The Soldier's E-Mail Order Bride (Heroes of Chance Creek)

by Seton, Cora

  She knew what he meant. It changed things for her, too. It made her feel more feminine. More sensual.

  She was okay with that.

  Still, she wished for a fuller relationship with Austin, and today she’d woken with the sense that maybe she’d jumped into this feet first like she seemed to do everything these days. She needed to slow down. To figure things out. To think about the future she faced when she left Chance Creek.

  This side of the Hall faced more empty pastures. Soon they would be full of cattle, she supposed, but for now she was as alone here as if she was the only woman on earth. She sat down in the house’s shadow, leaned back against the foundation and wrapped her arms around her knees. It was a strange place for thinking, but no one would look for her here and solitude was what she craved.

  So much had happened in the last four months. Losing the Oscar. Finding out about Anthony and Kaylee. Running away.

  Meeting Austin.

  She’d gone from movie star to ranch wife in the blink of an eye. She kept waiting for the sorrow to kick in. The anger. The resentment.

  Instead, she felt relief. Mixed with… anticipation. Why didn’t she miss Hollywood more?

  She leaned her head back against the wall and watched a swallow dart past against a blue sky so large she could get lost in it.

  Because being an actress had never been her dream.

  Had she enjoyed it? Yes, some of it. She’d even enjoyed the attention and lavish lifestyle for a while, but she’d enjoyed it in the way you enjoy a vacation from real life. It was fun, interesting, exciting even. But now she longed to get back to work.

  Which was odd, since acting was her work.

  It hadn’t always been her career goal, however. She remembered the simple dream of her teenage years to become a therapist and work with children and horses. Now she lived on a ranch. Was it time to revisit that dream?

  A quick search on the Internet via her phone dashed that idea. She would need seven years of school to become a certified therapist. She wouldn’t have blinked at that right out of high school, but did she want to wait another seven years to start a brand new career?

  She looked back at the web page describing equine therapy and realized that some clinicians worked as a team with an Equine Specialist. In other words, one person handled the emotional or physical issues, the other worked with the horses.

  She could do that. She scanned the information, her excitement building. She’d have to take some classes and get back into riding in a serious way, but in less than a year she could get to work, if she could find the right partner.

  No. Not in less than a year. She couldn’t even start to look for a business partner in the next nine months. She couldn’t sign up for classes. She needed to keep a low profile.

  Ella took a deep breath. She could hone her riding skills, however. And maybe she’d be pregnant, too. Plenty of time for equine therapy later. She swallowed her disappointment. Funny how she minded the wait more than she minded leaving Hollywood behind. Shouldn’t there be soul-searching? Late nights full of anxiety? Tears?

  She felt none of that. Instead, she felt peaceful. In the meantime, she would make sure Austin, his brothers and Regan inherited this ranch they loved so much. She would prepare for the rest of her life by spending as much time with the horses as possible, once they’d arrived. She could read every book on the equine therapy she could find and familiarize herself with the basics of it. That could only help, right?

  She hated to think about leaving Crescent Hall and Austin, anyway. Why couldn’t she fall in love with the father of her baby, and he with her? Why couldn’t she have it all?

  She looked at her phone again, eager for a distraction. As she began to scroll through her messages, she saw Marianne had left a few new ones. That didn’t surprise her. What did was the number of times Anthony had tried to get in touch with her in the last few days. What did he want? Should she find out?

  After a moment’s hesitation, she clicked on the latest call from Marianne instead.

  “Ella? Are you getting my messages? Did you get the one about the scripts? Call me back. Today.”

  Ella rolled her eyes. Her days of rushing to return Marianne’s phone calls seemed so far away. She hadn’t felt like speaking to her friend since she found out Marianne had taken Anthony for a client. She hadn’t been able to wrap her head around that. Why would Anthony switch from a top-notch agent to an up-and-coming one? And why did Marianne think working with him was okay after what he’d done?

  She thought she knew the answer to this last question. Marianne needed a high-flying client in order to secure the promotion she’d wanted for so long. Once Ella had crashed and burned, of course she’d look for someone else to fill that role. But Anthony? Curious, Ella checked the website of Barnes & Madison and discovered that indeed, Marianne was now a vice president. So if she’d gotten the promotion, and she’d gotten Anthony for a client, too, why try to bring back the one woman who could screw things up for her?

  Ella considered the voicemails from Anthony and finally clicked on one. “Ella, where are you? I know you’re pissed. I know I’m a total dickhead, but that doesn’t mean you have to blow this for all of us. The script is amazing. It’s the kind of movie that defines a generation. I need this. You do, too. I promise it won’t be awkward at all. In fact, I miss you, baby.” His voice softened into the tone she thought of as his bedroom voice. It signaled that he was ready to end an argument, ready to stop being self-absorbed and arrogant.

  Ready for sex.

  Ella recoiled. He missed her? He had to be kidding. And what movie was he talking about? Marianne was crazy if she thought Ella would play opposite him in any film now.

  She went back and listened to more messages until she thought she understood. There was a certain movie Marianne was very excited about. The same one Anthony was excited about. Every one of Marianne’s messages included a plea to tell her where she was so she could mail her a copy of the script. Finally, she’d attached an electronic version to an email.

  A sneaking suspicion formed in Ella’s mind. It was no coincidence someone wanted to cast Anthony and her in the same movie. Someone wanted to capitalize on their notoriety—especially after her disastrous interview with Myra Cramer. They figured the tabloids would go crazy with speculation if she and Anthony worked together. Instant, free publicity. So did that mean…?

  She worked it out in her mind.

  Anthony’s deal must hinge on hers. No Ella Scales, no Anthony Black. Was that it?

  For the first time in weeks, Ella searched out the tabloids on her phone and read every article she could find about herself.

  Speculation over whether Anthony intended to press assault charges.

  Photos of Kaylee ministering to Anthony after Ella decked him.

  Ella sightings—everywhere from Bangkok to Peru. Apparently she was as elusive as Bigfoot since she ran from Myra’s show.

  She was surprised to discover that one common thread ran through all of them. Nowhere except in the earliest postings was there negative commentary about her. Anthony and Kaylee had come under fire after Kaylee’s behavior at the Academy Awards, but their appearance on the Myra in the Morning show incensed the viewing public. Popular consensus called it beneath the dignity of a world-renowned actor to torment his ex-fiancée onscreen like that. Anthony was called arrogant, hot-headed, full of himself, a throwback to a worse time. Women hated him for ditching Ella just months before their wedding. They hated Kaylee even more. She was the other woman. She was the homewrecker.

  Back in February, Marianne had arranged several elegant and tasteful photo shoots of Ella in her wedding dress, and carefully released them before the Academy Awards to increase publicity around her. Tabloids now paired these with pictures of Kaylee in awkward poses. Climbing out of limos after she’d had a few drinks, her barely there club clothes hiked up around the tops of her thighs; morning after shots when she’d tried to slip out of her house to a local store
before dolling herself up in makeup and designer clothes; photos with her mouth open, yelling at the paparazzi.

  For one moment Ella sympathized with Kaylee. It could so easily have been her on the receiving end of the press’s vicious attacks. Then she remembered what Kaylee had done, and took a small satisfaction in knowing things weren’t going as the young actress had planned.

  The public identified with Ella. They wanted the dream of her Cinderella story to be real. They wanted Anthony to be a prince.

  Instead, he’d shown his clay feet in all too blatant a manner. Now the women of the world were out for blood.

  Anthony needed her to reclaim his tarnished image.

  And she’d blown him off.

  She laughed aloud at the justice of it. Here she was, perfectly content on this ranch, while he was spinning with anxiety in Los Angeles, waiting for her to save his career.

  She didn’t think she had the time, energy or desire to do that. In fact, trying for a baby this past week with Austin had been truly exhausting. In the best way possible, of course. Maybe they should step up their attempts even more. Since Mason and Austin had shifted all their bedroom furniture to the bunkhouse, they had a private place to make love whenever the mood hit them.

  She let the phone drop to her lap, Anthony and Kaylee’s difficulties forgotten, as she tried to imagine a way for them to come together they hadn’t already experienced. These last few days had actually been wonderful. She told herself it was because she really wanted a child and she was going to get one with no strings attached, but she was lying. Yes, it would be wonderful to be pregnant—to know that next year she’d have a family of her own. But even more wonderful at the present was the chance to be with Austin. To know he would be with her whenever—and however—she wanted him to be. He was as insatiable as she was. More, even.

  She stood up, deciding it had been all too long since she’d felt him inside her. She wanted to be with Austin.

  Now.

  Chapter 18

  ‡

  Five days later, when the trucks delivered the horses he and Mason had hand-picked from the breeding ranches of southern Montana, Austin counted it as one of the best moments of his life. Once the horses had been introduced into various corrals and pastures, Crescent Hall would begin to look like a real ranch again. Ella’s face had been a sight to see a couple of days ago when they unloaded the John Deere tractor and a couple of utility vehicles they’d bought to use for many of the jobs around the ranch. “Did you think we did everything on horseback?” he’d asked her.

  “I guess I hoped so. It’s sexier.”

  “I’ll show you sexy.” He’d hustled her back to the bunkhouse and taken her on their brand-new bed. He understood how she felt about horses, though; he felt the same way—but there were many chores on a big ranch and some of them required an engine.

  Once all the horses had been delivered, he and Mason stood on the railings of the closest corral to the Hall and watched a spirited bay gelding check out its new home. He could tell Mason was just about as choked up as he was to see the ranch come to life.

  “Didn’t think we’d ever get this chance,” Mason said.

  “Yep. It’s something.”

  “I hope you bought me an English saddle,” Ella called out as she crossed the yard to join them.

  Austin caught the look on his brother’s face. “She’s joking. I told her there’d be none of that nonsense here.” He wrapped an arm around Ella’s waist when she neared them. “We’ll make a western woman out of you yet.”

  “I’ll have you know California is farther west than Montana.” But she leaned against him, accepting his hand on her hip.

  “There’s west and then there’s western,” Mason said. “A lot of difference in those two words.”

  They watched the bay prance around the ring and Austin realized how right this felt. A week ago he would have said that he and Ella were arranged like this in order to fool Mason into thinking their marriage was real. The truth was, no thought had gone into it—at least not on his part. Ella had approached, he’d held out his arm and pulled her close.

  Because he wanted her close.

  Struck by the thought, he missed Mason’s next words. “What’s that?”

  “You better talk to Reverend Halpern and set a date for your ceremony. Heloise called earlier to ask about it.”

  Ella shifted away from him and he let her go, the moment lost. “All right. When I get a minute, I’ll call the church.”

  “Regan and I will help anyway we can,” Mason told him.

  That was good. They would need help to pull this off.

  “Let’s make sure all these critters like their new home,” Mason added. “You coming, Ella?”

  “You two go on ahead. I’m going to check up on Regan and the baby chicks.” One of the ranches that had delivered a quartet of horses threw in a couple of dozen chicks when Austin mentioned they were in the market for some. Mason had set up a large cardboard box in the living room with a heat lamp until they were old enough to move out to the coop. He’d cautioned the women they wouldn’t want them inside more than a day or two because of the smell, but by then he’d have rigged up the coop to be safe for them.

  Austin knew Ella thought the chicks were adorable, but given how much she loved horses, too, he suspected she wanted to give him and Mason a few minutes alone to enjoy the triumph of resurrecting their family’s ranch. He appreciated that. He appreciated a lot of things about her, including the way she filled out those jeans as she walked back to the Hall.

  “Hell of a woman,” Mason said. “Don’t blow this.”

  “I’m not blowing anything.”

  “You sure about that?” His brother shot him a look. “Sometimes the two of you seem to get along like a house on fire, but other times… I don’t know. Something’s not quite right.”

  “Quit your worrying. It’s all under control.”

  But it wasn’t. Not by a long shot.

  * * *

  “They’re absolutely adorable,” Regan said as she and Ella sat in the living room of the Hall, a box filled with peeping chicks between them.

  “Oh, my gosh—look at this one, it’s falling asleep,” Ella said of the chick in her hand. Sure enough, its eyes blinked once, twice and then closed altogether. Its head drooped down to rest on her palm. “That’s so cute!” she whispered, unable to keep from rubbing a forefinger over its soft fluff.

  “What should we name them?” Regan asked.

  Ella looked over the two dozen chicks and laughed. “How will we tell them apart?”

  Regan sat back on her heels. “I don’t know.”

  An hour slipped by as they decided on names and then argued over which chick was which. They discussed giving the chickens different colored bands on their legs to help tell them apart, then discarded the idea as too silly. Ella enjoyed Regan’s company. She was lively and funny and adored everything about Crescent Hall. Her optimism rubbed off on Ella, making it possible for her to forget she was only pretending to be married.

  “We’ll just have to do our best,” Ella said when they grew tired of playing with the chicks. “I’m sure they’ll have distinct personalities when they grow bigger.”

  “Maybe.” Regan didn’t sound sure.

  “The horses do.” They did, too. Ella was as amazed by their individuality as she had been as a child. Some were spirited, flying across the pastures as fast as they could go. Others were mischievous, nudging and biting the other horses. Still others were calm and well behaved. While the men had unloaded them, Ella had spotted a certain dappled mare she hoped she’d be allowed to call her own. Austin and Mason had decreed they needed to give the beasts a day or two to settle into their homes before riding them, however. Ella couldn’t wait.

  “Shoot. I think I left my water bottle out in the truck.” Ever since Regan had read that pregnant women need to keep hydrated, she’d carried the bottle with her all the time.

  Ella jumped up. “I�
�ll get it.” A moment later she was at the front door in time to see the now very familiar sight of the neighborhood boy riding past the property on his bike. Like usual, he pedaled as fast as he could up the road, but this time instead of going on past, he took a hard right into the driveway and rode full-bore straight at her.

  Ella had just decided he meant to crash against the porch steps when he leaped from the bike and threw it to the ground.

  “Where is he?” he demanded. “Where’s Austin Hall?”

  He was tall, but thin, twelve or thirteen maybe. He wore a red t-shirt, faded jeans and scuffed up sneakers.

  Surprised, Ella said, “Hold on a moment. I’ll get him. Can I tell him your name?”

  “No.” The boy looked uncertain, but then he squared his shoulders. “I need to talk to Austin Hall.”

  “Okay.” Ella adopted a conciliatory tone. “Just a moment. I’ll find him.”

  She didn’t invite the boy inside. He was angry and she didn’t know how he might behave, and she felt protective of Regan and the chicks. She wasn’t afraid of him—not with Austin and Mason around, and besides, he was just a kid. Still, her heart was beating in her chest as she entered the house, strode through it quickly and opened the back door, waving to get the men’s attention.

  They were walking toward the barn when they heard her call out. Austin turned, saw her face and crossed the back yard at a trot. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “There’s this kid outside—the one that’s always on his bike. He’s twelve or thirteen…”

  Austin strode past her through the house toward the front door. She hurried after him. “I’m Austin Hall,” she heard him say as he stepped out onto the porch. “What can I do for you?”

  Ella reached the door in time to see the boy straighten himself to his full height and swallow hard. “I’m Richard Ward. I’m your son.”