Mistaken Bride

by Renee Ryan

  Caleb carried his boat in one hand while he threw a stick for Digger to chase after with the other. A languid breeze rustled through the trees. Birds chirped, frogs croaked, the mill’s wheel churned in the water. It was a beautiful, mild summer day. Perfect for a family picnic.

  At their destination, Will retrieved the blanket from under Bridget’s arm and laid it carefully on the ground. As soon as he’d smoothed away the wrinkles, Olivia plopped down and proceeded to recite a nursery rhyme to her doll.

  “No, Caleb,” Bridget called out. “Don’t go down by the water on your own.”

  The little boy threw her a scowl. “But how am I to sail my boat?”

  “Your da will help you after we eat.” She turned to Will. “Isn’t that right?”

  “Absolutely. I can’t think of a better way to spend the afternoon.” His words were directed at Caleb, but they carried far more meaning than he’d intended.

  Still scowling, the little boy muttered something under his breath but obediently trudged over to the blanket and set down his boat near Olivia. She shoved it aside with a careless flick of her wrist.

  “Don’t hurt it!” he yelled in outrage.

  She lifted her tiny shoulders. “Don’t put it in my way.”

  “You’re in the way.” He puffed out his chest in angry, childish frustration.

  “No, you are.”

  “You are.”

  Just as Will stepped forward to intervene, Bridget moved in between the twins and picked up the boat herself. “Why don’t I just put this over here, next to the picnic basket where it’ll be safe?”

  “Excellent idea,” Will said, aligning himself next to her, shoulder to shoulder.

  Looking from one to the other, Caleb opened his mouth to argue, thought better of it, shook his head roughly, then sighed in defeat. “I guess that’ll be all right.”

  Nodding in satisfaction, Bridget set the boat where she’d indicated. She wiped her palms together in a gesture that said the matter was settled. “Now, Caleb. Please chase down that naughty dog and bring him back over here.”

  “Digger.” Caleb ran toward the animal. “Digger, no. Naughty boy. Naughty. You stop that right now.”

  The dog, Will noted with a suppressed grin, was proving true to his name. He was digging frantically in a bed of wildflowers on the other side of the tree. Tiny stars of color flew in every direction. Caleb continued to scold the animal.

  In that instant, if anyone had asked him, Will would have said there was nowhere else he would rather be than right here, with his children and Bridget and that crazy hound. The thought brought a moment of peace, followed by a sudden wave of regret.

  For his entire life he’d been a man of action, committed to seeing matters through to the end. When he’d needed someone to care for his children he’d done the logical thing. He’d drawn up a list of specific criteria and then designed a plan to find a woman who would meet his requirements.

  A little more than a week ago he’d been willing to marry a stranger and have her care for the twins. At the time his reasoning had made sense. With her erratic behavior Fanny had put them through years of instability. Her inconsistent schedule and ultimate abandonment had left Olivia and Caleb unnaturally reserved. They’d wound up trapped in abnormally good behavior.

  Considering all that had transpired, Will had believed his children needed permanency above all else. Now he knew better. They didn’t need consistency as much as they needed unconditional love, the kind that Bridget had shown them.

  Today, as he sat on the blanket and watched Bridget unpack the picnic basket, he realized his lack of foresight. And, of course, faith.

  Bridget Murphy was an extraordinary woman. Her heart was so pure, her compassion so strong, she gave all of herself. She deserved a man who could give her the same level of devotion she would provide him in return. She deserved a man who would give her his entire heart, and hold nothing back.

  Will was not that man.

  If he made an offer of marriage to her again, and she accepted, he feared he would let her down eventually. As he had Fanny, and Bridget Collins.

  No. He couldn’t risk hurting her.

  But how could he allow any other man to have her?

  His heart lodged in his throat, and a portion of his previous joy left him.

  Then Olivia crawled into his lap and rested her tiny head against his chest. Overwhelmed with love, he pulled his daughter close and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. He was thinking too hard. This was supposed to be an easy, carefree day. “Having fun, darling?”

  “Oh, yes.” She let out a happy sigh. “Quite a lot, actually.”

  Will’s stomach twisted. His daughter had sounded just like Bridget, all the way down to the sweet Irish accent.

  Olivia turned her face to his. “Are you having fun, too?”

  He caught Bridget’s eye before answering. She gave him a quick, almost imperceptible wink. The intimate gesture sent his pulse beating in a fury.

  Bewildered at his reaction, he shifted his gaze to a spot just over Bridget’s shoulder. “Yes, my darling.” He kissed Olivia’s head again. “I’m having a lot of fun.”

  “Oh, good,” she said, then jumped up as Caleb and the dog returned.

  Will endured the rest of their picnic with a smile on his face and a stoic resolve in his heart. No matter how hard he tried to enjoy the afternoon, his mind kept rounding back to one very important question, the one Flynn had posed last night.

  What were Will’s intentions toward Bridget Murphy?

  * * *

  As Bridget helped prepare the children for bed later that evening, she was acutely aware of the man working silently beside her. Something had altered in their relationship this afternoon, but she wasn’t precisely sure she knew what. Will seemed especially careful with her tonight, and overly cautious, as if he didn’t want to do or say the wrong thing.

  But that made no sense. Will was not a man to tiptoe around a difficult situation. What had changed? Had she said something this afternoon? Had she crossed some sort of invisible line?

  The wink. It must have been the wink. He probably thought the gesture had been too bold for a woman in his employ.

  Swallowing in dismay, she focused on pulling Olivia’s arms gently through the sleeves of her nightgown. The child smiled up at her and Bridget responded in kind, her heart wrenching at the sight of all that innocence staring back at her.

  This nightly custom was always the best and worst part of her job, a bittersweet time when she felt the closest to all four of the Blacks yet not quite a part of their family. Sadly the sensation was magnified tonight.

  Will hadn’t looked at her once. Come to think of it, he hadn’t looked at her since arriving home tonight, not even during the evening meal.

  With this strange new tension between them, she was grateful it was Will’s turn to read tonight. Bridget wasn’t sure she could speak without her voice cracking.

  She only hoped she gathered her emotions into some semblance of control before it was time to kneel beside the twins for their bedtime prayers.

  Will’s soothing baritone eventually filled the room and Bridget found herself relaxing, despite her nerves. The man had a lovely voice. She could listen to him read for hours. But all too quickly the story came to an end and he set the book down on the floor at his feet.

  Without having to be told Olivia and Caleb knelt beside their individual beds, folded their hands together then rested their elbows on the mattresses in front of them.

  Bridget joined them. Will came to her side, brushed his fingers across her sleeve before lowering to his knees, as well.

  Heart pounding, afraid to see what was in his gaze, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

  “Dear Go
d,” Caleb began. “Please feed the hungry, clothe the poor and—” he paused “—and, oh, yes. Please, if You have time, can You make Digger come when I call him?”

  As if hearing his name, the dog raced down the hallway, his toenails striking the floor with a click, click, click.

  Thankful for the interruption, Bridget quickly rose and caught the bundle of fur before he charged into the room. She held him in place while the children continued praying.

  “My turn now,” Olivia said without looking up, her forehead resting heavily on her clasped hands. “Dear God, please give us rain for the garden and sunshine for the plants. Please bless Nene and Papa and Caleb.”

  “And Miss Bridget, too,” Caleb reminded her.

  Olivia opened her eyes and shot him a scowl. “And of course Miss Bridget, too. And, God, please, oh, please—” she lifted her face to the heavens “—please make Miss Bridget our new mommy.”

  Bridget’s hand flew to her throat. Her heart pounded hard against her ribs, so hard she was sure everyone could hear the rapid staccato. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

  Her gaze shot to Will. He rose and joined her in the doorway, his eyes dark and full of emotion. It wasn’t shock she saw looking back at her, but an apology. Did he think he had to apologize for Olivia’s prayer?

  Bridget wanted to assure him that she understood how children thought. If not with words, with a touch or a look, but she couldn’t force herself to move. God save her, she wanted the same thing Olivia did. She wanted to be the children’s mother. She wanted to be Will’s wife.

  Holding back a sob, her lips moved in a soundless whisper.

  Gaze softening, Will touched her arm. Overwhelmed with emotion, she quickly looked away and caught Caleb and Olivia staring at them.

  “Those were lovely prayers,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t register her nervousness.

  “Yes, they were,” Will agreed, dropping his hand. “Now hop in bed, both of you.”

  “Can Digger sleep with us tonight?” Caleb asked.

  “Yes.” Will nodded. “That’ll be fine.”

  What? Bridget blinked at him in surprise. He must have been taken off guard by Olivia’s prayer, more than he was letting on. Yes, he’d given in and allowed the dog inside the house, but he’d never allowed the animal to sleep in the children’s room before.

  Throat tight, Bridget watched Digger crawl atop Caleb’s bed, circle three times, then settle in. She took great care settling the covers around Olivia’s shoulders. When she leaned down to kiss the child’s cheek, Olivia whispered in her ear, “I meant what I said. I want you to be my mommy.”

  Bridget shut her eyes and squeezed back the tears. “Me, too,” she whispered back, knowing how inappropriate it was to promise such a thing, yet unable to censure herself.

  She shouldn’t get this child’s hopes up, or her own. But maybe, maybe there was a way to make Olivia’s prayer come true.

  Bridget couldn’t marry Will, not given his current restrictions. But she could stay on in the role of the children’s nanny for as long as possible, indefinitely if necessary.

  What if Will asks you to leave? What if he finds another woman to marry, one who meets his stringent requirements?

  Well, if that travesty occurred…

  No, it simply would not happen. Bridget wouldn’t let it.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Bridget didn’t remember walking out of the children’s room. Nor did she recall saying good-night to Caleb, although she was confident that she had. She probably even gave him a bedtime kiss on the forehead as always.

  Yet, now, only moments after entering the kitchen behind Will all her mind could focus on was him and the fact that his deep blue eyes were full of piercing intensity.

  Bridget pressed her lips together, determined not to break the silence between them this time.

  Olivia might have prayed for her to become her mommy, and Will might have failed to tell the little girl that her request was impossible, but he hadn’t encouraged her, either. In truth, as Bridget reviewed the past few minutes in the children’s room, she realized Will had ignored the situation entirely.

  Would he continue to do so now that they were alone?

  She had her answer the moment he opened his mouth. “I brought home some special chocolate I want you to try.”

  Turning his back on her, he moved toward the counter directly behind him. “My chocolatiers are working on a new recipe.” He picked up a package wrapped in plain white paper and then pivoted back around. “I want you to tell me what you think.”

  “It’s…grayish-brown.”

  He laughed, them pinched off a bite-size piece and handed it to her. “Taste it.”

  She stared at his hand. “You want me to eat that? By itself? Won’t it be bitter?”

  “Not if we got the formula correct.”

  “Oh.” She gave him an exaggerated smile as she took the piece of chocolate. Rolling it around in her fingers, she realized the texture was much softer than the large cakes he’d left at the house yesterday. The color was lighter, too.

  Prepared to hate the taste, she closed her eyes and popped the confection in her mouth. The chocolate melted on her tongue, the sweet flavor both a shock and a pleasant delight. “It’s…quite good.”

  Her answer didn’t appear to satisfy him. “But not great.”

  Bridget thought for a moment, remembered the full, rich flavor of Nora’s famous chocolate cake. “No,” she admitted honestly. “Not great. Not as good as some of the sweets Nora makes. Although the piece you gave me was far better than I expected, something is—”

  “Missing?” he finished for her.

  “Yes,” she agreed, surprised he could read her mind so well. “Something is missing.”

  “Can you think what?” He seemed genuinely interested in her opinion.

  Honored, and touched by his trust in her, Bridget closed her eyes and thought for a moment. She could think of nothing. Not one thing. Of course she was a bit out of her depth here. “Unfortunately, no, but my sister could. Nora’s a baking genius.”

  “Why, yes she is.” A booming voice sounded from behind them. “I can vouch for that myself.”

  Surprised to hear the familiar gravelly voice in Will’s home, Bridget turned quickly. Her gaze landed on Deputy MacDuff standing in the doorway grinning at her.

  “Your sister is a cooking marvel,” he said, winking at her with his wide grin still firmly planted on his face. “Hiring Nora was the best decision that boy Cameron has made in years.” He patted his belly with satisfaction. “Maybe ever.”

  Confused, Bridget blinked at the older man. What was Ben doing here at this hour?

  As though he were equally confused, Will’s eyebrows pulled together. “What are you doing here, Ben? Is there a problem I don’t know about?”

  Perhaps Ben was here because of Bridget. Had something happened to Nora? Or baby Grace?

  “Now don’t you two start worrying, there’s no problem.” Esther maneuvered past the deputy and entered the kitchen with a smile. “Ben is here visiting me.”

  “You,” Bridget and Will said simultaneously.

  “We’re having coffee and scones.”

  Will stared at his mother, blinked down at Bridget, then turned back to stare at Esther again. “You’re having scones and coffee, at night?”

  “Oh, honestly, Will. Don’t look at me like that.” Esther made a frustrated sound in her throat. “Ben is an old friend of your father’s, and mine. We haven’t talked in a good long while. It’s time we did some catching up.”

  Will continued blinking at her, as did Bridget, their mutual silence an indication of their common surprise. An image from the day before filled Bridget’s mind. She remembered
Ben and Esther at church, heads bent together, whispering softly to one another. Was there something more happening between the two, something sweet and possibly—romantic?

  Lips pursed, Esther took Will’s shoulder in a firm grip. The bold gesture spoke of her continued healing.

  “William, son, I think it’s long past time you escorted Bridget home for the night.” With a flick of her wrist she turned him around to face the back door, then motioned to Bridget. “Now run along, both of you.”

  Before either could utter a word they were unceremoniously shoved onto the back stoop and enveloped in twilight. The door shut behind them with a firm bang.

  A moment of shocked silence fell over them.

  Then to her horror, a laugh bubbled out of Bridget’s mouth. Esther had certainly made her intentions clear, quite boldly in fact. She slid a covert glance in Will’s direction. Was he pleased by this unexpected turn of events?

  “Think my mother wanted to be alone with Ben?” he asked, amusement in his voice.

  Another giggle slipped out. “That would be my guess.”

  Joining in the laughter, he took her arm and steered her toward his carriage. “I’m glad. She deserves some masculine attention after all her years of loneliness.”

  “Your mother was positively glowing.”

  “That she was.” There was genuine pleasure in his tone.

  They walked side by side, smiling at one another, the tension gone between them. The moment was light and happy and yet surprisingly intimate.

  Bridget glanced to the sky, a ribbon of pink mixed with orange rode along the horizon. The moon had begun its initial ascent in the sky, a fat, glowing crescent that hadn’t fully taken shape. Croaking frogs sounded their nocturnal presence. A soft breeze swept over them.

  Several feet away from the carriage Will abruptly stopped walking. Nearly losing her balance, Bridget was forced to do so, as well. When he pulled slightly away from her, she looked up at him and waited for—well, she didn’t know what she was waiting for him to do.