The Bad Luck Wedding Dress (The Bad Luck Wedding series)

by Geralyn Dawson

  She lifted her head as he lowered his. Their lips melded in a kiss filled with promise and with love. A kiss sweetened with the honey of trust.

  NEITHER TRACE nor Jenny noticed when Tye hoisted himself from bed, his teeth clenched against pain both physical and emotional. Tugging the quilt along with him, he grabbed his boots and slipped outside.

  The boards beneath his feet may as well have been ice, and bitter air hit him like a fist. Crossing the passageway between the shelter’s two rooms, he told himself he’d rather spend the night in the outhouse than be a third wheel to his brother and his wife tonight. He’d played that particular role before.

  Pushing open the door, he stumbled inside. “Black as a tomb,” he muttered. It took a few minutes, but his eyes eventually adjusted to the darkness enough for him to make out the big stone fireplace on the opposite wall. Cast-iron skillets and a big Dutch oven indicated this room had served as the kitchen. Now to get a fire going before he passed out.

  He found wood stacked near the hearth and matches on the mantel. Twice the pain in his shoulder caused him to halt his efforts, but finally he managed to create a small blaze. He tugged a rocking chair close to the fire, then gratefully sank into its seat. Spreading the quilt over his body, he sighed and closed his eyes.

  For the first time in years, a flicker of hope warmed his soul as he drifted toward sleep. Trace had fallen in love again. Jenny Fortune McBride had helped to heal the wounds Tye and Constance had inflicted. She’d convinced him to trust again.

  As he waited for heat from the fire to displace the chill of the night and of the scene just past, he acknowledged his deepest desire. Maybe Jenny Fortune McBride could work another miracle. Maybe she could convince Trace to forgive. Maybe she could help him get his brother back.

  He floated in the haze between dozing and full sleep when the squeak of door hinges warned him he was no longer alone.

  “Tye?” Trace whispered.

  Too tired and too weak to face any more upheaval at the moment, he feigned sleep. He heard the sound of footsteps approaching, then the scrape of one log against another. Opening his eyes in a narrow slit, he watched as Trace added wood to the fire. One, two, three large logs. Lifting the poker from a hook mortared into the stone, Trace prodded the logs until the flames began to roar and warmth eased into the room like summer sunshine. He replaced the poker, then assessed the shelves built to one side of the fireplace. Removing three jars of preserved food, he turned to leave. Tye quickly shut his eyes.

  Footsteps passed him, paused, and then came back. For more than a minute Trace stood beside the rocker, silent and still. Tye’s mouth went dry as he waited; for what, he didn’t know.

  A brush of a hand against his bandaged shoulder. A whispered curse.

  Then gently, soundlessly, Trace McBride tugged up the quilt and tucked his brother in.

  JENNY SAT on the bed waiting for Trace, knowing the time had arrived to tell him about the baby. She’d been married to Trace McBride long enough to know that the kiss they’d shared moments ago was, in Trace’s mind, a prelude to lovemaking. Under the circumstances, they dare not indulge themselves, no matter how much they wanted to.

  And Jenny wanted to. He’d told her he loved her, after all. Hearing those words had been her fondest fantasy while dreaming of how to tell him about the child. She’d pictured Trace verbally declaring his love while demonstrating it physically, after which she’d share her most special news.

  Needless to say, her imaginings had never taken the route presented to her tonight.

  He returned to the room with jars of food in his hands. “You found him?” she asked, referring to Tye.

  He nodded and shrugged out of his fur-lined leather coat, tossing it onto a chair. “He’s asleep in the other room. He’d started a fire and I added to it. He’ll be fine. Rest is what he needs most.”

  Relief washed through her. “Rest and food,” she replied, eyeing the jars in his hand. “We haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

  “I come prepared as you can see.” He twisted the lid off the jar of peaches and offered some to his wife. “I didn’t see a spoon or fork. Can you manage with your fingers today?”

  “I could manage with only my tongue.”

  The look he shot her could have set the bedsheets on fire. “I was counting on that.”

  The heat of a blush warmed her cheeks as she rushed to forestall any further suggestive comments by asking about the girls. His measuring expression told her he’d heard her unspoken request to slow things down.

  “I’m a bit worried, to be honest,” Trace replied with a shrug. “It’s been a difficult day for them. It’s been a difficult day for all of us.”

  “You didn’t leave them alone?”

  “No, the marshal promised to take them to Mrs. Wilson.” He paused a moment then asked, “Jenny, there’s nothing… wrong with Mrs. Wilson, is there?”

  She licked the sweet nectar of peach juice off her fingers. “Of course not. Why do you ask?”

  Trace tore his gaze away from her mouth. “It’s just that I went through so many caretakers for the girls. I mean, some of them didn’t last a day. And here’s Mrs. Wilson, she’s been as tickled as a two-tailed pup to watch over my Menaces since the very beginning.”

  “Our Menaces,” Jenny corrected with a smile. She set down the peaches. “Don’t worry about Mrs. Wilson, Trace. The answer is simple. She loves them. I daresay that after all your concern over providing them a mother, they’d have done fine without me as long as Mrs. Wilson was in your employ.”

  Trace scowled at her. “Don’t think that for a minute, Mrs. McBride. All of us would be lost without you.” He sat beside her on the bed and gently smoothed her hair away from her face. “Me, especially. It scared the hell out of me when you turned up missing.”

  Jenny turned her head to press a kiss against the palm of his hand.

  “What happened, sweetheart? How did you end up in Jack Bailey’s clutches?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  She smiled ruefully. “That’s what I told your brother a little while ago.”

  He winced as if he’d tasted something extremely sour. “You know, Jenny, I said I trusted you and I mean it. My brother is another question entirely. Would you care to tell me why I found you two curled up in bed together? It wasn’t that cold in here.”

  She tugged on his arm. “Come lie beside me. There’s something I need to tell you, and I’d rather do it while I’m in your arms.”

  He rubbed his hand across his jaw. “Am I going to hate this?”

  “Oh, no.” Happiness put a smile on Jenny’s face. “It’ll make your heart sing, I feel certain.”

  He arched a brow. “My heart sing, huh?” He reached down to yank off his boots. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you if I find I’m overcome with lust.”

  In all seriousness, Jenny said, “Don’t get too carried away. I’m afraid if we make love tonight we’ll need to be somewhat inventive.”

  Trace froze. “Did Big Jack hurt you?”

  “No, I’m fine now. I wasn’t so sure earlier, though, and that’s why you found me lying down.”

  “Talk to me,” he demanded.

  Jenny wanted to bite her tongue. She’d made a muddle of it, that was certain. “I didn’t want it to be like this. Actually, I had almost decided to wait until Christmas. Remember I promised you that gift?”

  “Jenny,” he warned, looming over her. She sighed. “Oh, all right. But you have to lie down. It seems more appropriate.” He growled with frustration but rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him as she had requested. Jenny lifted her head and grinned down at his long-suffering expression as she added, “After all, it’s the lying down that got me into this trouble to begin with.”

  “What trouble!”

  “Apron trouble.”

  “Apron trouble?”

  “As in riding high. My apron’s riding high.”


  His body stiffened. His eyes went wide. “Jenny? Are you… ?”

  “In a family way,” she finished, her smile going wide. “Congratulations, Daddy. Perhaps it’ll be a boy this time.”

  His hold on her gentled. “A baby? You and me?”

  “You and me and Emma and Maribeth and Katrina.”

  “A baby.” Wonder filled his tone and myriad emotions crossed his face—tenderness, happiness, pride. And love. So much love it brought tears to her eyes.

  “Ah, treasure, you don’t know how much this means to me.”

  “I know how much it means to me,” she softly replied.

  “God, I love you. Thank you, sweetheart.” He pulled her head down to his.

  Joy sang in Jenny’s veins as she basked in the sweet sensation of her husband’s kiss. It went on and on and on. More than a sharing of passion, this kiss was a uniting. It was as if a barrier between them had fallen, and only with its loss did she recognize it once had existed.

  In the past, Trace had offered her his home, his family, and his desire. But tonight he offered her his love. He offered her himself.

  Her heart overflowed. This was a sharing so beautiful, so fulfilling, she wept with the wonder of it and Trace kissed the tears away.

  “Don’t cry, baby. It hurts to see you cry.” He brushed her hair off her forehead and said in a teasing tone, “Besides, I have enough salt on me now to keep a whole herd of deer happy through the winter.”

  She went along with his effort to lighten the mood by slapping playfully at his chest and saying, “You’ve told me before that my tears were sweet.”

  “I lied. They’re as salty as your temper.”

  “You keep talking like that and you’ll get a taste of my temper, McBride. You should have seen what I did to Big Jack Bailey.”

  As the joking light in his eyes died, Jenny wished she’d never mention Big Jack. “Trace, don’t—”

  “Tell me the whole story. Everything from how Bailey got his hands on you to why I walked in on what I walked in on.”

  “You didn’t walk in on anything,” she peevishly replied.

  “Jenny,” he warned. “Start at the beginning and tell me everything that happened.”

  And so she did. At times she thought he’d explode with anger. Other moments he grew so quiet and still she’d have thought he’d gone to sleep if she didn’t know better. Only once did he interrupt, at the first mention of her backache and her fear she’d lose the baby. He tried to get out of bed, saying, “I’ll be back with the doctor in a couple of hours.”

  “Wait, Trace. I believe there is a good chance Bailey will send the doctor our way.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  She told him about the threats she’d made against Big Jack’s new grandson. “Damn, honey. That was some pretty smart thinking.”

  “I’m ashamed at the idea, but I did what needed doing to protect my family.”

  Trace grimaced. “You did better than me, I’m afraid. I ran across Bailey on the way out here, and I’m afraid I didn’t leave him in much shape for fetching a doctor.” At Jenny’s questioning look, he added, “I pretty much beat the tar out of him.”

  “Oh.” She knew a niggle of shame over feeling great satisfaction at such knowledge.

  “I’d best go for the doctor.” Trace again made to leave.

  She shook her head and insisted, “Not for me. If Tye needs a physician, fine. But I’m all right, now, I promise. I won’t take any risks with this baby.” Her lips twitched with a flustered smile as she added, “That’s why I said we’d need to get inventive with our lovemaking.”

  “I won’t touch you till he’s born,” he swore.

  “Let’s not go overboard,” she replied, frowning. “I’m certain there are ways. You must know something about this. After all, you went through this three times with Constance.”

  “I don’t want to talk about Constance.”

  Jenny squeezed his hand. “I think perhaps we should.”

  “No. I see no reason. That’s the past, Jenny. Leave it there.”

  She rested her head on his chest. “The past is asleep in the other room of this cabin. Your brother and I talked about what happened while we were resting. He told me some things I doubt you know; some things I think you should be aware of.”

  “Ah, hell, Jenny.”

  She wouldn’t be dissuaded. She told him most of the story Tye had told her—of Constance and her lies, of the inheritance, and how Lord Howard had contributed to Tye’s downfall. “He hates what he did, Trace. He’s sorry for it, and he wants your forgiveness. When he first arrived at Willow Hill, Tye told me he hoped for a reconciliation between you two. I still believe that’s true. He hasn’t come to take Katrina away from us. He wants you and all the girls to be part of his family once again.”

  “Forgiveness, huh?” Trace snorted. “He doesn’t ask for much, does he?”

  “He’s your brother, Trace. Your twin.”

  “He’s Katrina’s true father!”

  She wasn’t surprised by the sudden savagery in his voice but by the words themselves. She would have expected him to condemn his brother for bedding his wife. Instead, his first thoughts were of Katrina.

  And that, she realized, was the offense he could not forgive.

  “It isn’t his sin, you know. Tye isn’t responsible for keeping the truth about Katrina from you. Constance did that. Tye didn’t know about her until after she was born.”

  He shifted his gaze away from her.

  Jenny reached up and turned his chin, gently demanding his attention. When finally his eyes refocused on hers, she said, “Blame him for being intimate with your wife, but don’t hold him responsible for the fact you took Kat into your heart before you learned his seed, not yours, gave her life.”

  His jaw hardened, and she could see he didn’t like what she’d said. But he’d heard it, and for now, that was enough.

  If you find a penny, pick it up and put it in your left shoe for good luck.

  CHAPTER 21

  DAWN BROKE IN FIERY splendor on a crystalline sky as Trace, Jenny, and Tye prepared to depart the cabin. Telling himself he preferred the cut of cold air to the idea of having his wife exposed to Tye’s bare chest any longer, Trace gave his brother his own coat before making a pallet for him in the bed of the wagon.

  Next order of business was to extract a promise from Jenny to inform him at the first sign of any ache or pain connected with the baby. “Hunger pains don’t count,” he grumbled when she voiced the matter for the tenth time since awakening. “Y’all finished the last of the canned goods.”

  “Isn’t there anything else I could eat?”

  “Good Lord, Jen, didn’t your mother teach you never to ask that question of a man?” As color stained her cheeks, he added, “No, of course not. Your mother is Monique Day.”

  He herded her outside and up into the wagon. She didn’t say another word about being hungry, not even when her stomach let out a growl loud enough to frighten the horses. Trace swallowed a laugh and flicked the reins, and the horses broke into a trot.

  They spotted the doctor’s buggy halfway to Fort Worth. “Either I didn’t hit Bailey as hard as I thought, or you scared him more than you knew, Jenny,” Trace observed. He stopped the buckboard, and the physician made a brief examination of Tye’s shoulder, then listened intently as Jenny quietly outlined her symptoms.

  Trace watched nervously as the doctor stroked his beard and frowned. He moved closer to overhear the conversation. “If you’re no longer experiencing pain, Mrs. McBride, I doubt this bumpy road will cause any ill effects,” the doctor said. “I’ll follow you, and once I get Mr. McBride taken care of, we can discuss your symptoms in greater depth.”

  Trace’s heart was lighter after that, and he even spoke directly to his brother twice during the second leg of the trip. Within two hours of leaving the cabin, they passed the outlying structures of the city of Fort Worth.

  Trace didn’t turn at the int
ersection that would lead to the Rankin Building where Tye had spent the night before last. When Jenny gave him a curious look, he shrugged. “It’ll make the doctor’s job easier if you’re both in the same place. Don’t make it out to be any more than it is, Jenny.”

  “Whatever you say, dear.”

  He glowered in answer to her smug, knowing smile.

  The wagon rattled its way up Willow Hill, and by the time he pulled to a stop in front of the house, his daughters came flying out the front door. Maribeth and Katrina launched themselves at Jenny, hugging and kissing and laughing with delight. Emma hung back from the boisterous welcome, her complexion pale and her eyes watery. Trace wondered what was the matter. This wasn’t like his eldest daughter at all. He decided that as soon as he saw his wife and brother settled, he’d have a talk with Emma.

  A masculine, emotional clearing of the throat attracted his attention to the front porch where he was surprised to see Jenny’s mother clinging to a man who could be none other than Richard Fortune.

  The expression on both parents’ faces clearly revealed the love they felt for their daughter. For the first time since he’d know her, Monique looked her age. How she’d known of the danger stalking her daughter, Trace didn’t know, but the worries of the night were etched across her face. Richard Fortune, his complexion pale, the hand holding his wife betraying the slightest tremble, drank in the sight of his daughter. Jenny has his eyes, Trace thought.

  “Honey?” Trace said softly. “Jenny, look.”

  She glanced up at him. “At what?”

  “The house. We have visitors.”

  She swung her head around and gasped. “Mother? Richard?”

  Then Monique was running down the steps, Jenny’s father hurrying after her. “She’s safe!” she cried. “Oh, Richard, she’s safe.”

  Trace restrained his daughters from joining in when Jenny’s parents swallowed her in an embrace. He watched closely to make certain they didn’t unknowingly cause her or the baby harm.