how to explain the circumstances—that Noah didn’t want to marry her or anyone else, had no interest in being a father and was only allowing them to stay to assuage his conscience.

  He twisted around, his expression unreadable. “I’ve got to fetch water for your bath.”

  Seeing her daughter’s crestfallen expression, Grace waved a hand over the table’s contents. “The meal’s hot. It won’t taste nearly as good lukewarm.”

  Reluctance stamped on his features, he set the pail on the floor and came to the table. Jane scooted into her chair beside him and clasped his big hand. “It’s your turn to say grace.”

  He blinked at her, disconcerted by her outgoing manner, before bowing his head. Grace closed her eyes as his husky voice washed over her.

  “And thank You, Lord, for allowing Alexandra to feel better,” he said at the end. “Amen.”

  All three females stared at him. Jane piped up. “Her name is A-bi-gail.”

  Noah’s gaze slid to Abigail, whose head was bent, a curtain of dark hair obscuring her face, and nodded solemnly. “Right.”

  His lips twitched. In the process of smoothing a napkin over her lap, Grace’s fingers stilled. He was teasing them? The hardened ex-soldier who never smiled harbored humor somewhere behind that thundercloud demeanor?

  Unsettled, she blindly spooned portions onto the girls’ plates before filling her own.

  “Have you ever been to Chicago?” Jane asked.

  “Can’t say that I have.”

  “It’s huge.”

  “It’s loud.” Abigail spoke to Noah for the first time.

  He paused midchew, his startled gaze sliding to Grace’s for a split second before returning to Abigail’s. “It’s not loud here.”

  Nibbling on her roll, Abigail stared at the slightly drooping bouquet inches from her plate.

  “Men sell flowers on the streets. Newspapers and candied nuts, too.” Jane swallowed a bite of ham. “Momma took us to a fair one time, and there was a man drawing pictures of people for money. She paid him to do mine and Abigail’s. We hung them in our bedroom because Grandmother didn’t approve.”

  Grace attempted to mask her unease. She’d emphasized the importance of not telling anyone her real identity. But they were only six years old. How easily the truth could slip out by accident.

  Before she could change the subject, Jane spoke again. “Our bedroom was much, much bigger than this cabin.”

  Noah’s brows hitched up. “That sounds like a very big room.” To Abigail, he said, “Aurora, did you have lots of toys in your room?”

  Grace wasn’t surprised that she didn’t correct him. It took time for her quieter daughter to warm to strangers, much less assert herself. “I miss Pepper.”

  “Who’s Pepper?”

  “Our pet rabbit,” Jane answered for her, a habit Grace had tried to correct. “Momma wouldn’t let us bring him. She said he’d miss his home in the garden shed.”

  They’d left most of their belongings at the estate. She hadn’t wanted to alert the staff of their impending departure. The night before their train left, Grace had taken advantage of the Longstreets’ absence—they’d attended a social function hosted by a business associate—and had hurriedly packed as many trunks as she’d dared, taking only the essentials.

  The girls’ rabbit had been the least of her worries. Now that they’d made their escape, she recognized how difficult leaving their home, friends and pets must be for them.

  Abigail placed the last bit of roll on her plate and turned big sad eyes to Grace. “May I be excused?”

  If she hadn’t been ill, Grace would insist she finish her meal. “Of course. I’ll save your plate in case you get hungry later.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Unsurprisingly, Jane chattered throughout the meal. Noah didn’t seem to mind, although Grace caught him wearing a nonplussed expression from time to time. She found herself hiding a smile. Who would’ve imagined the big tough sheriff with a wild beast for a companion and the guts to face down dangerous criminals would be thrown off balance by an innocent child?

  There was more to Noah Burgess than the many titles he wore—Union soldier, rancher, town founder, sheriff. There were unmined layers and complexities that made up the man. A part of her mourned the fact she wouldn’t be allowed to learn his depths. She was certain there’d be surprises along the way, some challenging, some heartbreaking, some perhaps even delightful.

  She’d never know, would she?

  Because she wasn’t going to be his wife. She was going to be some other Cowboy Creek resident’s wife. And he’d be alone again, exactly how he preferred it.

  Chapter Seven

  Noah couldn’t sleep. The animals were restless. The straw in the hayloft was prickly and made his nose itch, and there was no breeze to stir the air inside the big structure.

  He descended the ladder and, ordering Wolf to stay put, left his temporary sleeping quarters and walked through the darkness to the house. His boots whispered in the grass. Crickets chirped. The stream’s lazy trickle was a comforting sound. A single light shone in the window. Good. That meant a quick trip to his loft office wouldn’t disturb anyone.

  Drawing nearer, he detected Constance’s outline in a rocking chair. His steps slowed as his heart sped up. The woman made him uncomfortably aware of his isolation. Made him question his choice to be alone.

  When she noticed his approach, she started to stand.

  “Don’t get up on account of me,” he said. “I came to fetch something from the office. Will I disturb the girls if I go in?”

  Resettling, her elegant hands clutched her housecoat collar at the neck. “They’re sound sleepers. You won’t disturb them.”

  Her light vanilla scent wafted toward him. He inhaled, trying not to stare at her thick mane of hair held back by a slim ribbon. The simple style made her look more like an adolescent girl than a mother of two.

  “I’ll just be a moment.”

  Hurrying inside, he noted the cleanliness of his home before climbing the ladder and locating his desired item. Out on the porch, he hesitated. He sensed a loneliness in her that mirrored his own.

  “Is there anything I can get you?”

  “No, thank you.” She pointed to the short, fat book in his hand. “You read when you can’t sleep?”

  “It relaxes me.”

  Some of his fellow soldiers had ribbed him about his penchant fo
r reading, saying reading wasn’t a manly pastime. But the handful of books he’d been able to procure during his time on the battlefield had given him a blessed respite from the horror around him. “Do you like to read?”

  She presented her profile to him, contemplating the prairie’s inky darkness. “I can’t read.”

  Noah dropped into the vacant rocker and processed the reluctant admission. While this was not uncommon, he’d pegged Constance Miller as an educated woman. Her wealth and position granted her access to the finest schools and universities.

  “Your family didn’t approve of women being educated?”

  “It’s not that.” She sighed. “I’ve yearned to read ever since I was a small girl. No matter what I try, however, my mind can’t make sense of the letters on the page.”

  “But you read Will’s letter.”

  “No. Con—” She stopped, flustered, before going on. “I mean, my friend read it to me several times. I memorized it.”

  “I see. You know, Reverend Taggart’s daughter, Hannah, has a similar problem with numbers. I wonder if it’s related.”

  “I haven’t met anyone else with my particular issue. My husband found it difficult to accept.” Bitterness coated her tone. “My inability to read was a huge source of embarrassment for Ambrose. He hired a multitude of tutors, but none were able to help. He finally declared I was too dumb to learn and made me swear not to tell anyone outside the family my shameful secret.”

  Noah’s fingers curled into tight fists. The mental composite he was piecing together of Ambrose Miller was not a pretty one. “I’m sorry you had to endure that.”

  What else had she endured? She’d intimated her marriage hadn’t been all she’d hoped. How bad had it gotten? Foreign emotion gripped him. He was seized with the desire to go to battle for this woman, to combat her enemies, to shield her from life’s trials and tribulations no matter what the personal cost.

  The unexpectedness and novelty of such bewildering emotion primed him to flee her presence. His body didn’t respond to his mind’s command. Instead of escaping to the barn, he remained in his seat, drinking in every detail about her.

  “Would you like for me to read to you?”

  Chapter Eight

  The tentative question hung in the night air. Grace was speechless. Her own husband hadn’t offered. Not once. For this forbidding stranger, a tough-as-nails sheriff who barely knew her, to have compassion on her plight brought tears to her eyes.

  What had compelled her to admit her deficiency? Her inability to read had been a point of frustration and humiliation since childhood. Noah already viewed her as lacking. Adding to his poor opinion hadn’t been the wisest move. What if he spread this information and prospective grooms shared Ambrose’s opinion?

  “That’s fine if you’re not interested. Just thought I’d ask—”

  “I am interested,” she blurted, sensing his imminent retreat. “I’m surprised, that’s all. No one besides my daughters has ever read to me.”

  “Anyone with good sense can see you’re an intelligent woman,” he muttered with a trace of anger. “You shouldn’t be made to feel lesser because of your issue.”

  Noah Burgess was angry at her dead husband. Angry on her behalf. Containing her astonishment, she strove for a casual tone. “What’s the book about?”

  “Our government and constitution.”

  Grace tried to mask her dismay. She wasn’t certain she could stay awake for that.

  “Oh. That sounds...interesting.”

  The husky chuckle rumbling through his chest caught her off guard. She stared at the half smile curving his sculpted mouth. He almost resembled that young man in the photograph.

  “I was joking. It’s Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens.”

  She found herself smiling back at him. “An improvement over laws and procedures, to be sure.”

  “Have you heard the story before?”

  “I’ve heard of it. But I don’t know the story. My girls haven’t advanced to that level yet.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  His movements efficient and fluid, he went inside and returned with a kerosene lamp that he set on a small, roughly constructed table. The light glinted off his blond hair, streaking it with gold. He looked slightly less forbidding than usual. His sheriff’s badge and vest were nowhere to be seen, his wheat-colored shirt was open at the neck and his undershirt visible.

  Opening the book, he turned to the first chapter and began to read. At first Grace focused on the cadence of his words, the honeyed ebb and flow of his resonant voice. It wasn’t long before she got swept up in the story and was whisked away on an imaginary adventure. With the soothing night air wrapping her in its embrace, the scents of grass and sunbaked earth mixing with traces of mint, she closed her eyes and pictured the story’s setting and the colorful characters he described. When his voice trailed off some time later and the cover snapped closed, she experienced a sharp pang of disappointment.

  She wanted so badly to ask if he’d continue the story tomorrow. But she’d stopped asking for things for herself a long time ago—the repeated rejections had been too hurtful—and focused on looking after the girls’ needs. Ambrose hadn’t loved anyone but himself. However, he’d purposed to keep his girls respectable in his social circles. Grace had learned to play on his pride in order to benefit them.

  Standing, she pushed the heavy fall of her hair behind her shoulder and touched a hand to the march of buttons down the front of her housecoat. A feeling of vulnerability invaded her. Certainly the isolated setting and late hour contributed to it, as did her casual dress. More concerning was the fact he was now privy to her greatest weakness.

  “I enjoyed the book very much. I appreciate you taking the time to read aloud when you’d clearly intended to read alone.”

  “Tomorrow night I’ll have a glass of water with me.” Standing, he cupped his throat. “My throat’s too dry to keep going.”

  Joy leaped in her chest. “You don’t mind?”

  “Nah.” He looked sheepish. “When my younger sisters were little, I used to read them to sleep every night. I never admitted how much I liked it. I’d gripe and complain to my ma when all the while I was as eager for story time as the girls.”

  “How many sisters do you have?” Grace found it difficult to picture him as a young boy with a family.

  “Three.” His expression grew distant, a sad furrow drawing his brows together. “Lilly, Cara and Elizabeth. All in their early twenties by now.”

  She wondered what they were like, if they were blonde and blue-eyed like their brother. “You must already be an uncle, then.”

  Noah jerked his startled gaze to hers. This shouldn’t be a novel notion. Something wasn’t right.

  “When was the last time you saw them?”

  “Since before I left for Pennsylvania to join the Union army.”

  Many years ago, then. “You haven’t been in contact with your sisters, have you? What about your parents?”

  His frown deepened, and the marred skin on his jaw stretched thin. His mood went as black as the night, and yet, though keenly aware of his size and strength, she did not feel threatened.

  “This isn’t a good idea,” he said.

  “What isn’t?”

  “Sharing our pasts. Personal information. We’re not engaged to be married. Pretty soon you’ll be married to someone else, and you and I will have limited contact with each other.”

  The regret squeezing her heart didn’t make sense. She had no ties to the sheriff. She’d known him less than a week.

  But you trust him, don’t you?

  Grace was confident Noah would never hurt her or the twins. If they were part of his family, he’d do anything to protect them. He’d provide for them. Maybe he’d even do things to bring the
m happiness...like reading to a grown woman who couldn’t do it for herself. He might not be effusive in his welcome, he might keep people at a distance, but behind the badge Noah’s heart beat pure and true.

  While he and his friends intended to guide her to a good second choice, she couldn’t be sure exactly what type of man she’d be marrying.

  “I have a request.”

  Noah shifted his stance, clasping the book firmly by his side. “Name it.”

  “I don’t wish to rush into a decision. I would like some time to gauge my potential husband’s character for myself.”

  His brows shot up. “You were ready to marry me sight unseen.”

  “I trusted Mr. Canfield’s account. You’re one of the original town founders and highly respected. I’m not angling to stay with you until Christmas.” Surprise crept over his features. “A few weeks will suffice. And if you can’t stomach our presence that long, we’ll move to the hotel at my expense.”

  “Take the time you need. Will, Daniel and I will make good on our promise. We won’t let you make a mistake.”

  “You can’t guarantee me a good marriage, Sheriff. Not unless you’re willing to marry me yourself.”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. “My decision’s been made.”

  “Then the best you can do is pray God leads me to the right man.”

  Spinning on her heel, Grace escaped into the house, leaving him to stew on her words for once.

  * * *

  “She’s the reason I couldn’t sleep.” Noah jabbed a finger toward the house the following morning. “This is why being alone is for the best. No one’s around to stir up the past.”

  Wolf cocked his head, his golden stare seeming to commiserate with him.

  Dreams of his sisters had plagued him throughout the night. In his mind, they were the same age as the year he’d left Virginia. Constance had reminded him that they hadn’t remained unchanged. Lilly, Cara and Elizabeth were young women now, most likely married with children. He probably had nieces and nephews. Blood kin he’d never met.