The Inconvenient Bride Series 1-3

by Sharon Ihle

  "Listen up, y'all," the reverend went on, his voice rising to fever pitch. "It is my duty to ask if there is anyone heah who objects to the joining of these fine folks before me. Speak now if y'all dare, or forever hold your peace, 'cause we're about to get on with the serious part of this heah service."

  Shylo was ready by now to call a halt to the entire affair, but as the preacher lapsed into his well- rehearsed wedding speech, she faltered. How could she explain her way out of it without giving herself away as an impostor? She could hardly complain that the best man was held at gunpoint or that her maid of honor's hair was a very disrespectful shade of pink. How could she criticize anyone in the wedding party when she, the blushing bride, looked more like a character right out of a Mother Goose rhyme than a New York debutante about to be wed?

  Besides, there wasn't really anything for her to worry about. Dimitri had assured her that he would be getting Ari released as soon as the ceremony was over, hadn't he?

  Less troubled now, Shylo listened carefully to what the reverend was saying and realized that he was speaking directly to her.

  "And now do you, Miss Shylo Folsom, take this man, Dimitri Adonis, as... "

  Warning bells went off in her head, drowning out the words love, honor, and obey. Miss... Folsom. God in heaven, why hadn't she thought of that little complication before things had gotten this far? And how could she go through with the wedding now that she had? It didn't strike her as particularly legitimate for her to marry Dimitri or anyone as Shylo Folsom, a person who didn't exist. In fact, she was pretty sure such a deception would be considered downright illegal. She had to think of something to stop the ceremony—and fast.

  "Ahem." The reverend cleared his throat. "Miss Folsom? Do you or do you not take this man as your husband?"

  "Huh?"

  "Say, 'I do,' Shylo," came Dimitri's melodic, velvety voice.

  She looked up at him in utter confusion. Even though he was frowning, looking tight around the mouth and eyes, he was still the most handsome, mesmerizing man she'd ever laid eyes on. Dressed in his best suit of black broadcloth and a high-collared shirt complete with ruffled bib, he was not only terrifyingly handsome , but regal and prince-like. Could she find the strength to walk away from a man like this, even though logic told her she had to?

  Beside her, Cassie's sobs increased in volume, startling Shylo into action. There was really only one way out of this mess at this stage, she figured, and that would be to reveal all her lies. And she wasn't even close to considering going to such extremes.

  Her mind made up, she hid her hands in the folds of her new lace polonaise, crossed her fingers, and turned to the reverend. "Yessir, I believe that I do."

  "Praise be and hallelujah, little lady. I thought I'd gone to all this trouble for nothing." The reverend gave her a broad grin, then directed his remarks to Dimitri. "And do you, Dimitri Adonis, promise to love, honor, and keep your lovely bride by your side for as long as y'all shall live?"

  Without hesitation he said, "I do."

  "In that case, I b'lieve it's time for the ring ceremony. Y'all do have a ring, don't you?"

  Dimitri hadn't prepared for this. With just a moment's hesitation, he nodded, turned to Ari, and held out his hand.

  The old man looked puzzled for a moment. Then, as understanding sank in, his expression slid into a frown.

  "I have it," he mumbled as he tugged on his pinky and removed his pride and joy—a one-carat diamond set in a thick band of eighteen-karat gold that he'd won during a backgammon tournament. As Dimitri took the ring from him and placed it on Shylo's finger, Ari's gaze followed it with longing.

  Finally the reverend brought the ceremony to an end. "That done, I am most delighted to pronounce you two husband and wife." He gave Dimitri a moment to act on his own, and when he didn't, the reverend said, "This is the part where y'all supposed to kiss the bride. Get to it, sir. It's the part I like best."

  Relieved to have the entire affair over with, Dimitri took no exception to the man's irreverent remarks or to the fact that Cassie's sobs were no longer intermittent, but nonstop. He turned to Shylo and took her face between his hands, then ducked his head under the brim of her sunbonnet and bestowed a brief kiss to her lips.

  When the newlyweds parted, Cassie threw herself into her sister's arms, tears now pouring down her face. "Oh, Sh-Shylo. C-congratulations," she said, her sobs increasing again. "I—I'm so-o-o h-happy for you."

  Leaving the women and their sentimental display to themselves, Ari and Dimitri shook hands with each other, then with the reverend, who said, "There are some papers for y'all to sign over heah on the marshal's desk. Then y'all are free to go."

  "Not all of them," said Marshal Moss, jabbing Ari's back with the barrel of his gun for emphasis. "This fella here's about to go back to his little room."

  Dimitri quickly signed his name to the marriage certificate, left Ari and the reverend to do the same, then approached his new bride.

  "Excuse me, please," he said to his wife and the still weeping Cassie. "You two must go sign the wedding papers now, and Shylo, when you've finished, I'd like a private word with you over there." He canted his head toward the corner, where the reverend had been lounging between the chairs.

  Shylo was none too pleased at his businesslike tone, even though she'd known when she'd accepted his proposal that he looked upon their marriage as just that—business—but she did as he asked. After signing "Shylo Folsom" on the document, she joined him in the corner.

  "Is something wrong?" she asked, determined to get in a few of her questions before he could start talking. "Since I walked in the door, I've had a feeling that you are hiding something from me. What's going on?"

  She was blunt, outspoken, and perceptive, he thought, adding yet another challenge to the list of chores ahead of him. "I'm sorry to have given you that impression. With my uncle under arrest, I'm afraid I haven't been as attentive as I should be toward you." He looked directly into her eyes, noticing how clear and startlingly blue they were today. Softening his tone, he added, "Once you help me to obtain his release, I will be able to concentrate fully on you and our marriage. I think we can be quite happy together."

  His words and the gentle way he said them filled her head with a delicious, creamy fog, but the message contained in that milky haze, finally rose to the top. "Did you say 'help' you get Ari out of jail?"

  "Yes, and immediately, if we are to make it aboard the train tomorrow."

  "But I don't see how I can help. I already told you that I don't have any money, and Cassie is just as—"

  "Let me get right to the point," he said, cutting her off. "You are a married woman now, and answer only to me. Whether your uncle likes it or not, you are on your way west to see a person he doesn't care for, and your husband is in need of his help. I want you to wire the president at once, asking him to demand that this marshal set Ari free."

  Shylo's breath shot out in a heavy sigh. Hells bells and shitty little wells, she thought. Would this tangle of her own lies never give her a moment's peace?

  "There is no point in thinking it over," Dimitri said, hurrying her along. "I am not asking you to wire the president, I am insisting that you do it. Now."

  Her guilt over having lied to him forgotten, she snapped back at Dimitri in a tone much louder than she'd intended, "You insist? Who do you think you are talking to me like that?"

  "I am," he said, leaning down to bring his face up close to hers, "your husband. As such, I think you'd better understand now that I expect you to obey me without question."

  "Oh... really?" Her blue eyes flashed like a strike of lightning.

  "Yes," he hissed, despite the threat of full-out war he saw in her eyes. "You will do as you promised not ten minutes past—you vowed to love, honor, and obey me. You, by God, shall do so without further discussion." Dimitri's olive complexion flushed from the hollow at his throat up to his ears.

  Driven by sudden fury, Shylo hopped forward, bumping her nose ag
ainst her new husband's. "I by God will not."

  "You by God will, or you will eat wood. And another thing—I will not have a wife talk at to me in such a, a little of respect. And do not again in public!"

  "Oh, yeah? Well, I will not tolerate a husband who thinks he can tell me what to do." Memories of Farmer Anderson and his dictatorial ways flooded Shylo, filling her with a cold, blind rage. She raised her fists. "I will never allow any man to tell me what to do again as long as I live. Never. I'll die first."

  Catching those fists with his hands, Dimitri closed his fingers around them, squeezing her tightly as he ground his teeth together. When he spoke, his voice was oddly quiet, but full of icy fury. "Keep this sassy up, and I will help you fulfill that vow."

  "Sassy? What is that supposed to mean?"

  From across the room the stunned spectators—Ari, his guard, Cassie, and Reverend Bill—exchanged horrified glances. Finally the reverend broke the heavy silence by asking, "Is the president our newlywed couple seems to be fighting over the head man of this heah country?"

  Both Ari and Cassie nodded, and then Cassie added proudly, as if she believed it herself, "President Cleveland is Shylo's uncle."

  "Praise be to God." The preacher adjusted his white collar. "We've got to stop them before they kill each other." With that he hurried across the room, shouting, "Children. Children. Be at peace with one another. I declare, y'all ain't been married for fifteen minutes, and look at the way y'all are ripping into each other."

  Shylo, who'd just drawn a huge breath with which to launch her next diatribe, turned in the reverend's direction, surprised for a moment to remember that she and Dimitri were not alone.

  Her new husband, ashamed of himself when he saw what he'd been doing to his bride's hands—crushing them—released her and turned to the window. Gripping the windowsill now instead of his wife, Dimitri took several deep breaths in an effort to calm himself.

  "That's better," said Reverend Bill. "Now then. Why don't y'all tell me what's going on between you two—one at a time, starting with the lady."

  "I—I don't know." Rage was still crowding her throat, making it impossible to talk beyond that.

  "How about you, sir?" the reverend asked, directing his inquiries to Dimitri's back. "Can you shed some light on the problem?"

  Dimitri turned to the man and tried to summarize their bizarre conflict. "The president of the United States happens to be my wife's uncle. I am trying to convince her to wire him on my uncle's behalf since we can't seem to strike any kind of a bargain with the law in this town." He shot the marshal a particularly vicious look. "As you may have heard, my wife refuses me this favor."

  From over his shoulder the reverend asked, "What's the man done, Moss?"

  "Busted up Springer's saloon a coupla nights ago. Owes two hundred bucks for damages."

  His speculative gaze back on Dimitri again, the reverend said, "Y'all look to be pretty well fixed. Why don't y'all just pay the man and be on your way?"

  "Because," Dimitri said, tired of explaining their situation over and over, "the four of us were unfortunate enough to be on the train that was robbed. So we are quite without the funds to pay for Ari's mistakes. To that I should add that I believe my uncle was tricked by a group of cowboys called knife bashers, or something like that."

  "The Hashknife cowboys?"

  "Yes, that would be them."

  Turning in a slow circle, Reverend Bill addressed the marshal. "That true, Moss? Was that poor little Greek fella set up by those boys?"

  The deputy shrugged but couldn't look the preacher in the eye.

  "Hell's fire, Moss. You want the president of these heah United States brought in on this?" Again the marshal shrugged. "How do y'all think Commodore Perry Owens, county sheriff of these heah parts, is gonna like it when he gets here and finds out that you wouldn't let these esteemed folks go on their way—especially when he finds out those ruffians over at the Aztec Cattle Company were involved?"

  Lowering his gun, Moss finally said, "Someone's got to pay Springer's bill. We can't just forget about that."

  "No, I don't reckon we can."

  Seeing a ray of hope, Dimitri said, "I already made the offer to send money to cover the damages after we arrive in San Diego, but the marshal would not accept those terms. If he'll reconsider that offer, I can sign some sort of document if my word isn't good enough."

  Reverend Bill nodded slowly. "What do you say, Moss? That sounds like an excellent idea to me. Just excellent."

  The marshal, who'd already unlocked Ari's handcuffs, said, "His word's good enough for me if it's good enough for you."

  Enormously relieved to have that problem out of the way, Dimitri sucked in a huge breath, intending to let it out in a long sigh. The breath froze in his lungs when he caught Shylo's deadly gaze.

  It didn't take a full doctorate's worth of education for him to figure out that the battle he'd won here with the law had been but a minor victory. Now that he'd seen the hostility in his new wife's expression, Dimitri had a pretty good idea that his troubles in Winslow had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience compared to what was in store.

  * * *

  After spending a considerable amount of time negotiating with both the marshal and saloon owner Murphy Springer, Dimitri not only secured the man's agreement to the IOU, but convinced him to reduce Ari's share of the bill to half of what he owed—$125—leaving the Aztec Cattle Company responsible for the rest. After that, the wedding party returned to the Harvey House Hotel for a celebration supper at the establishment's acclaimed restaurant. Although the dining room had only a handful of patrons, and the seats at the counter were empty save for one old man, Dimitri instructed the waitress to seat them at the back of the room in the most private corner possible.

  They settled at a table spread with Irish linen, fine china featuring Native American motifs, and Sheffield silver from England. It was an atmosphere fit for a king, at a surprisingly reasonable price of seventy-five cents per diner. Knowing to the penny exactly how much money he had left, Dimitri figured they could dine in style and he'd still have two dollars and fifty cents in his pocket—more than enough to book a third room for him and Shylo to use as their bridal suite. Looking forward to the night with surprising eagerness, since he'd yet to lose his earlier anger, he waved over the waitress and took it upon himself to order for them all.

  "We'll start with bluepoint oysters all around," Dimitri said to the waitress in a crisp black-and-white uniform.

  "Very good, sir." She jotted down the order. "And for the entree?"

  "How's the roast sirloin of beef au jus today?"

  "Excellent. It's fresh from a fine local herd of Texas longhorn cattle, and comes with creamed asparagus and Yorkshire pudding."

  Very familiar by now with the brand those cattle would carry, Dimitri chuckled as he said, "That sounds fine. We'll have four orders."

  As the; waitress scurried away, Dimitri rested his forearms on the heavy walnut table and glanced across the floral centerpiece to where his bride sat, her eyes downcast. She had yet to look at or speak to him since their argument in the marshal's office, and the rest of the wedding party was curiously silent as well. To his left, Ari had stretched back against his chair and tilted his head toward the ceiling to ward off yet another bloody nose. To his right, the usually chatty Cassie wept quietly into her handkerchief. A casual observer would have thought the gathering more a wake than a wedding supper.

  "Wake up, everybody," Dimitri said, suddenly in the mood to celebrate. "This is no way for Shylo and me to begin our life together. Let us forget what's happened in the past, and look toward the future."

  Ari, a cloth pressed firmly against his nose, picked up his silver spoon and banged it lightly against his crystal water glass. "Yes, yes. A marriage has taken place today. We must celebrate with much joy. Waitress?" he called, waving his free hand. "Oh, waitress."

  When it dawned on Dimitri what Ari was thinking, he slid his foot to the
left and kicked his uncle's ankle with the toe of his boot. He connected with the table leg instead. As he drew back his foot to launch another attack, the waitress arrived.

  "Yes, sir?"

  "Wine," Ari shouted. "We must have wine for a wedding celebration. Bring us a bottle of your finest."

  "Ari..." Dimitri started to protest, but there was no point in going on. He'd neglected to inform his uncle just how short they were on cash, and there was no delicate way to explain his plans for the little money he had left. His only hope was that the restaurant was as conservative with the wine prices as it was with the meals.

  When the waitress returned with the wine, she set it near Ari's elbow and said quietly to Dimitri, "That will be one dollar and seventy-five cents extra, sir."

  He sighed heavily. "But of course."

  From there on, as far as Dimitri was concerned, the "celebration" evolved into a circus, with Ari as a most zealous ringmaster to an audience of one—Shylo. The rest of the wedding party showed a decided lack of interest in the proceedings. After only one glass of wine, Cassie dissolved into yet another bout of tears and rambled on about princes, horses, and lost loves, gibberish that made no particular sense. As for Dimitri, his mood had darkened considerably, and he no longer felt like celebrating at all.

  Shylo, on the other hand, positively glowed from within as the spirits warmed her and she enthusiastically encouraged Ari to tell her all about Greek wedding customs. Her eyes were sparkling, alive with laughter and that thirst for knowledge Dimitri so admired in her, but they were only for Ari. She had yet, he noted sourly, to favor her new husband with anything other than an accusing glare. To have, to hold, and to by God look him in the eye, he thought, vowing to set up a few rules between them before the night was over. He'd done his duty by marrying her. The least she could do was take her duties a little more seriously. He was, after all, her husband. She ought to be showing him a little more respect. A lot more, in fact.

  When the meal was finally over, an even surlier Dimitri escorted the ladies upstairs, leaving Ari to drool over the vast assortment of cigars at the stand in the lobby. When they reached their room, he stepped between the two women as he opened the door.