A Bargain For A Bride (Westward Hearts Book 8)

by Blythe Carver

  His life was not the only one turned around thanks to the baby’s sudden presence.

  “There is no actual sum named here,” she pointed out, frowning when she looked up from the desk, and the contract spread out over the top. “Is that a mistake?”

  “I couldn’t say out of nowhere how much it would cost you to erect a theater,” he admitted. “And I wouldn’t want to hold you to a certain figure, then find out you’ll need much more. That hardly seems fair.”

  Her brow creased as she appeared to study him. “Hmm.”

  “Hmm? What does that mean?”

  “It means I’m a bit surprised at your fair-mindedness. You seem to take me into consideration, which I hadn’t expected.”

  “Why wouldn’t you?”

  “Landon.” The way she said his name. As if speaking to a willful child. “I don’t know you.”

  “Oh. That is true.”

  “I have little reason to expect you to keep me in mind, and I appreciate that you are. So you’ve said here that you intend to provide anything and everything within reason, upon conferring with architects and builders.”

  “Correct.”

  “And that if any unforeseen changes were to occur, you would manage those as well.”

  “Also correct.” He yawned, near the point of exhaustion after yet another late night.

  “Forgive me if I’m boring you.”

  “You know I’m tired because of the baby,” he grumbled. “Can we get on with it? Forgive me, but we have a great deal more to discuss.”

  “Of course, of course.” She sighed, shaking her head and muttering to herself, but at least she went back to reviewing the contract. He warned himself against taking issue with every little thing she said and did, or else he might have asked what she was muttering about him.

  Was this what it meant to have a wife? Learning to hold his tongue even when she muttered and whispered to herself about him?

  “I see nothing wrong with this,” she declared upon finishing. “But before I sign, I want you to know that I’ve brought my sister Phoebe into this scheme.”

  “How did she react?”

  Her expression—dismay, chagrin, sheepishness—told him everything. “Between the two of us, we decided it hardly seems right for the baby to continue here while I return to the ranch to keep up appearances.”

  “We still haven’t decided what—” He sat up, fatigue forgotten for the moment. “Wait, you want to take the baby with you?”

  She nodded, surprisingly eager. “Yes, I believe it’s a good idea. You see, I can tell my sisters that my friend is ill and cannot care for her baby while she recovers. Then, after a few days, I can come back. In time for your parents to arrive. It will grant you a little time to rest, too. See? It works for everyone.”

  He wished he felt as positive as she sounded.

  Yes, the notion of a few nights of sweet, unbroken slumber appealed greatly. He never thought he would come to miss sleeping so much.

  But…

  He’d already come to love his child. He understood this now, while facing the prospect of being without her for only a handful of days. He hardly knew Cate, and he certainly knew nothing of her family.

  “How do I know she’ll be safe there?” he countered.

  Cate’s brows lifted. “Because I say she will,” she replied, cool and perhaps a bit insulted.

  “I don’t know if that’s good enough.”

  “And I don’t know if your promise to grant me an annulment is good enough,” she spat.

  “It’s in the contract.”

  “Fine.”

  To his surprise and perhaps horror, she picked up the pen and scribbled something at the bottom of his contract.

  As she wrote, she murmured, “I hereby promise nothing will befall the child, Violet Jenkins, while she is in my care at Reed Ranch.”

  With that, she signed her name with a flourish. “See? Now it’s in the contract. Which I have signed to prove how serious I am.”

  What could he do? “Very well, then.”

  “You’ll let me take the baby with me when I go home?”

  “I don’t see myself as having much of a choice.”

  “It’s for the best.”

  “You seem to believe that.”

  “I do, because it is. This gives me a reason to return, and it gives you the chance to get your house in order while I’m gone without having a baby to consider.”

  “Get my house in order? What does that mean?”

  To his surprise—truly, he knew he ought not to be surprised when his new wife was involved—Cate withdrew a folded slip of paper from the pocket of her woolen coat.

  “What’s this?” he asked when she handed it to him. He would certainly need more sleep if he was to keep up with her.

  “A list of items you need to purchase for the home. I went through it with my sister, who has already set up housekeeping in her own home and understands these things better than I do. She, too, had the task of taking her husband’s home and making it her own. He’d lived alone before marrying her, and thus lived as a bachelor lives. The way you have.”

  “I see.” He went down the list, frowning as he did. “What on earth do I need china figurines for?”

  “Oh, good grief. I can take the list to town and see to purchasing what you need, if that makes it easier for you.”

  “No, you would need to put everything on my account, which means providing an explanation. I believe I can manage this, perhaps with the assistance of the new shopkeeper’s assistant. She seems very eager to please her customers.”

  A silence filled the room.

  He looked up from the list to find her scowling. “What? What did I say?”

  “You can’t speak that way in front of me,” she warned. “A husband would never say such a thing in front of his wife unless he expected a sound thrashing. Besides, you had better start behaving like a married man, even if you don’t reveal our marriage to anyone. Do you understand what I mean?”

  “Who do you think I am? I hardly make use of the upstairs rooms at the saloon,” he snarled.

  “But you intended to flirt with the girl at the mercantile, did you not? So she would assist you in locating what I listed?”

  He couldn’t deny it, so he chose to remain silent.

  She looked downright smug. “I thought so.”

  “You needn’t scold.”

  “I am your wife.”

  “You married me. You are not my wife.”

  She slammed her palms down on the desk, sending him reeling back in surprise. He’d never expected that sort of display of temper from an otherwise mild-mannered, well-bred young woman.

  Just who had he married? Perhaps the old adage was true. Marry in haste, repent at leisure.

  She shot up from the chair, eyes blazing. “We are supposed to act as if we are husband and wife, yes? I am trying in every way I know how to remind you of that fact, yet you seem determined to undermine me. Do you want to convince your parents or do you not?”

  He wished she didn’t look so beautiful when she was furious. The extra color in her cheeks and the flashing fire in her eyes struck him as being almost painfully alluring.

  “You are the actress,” he murmured by way of acquiescence. “Proceed.”

  This mollified her somewhat, and her nostrils no longer flared like those of a bull when she sat again. She ran a hand over her hair, smoothing it back in its coiled braid which shone in the light from the window behind her.

  A woman of contradictions, to be sure. On the surface, she was everything she ought to be, well-groomed, lovely. Wearing tasteful, stylish clothing. Some women could wear the most lavish garments yet appear cheap and vulgar, nonetheless. Not this wife of his.

  It struck him then that were she not such a flighty thing, full of strange ideas and even stranger habits. Imagine, listening in on private conversations so she might more accurately portray a character one day. She might make some man an excellent wife. She pos
sessed a sharp mind, was efficient and energetic.

  So long as the man in question had the patience of a saint, their marriage would be a great success.

  Once she’d regained control over herself, she continued, “As I said, see to the purchase of those items, please. Take special consideration of the items for the baby, which is its own section of the list.”

  He’d just gotten to that. “She needs all of this?”

  “I thought you had the means.”

  “I do,” he grumbled, waving her off without looking up from the paper. “I’m simply surprised by the amount of preparation necessary. You’re certain she needs this?”

  Cate rested her chin on her palm, gazing at him. “You are a well-to-do businessman. If this were the daughter of a farmer, it would make sense for her to wear a simple, homemade nightgown of old scraps from the rag bag. What she wears now is the garment an unmarried, friendless young woman would sew for her baby. You cannot allow this to continue.”

  He saw the sense in this and wished it were not up to a complete stranger to set him straight. She humbled him with her ability to see through the fog which had enveloped him the moment Ida announced he was a father. “Very well. I shall see to all of this just as soon as possible.”

  “Good.” She stood up like a shot and was halfway out of the room before he could react.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To see the baby, naturally. I’m simply aching to.”

  “Wait, wait.” He scrambled out of his chair and followed at a fast clip. “She only just got to sleep.”

  “That is very nice. I’ll be careful not to wake her.” She eyed him as they climbed the stairs side-by-side. “Shouldn’t you be on your way to your office by now?”

  Drat. He glanced up at the grandfather clock at the second-floor landing. It was already well past eight o’clock. “I can wait a few minutes more,” he decided. “They’ll hardly close down the company without my being there.”

  She giggled softly. “I thought all important men of business were certain their employer would fall into ruin without their presence.”

  Mrs. Davis was awake this time, and she looked downright sheepish when Cate entered the bedroom. “I’m sorry, Miss, for not having been able to meet you yesterday,” she whispered. “This wee thing keeps me on my feet much of the time.”

  “I understand,” Cate smiled before nodding in approval of the large, deep straw basket he’d purchased the previous afternoon.

  Violet slept in it, nestled into a pile of blankets, her tiny fists hands resting on either side of her head.

  His heart lurched violently. He was supposed to allow her to leave his house? Such a small thing, so easily harmed. Utterly defenseless.

  Cate leaned over her, her thumb stroking the tiny fingers which opened reflexively, then closed around her thumb and squeezed. She gasped, a wide smile lighting up her face. Pure joy. “She’s very strong, isn’t she?”

  Her eyes met his, shining and warm, and he suspected he might be able to trust her. That she might have fallen in love with his daughter, just as he had.

  It was a start.

  8

  “I wish you wouldn’t insist on my coming with you,” Phoebe hissed as they walked side-by-side from her home to Landon’s. He lived on the fashionable side of town, the side where no sheriff could afford to live.

  It struck Cate as being terribly unfair that a man who oversaw the safety of an entire city could not afford to live in a house like Landon’s. Certainly, Rance seemed content with his home and Cate considered it charming and cozy.

  But all Landon did was sit in an office.

  Cate pouted. “I wanted you to see the baby. She is so utterly perfect.”

  “You realize you’re bringing me further into your little scheme.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t call it that.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t lie to the rest of our family.”

  “I wish you would try to be more understanding.”

  Phoebe scoffed. “You believe this is my way of not being understanding? Woe to you if I ever decided to stop understanding the utterly nonsensical situation you’ve gotten yourself into. You would have not a single ally to help make your story sound legitimate. You would be in this on your own and would have no one to talk to. Or to help you put together the list of items Landon needs to make the house look like you live there.”

  “Thank you for that.”

  She huffed, both incensed and knowing there was nothing to be done about it. “You’re welcome.”

  They walked past the last stately home before reaching Landon’s, and Phoebe made a sort of strangled noise when she took in its beauty. “My heavens. He lives here?”

  Cate felt the slightest twinge of pride when she nodded. “An architect from San Francisco designed it. A friend of the family, supposedly. He left nothing out.”

  He had not, indeed. The house had been designed in the Italianate style, the outer walls a pale yellow while the hand-carved wood trim was snow-white. The east side of the house featured a porch running from one end to the other, along with a balcony situated above the more modest front porch and accessible by double doors at the end of the upstairs hall.

  “This is a mansion, not merely a house,” Phoebe breathed. “You said his father is a senator?”

  “Yes, and he does something-or-other with business. I truly know little about that.”

  “Well, he has enough to promise an unnamed sum for the building of your theater. I suppose that makes him quite wealthy, indeed.” Phoebe giggled as they ascended the sandstone stairs. “I never would have imagined you being the one to land the wealthiest husband.”

  “And why not?” Cate sniffed. “I’m hardly hideous, you know.”

  Phoebe looked around upon entering, her eyes just as wide as they’d been upon first taking in the house’s exterior. “Perhaps you can make this man fall in love with you and remain married,” she suggested in a solemn whisper, as if they were in church.

  “How could you even suggest such a thing?” Cate scolded as she removed her coat and hat. “You, of all people. The one who’s always believed in romance.”

  “There is something romantic about falling in love with a man after you’ve married him,” she reasoned, going from room to room.

  Landon was at his office, and the two of them had said their goodbyes for the time being before Cate left to fetch Phoebe and bring her back to show off the baby.

  And the house. She couldn’t help herself. It was truly grand.

  Mrs. Davis was in the kitchen, jumping in surprise when Cate entered.

  “Forgive me.” Cate chuckled. “I merely wished to bring my sister by to see Violet before I take her to the ranch. I, ah, trust Mr. Jenkins has explained the situation.”

  “He has, at that.” Mrs. Davis settled her large body into a chair with a sigh, pulling a cup of tea closer. “Oh, my knees. I’ve been up and down the stairs so many times. Not that I’m complaining, mind you, but it is quite a change for a woman of my advanced years. Suddenly caring for an infant when my children have children of their own. I haven’t the energy any longer, and that’s a fact.”

  “I’m sure I can’t imagine. You’ll have a few days to breathe now.”

  “I will at that, and I thank you for it. Though I must say, I shall miss the sweet little thing.”

  “Is she sleeping upstairs?” Cate asked.

  Mrs. Davis nodded.

  She pulled Phoebe down the hall and up the stairs, eager to show Violet off.

  “Are you sure you have it in you to care for such a young baby?” Phoebe whispered, her voice heavy with doubt.

  “I can do anything I decide to do. You ought to know that by now.” In reality, Cate practically quaked with apprehension. Who was she to think she knew better than a grandmother how to raise a baby? She’d never done more than play with Edward, and he was so much older. He did not require the same sort of attention.

  At the moment, though
, it was easy to fall in love with the notion of it. When the baby was sleeping, quiet, and all was still and sweet. Cate tiptoed to the basket, left on the floor at the foot of the bed.

  “The wife’s room?” Phoebe asked on entering. “I suppose you’ll sleep here.”

  “I suppose so,” Cate shrugged before bending to lift the sleeping baby. She squirmed a bit before opening her eyes and looking up at her visitors.

  She’d only been beautiful and perfect before, while sleeping.

  Now? With wide, solemn blue eyes that looked up into Cate’s? She was an angel sent from heaven.

  “Oh, my,” Phoebe breathed, smiling from ear to ear. “She certainly is a beauty, isn’t she? Sweet Violet. What a lovely little girl you are.”

  “I told you,” Cate whispered, rocking the baby in her arms. “Isn’t she lovely? I can’t imagine how anyone could consider her a burden. I truly cannot.”

  “You might feel differently when she’s crying.”

  “I doubt it.”

  At that moment, as if she understood, Violet decided to test Cate’s patience. Her small, rosebud mouth opened as if she intended to yawn. Then, instead of yawning sweetly, she let out an ear-piercing wail that set Cate’s teeth on edge.

  “She certainly can scream!” Cate laughed, though it was an empty laugh. A laugh tinged with dismay. Was this what Landon had been going on about?

  “Walk her around!” Phoebe suggested, wringing her hands as Cate moved around the room. “Bounce her a little!”

  “Bounce her?”

  “You know.” Phoebe moved up and down on the balls of her feet. “Gently. Move her about.”

  Cate did her best, but it was to no avail. Violet screamed until the color of her skin matched her name.

  “Shh, darling. It’s all right. Everything is well. You’ll be all right.”

  “Is she in need of a changing?” Phoebe suggested, and she stepped aside as Cate laid Violet on the bed and lifted up her gown to check. Yes, her cloth diaper was soiled.

  They searched the room for clean cloth while Violet continued to wail. Cate imagined she would tire herself out eventually, but it seemed that wasn’t so. She simply drew in a lungful of air and screamed again.