Mail-order bridegroom

by Day Leclaire

  Unfortunately, something had happened. Hunter had answered the ad. To her disgust, she seemed to be the only one to appreciate the irony of that fact. 'It's all worked out for the best,' she lied through her teeth. 'So don't worry about it.' Securing Conrad's agreement to give her away, she ended the conversation and hung up.

  The next two days passed in a whirl of confusion. Leah spent her time deciding on caterers and flowers, food and decorations, and obtaining the all-important wedding-license. Finally she threw her hands in the air and dropped the entire mess in the laps of her grandmother and Inez Arroya. 'You decide,' she begged. 'Just keep it simple.'

  'But, sehorita, por favor...' Inez protested. 'The wedding, it should be perfect. What if we make a mistake? You will be very unhappy. Don't you care?'

  Didn't she care? Leah turned away. She cared too much. That was the problem. How could she plan for the wedding of her dreams when the ceremony on Friday would be anything but? 'Whatever you decide will be perfect,' she said flatly. 'Just remember. Keep it simple.'

  'What about your dress?' Rose reminded, before Leah could escape. 'You've deliberately ignored that minor detail, haven't you?'

  'I thought I could pick something up on Thursday,' Leah said, refusing to acknowledge the truth in her grandmother's words.

  But on this one point Rose became surprisingly obstinate. 'Oh, no, you don't, my girl. I have the perfect gown for you. Your mother wore it for her wedding and it's the most unusual dress I've ever laid eyes on. It's packed away in the attic, if memory serves. Find it and see if it fits. Though considering how much you resemble your momma, I'd be surprised if it didn't.'

  Reluctantly, Leah obeyed. It took a good bit of searching, but she eventually found a huge, sealed box with her mother's name and the date of her wedding scrawled across one end. Wiping away the dust, she carried it downstairs. She didn't return to the kitchen, needing a moment alone in the privacy of her bedroom to examine her mother's wedding-dress. Closing and locking the door, she settled on the floor and carefully cut open the box.

  Lifting off the lid, she sank back on her heels, her breath catching in her throat. Her grandmother had been right. It was the most unusual dress Leah had ever seen. Her mother had been a teacher of medieval history and her dress reflected her obsession, right down to the filmy veil with its accompanying silver circlet. It was beautiful and romantic, the sort of dress young women dreamed of wearing.

  And Leah hated it with a passion that left her shaking.

  The dress promised joy and happiness, not the businesslike relationship soon to be hers. The dress promised a lifetime of laughter and companionship, not the strife and friction that was all she could expect from

  an empty marriage. But most of all the dress promised everlasting love, not the bitterness and pain that consumed her husband-to-be. She ached for the future the dress suggested, but knew it could never be hers.

  This marriage would be an act of vengeance, and she nothing more than a pawn in Hunter's game. It was a way to even up old scores for the abuse he'd suffered at her father's hands. Soon he would be master of his enemy's castle and she'd be at his mercy. How long would it take before he had it all? How long before he controlled not just the ranch but her heart and soul as well?

  How long before he had his final revenge?

  Gently she replaced the lid of the box. She couldn't wear her mother's wedding-gown. It wouldn't be right. It would be... sacrilegious. She'd drive into town and find a chic ivory suit that spoke of modern marriages and easy divorces. And instead of a gauzy veil she'd purchase a pert little hat that no one would dream of referring to as * romantic'.

  Not giving herself time to reconsider, she shoved the box beneath her bed. Then she ran outside and whistled for Dreamseeker, needing just for an instant to feel what her stallion felt—free and wild and unfettered. But the horse didn't respond to her call. And in that instant Leah felt more alone than she ever had before in her life.

  'What do you mean, I can't wear the suit?' Leah demanded of Inez. 'Why can't I? Where is it?'

  'Arrunina, senorita. Lo siento. '

  'Ruined! How?'

  'The iron, it burned your dress.'

  'But the dress didn't need ironing.'

  The housekeeper looked close to tears. 'I'm sorry. I wanted everything to be perfect for your special day. I was excited and...' She wrung her hands. 'Forgive me.'

  'It's all right, Inez/ Leah said with a sigh. 'But I get married in less than an hour. What am I supposed to wear? I can't go down in this.' She indicated the wisps of silk and lace beneath her robe.

  'Senora Rose, she suggests the dress of your madre. Es perfecta, siV

  Leah closed her eyes, understanding finally dawning. Of all the conniving, meddling, devious... Before she could gather the courage to yank the first outfit that came to hand from her closet, Inez draped the wedding-dress across the bed. In a swirl of featherlight pleats the silvery-white silk billowed over the quilted spread, the hem trailing to the floor.

  In that instant, Leah was lost. She touched the form-fitting bodice—a corset-like affair, decorated with a honeycombed network of tiny seed pearls and silver thread—thinking that it resembled nothing more than a gossamer-fine cobweb. It really was an enchanting gown. And it had been her mother's.

  Knowing further arguing would prove fruitless, Leah allowed the housekeeper to help her into the gown. It fit perfectly, as she'd known it would. Thin white ribbons accentuated the puffed sleeves, the deep, flowing points almost brushing the carpet.

  'The belt, senorita,' Inez said.

  The housekeeper lifted the silver linked chain from the bed and wound it twice around Leah's waist and hips, the pearl-studded clasp fastening in front. The ends of the chain, decorated with tiny unicorn charms, fell to her knees, the links whispering like golden-toned chimes with her every movement.

  Tor purity,' the housekeeper murmured, touching the unicorns.

  'Not terribly appropriate,' Leah said in a dry voice. 'I wonder if it's too late to change them.'

  'You are pure of heart, which is all that counts/ Inez maintained stoutly. 'I will do your hair now. You wish to wear it loose?'

  'I thought I'd braid it.'

  'Oh, no, senorita. Perhaps a compromise?' Without waiting for a response, she swiftly braided two narrow sections on each side of Leah's face, threading a silver cord into each as she went. Pulling the braids to the back of Leah's head, the housekeeper pinned them into an intricate knot.

  'That looks very nice,' Leah admitted.

  'We leave the rest loose,' Inez said, brushing the hip-length curls into some semblance of order. Finally she draped the veil over Leah's hair and affixed the circlet to her brow. Stepping back, she clasped her hands and sighed. 'Que hermosa. Sen or Hunter, he is a lucky man.'

  Leah didn't reply. What could she say? That luck had nothing to do with it, unless it was bad luck? Her bad luck. 'How much time is left?' she asked instead.

  'A few minutes, no more. Senor Michaels is waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs.'

  'I'm ready,' she announced. She picked up her bouquet of freshly picked wild flowers—courtesy of the Arroya children—and kissed Inez's cheek. 'Thank you for all your help. Go on downstairs. I'll follow in a minute.'

  The door closed behind the housekeeper and, finally alone, Leah glanced at the stranger in the mirror. What would Hunter think? she wondered. Would he find her gown ridiculous? Attractive? Would her appearance even matter to him? She shut her eyes and whispered an urgent prayer, a prayer that Hunter might some day find happiness and peace in their marriage... that maybe, just maybe, he'd find love. Slightly more relaxed, she turned away from the mirror. She couldn't delay any longer. It was time to go.

  As she descended the stairs, the pleated skirt of her dress swirled around her like wisps of silver fog. Conrad waited at the bottom. He looked up at her, and his reaction was all she could have asked. He stared in stunned disbelief, his mouth agape.

  'Leah,' he m
urmured gruffly, his voice rough and choked. 'My dear, you're a vision. You make me wish...'

  She traversed the final few steps, a small smile playing about her mouth. 'Wish what?'

  'Wish that I hadn't so foolishly encouraged you to place that ad,' he confessed. 'Are you sure this marriage is what you want? It's not too late to change your mind.'

  She didn't hesitate for an instant. 'It's much too late and you know it. Not that it matters. I haven't changed my mind.'

  He nodded without argument. 'Then this is it.' He offered his elbow. 'Shall we?'

  She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and walked with him to the great room, an area used for entertaining that stretched the full length of the ranch-house. It was her turn to stare in disbelief. Huge urns of flowers filled the room, their delicate perfume heavy in the air. And everywhere was the radiant glow of candlelight, not a single light-bulb disturbing the soft, romantic scene.

  Her gaze flew to the far side of the room where Hunter stood, and her heart pounded in her breast. The wrangler she'd always known had disappeared and in his place stood a man who wore a tuxedo with the same ease as he wore jeans. She'd never seen him look so sophisticated, nor so aloof.

  His hair reflected the candlelight, gleaming with blue-black highlights, and his eyes glittered like obsidian, burning with the fire of passion held barely in check. Despite that, he remained detached from his sur-

  roundings, the high, taut cheekbones and squared chin set in cool, distant lines.

  The sudden hush that greeted her arrival drew his attention and his gaze settled on her with piercing intensity. Her hands tightened around her bouquet, sudden fear turning her fingers to ice. With that single glance his air of detachment fell away and his expression came alive, frightening in its ferocity. He looked like a warrior who'd fixed his sights on his next conquest. And she was that prize. It took all her willpower not to gather up her skirts and run.

  Conrad started to move and she had no choice but to fall into step beside him. In keeping with the medieval theme, soft stringed instruments played in the background. She focused on Hunter, barely aware of her passage down the aisle, even more dimly aware of Conrad releasing her and stepping back. But every part of her leapt to life the instant Hunter took possession of her hand.

  The minister began the ceremony. She didn't hear a word he said; she didn't even remember making her marriage vows. Afterward, she wondered if she'd actually promised to obey her husband or if the minister had thoughtfully omitted that rather antiquated phrase. She didn't doubt that Hunter would refresh her memory at some point.

  The ring he eventually slid on her finger felt strange on her hand, the unaccustomed weight a visible reminder of all the changes soon to come. She stared at the ring for a long time, studying the simple scrollwork and wondering why he'd chosen such an interesting design. Did it have any particular significance or had it been a simple matter of expediency?

  *Leah.' Hunter's soft prompt captured her full attention.

  She glanced up at him in bewilderment. 'Did I miss something?' she asked. Quiet laughter broke out among the guests and brought a flush to her cheeks. Even Hunter grinned, and she found herself riveted by that smile, aware that it had been eight long years since she'd last seen it.

  'We've just been pronounced man and wife,' he told her. 'Which means...' He swung her into his embrace and lowered his head. 'It's time to kiss the bride.'

  And he proceeded to do so with great expertise and thoroughness. It was her first kiss as his wife and the warm caress held all the magic she could desire. She was lost in his embrace, swept up in the moment. Yet, as intensely as she craved his touch, she longed to resist with an equal intensity. She couldn't bear the knowledge that this whole situation was nothing more than Hunter's way of gaining control of her ranch... and of her.

  At long last he released her, his look of satisfaction stirring a flash of anger. Fortunately her irritation swiftiy disappeared beneath the flurry of congratulations from the press of friends and employees. By the time Inez announced dinner, she'd fully regained her composure.

  Like the great room, the dining-room glowed with candlelight, flowers running the length of the oak table and overflowing the side tables and buffet. To her relief she and Hunter were seated at opposite ends, though as dinner progressed she discovered her relief short-lived. Throughout the meal she felt his gaze fixed on her. And as the evening passed her awareness of him grew, along with an unbearable tension.

  As the caterers cleared away the final course, Hunter rose, glass in hand, 'A toast,' he announced. Silence descended and all eyes turned in his direction.

  'A toast for the bride?' Conrad questioned.

  'A toast to my wife/ Hunter lifted the glass. 'To the most beautiful woman I've ever known. May all her dreams come true... and may they be worth the price she pays for them/

  There was a momentary confused silence and then the guests lifted their glasses in tribute, murmuring, 'Hear, hear/

  Slowly Leah stood, well aware of the double edge to Hunters toast. Lifting her own glass in salute, she said, 'And to my husband. The answer to all my dreams/ And let him make what he wished of that, she thought, drinking deeply.

  The party broke up not long after. Rose had arranged to stay with friends for the weekend and all the staff had been given the days off as a paid vacation. Only Patrick would remain, to care for the animals. But, knowing her foreman's sensitivity, he'd make himself scarce. They wouldn't see any sign of him until Monday morning.

  Sending the last few guests on their way, Leah stood with Hunter in the front hall. The tension between them threatened to overwhelm her and she twisted her hands together, feeling again the unexpected weight of her wedding-ring.

  She glanced at it and asked the question that had troubled her during the ceremony. 'Did you choose it or...?'

  'I chose It. Did you really think I'd leave it to my secretary to take care of?'

  'I didn't even know you had a secretary,' she confessed. 'What do... did you do?'

  He hesitated. 'Mostly I worked as a sort of trouble-shooter for a large consortium, taking care of problem situations no one else could handle/

  She drifted toward the great room, snuffing candles as she went. 'I imagine you'd be good at that sort of

  thing. What made you decide to give it up and return to ranching?*

  'What makes you think I've quit?' he asked from directly behind.

  Startled, she spun around, her gown flaring out around her. 'Haven't you?'

  'They know to call if something urgent comes up. I'll find a way to fit it in.' He drew her away from a low bracket of candles. 'Be careful. I'd hate to see this go up in flames.'

  'It was my mother's,' she admitted self-consciously. 'I wasn't sure whether you'd like it.'

  His voice deepened. 'I like it.'

  She caught her breath, finally managed to say, 'You still haven't answered my question.'

  'What question?' A lazy gleam sparked in his eyes and she knew his thoughts were elsewhere. Precisely where, she didn't care to contemplate.

  'Why,' she persisted, 'if you had such a good job, did you decide to come back?'

  'Let's just call it unfinished business and leave it at that. Do you really want to start an argument tonight?'

  She glanced at him in alarm. 'Would it? Start an argument, I mean?'

  'Without a doubt.' He pinched out the remaining few candles, leaving them in semi-darkness, the night enclosing them in a cloak of intimacy. 'I have a wedding-gift for you.' He picked up a small package tucked among a basket of flowers and handed it to her.

  She took it, staring in wonder. 'A wedding-gift?'

  'Open it.'

  Carefully, she ripped the paper from the jewelry box and removed the lid. Beneath a layer of cotton lay an odd blue stone with a thin gold band wrapped around

  it, securing it to a delicate herringbone chain. 'It's just like yours!' she exclaimed, tears starting to her eyes.

  The
only identifying article left with Hunter at the orphanage had been the strange gold-encased stone identical to the one he'd duplicated for a wedding-present. He'd worn it like a talisman all the time she'd known him, though he'd never been able to trace its origin successfully.

  'I thought a gold chain a better choice than the leather thong I use.'

  'Thank you. It's beautiful.' She handed him the box and turned her back to him. 'Will you put it on?' She lifted her hair and veil out of the way while he fastened the chain around her neck. The stone nestled between her breasts, cool and heavy against her skin.

  Before she realized what he intended, Hunter turned her around and swung her into his arms. She clutched at his shoulders, her heart beating frantically, knowing that she couldn't delay the inevitable any longer. He strode across the entrance hall and climbed the stairs, booting open the door to the master bedroom.

  She started to protest, but stopped when she saw the candles and flowers that festooned the room. At a guess, it was more of her grandmother's fine handiwork. This time, though, Leah approved. Giving them the master bedroom was Rose's tacit acknowledgement of Hunter's position in the household.

  'Where's Rose's room?' he asked, as though reading her mind.

  'Downstairs. She had a private wing built when my father married. She said the only smart way for an extended family to cohabit was to live apart.'

  A reluctant smile touched his mouth. 'There may be hope for our relationship yet.'

  He set her down, his smile fading, a dark, intense expression growing in his eyes. He removed the circlet from her brow and swept the veil from her hair. It floated to the floor, a gauzy slip of silver against the burgundy carpet.