Hollister's Choice (Montana Miracles Book 2)

by Grace Walton

  “Sir, what am I to do?” the servant beseeched. “Mr. Fleming what am I to do?”

  The dapper man looked over at his female companion. She was obviously fuming. And that did not bode well for this trip. He looked back at the worried face of the servant who was, even now, wringing his hands in dismay.

  “What’s the problem,” Fleming asked with as much discretion as he could muster.

  “The limo service just rang me up. There is some issue with getting the car you required. They can, however send a very nice fleet of sedans to transport us all.” He stopped and gulped.

  Harlow Fleming chewed at his plush lower lip. The cosmetic fillers he’d had injected there to increase the full silhouette of his mouth felt odd. But chewing his lip was a nervous habit with him. One he had been forced to more recently since he’d taken up with her Ladyship.

  Lady Fiona Cooper was a pain. She was selfish, vain, and horrid. But she was rich, very, very rich. And that was her one redeeming quality. And it was a quality he was greatly in need of, at the moment. And whether he agreed with this hare-brained idea of hers to hound a former flame was irrelevant. She had money. Fleming needed money. Since he had eyes like cash registers, she was perfect for him.

  He looked over at her. She fanned herself languidly with a hand that sparkled every time the sun hit one of her many diamond rings. Lady Fiona was fully aware of her elevated consequence. And she was quick to educate anyone who didn’t know of her antecedents. She claimed royal forebears. That they were all born on the wrong side of the marital blanket was of no consequence to her. She had no shame. And she also had very little forbearance when she was displeased. Being forced to ride in a sedan would surely displease the woman.

  “What shall we do, Sir?” whispered the terrified servant.

  “I’ll take care of everything,” Fleming assured the sweating man. “Book the finest suite in the best hotel in Bozeman. And make reservations at whatever passes for the finest restaurant hereabouts for dinner. Also, if possible, get me tickets to something theatrical. A play or a concert should suffice. Oh, and I’ll need you to get a carriage here within twenty minutes.”

  “A carriage, Sir?” whimpered the man.

  “This is Montana, man. Surely there’s some kind of wedding venue or some such service that provides a carriage. An open one would best suit. She’ll want everyone in town to see her.” He strode towards Lady Fiona leaving the poor servant opening and closing his mouth like a well-caught trout.

  “Good news, Darling,” he said heartily as he took her hand and placed an obsequious kiss upon it.

  “Oh?” Lady Fiona inquired with a penciled and arched brow.

  “Yes, we are to begin our Western adventure here in Bozeman in fine style.”

  “Harlow, I’ve told you several times this is not some lark we’re about. This is about revenge and leverage.”

  “I know, my dear, I know. And you shall certainly have them both. But who’s to say we can’t enjoy the process? Especially since the mayor has sent a carriage for you. And he has provided a lovely suite of rooms at the finest hotel, not to mention a lovely meal and a show afterwards. Who are we to turn down such generous largesse?”

  “A carriage you say?” She preened. If there was one thing Lady Fiona Cooper truly adored, it was the regal, stately procession of riding in a carriage. It was so queenly. And, in her mind at least, it was little more than she deserved. She did have royal blood, after all.

  “Yes, my love. If we are fortunate it will be a vintage landau. It’s the perfect weather for an open air ride. And it will certainly give these rustics something to aspire to, won’t it?”

  The woman simpered, “I like this adventure. We shall most certainly enjoy spending the evening here in Bozeman before we make our way out to that godforsaken ranch.”

  The use of the royal ‘we’ was not lost on her companion nor on any of the others avidly eavesdropping. Magnolia Ferguson was not counted in that number. Her mind was almost numb with the pain of leaving her home and of leaving the only man she would ever love. She watched her suitcase disappear behind the rubber flaps of the baggage mover. She hitched her battered purse up over her shoulder. Taking a deep breath, she walked down the concourse into what she hoped would be a better life.

  Chapter Three

  “Lord Hollister, it’s so very good to see you again,” purred the Englishwoman.

  Because he was in the middle of slinging his worn out tool box into the bed of his equally worn out truck, he took his time turning to face the woman. The bag settled next to a roll of barbed wire in the truck bed. It’d been many years since he’d come face to face with Fiona. If it’d been his choice, that length of time could easily have stretched off into eternity. He didn’t like her. And it wasn’t for the obvious reason of a broken marital engagement between them when he’d been little more than a boy. And it wasn’t because of the obscene gossip she’d spread about, not only of him, but of his sisters. No, it wasn’t anything to do with those facts. He disliked her because she was a liar, a cheat, and the most narcissistic person he’d ever had the misfortune to meet. She might look like a man’s hot dream of tangled satin sheets and pleasure. But the reality of Fiona Cooper was more of a nightmare.

  She, like he, was born to silver spoons, nannies, and legacy placement in the best public schools Britain had to offer. But there was one outstanding difference between them. Fiona’s father had managed to not only hold onto the wealth he’d inherited, he’d grown it. In fact, with a few notable exceptions, those being reigning royalty, he was the richest individual in London.

  Hollister, on the other hand, had been made to struggle to regain the merest portion of his family’s previous vast holdings. And he’d done it by acquiring lethal skills and risking his life repeatedly and often since he was barely eighteen years old. That dangerous occupation, along with some commonsense investing with the proceeds of his labors had restored his family’s country seat and sent his sisters to school. The oldest was now a barrister and happily married. His youngest sister, Mercedes, had decided to try her hand at organic farming.

  All that being said, he no longer needed the security Lady Cooper had once dangled before him like some kind of marital carrot. Thankfully he’d discovered her true nature before they’d exchanged any vows. And, at the moment, she was an impediment to his leaving. One he would soon rid himself of.

  “It’s just Hollister,” he grunted as he pushed the rusty box up the dusty bed of the old truck.

  “What?” she asked plainly confused.

  He turned to her and saw the manicured man at her side. It was so like Fiona to have an adoring acolyte with her. The pompous idiot sketched a court bow. Hollister rolled his eyes and dragged one dirty leather work glove off. He offered the man his calloused, scarred hand.

  A moue of disgust twisted the highly coiffed woman’s lips. “Don’t be so bourgeois, Lord Hollister. Just because you chose to abandon your ancestry, doesn’t mean the rest of us have.”

  “Fee, you’ve got two minutes to tell me why you’re here and what you want,” he said with a total lack of emotion.

  She bristled at his effrontery. “I come all the way out to this godforsaken desert, and you don’t have the gentility to offer me refreshment and a place to stay while we discuss our future?”

  “There is no ‘we’.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re still harboring a grudge about that little misunderstanding we had so long ago?” she wheedled. Beside her, Harlow Fleming tried to wipe the dust from his shiny shoes on the back of his trousers.

  Hollister’s eyes narrowed to killing slits. “I found you in my bed with another man.”

  “Yes, well, you see, that was the crux of our problem.”

  “I agree. If I’d known you had the morals of an alley cat, I’d never have been so stupid as to ask you to marry me.” He turned to get into the truck.

  “I imagine all Daddy’s lovely money could have persuaded you to overlook my ahh…
indiscretions.”

  “Fee, nothing could have made me marry you.” He got into the driver’s seat and slammed the beaten-up door behind him.

  “Well, if that’s the way you feel, I’ll keep the news of Merry’s problem to myself,” she taunted.

  Hollister stilled for one long second. He uttered a few scathing curses under his breath. And he leaned out the broken window of the truck to pin her to the ground with a furious glare.

  “If this is one of your twisted games…”

  “Darling,” she purred once more knowing she had his full attention. This man was always a sucker for a sad tale. “You know I’d never, ever do such a thing to you. Especially when your baby sister’s very life is at stake.”

  “Fee, we both know I trust you about as much as I’d trust a rattlesnake. Tell me,” he ordered.

  “I say,” sputtered the pretty boy at her elbow. “I think it would be ever so much more pleasant if we were to retreat to your estancia and share some refreshments. The drive out here was long and particularly wearing.”

  Hollister spit into the dirt at Fleming’s feet. He leveled his murderous eyes back to the beautiful woman. “One minute.”

  The society ornament sighed. “Fine, I was hoping you’d come back to London with me. Daddy’s a wee bit angry with poor old me, at the moment. He always put such stock in your lineage. And he likes you.” She shuddered as she remembered what her father told her was her only option for getting back into his good graces.

  “Tell me about Merry,” he ordered with all the aristocratic arrogance that ran through his blood.

  “You see, that is part and parcel of this whole comedy,” she tittered.

  The sound grated on Hollister’s ears and on his nerves. “I’m not laughing,” he said. And for once the clipped accents of his youth betrayed him.

  “Merry’s disappeared,” the woman hedged.

  The fierce man in the truck shook his head. “No, she hasn’t.”

  He knew for a fact that his sister was safe on their country estate. Part of their agreement for her to farm the land was that she sent him a text each day. He’d just read the one she’d sent him last night.

  His certainty caused the woman to stutter. “Perhaps I misspoke.”

  “Fee, I’ve got work to do. I suggest you take your newest toy,” he growled as he inclined his head towards Fleming. “And get back to Bozeman.”

  “But Daddy said,” she whined.

  “I don’t care what Daddy said.”

  “Daddy said he’d ruin Merry’s business if you didn’t agree to come back to England and marry me,” she said in strangled voice.

  “What?” squeaked Fleming. “Is this the truth, Fiona?”

  If it was, it was news to him. He’d thought they were here to blackmail Lord Hollister. Of course, in retrospect, it still was a sort of blackmail, he supposed.

  The tall elegant woman scowled. “Shut up, Harlow.”

  Hollister’s chuckles were as black as the woman’s soul. “Poor Fee,” he snickered. “You really think you can spin your lies and have me believe them. I thought you were smarter than that.”

  He slid the key into the truck’s ignition. He turned it. The machine roared to life.

  “It’s the truth!” she screamed. “Daddy says its time I settled down and gave him a grandchild. And he says, if we marry, our children will inherit, not only his wealth, but your esteemed name. You know he’s always coveted your family crest. He may be a lord, but he’s a new one. We’re climbers. Everybody knows that. Daddy wants your title and name for his grandchildren.”

  “I don’t use the title. And the name is not for sale,” Hollister said.

  She walked closer to the truck. She set her hands on his muscled arm as it rested on the window ledge. “But what about your sister? What about Merry? Would you sell yourself for her happiness, for her security?”

  The killing look he gave her would have shriveled a normal woman. But Lady Fiona Cooper was never normal. And she only cared for herself and her selfishness.

  “Come on Hollister,” she coaxed as she rubbed her hand up and down his hard arm. “It won’t be so bad. We were good together once. And it’s not like you’ve never sold yourself before.”

  He jerked his arm out of her reach. He loathed the way she touched him as if she thought she already owned him.

  “What does your father think he can do?” he snarled. “This isn’t the eighteenth century. He’s not the lord of the manor.”

  “No, but you are,” she purred. “You are the lord of a nice manor house, and several other properties. And it would be so sad. So very, very sad if poor Merry lost everything because of your misplaced pride and poor choices. Wouldn’t it?”

  “Jasper Cooper can do nothing to harm either me or my family.”

  “Nothing legally, perhaps,” she said. “But you and I both know he cares nothing for legalities. Daddy believes the legal system was put in place solely so that men like him could prey upon the lower orders. One word from him and Merry’s whole crop could be mysteriously poisoned. Her animals could be stolen. Even the country house is at risk. You know that thatched roofs are so very flammable.”

  “Are you threatening me?” he rasped holding a tight control on his rage.

  Fiona’s nasty titters filled the still morning air. “Darling, of course not. Because there’s really no need for anything so low and common as the making of threats. All you need to do is agree to marry me, come back to London for a fancy wedding, and spend a pleasurable weekend getting me pregnant.”

  “Fiona,” protested the man at her back. “This is not at all what we agreed to. I was to marry you, not this… this cowboy.”

  “Shut up, Harlow,” she screeched over her shoulder. “If you’ll just let me handle this, we’ll all get what we want.”

  “Yeah, shut up Harlow,” Hollister mocked. “Fee, there is nothing, not one thing in this world that could entice, blackmail, or tempt me to agree to marry you. So you better take what the kid’s offering. It’s the only marriage proposal you’ll be receiving today.”

  “I hate you Hollister,” she cried as she tried to spit in his face. Only Fleming’s hand jerking her back saved her from certain retribution.

  The big man in the truck scowled at her as he pulled the car out of the drive. “The feeling is entirely mutual,” he drawled as he drove out of sight.

  She would have chased the battered ranch truck down the road but a shout behind her stopped her in her tracks.

  “Hollister! Wait!” a deep voice shouted.

  Turning, the woman and her companion saw a tall, commanding rancher lope towards them.

  “Who are you?” he demanded with a hard brusqueness.

  It took the woman only a second to think of how to respond. “I’m Lady Fiona Cooper, and this is my man of business, Harlow Fleming, esquire.”

  “What are you doing on the Black Knife?”

  Gage Ferguson didn’t like strangers on his land. And he especially didn’t like strangers who looked like they were crooks. And he had a feeling this woman should have had the word thief tattooed across her heavily made up face.

  “Why, we’ve come to visit with my fiancé, of course. Could you have one of your servants take our bags in?”

  “I don’t have servants. I have cowhands. And I don’t know of this fiancé you’re talking about,” Gage said. He was eager to get this rodeo down the road. He and Hollister had a situation to clean up. If he dared call his errant sister Maggie a situation.

  “Surely you do,” Fiona simpered. “You were just trying to stop him.”

  “Hollister?” Ferguson said in disbelief.

  There had to be some kind of mistake. Hollister would have told him if he was about to get hitched. And even if he was, the man would surely not be engaged to a woman like the one standing in the dirty road before him. This woman looked about as real as the huge plastic cactus he’d seen in a Mexican bar once. And she spoke in a plummy British accent. Hollister
gave women a wide berth, unless a job called for him to be charming. He could be flirtatious and even seductive, if it was required. But, in his free time, he was a loner.

  “Yes, and he said you’d welcome us for a few days. We do so want to see the great American West. Don’t we, Fleming?” she asked the stunned man by her side.

  Dumbfounded by this radical change of plans, he could only nod in agreement.

  “Well, I guess you’d better come on up to the house then,” Gage said. It was not the most hospitable of welcomes. But in his defense the rancher had a lot on his plate, at the moment.

  There was his baby sister who’d somehow snuck off with no one knowing. And there was his wife’s painful and obvious silence that told him she just might know exactly how, why, and where Maggie had gotten off to. And now there were these two overdressed strangers who claimed they’d been invited to stay by Hollister.

  He sure hoped Carrie could deal with them. Because he and Hollister needed to focus on Maggie and getting her back home. He led the couple across the yard and up to the wide steps of the ranch house.

  “Oh my,” whispered Lady Fiona, “This is quite impressive. Quite impressive, if I do say so. From the road it looked like a little warren sort of a place. I think I shall be most comfortable here. Fleming, you may need to make arrangements to further our stay. I want you to get right on that once we’re settled.”

  “Yes Ma’am,” the poor man gulped.

  Gage frowned. He’d dealt with this type of behavior before. But usually it was from Middle Eastern potentates. Never had he met a European with such a grandiose sense of self-aggrandizement. He hoped and prayed Hollister wasn’t about to make the biggest mistake of his life by marrying this harridan.

  “Gage?” It was his wife. She’d come to stand upon the wide porch that ran the length of the house and around the sides of the huge place.

  “Carrie, these folks will need rooms for the night,” he explained quietly.