by Caroline Lee
Copyright © 2016, Caroline Lee
[email protected]
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.
First edition: 2016
This work is made available in e-book format by Amazon Kindle at www.amazon.com
And in paperback format by CreateSpace at www.createspace.com
Printing/manufacturing information for this book may be found on the last page
Cover: EDHGraphics
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
Other works by Caroline Lee
Sign up for Caroline’s Newsletter to receive exclusive content and freebies, as well as first dibs on her books!
Briar Rose
An Everland Ever After Tale
Dedication:
For my Cohort, who love Everland enough to help me play there.
CHAPTER ONE
“You may kiss the bride.”
Briar, like every other unmarried—and many of the married ones—in Pastor Tuck’s congregation, sighed when the gorgeous couple at the altar leaned in for their first kiss as husband and wife. The groom was blonde and shiny and magnificent in his best boots and the silly jacket with the epaulets that somehow managed to look regal even out here in Wyoming. He was a Russian duke, after all, and had standards to maintain.
The bride was Briar’s long-time best friend, Zelle Carpenter, and she had never looked as radiant as she did today. Well, there’d been that time a few months ago when Briar had helped dress her up to steal a kiss from the man who turned out to be her future husband, but that probably didn’t count. Today, Zelle wore a new gown of lavender silk that Ella Crowne had made for her—from scratch!—and Briar had helped to weave the purple autumn wildflowers into her short hair.
The kiss seemed to last for an abnormally long time, judging by the throat-clearing and the way the bride’s father, Doc Carpenter, was beginning to scowl. But his wife just nudged him and smiled, and Briar remembered that it was his idea to have the couple married before they left for their trip to Dmitri’s land in Russia.
She was going to miss her best friend, but Zelle promised that they’d be back in the spring, with Dmitri’s best horses and plans to build the grandest ranch house Everland had ever seen. In the meantime though, Briar had an entire winter ahead of her, without the one person in town that she could actually talk to. So maybe the tear she wiped away when the couple finally pulled apart was a little for Zelle’s happiness, and a little for her own loneliness.
Forcing herself to push aside her self-pity, Briar cheered with the rest of the congregation as Mr. and Mrs. Volkov began their new lives together. She made her way into the church hall, where earlier that day she, along with Ma, Mrs. Carpenter and a few others, had spent hours decorating in Zelle’s favorite colors. Briar herself had baked the layered wedding cake the day before, in the Carpenters’ kitchen while Zelle daydreamed happily. After all, it’s not like Ma and Pa would’ve let her bake it in their house. But then, many of Briar’s happiest memories from the last several years had been set in the Carpenters’ home. She sure was going to miss Zelle.
“What has you looking so down?”
Briar startled, and the lemonade she held splashed over the edge of her cup. But she ignored the drips on her best blue gown and plastered on a smile for the newcomers’ benefit. Snow White and Zosia Spratt were best friends, just like she and Zelle had been before Zelle had gone and fallen in love. They had swept up to where Briar was standing against one of the windows, their arms linked and identical curious expressions on their lovely faces.
“Looking down?” Briar pretended to scoff. “I’m just people-watching. I’m really happy for Zelle.”
“People-watching, hmmm?” Snow’s head tilted slightly. “Anyone in particular?”
“No, just looking…” Briar made a show of sipping from her lemonade and scanning the crowd. But she made a liar out of herself, when her eyes landed on a particular group, and a particular man.
Max DeVille was gregarious and charming and had a laugh that stood out in a crowd, which is what caught her attention just then. But it was his companions that held it. Skipper King and his partner Rupert Cole had obviously just told the joke that made Max laugh, and the fourth man smile. That fourth man, however, wasn’t looking at either of his friends. He was looking right at Briar, and her throat went dry when she realized it. Dry enough to need another hasty sip of lemonade.
Gordon MacKinnon wasn’t the most handsome man in Everland. He wasn’t the funniest, or the friendliest. And he definitely wasn’t the richest. But he was… Briar took another sip of lemonade. He was Gordon. He was special, somehow. And he was staring at her, like she was something special, too.
Oh, heavens! She lifted the cup to her lips again, hoping it would hide the sudden flush her grandmother said made her look like a raspberry.
“Briar, honey, you’re sucking on air.”
Snow’s faintly amused tone dragged Briar’s eyes away from Gordon’s, to glance down at her glass. Empty.
But then, Gordon MacKinnon’s stares often did that to her; made her act the fool, made her forgetful and confused when she normally was level-headed. She scowled at her glass, knowing she shouldn’t be surprised. Ever since he’d arrived in Everland with Vincenzo Bellini last spring, he’d been able to turn her into a ninny just by looking at her.
“Briar? Is everything alright?” Zosia’s question was quiet and sweet, just like she was. The Jewish girl had thick curly hair, and a liking for Briar’s caramel cookies that made her almost as plump as Briar herself was. Starting last spring, Briar had visited Spratt’s Eatery—Everland’s only dining establishment, which belonged to Zosia’s parents—once a week to bake all manner of delicious cakes and cookies for them to sell as desserts. When word got back to Ma and Pa—and of course it did, with the whole town suddenly eating at Spratt’s on Thursdays—they were irritated, but couldn’t deny that the extra income was nice.
It was there, in Zosia’s parents’ kitchen, that she’d met Gordon for the first time.
“Briar?”
Heavens, she really was wool-gathering, wasn’t she? She forced another smile, hoping it didn’t look as fake as it felt. “I’m fine, thank you. Just thirsty.” She sought about for a change in topic, something to distract them. “I’m really going to miss Zelle, you know? I’m happy for her, and I know that they’re coming back home after they get everything arranged and sold in Russia, but…”
Snow glanced at Zosia, and smiled sort of sadly. “But she’s your best friend. We understand.”
Zosia nodded. “Sometimes, when things are rough at home, your best friend is the only one who understands you.”
These two ought to know. Snow’s dark skin marked her as an outsider as surely as Zosia’s religion did for her, even though they did their best to fit in. Zosia attended St. Alice’s regularly with the rest of the congregation, but it didn’t matter. And while Snow volunteered for all the events the Ladies’ Club put on, her beauty didn’t make her acceptable to the townfolk, and she knew it. But as Zosia said, best friends understood and accepted you.
And now Briar’s best friend was leaving her for
the winter…and she’d never even told Zelle about Gordon and his looks and how sometimes he smiled at her and made her feel like—
“Excuse me. I think I’ll go get a tart.” It was probably rude to leave Snow and Zosia so abruptly, but Briar didn’t think she could carry on with the polite conversation any longer. Not with Gordon over there looking at her, and her throat so dry.
So she forced a weak smile and hurried toward the refreshment table she’d helped set up only a few hours before, to refill the lemonade and shove one of her own apple tarts into her mouth. Maybe that would distract her.
Distract her from the feel of Gordon MacKinnon’s eyes on the back of her neck? She snorted softly to herself as she poured another glass. Not likely.
“Gordy? Ahoy, man!”
Gordon forced his gaze—and his thoughts—away from Briar Jorgenson, to find his friend’s laughing eyes looking directly at him. “What?”
“You’ve been staring at something for so long that Max gave up on us and wandered off to poke fun at Dmitri.” Skipper King held a glass of Max’s lemonade-and-liquor concoction in his scarred hands, and threw a smirking glance at his partner Rupert. “Although, I’ve got to admit that Dmitri’s pretty easy to tease these days, walking around with that stupid grin on his face all the time.”
Gordon followed Skip’s gaze to see their friend standing beside the groom, each laughing at something. “Aye,” Gordon had to agree. “He’s been like a cat in the cream since his Zelle agreed t’ marry him, hasn’t he?”
“Frankly, I’m impressed he waited this long.” Rupert’s voice was low enough that the other two men leaned in a bit to hear him.
Gordon snorted. “Have ye met Doc Carpenter? The man can hold his own in a fight, despite bein’—what?—near fifty, I figure.” It was common knowledge that Jack Carpenter had declared he wasn’t letting his Princess get on a train and then a steamship and travel to the other side of the world without a ring on her finger. Luckily, it was obvious that he approved of his daughter’s choice of a husband, despite their rocky start.
“Good point!” Skipper laughed. “I wouldn’t want him angry at me. Marrying an orphan suddenly sounds appealing!”
The other two men chuckled, but Skipper wasn’t done teasing. “How about it, Rupert? You’ve been looking distracted lately, ever since that pretty Miss Bonnie Horner from Haskell showed up.” He elbowed his partner in the ribs, and Rupert glared in response. “Want me to ask around to see if she’s got a father as scary as Doc Carpenter?”
Scowling, Rupert took a step backward. “She doesn’t. Trust me.”
Skip wasn’t about to leave the poor man alone, though. “Where is she anyhow, Rupert? Wasn’t she supposed to come to the wedding with you?”
“She left,” Rupert grumbled.
“Uh-oh, trouble aloft?” Skipper’s wide-eyed innocence made Gordon want to chuckle, but he joined in the fun by pretending great sincerity and concern as well.
“Ye mean that ye let her get away? She was a bonny one, alright…what kind of man lets a woman like that slip out o’ his arms, an’ not chase after her?”
Rupert turned his scowl toward Gordon, and Skip made a noise suspiciously like laughter. “A right scallywag, that’s who.”
“I think I get your point, gentlemen.”
“Do you?” Skip apparently wasn’t willing to stop ribbing his partner. “I feel like I need to spell these things out for you. After all, I am the more intelligent—and better looking—one in this partnership, you know.”
It was Skipper’s look of sincerity that made Gordon turn slightly to keep from laughing out loud. Unfortunately—or fortunately—his eye rested on Briar Jorgenson, and he completely forgot whatever his friends were joking about.
She looked so…lost. He didn’t know Zelle well, only that she was Briar’s best friend. And here she was, leaving town and leaving Briar behind. No wonder Briar looked so lonely, despite the weak smile she was trying to fool everyone with.
It wasn’t fooling him. He’d seen enough of Briar’s real smiles—had treasured them—to know when she was faking it. And the fact that she was faking it didn’t sit well with him.
Skip was still teasing Rupert about his marriage prospects, but it was just a dull buzzing in Gordon’s ears. He nodded to both of them, hoping he wasn’t being too rude, and shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he made his way across the crowded floor.
It seemed like everyone in Everland—and the surrounding area—had come to help Zelle and Dmitri celebrate. Gordon knew many of them from his months in town, and had even worked with some of them. After Vincenzo had gotten married and needed him less frequently, Gordon had taken a job in the evenings at Spratt’s Eatery. That, along with the seasonal work he did with farmers and ranchers and the like—although he still barely knew the front of a horse from the backside—was how he’d met so many people, including the Jorgensons.
How he knew that Briar was faking her smiles.
In the months since he’d met her at Spratt’s, he’d found himself embarrassingly tongue-tied when it came to Briar. He’d traveled the world, and met more women than he could count, but there was something about this woman that turned him into a stammering fool when she smiled at him. So yeah, he knew her smiles, because of the way they reached down into his stomach—and further—and twisted something up inside him, until he couldn’t breathe and his tongue forgot how to work.
It didn’t sit right, that she was trying to pretend to smile now. And before he knew it, Gordon was moving toward where she was messing with something on the refreshment table. He tried not to be so obvious about the fact he was admiring the way her hips flared under her pretty blue dress. She might be a farmer’s daughter, but that dress was certainly fine, and did all sorts of nice things to her figure, which was already pleasantly round.
He knew it was rude to stare at her rear end, so Gordon dragged his attention back up to the mass of thick cinnamon-brown hair she’d piled on top of her head in some kind of curly knot. Didn’t that sort of thing give her a headache? He wore his long hair the same way when he was in the kitchen, but she had a lot more of it than he did. When she was working in her family’s fields with him, she always wore it in a simple braid, and he liked that very much. Here, she just looked like… like she was trying to be something someone else had told her to be.
And that’s when she turned around, and found him just standing there staring at the back of her head, which quickly became the front of her head, and he met her eyes in surprise.
She had pretty eyes. Big and dark blue, dark enough to be almost gray. Like the sky right after a Highland storm. And now those big bluish-gray eyes were staring right up at him, wide and obviously astonished to find him standing this close to her. Frankly, he was kind of astonished too; she must think he was a complete stranger, after all the stammering mess of conversation he’d made of things over the last months.
But she wasn’t smiling at him now, so maybe that would help loosen his tongue.
So he did the only thing he could do. Just smiled and forced his voice to work. “Hi.”
She made a little choking noise, and that’s when he realized that her mouth was full. There were even a few little crumbs on her plump lower lip, and it was a good thing he had his hands fisted in the pockets of his good trousers, to keep himself from reaching up and brushing them off with his thumb.
Instead, he turned to the table and reached for the glass of lemonade she’d just poured, and handed it to her, trying not to smile. Her panicked look abated a bit, as she sipped the lemonade.
When she lowered the glass, her cheeks were bright red, and those crumbs were still on her lip. Gordon tried not to notice, but it was hard. Normally, she was prettier than a sunset on the rolling Scottish hills; but today, she was especially beautiful all fancied up.
Still, it was awkward, being the cause of a lady’s near-choking, so he willed his tongue to work again, and his attention not to wander back down to her figur
e. “Sorry fer sneaking up on ye like that. I didn’t realize ye were eating.”
If possible, she got even pinker, and looked away. Had he embarrassed her? After all the times he’d embarrassed himself in front of her?
“I wanted to try the apple tarts,” she explained.
“Didn’t ye make them?”
“The flavors mellow as they blend, and I wanted to see if they were still as good.”
He knew all about that, sure. That’s something they had in common; the love of creating delicious foods. “An’? Are they still good?”
Maybe it was his bluntness that worked, because she peeked up at him—she was much shorter than he was—and smiled slightly. “I think so, yes. Have you tried any?”
That smile was even more alluring than her tarts, and he felt his brain turning to mush again. Gordon had to clear his throat, and force himself to focus on her words, before he could answer. “No. But I’d like t’.”
He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it definitely wasn’t for her to turn slightly, an apple tart in one hand and the other cupped underneath to catch the crumbs, and offer it to him. Not to him to take, but to him to taste. She held it up, level with his mouth, and he didn’t let himself consider how he’d foolishly been mooning over her for months; didn’t let himself think about the fact that he was finally having a conversation with her. He just leaned in and took a bite.
Great God Almighty, but her baking was delicious. Gordon had to close his eyes a moment, in appreciation for the way the flavors—sweet and tart and just the faintest bit of cinnamon—exploded on his tongue. The lass could bake, he’d be the first to admit. Heck, he’d be the first to shout it from the rooftops. As he chewed, he reflected that it wasn’t the first time he’d dreamed of inviting her to bake in his restaurant.