Mistaken Bride

by Renee Ryan

  As he caught Will’s eyes on him, a dark scowl spread across Cam’s face. He pushed away from the tree and headed in his direction. “You got something to say to me?”

  “Just watching the show.” Will grinned. “What was that about, anyway?”

  “It was the strangest thing.” Cam shrugged. “Nora suggested I hire some eighteen-year-old kid I met last week, one of the passengers she knew aboard ship.”

  “And you laughed at her.” Will shook his head. “Badly done, my friend.”

  “I thought she was fooling with me.” Cam slapped his hat against his thigh. “But she really wants me to hire the boy on as my deputy.”

  “You already have a deputy.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I told her.” He ran a hand through his hair. “That’s when the finger poking began.”

  Will tried not to smile at his friend. Focusing on the practical points of the discussion helped. “Can Faith Glen afford another deputy?”

  “The city can barely afford Ben.”

  Cam looked about as miserable as Will had ever seen him. Despite his gruff exterior the man hated letting people down. Will gave it one week, maybe two before Cam was in possession of a new deputy sheriff. And if the city couldn’t pay, Cam would do so out of his own pocket. “I’m confident you’ll work it out.”

  “Yeah, I will. Right now.” He strode purposely toward the house.

  Watching him go, Will almost pitied Nora Murphy. She was about to discover the consequences of walking away from Cameron Long when he wasn’t finished having his say. But after watching their previous interaction Will figured she could hold her own.

  He turned back to check on the others.

  Bridget pulled out of her sister’s embrace. The fading sun caught her hair just right, hugging her in a ray of soft, golden light. The effect was so stunning Will had to swallow back the sudden lump clogging in his throat. She looked beautiful with the overgrown garden as a backdrop, approachable as always, yet warmer and more inviting than before they’d met in the hallway.

  They’d crossed a line in their relationship and Will wasn’t altogether sorry for it.

  But if he allowed the pretty Irish lass to squirm her way deeper into his life there would be unforeseen repercussions. He had his children to think of, as well as his mother and a load of dark memories that made it necessary to guard his heart more carefully than other men.

  Yet for one brief moment when she turned her head and smiled over at him, all Will could think was: Yes.

  * * *

  Flynn Gallagher sauntered into Will’s study an hour later. Will wasn’t surprised the doctor was alone. The man’s pretty wife had lured the twins into a game of marbles as soon as they’d arrived.

  After being shooed out of his mother’s room while Flynn conducted his examination, Will had taken the opportunity to review a stack of invoices. Now, as Flynn shut the door behind him, Will shoved the pile aside and looked up expectantly.

  “Your mother is extremely healthy for a woman her age.” He flashed a broad smile. “Correction, she’s extremely healthy for a woman of any age.”

  Will’s heart contracted in relief. “So she is out of the woods at last.”

  Flynn moved deeper into the room, his gaze lingering a moment on the dog sleeping contentedly on a makeshift bed of worn blankets. Will glanced ruefully at the snoring animal. So much for his stipulation that Digger remain out of doors.

  “I didn’t say your mother was out of the woods,” Flynn corrected. “I said she was healthy.”

  Will rose, came around the desk, every movement precise and controlled. “What, exactly, does that mean?”

  “It means that you must ensure she continues eating regular meals and resting whenever she’s tired. Under no circumstances should she overtax herself.”

  Good advice, in theory. But Esther Black was a stubborn woman. “How will I know if she’s overdone it?”

  “I’ll leave a list of the signs to look for.”

  “Good. Anything else I should know?”

  “No. However—” the doctor stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned back on his heels “—I can’t stress enough the importance of rest.”

  Mulling this over, Will nodded. “So I need to bully her.”

  Flynn chuckled. “If that’s what it takes, yes.”

  “Fair enough.” Rubbing a hand down his face, Will wondered why he wasn’t more relieved by this report. His mother had been suffering from a simple case of exhaustion. This was good news, yet something in him couldn’t let go and rejoice.

  Flynn reached down and ruffled Digger’s fur. “Your mother claims she’s been feeling better ever since Bridget became the children’s nanny.”

  “Your sister-in-law’s influence on my family has been nothing short of remarkable.”

  And that, Will realized, was the problem. His mother’s recovery was directly due to Bridget’s appearance on the scene. If they lost her, or if Will ran her off, the Black household would fall apart again.

  His family had become completely dependent on Bridget Murphy. His children adored her. His mother was growing stronger by the day. Even the stray dog owed his position in the household to her.

  As if to punctuate this last point, Digger kicked out in his sleep and gurgled a sort of happy dog laugh.

  “What about you?” Flynn asked, his voice no longer sounding like a doctor but a protective older brother. “Has Bridget made an impact on you, as well?”

  Will had no idea what to say. Not because he was hedging, or stalling, but because he simply had no idea what to say. “There are many ways to answer that question.”

  “How about going with the truth.”

  The truth. Bridget deserved nothing less. “Yes, she’s impacted me, as well. More than I thought possible.”

  Flynn’s piercing stare seemed to probe all the way down to his soul. “I have one final question for you.”

  Bracing himself, Will nodded.

  “What are your intentions toward my sister?”

  Astonished at his reaction to the question, Will had to fight back a rush of tangled emotions twisting through him—anger, guilt, hope, despair. His roving gaze landed on Bridget Collins’ baggage.

  Flynn’s gaze followed his, and then narrowed in recognition. No wonder, the doctor had been the one to sign Miss Collins’s luggage over to Will.

  “Just one week ago you were set to marry another woman, a woman you’d sent all the way to Ireland for.” The man’s face was full of hard, intense lines. “You cannot be thinking of replacing her with my sister-in-law.”

  When spoken that plainly, in that flat tone, Will realized the terrible repercussion of his attempt to “hire” a bride. He should have never sent for Bridget Collins, no matter how desperate he’d been. He should have had more faith and allowed the Lord to reveal his next step. Instead, Will had taken matters into his own hands.

  “No,” he said at last. “It is not my intention to replace my intended bride with your sister-in-law.”

  “Then what is your plan?”

  A valid question, one he could have answered a week ago but not today. “I…don’t know.”

  Flynn moved closer, continuing forward until he was standing toe to toe with Will, his arms crossed over his chest in angry deviance. “You better decide soon.”

  An unspoken warning hung in the air between them.

  Although Will knew Flynn was right—he did need to decide what he was going to do about Bridget—he bristled at the man’s aggressive stance. “And if I don’t make up my mind?”

  “I’ll take her away from you, and Faith Glen, if need be. I’ll move her to Boston, anything to prevent her from being hurt again.”

  “Again?” Will picked up
on the word like a dog on point. “Who hurt Bridget?” He nearly grabbed the man by his lapels. “Tell me.”

  As though realizing he’d said too much, Flynn stepped back, hands spread in a show of capitulation. “I can say no more. It’s not my story to share.”

  “Tell me.”

  “It happened a year ago, back in Ireland, before I knew her.” Flynn took another step back. “I don’t know all the details, only the main points. What I do know is that it was quite a scandal, and…she was devastated.”

  Dread chased across his spine. Will knew all about scandal, the pain, the whispers and, yes, even the devastation. What had Bridget endured? “Tell me what happened.”

  No longer on the offense, Flynn gave him a sympathetic grimace, as though he knew the information he was about to share would change everything.

  “Bridget was left at the altar.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  When Cameron Long dropped Bridget at Will’s house the next morning before proceeding to the jail house with Nora, Bridget discovered Will had already left for the day. Disappointment spread through her and all she could do was stare at Esther in silent regret. She’d arrived early for the sole purpose of seeing Will again.

  “Bridget, dear.” Esther crossed to her and set a hand on her arm. “Are you ill? You look pale.”

  She forced a smile onto her lips. “I’m perfectly well.”

  She lied, of course. She wasn’t well. She was full of frustration and sadness and a strange sense of loss. She’d wanted to see Will this morning, needed to assure herself they were still on the same easy terms as yesterday. When he’d pulled her into his arms, and buried his face in her hair, and then whispered his gratitude in that sweet, gruff, serious tone of his.

  “Bridget?”

  “I… There is nothing wrong…I just…”

  Thankfully the sound of doggy toenails clicking on the floor spared her from responding further. She dropped to her knees and flung her arms around the animal. “Digger, my big furry friend,” she said a tad too brightly. “Good morning.”

  Caleb and Olivia rounded the corner next. Bridget opened her arms wider to include the two sleepy-eyed, rumple-haired children. Next thing she knew the four of them were rolling on the floor. It was a very inelegant, undignified moment, but when she swept a glance in Esther’s direction the older woman was smiling at the four of them.

  After another moment of play, Bridget scrambled to her feet, leaving the children and the dog to finish the game without her. Afraid to assess the damage, she ran a hand down her hair. Most of her curls had fallen free of her bun. Sighing in resignation, she pulled out the rest of her pins and let her hair tumble past her shoulders.

  “We’re going to do something different today,” she declared, clapping her hands a few times to gain the children’s attention.

  They looked up at her, their little faces expectant. Caleb spoke for them both. “We are? What?”

  “A picnic.”

  Heads tilted at a confused angle, they simply stared at her. Had they never been on a picnic? How sad. “We’re going to eat our lunch outside, on a blanket under a tree, and—” she had a stroke of genius “—we’re going to steal your father away from the mill so he can join us.”

  “What a lovely idea,” Esther said, pressing a corner of her apron to her eyes. “He’ll like that.”

  Caleb jumped to his feet. “Can we eat by the river?”

  Pleased by his excitement, Bridget nodded enthusiastically. “I think that can be arranged, unless your father has another suggestion.”

  “I’ll bring my boat, just in case.”

  “Splendid idea.”

  “Can Digger come, too?” Olivia was still on the floor with the dog, her arm looped across his shoulders.

  Bridget smiled softly at the child. “It wouldn’t be a family picnic without him.” She turned her smile onto Esther. “Will you join us, as well?”

  “I think I’ll stay home and rest.”

  At the strange note in Esther’s voice, a terrible thought came to Bridget’s mind. Flynn had been here last night. Had he found something wrong, something concerning Esther’s health? She was desperate to ask, but not in front of the twins.

  “Children, I need you to go back to your rooms and wait for me.” She used her firm, no-nonsense voice. “I’ll be there in a moment to help you pick out your clothes for the day.”

  They opened their mouths to grumble.

  Bridget spoke over them. “It’s important you wear the right clothing for our adventure.”

  Showing his displeasure at being sent away, Caleb scuffed the floor with his foot. Olivia sighed heavily. But they soon turned on their little feet and shuffled toward their room. Digger followed in their wake.

  Once she was certain the children were out of earshot, Bridget got straight to the point. “Esther, when Dr. Gallagher came by last night, did he find—” she stopped herself, not quite sure how to phrase the question “—something wrong?”

  “Oh, no, dear. I am quite well.” Esther waved a dismissive hand. “I’m healthy as a horse, according to the doctor.”

  That didn’t sound like something Flynn would say. “If that’s true then why won’t you come on the picnic with us?”

  “Because…” Esther fiddled with her apron, not quite meeting her gaze. “I have other plans.”

  Other plans? In all the time Bridget had worked in this home, Esther had never had other plans. “You do? With whom?”

  “A friend.” When she continued avoiding direct eye contact, Bridget couldn’t help but wonder about the identity of Esther’s friend.

  It wasn’t any of her business, of course. Yet she liked Will’s mother and worried about her. The older woman seemed to be hiding something, something secret.

  It is none of your business, Bridget reminded herself. “If you are certain—”

  “I am.”

  “Then I won’t press any further.”

  A loud bang came from the other side of the house and was followed by an equally loud bark.

  Esther looked positively relieved by the interruption. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  Bridget sighed. “I had better go see what’s happened.”

  “Very wise, my dear.” Esther practically shoved her out of the room.

  Bridget shifted out from under her hands and touched the older woman’s arm. “You are truly feeling well?”

  “Yes, Bridget.” She patted the hand on her arm. “I am well, but I thank you for worrying. It’s very kind of you.”

  “I care about you, Esther.” It was the simple truth.

  “I know, dear. You are a sweet girl and I—”

  Another louder bang rang out, practically rattling the windows. And then came a very loud, very heavy thud.

  “Miss Bridgeeet,” Caleb shouted at the top of his lungs. “Come quick. Digger broke Olivia’s chair.”

  “Oh, my.” She released Esther’s arm and hurried off.

  * * *

  The moment Will spied Bridget and the twins standing in the doorway of his office his heart tumbled in his chest. The picture they made personified family, a very happy, normal one.

  The mangy dog leaning against Bridget’s leg added the final touch to an already perfect scene. In fact, the mutt looked healthier than ever, and he appeared to be grinning at Will as if to say: Look what we have, old boy, a real, genuine family of our own, isn’t it grand?

  Yes, it was grand. And Will felt something move through him he hadn’t experienced in years. Happiness. The kind he wasn’t sure he deserved.

  “What’s all this?” he asked in a hoarse voice.

  “We’ve come to take you on a picnic,” Bridget declared, her eyes shining brigh
t.

  Staring into that beautiful, mesmerizing gaze, Will was tempted to pull her into his arms and bury his face in her hair as he had yesterday afternoon. How could any man leave such a kindhearted, lovely woman at the altar?

  For the third time in his life, Will felt the urge to punch another man. The first had been Harcourt Smythe, Fanny’s lover, the man she’d abandoned her family for. The second, Bridget’s Irish landlord. Now when he thought about the pain and humiliation Bridget must have suffered from her fiancé’s callousness, he wanted to inflict permanent damage to the rogue’s face. Will wasn’t normally prone to violence. Or so he’d always thought.

  Swallowing back his rising fury, he lowered his gaze, locking it on the basket hanging from her arm. She carried a blanket tucked up under the other.

  A picnic. Bridget wanted him to join them on a picnic.

  He ran a hand down his face, drew in a hard breath. He thought briefly of praying, but he wasn’t sure what he should lift up to the Lord. A prayer of thanksgiving for bringing this woman into his life? A prayer for strength so he could remember his goal wasn’t to find a woman for himself, but to provide stability for his children?

  Or perhaps he should just let down his guard for a few precious hours and enjoy time with his family.

  “You haven’t eaten already, have you?” Bridget’s question brought him back to the matter at hand.

  “No, I haven’t.” Even if he had, he wouldn’t admit it now, not with his children’s eager faces staring up at him and Bridget’s encouraging smile warming his heart. “Let me put away these ledgers and we’ll go.”

  “Lovely.”

  “I know the perfect place for our picnic,” he said as soon as they were heading down the hallway toward the back door.

  “Then we’ll let you lead the way.”

  Once outside, Will directed their small party toward a shade tree near the riverbank. Olivia skipped alongside him, her dolly clutched tightly against her. She chattered away, her words tumbling over one another so quickly she wasn’t making much sense. Will wasn’t sure it mattered.