Wendy: The Bewildering Bride (The Brides of Paradise Ranch - Sweet Version Book 3)

by Merry Farmer

  When they reached her door, they stopped and faced each other.

  “Here we are,” Travis said.

  Wendy made herself smile. “Yes, I suppose so.”

  He let out a soft laugh.

  She loosened her grip, sliding her hand out of his arm, but he caught her fingers and lifted them to his lips. The kiss he placed on her knuckles sent sparks of longing straight up her arm and through to her core. The desperate longing and sadness in his eyes only intensified the feeling. When he let her hand go, it was as if she was a ship that had come loose from its moorings and began to drift.

  “So I guess we...” He took a step away, then another, then turned.

  “No,” she called out, heart nearly leaping up through her throat. “No, Travis, no.”

  He pivoted toward her, and in two steps he was so close that she could feel the heat of his body. “No?”

  She shook her head, terrified that she would burst into tears at any moment. “No, calling off our marriage is not what I want. It’s the last thing that I want,” she burst, not caring who might overhear them in the public hallway.

  Travis drew in a breath. The sadness in his expression melted into something far more powerful and heated. He raised his hands to cup both sides of her face, then leaned toward her to capture her lips in a kiss of such passion that it left her dizzy. It was no quick peck either. His mouth encompassed hers, drawing her toward him body and soul. He teased her lips with his tongue, and when she opened to him, he slipped inside to explore more deeply. The heat and intimacy of his kiss tipped her off-balance and made her want to disappear into him.

  Behind them the click of a door opening was followed by a man’s surprised grunt and, “Oh, dear me. I’m so sorry.”

  Wendy gasped, and Travis stepped back, though his hands remained on Wendy’s face.

  “Sorry, sir.” He nodded to the man standing in his doorway a few yards away. “My wife and I were just…” He didn’t finish. Instead, he reached for the handle of Wendy’s door.

  Wendy giggled at the absurdity of the situation. Her door was locked, and she had to fumble for the key in her pocket before she and Travis could escape the censure of the other hotel guest. As soon as she turned the key, Travis pushed the door open, then drew her inside, shutting the door behind her, a little too forcefully.

  “That was—”

  She didn’t have a chance to say how awkward being caught was. Travis swept up to her, closing his arms around her and kissing her again with double the passion from the hallway. His hands pressed into her back, bringing her flush against him, as he nibbled at her lips, traced his tongue along hers.

  More than a week’s worth of holding everything inside, telling herself she barely knew this man and her desire was inappropriate, fell to pieces. She circled her arms around Travis’s strong back, digging her fingertips into his solid muscles. Reason and sense and every logical argument of why the two of them would never work flew from her mind. The only thing she cared about was that this man was her husband and that she wanted him to be in every way.

  “I don’t want to call it off either,” Travis panted. “I want everything that is the opposite of calling it off.”

  “Me too,” Wendy answered from the depths of her heart.

  “I don’t care what anyone else things, and I don’t care if I have to walk five miles in a blizzard every day, I want you.”

  “And I want you,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around him. “I want you as my husband, my helper, my friend. And I want to be yours, Travis, all yours.”

  A calm smiled filled his handsome face. He brushed a lock of hair from her forehead, tracing the line of her cheek to her jaw. When he brushed her neck, she shivered with excitement and longing.

  “We will be each other’s,” he said. “No matter what anyone else says. We will be a team.”

  He underscored his words by leaning forward to kiss her with a passion that would take all night to be satisfied. The time was right, the moment to begin their married life had arrived.

  It was hours later, when Wendy lay snuggled against Travis’s inside in bed, drifting off to sleep at last, that the rest of the world rushed back to them. Without warning, Travis gasped and sat bolt-upright.

  “What?” Wendy sat with him, holding him closer.

  A moment later, he dissolved into laughter, laying down again. “We were supposed to go back down to the ballroom to sew at six-thirty.”

  Wendy blinked, her passion-sated mind catching up. She laughed. “We could still go?”

  Travis made a noise, and rolled her to her back under the sheets. “Or we could not.”

  She circled her arms around his neck, letting out a breath and writhing under him. “Or we could not.”

  Travis kissed her, long and lingering. The faintest hint of tension took over from his sated amusement. “We’ll make this work,” he murmured.

  “Hmm?” As far as Wendy was concerned, there was nothing in the world besides the two of them there in bed.

  “Whatever it takes,” Travis went on. “Whatever it means. We will make this marriage work.”

  Wendy pressed a smile into the salty warmth of his shoulder. “I know we will, my love. How could we not?”

  Chapter 10

  Sunday morning dawned over Haskell with as much excitement as if it were Christmas. The ladies of Haskell lined up in the lobby of The Cattleman Hotel first thing, ready to don their dresses for a final fitting and to wear to church. The buzz of excited conversation was almost enough to reach upstairs to the guest rooms.

  Almost.

  Wendy stretched and breathed a contented sigh, her leg sliding down along Travis’s as she uncoiled herself from his side. The competition knocked away at the back of her mind, but for the moment, all she wanted to think about was the comforting scent of her husband’s skin and the steadiness of his chest rising and falling beside her.

  “Is it morning already?” he asked, stretching away.

  “I’d rather it wasn’t.”

  Wendy followed her comment with a low laugh. It was a small miracle that she’d been able to get any work done at all in the last two days, since that glorious night when Travis had followed her up to her room. They’d kissed and caressed and explored all through that night, then put on masks of innocence and determination when they went down to the ballroom on Friday to work on the dresses. Travis had made a trip out to Paradise Ranch to gather his belongings over lunch on Friday, and by that night, half the town knew that he had moved into the hotel with her. Whispers had flown back and forth that Bonneville wasn’t happy, but Bonneville had also been banned from the hotel until the competition was over.

  Travis rolled to his side, pulling Wendy into his arms and kissing her forehead, her nose, and then her lips. “Are you ready to go down there and win yourself a dress shop?”

  Wendy laughed, suddenly nervous. “Who’s to say I’ll actually win?”

  “Me.”

  Travis leaned in for another kiss. As desperately as Wendy wanted to let go of everything and rekindle her newfound passion in his arms, sense got the better of her. She barely let her lips touch his before wriggling free with a reluctant sigh.

  “It’s past seven already,” she said, climbing out of bed.

  “No it’s not, it’s…” Travis’s jaw dropped as he squinted at the clock on the mantle.

  Wendy frowned, turning to see what he saw.

  “Good heavens.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “It’s ten ’til eight. We’re supposed to be downstairs in ten minutes to fit and finish the dresses.”

  She raced to the washbowl and pitcher on the table in the corner and set about frantically washing up.

  “Ten minutes?” Travis joined her at the wash table, his mind only just catching up.

  All of Wendy’s panic turned to laughter as she glanced sideways and saw his beet-red face. “We’re in a fine state,” she managed, running the damp rag across her overheated body.

  “You can
say that again.” Travis met her eyes with a good amount of horror, then burst into laughter himself.

  By some miracle, they managed to clean themselves up enough to be presentable, and to dress in Sunday clothes. By eight-fifteen, they were rushing down the hotel’s main staircase, hand in hand. The ballroom doors were already open, and a small crowd waited around Wendy’s table.

  “There you are.” Estelle Tremaine, breathed out a sigh of relief as Wendy and Travis hurried over to the rack of dresses. “Whatever kept the two of you upstairs for so long?”

  Wendy exchanged a guilty glance with Travis. His face was still bright red, and she was certain hers wasn’t any better.

  “Overslept.” Travis gave their excuse, then crossed behind Wendy, disappearing on the other side of the rack of dresses where he could hide.

  “Mmm hmm.” Estelle crossed her arms and grinned at Wendy. Katie Murphy, Olivia Garrett, and Lucy Faraday—also waiting for their dresses—gave her the same sort of look.

  “We were newlyweds once too,” Lucy said.

  “But never mind that,” Katie cut her off. “I want to try on my dress.”

  The next hour was a flurry of activity—far too much for Wendy to keep any thoughts of relations between her and Travis in the front of her mind.

  “It’s too tight,” Mrs. Kline lamented at the other side of the room.

  “It is not.” Melinda argued with her. “You’ve just been eating too many of those bonbons your husband sells.”

  “Why, I never,” Mrs. Kline balked.

  “Oh, really?” Melinda sassed her.

  “This hem is a bit uneven,” Mrs. Plover said.

  Wendy spared enough of a glance to see that, yes, the left side of the dress Melinda had made for Mrs. Plover was a good six inches higher than the right side.

  “That’s Honoria’s fault,” Melinda snapped. “My design was flawless.”

  “I didn’t sew Mrs. Plover’s hem,” Honoria said, almost too quiet for Wendy to hear as she repined a bit of lace on Estelle’s gown.

  “Shut up, Honoria!” Melinda shouted.

  Wendy’s heart went out to Honoria, but there wasn’t time for much more than that. “A few stitches right here and this lace will lay perfectly,” she smiled at Estelle.

  “It’s beautiful,” Estelle sighed. “And it fits me like a glove.”

  “Well done, Wendy,” Lucy said.

  “Well done, Travis,” Wendy corrected her. “He sewed almost all of the seams on Estelle’s dress.”

  The ladies hummed their surprise and approval.

  “Good job,” Lucy congratulated Travis, who was still trying to hide behind the table while Wendy finished with details.

  “Anything I could do to help my wife,” Travis replied.

  “So I suppose you’ll be looking for a job in her dress shop now,” Lucy went on. “Considering Rex Bonneville’s gone and hired Billy Reeder for that job we all thought you were going to take.”

  Wendy poked herself with the needle as she sewed Estelle’s lace. “What?” She jerked her head up from her work.

  Across the table, Travis’s eyes had gone round and his jaw had hardened.

  Lucy blushed and slapped a hand to her mouth. A moment later, she pulled it away. “Didn’t you know?”

  “Know what?” Travis asked.

  “That Bonneville threw you over and gave your job to Billy on Friday,” Katie said. “Everyone in town knows.”

  “I’ve been busy.” Travis ran a hand through his hair.

  Wendy finished with Estelle’s lace, clipped the tail of the thread, then turned to Travis. “It’s all right. We’ll figure something out. We’ll—”

  “Ladies.” Mr. Gunn strode into the ballroom clapping their hands to get everyone’s attention. “Mrs. Montrose, Miss Bonneville, please put your needles down. Time is up.”

  Time was up. Travis had never been so sure of anything in his life. His job with Bonneville was gone. His job with Howard too. There he was, jobless with a wife to support, living in a hotel. He could have slapped himself. For the last few days, all he could think about was how beautiful and talented and passionate his wife was. All he wanted to do when they weren’t working side-by-side to achieve her dreams was slip around between the sheets with her. But his blind desire and his good intentions had ruined him.

  “It will be all right,” Wendy insisted, taking his arm and marching him out of the ballroom along with the parade of ladies in their new dresses.

  “I’ve let you down,” he muttered, furious with himself. “That will never be all right.”

  Wendy tugged him to a stop. Everyone else swept ahead, chattering at they left the hotel.

  “Travis, you are the only person I know who has never let me down.”

  He shook his head, neck stiff. “I let a good job slip through my fingers. Two good jobs. How am I supposed to uphold my wedding vows to protect and provide for you now?”

  “I don’t recall protecting and providing being explicitly your responsibility in those vows.” She swayed toward him, going on before he could argue. “You have done more to love, honor, and cherish me than anyone ever has. You supported my dream when most men would have demanded I give up sewing to keep house for them. You made that booth for me and you picked up a needle and sewed for me.”

  The gnawing frustration in Travis’s gut subsided a little. “I did.” He breathed out a sigh. “But that doesn’t change the fact that we have no place to live.”

  Much to Travis’s surprise, a grin of triumph spread across Wendy’s full lips. “At least we won’t have to worry about where to make our nest.”

  “What?”

  Her smile widened, and she clasped his hand. “Travis, I’ve been so worried about how we could blend our two lives together. I’ve been beside myself figuring how you could do your ranching work and I could do my seamstress work at the same time.”

  “It’s still a problem. The only work I know how to do around here is ranching. I could look for a position with someone other than Howard or Bonneville, but it would probably involve moving.” The more he thought about it, the sicker his stomach felt. “And Bonneville has probably put the word out to his friends not to hire me.”

  Wendy shook her head and squeezed his hand harder. “There is so much more that you can do, Travis Montrose. We may not know what will happen for us tomorrow,” she raced on before he could interrupt, “but neither can we rule out that this newfound freedom might be exactly what we need to find a solution that works for both of us.”

  He wanted so desperately to believe her. His chest squeezed tight, and his heart ached for her to be right. In spite of the pain of uncertainty, Travis smiled.

  “You’re so much stronger than me, you know that?”

  Her grin flashed with mischief. “Maybe. Or maybe I’ve just had more twists of fate that have made my life better when I thought it would be worse. Like marrying you.”

  He couldn’t argue with that. He let his shoulders relax, then leaned forward to kiss her, quickly but passionately. She was right. Nothing at all in the way they had come together or the way their relationship had progressed was expected. This was just one more twist in their road. He adjusted her hand in his and started for the hotel door.

  “Let’s go win a competition, Mrs. Montrose, and then we’ll figure out what to do next.”

  By the time they made it to the church, almost the entire town of Haskell was brimming with excitement. Knowing that not a soul would listen to his sermon without it, Rev. Pickering invited the ladies of Haskell to parade down the aisle, displaying their finery. Travis watched the show from his seat beside Wendy at the front of the church. The Bonnevilles usually took up the front pew on the right—which they saw as their due—and Howard and his family generally sat on the left, but that morning, Howard invited Wendy to sit in his place.

  “Of course, I think that one is the best,” Melinda said in a stage whisper to Vivian as Mrs. Milligan made her way down the aisle, head held
high, expression proud.

  “No one would doubt it,” Vivian replied, her false whisper as good as a shout. “Ugh, what is that hideous thing?” she went on to say when Estelle reached the front of the church and turned to show off the dress Wendy had made.

  “It’s…it’s…” Melinda worked her jaw and studied the dress, evidently failing to find an insult to hurl at it. “It’s such a stupid color,” she said at last.

  “It’s lovely and sophisticated,” Honoria murmured.

  “Shut up, Honoria,” Vivian and Melinda snapped in unison.

  On the chancel, Rev. Pickering cleared his throat. “Ladies, if you please. That was a fine display of the beauty and talent that Our Father has granted to women. And now, if you will take your seats, today’s lesson will be about the devotion of women, as shown to us in the song of Miriam after the Children of Israel crossed the Red Sea.”

  Travis squirmed in the pew as everyone returned to her seats. Several of Wendy’s clients stopped to squeeze her hand or wish her well, but once everyone was seated, all there was to do was wait. Wait and think. And however Travis tried to look at the situation, all he saw was uncertainty and failure. He had failed as a husband before he had much of a chance to be one.

  “Stop fretting,” Wendy whispered to him as they stood to sing the final hymn. “You’re in church. You’d be better off praying.”

  “I’m doing that too,” he murmured back to her.

  She chuckled and shook her head, then launched into singing the hymn.

  Through Travis’s worry, the thought struck him that, all in all, things could have turned out much worse. At least he had Wendy to stand beside him, even if the two of them had no idea where they were standing.

  As soon as the hymn ended, the church burst into activity once again. Before the congregation could do more than stand, Theophilus Gunn marched down the aisle with the town’s wooden voting box and a thin stack of papers in hand. Howard met him at the front of the church, and together they turned to the expectant congregation.

  “Ladies and…well, mostly ladies,” Howard began. “We have come to the moment of truth for Haskell’s first dressmaking competition.”