RNWMP: Bride for Dermot (Mail Order Mounties Book 7)

by Cassie Hayes

  “Hey, would you look at that! It only took one match this time, Star.”

  Once the fire blazed hot and strong, Dermot used a small hatchet to chop a few sturdy branches to serve as supports for a lean-to. Careful to not set it too close to the fire, he draped the oil cloth tarp over the frame and secured the corners to the ground with four spikes. The spare spike he kept in the kit would have made a good replacement for the broken linchpin, but he had nothing to file it down with and it was too big as-is.

  “Did you see how she looked at me earlier, when I got Clara down from the tree?” he absentmindedly asked his horse, or maybe God. “It almost seemed as if she actually liked me. For a minute.”

  She’d gazed up at him like he hung the moon, and his heart had swelled with love for her. More than anything in the world — more than taking over his father’s lumber concern, more than basking in the attentions of a bevy of beautiful ladies, more than returning to the city he loved — Dermot wanted Isabelle to look at him that way every day for the rest of his life.

  But it didn’t matter how handsome he was, or how deep his dimples were. A woman wanted a husband who could provide for her and keep her safe, not put her in danger anytime they left the cabin together. And for a few minutes that afternoon, he’d been that man. He’d saved her from falling and rescued Clara…then promptly got them lost.

  She was probably off plotting her escape back to Ottawa at that very moment. The letter from her mother must have triggered her change in attitude, and he couldn’t help wondering why. Hopefully, she would tell him before she left, and he knew in his heart she would leave. After all, why would she stay with a man who’d survived the last year and a half by sheer luck?

  The rustling of the bushes brought him back to the here and now, and his hand dropped to his gun. When the light from the fire showed Isabelle pushing her way into the clearing, he released a lungful of air in relief. She stopped mid-stride and stared.

  “Oh!” she said, her gaze sweeping their campsite.

  For the first time since she’d walked away, he surveyed his surroundings. Darkness had nearly engulfed them, but the fire shed enough light to see Star placidly chomping on her feed, tied off to a log situated close to the blazing fire. The lean-to he’d just finished stabilizing would offer protection from the elements, as well as funnel warmth from the fire inside. He’d even brought Clara’s crate into the lean-to so she’d be safely contained and kept warm. Without even realizing what he was doing, Dermot had performed the tasks he’d been trained to use to survive in the wilderness. A flush of pride warmed his face.

  “Did you catch anything?” he asked lightly, trying not to hope she had. His stomach paid no mind to his hopes, and rumbled loudly.

  “Two,” she answered quietly, almost thoughtfully.

  Clara poked her head out from Isabelle’s coat and chirped. Dermot had found a bottle of milk and a rag in her crate, and reached for her.

  “If you like, I’ll feed her while you work your magic on those conies.”

  She stared up at him for a moment, emotions he couldn’t identify swirling with the light from the flickering flames in her eyes. With a curt nod, she passed the cub to him and got to work.

  An hour later, Clara was sleeping like the well-fed baby she was, and Isabelle was offering him a rabbit on a spit.

  “It’s the best I could do with what I had,” she muttered, pulling her own spit from the fire.

  Dermot wanted to apologize for not replenishing his supplies, for not replacing the small pot he normally carried with him, for getting them lost in the first place, but he sensed it would be in his favor to remain as silent as possible. And so they ate their meal without speaking, the sounds of the crackling fire and Clara soft snoring filling the void that had mysteriously developed between them.

  After picking the bones clean, Dermot tossed the remains into the fire and leaned back against a log he’d rolled into the shelter as back support. He sighed with pleasure as he stared into the yellow and orange flames. “That was a fine meal, Isabelle. Thank you.”

  Color danced in her cheeks, but he couldn’t tell if it was from his compliment or the fire. His heart leapt when she leaned back too, her arm skimming his. If she despised him, she wouldn’t sit so close…unless it was simply for warmth.

  “Are you cold?” he asked, reaching for the wool blanket.

  “Not really.”

  So she actually wanted to sit close to him. Progress!

  After draping the blanket across both their legs, Dermot put his hands behind his head and stared into the night sky. Faintly at first, then growing brighter, the northern lights began flashing brilliant blues, greens, and reds. Isabelle gasped and snuggled in close to him, her eyes wide with wonder.

  Smiling, Dermot glanced around, once again impressed that his Mountie training had kicked in and he’d actually set up a reasonably comfortable situation. They had shelter, fire and full bellies, and they knew which direction to take to make it out of the woods.

  “Wow,” he breathed, “look what we did.”

  Isabelle nudged him with her shoulder, sending up fresh sparks of hope from the flame of his love.

  “Together.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “Together.”

  Chapter 10

  Isabelle woke rested and refreshed, which surprised her. Not only had she assumed the below-freezing temperatures would keep her awake, but Maryanne had warned her Clara would need to be fed in the middle of the night. The kitten certainly wasn’t shy about communicating her needs, but Isabelle hadn’t heard a single chirp from her.

  Stretching, she found her body had been covered with the lone wool blanket Dermot kept in the wagon. She’d fallen asleep curled up next to him, with the fire and their body heat keeping them warm, but the grey light of morning revealed he was gone.

  She sat up, but didn’t have to look far to find him. He was crouched next to the fire, poking at a few glowing embers mixed in with the grey ash and looking thoughtful.

  “Morning,” she said through a big yawn that would have horrified her prim and proper mother.

  A smile touched his lips, but his irresistible dimples remained hidden. “Morning. Wish I had coffee for you.”

  “That’s okay. Dermot, you look exhausted. Did you stay up all night?”

  “I caught a few winks here and there, but I didn’t want the fire to go out, then Clara needed feeding, then I pulled a nail from Clara’s crate to use as a linchpin, plus I wanted to keep watch in case our dinner caught the attention of wolves…or worse.”

  She knew what worse meant — either bears or Clara’s mother. As much as she adored sweet, cuddly Clara, Isabelle was under no illusions the kitten could become a pet. She was a wild animal and needed to be returned to her mother as soon as her leg had healed enough. As it was, her mother was desperately searching for her, and a desperate cougar was not any kind of cougar Isabelle wanted to meet.

  “You should have woken me up. I could have taken a turn.”

  Dermot shook his head, his left dimple popping out — or rather, in. “You’re a wonder to me, Isabelle. You know that?”

  Even though the morning air was freezing cold, her entire body warmed at his compliment. Rodney would never consider her a wonder.

  “Why?”

  Instead of answering, Dermot poked at another orange ember. “Do you know why I became a Mountie?”

  “Because Mounties are heroes?” He’d told her that before when she’d asked, but this time he shook his head.

  “No. I did it out of greed.”

  This puzzled Isabelle. While Dermot certainly had a propensity for self-centeredness, she’d never call him greedy. But instead of arguing, she fell silent and let him work through his thoughts.

  “My family lived quite comfortably when I was young, but then George Carmack and Skookum Jim found gold in Bonanza Creek, and everything changed. To put it bluntly, Father built his vast lumber empire on the backs of miners seeking their fortunes i
n the Klondike. For the few short years of the stampede north, he supplied much of the lumber to the boomtowns that popped up along the route.”

  Isabelle had been a child during the Klondike Gold Rush, but she’d been fascinated with all the stories that poured into the eastern papers. Her father, of course, had scoffed at all the men scurrying off to seek gold, insisting that all the good claims had already been taken.

  “They’re fools who would rather risk death for the chance to strike it rich, than work a steady job for a reasonable wage,” he’d rail at the dinner table.

  As a major employer in Ottawa, she’d understood why he thought that way, but the idea of striking out on such an adventure had thrilled her adolescent heart. As she sat and listened to Dermot, she realized it thrilled her adult heart as well.

  “By the time the prospectors moved on to richer pastures a few years later, he was one of the richest men in Vancouver, and continues to be. As a young man, I took full advantage of his wealth and status, which led me into trouble more times than I care to count.”

  Isabelle tried not to smile. A man as handsome and charming as Dermot, with a virtually unlimited supply of money, could get into some real pickles, if he wasn’t careful.

  “Two years ago, my father bailed me out one too many times and gave me an ultimatum. Join the Mounties and serve our country with honor for five full years, or be disinherited.” He glanced over at her, shame filling his expression. “Obviously I chose the former, but only for the promise of great wealth later, when my father gave me control of his lumber concerns. My intentions were far from honorable, I’m afraid.”

  Isabelle pursed her lips and nodded. “I understand. I think mine were about as noble.”

  He stared at her profile for a moment, then continued, “Being the son of a wealthy man, I thought I’d be given a cushy post near Vancouver, or at least somewhere in British Columbia, but my father had other plans. I don’t know for sure, but I suspect he specifically asked for me to be stationed in the Yukon. He probably thought it would turn me into a man faster — if it didn’t kill me first.”

  Isabelle chuckled, picturing a fancy young man expecting something different than what he got. Much like she had. “That must have been a shock for you.”

  “You know exactly what kind of shock it was,” he noted, as if reading her thoughts. “But it was too late to go back. If I quit, I’d be branded a deserter. Aside from losing my claim to the business, I’d also be imprisoned. I didn’t think anything could be worse than that. Then I spent my first winter in the Yukon.”

  Alarm flared in Isabelle’s chest. “That bad?”

  His entire reply was a raised eyebrow and a shudder.

  “But then the strangest thing happened. Once spring rolled around and the world began to thaw, I realized I love this job and this place. I know I’m not very good at some parts, but I actually excel at most of it. More than anything though, I love helping people. The members of the Kaska band have become true friends, truer than any I had in Vancouver.”

  “I know what you mean. Aside from Lisa, Maryanne and Elaine, who are like sisters to me already, Janey is probably the best friend I could ever have. But why do you say you’re not good at your job?”

  He shot her a sardonic look. “Now you’re the one who’s joking. As often as I get lost though, I always somehow manage to find my way home.”

  A shiver rippled along Isabelle’s arms at his words, and she didn’t understand why. Pulling the blanket around her shoulders, she felt something rustle in her coat pocket. The letter. Now was not the time. She pushed all thoughts of it — and the decision she had to make — from her mind, and turned her attention back to Dermot, who was looking around their little clearing.

  “You know, I used to think beauty lay in the mirror. I never knew the true meaning of the word until I came here. It took a while for my eyes to open to it, but now I see beauty wherever I look.”

  He turned his gaze on her, sending another chill along the fine hairs of her arms. She wanted to shift her eyes back to the fire, but he held her captive as he spoke.

  “Beauty — true beauty — has many different faces, and it’s so much more than skin deep.”

  Only when he turned back to the nearly dead fire was she able to breathe again. Funny, she hadn’t even noticed she’d been holding her breath.

  “I’ve never told anyone the real reason I became a Mountie, you know.”

  “Why?”

  “My father always used to admire Mounties. When he gave me the ultimatum, I asked why the Mounties, and his answer was ‘Mounties are heroes’. Since the idea was his, I adopted his reason. But I do want to be a hero, Isabelle. I want to be your hero.”

  Once again, she had to force herself to breathe as her mind raced. She’d never had a man open his heart to her like that, to reveal his vulnerability, and it touched her in a way she never would have expected. Speaking so frankly must have been terribly difficult for him, and she longed to go to him, to tell him she wanted the same thing, but the letter in her pocket stopped her.

  Mustering a smile, she stood and began folding the blanket. “You’re not bad at your job, Dermot. You just have a terrible sense of direction. Now, how about getting us home?”

  They barely spoke while Dermot manhandled the buckboard out of the woods and Isabelle led Star by the reins, and even fewer words were exchanged after they got back on the road. After a sleepless night of thinking, he’d laid his soul bare to her, hoping his confession would lead her to share what was troubling her. Instead, her reaction had been to change the subject. He didn’t think his heart could hurt any more than it did in that moment.

  Then she began talking.

  “The letter I received from my mother…” she started, stopping to pull the envelope from her pocket and flip it end over end as she spoke. “It caught me off-guard, and I’m afraid I didn’t handle the news well. For that, I apologize.”

  “What was the news?”

  Isabelle chewed on her lower lip for a moment before taking a deep breath. “It seems my former fiancé wants me to return to Ottawa and resume our courtship.”

  Star could have kicked him in the head and he wouldn’t have been as knocked off kilter as hearing that Isabelle had been engaged before. What else was she hiding? He knew she was waiting for a response, but he could barely see straight. Speaking wasn’t an option. His leather gloves creaked as his fingers tightened on the reins.

  “My parents arranged the match, you see, and we were supposed to have been married at the New Year, but he broke things off.”

  That didn’t make Dermot feel any better. The fresh wound of a broken engagement meant her broken heart hadn’t had time to heal, and a broken heart had no capacity to love another. He’d never stood a chance at capturing her heart.

  “Of course he didn’t tell me he no longer wanted to marry me until after he’d already married someone else. Someone of a…um…a lower social standing than myself. You can understand better than anyone the disgrace I felt. Marriages of the type I was destined for were purely practical arrangements. The husband provided a life of comfortable luxury for the wife, and for her part, the wife took an active role in maintaining or even advancing his social standing.”

  He knew the type she meant — his parents, for example — but remained mute.

  “Apparently, Rodney regrets his decision and now wants me to return to Ottawa so we can fulfill the commitment we made to each other.”

  “I see,” he said through clenched teeth.

  Dermot began to wonder if her marrying him in the first place had simply been a ploy to make this Rodney chap see the error of his ways. If so, it seemed to have worked.

  “I’m not sure you do, Dermot. I was born into that life. Not only was it expected of me to marry the man my parents chose for me, I expected it for myself. Every dance lesson I took, every ball I attended, every acquaintance I made was to further my standing so I’d become a sought-after commodity.”

&nbs
p; “I understand perfectly,” he snapped, his tone not inviting further comment.

  And he did understand. Admittedly, the upper crust of Vancouver was slightly rougher than in Ottawa, where old money reigned supreme, but the same rules applied. Young ladies vied for the attentions of the wealthiest men first, which was one of the reasons his father had sent him off into the wild. Too many admirers, too little maturity.

  But now that he’d grown into himself and found the woman he wanted to love forever, she was going back to her old way of life. Not that he could really blame her — the life of a Mountie’s wife would never be easy or comfortable — but that didn’t take the pain away.

  In fact, he’d been thinking more and more about extending his contract with the RNWMP, but with Isabelle vacillating on whether she wanted to stay or leave, he’d put it out of his mind. If she had decided to stay and commit to their fragile union, he’d have discussed the subject with her. But it seemed that letter had made her mind up for her, which made up his. He’d remain in the Yukon indefinitely and help the people he’d grown to love — as well as give his heart time to heal.

  Their — no, his — cabin came into view and Star sped up a little, anxious to turn her back on a hard night and finally get some rest. Probably exactly how Isabelle felt too. Almost before the buckboard stopped moving, he was on the ground and tending to Star.

  “Dermot—“

  “I need to get Star watered and properly fed,” he interrupted, turning his back on Isabelle.

  He felt her presence for a moment before her footsteps led her to the cabin. It was their wedding night all over again, but instead of just getting married, now they were getting divorced.

  Annulled, he reminded himself. As if it never happened.

  “What am I going to do without her, huh girl?” he whispered to Star as he took his time brushing her down.

  No sense in hurrying inside, where Isabelle waited to drive the final nail in the coffin that held his heart. Finally, he couldn’t put it off any longer. It was time to face the music.