Issued to the Bride: One Soldier

by Cora Seton

Cass bustled in, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. She’d been distracted this morning. Had burned the sausages she’d cooked for breakfast and dropped a handful of silverware on the floor.

  “The General’s throwing her off,” Jo had murmured to him at the table. “She thinks of this as her house. Now he’s home. She doesn’t know what it means.”

  “You’re still here,” the General said to Wyoming, pulling Jack’s thoughts back to the present.

  “I’m still here,” Wyoming agreed. “For the moment.”

  “And you’re still here, more to the point,” Cass said crisply. “What do you have to say for yourself, taking eleven years to make it back home?”

  Jack straightened. Cass was going on the offensive.

  “I had a job to do—”

  “Your job was to raise us,” she snapped. “That’s what Mom wanted. Instead you sent us overseers, guardians—and random men.”

  “Hey,” Brian protested. “I’m not random.”

  “Well?” Cass demanded of the General. “Do you know how hypocritical you are? When I was a teenager and I accompanied you to one of your military functions, I tried to tell you our guardian was misbehaving with one of the ranch hands. You banished me back to Two Willows for talking about sex, but then you sent me a man to have sex with!”

  “Hey!” Brian said again. “He sent me for more than that.”

  “Do you know how awful you made me feel, never inviting me to another function again?” Cass went on. “It was like I was the one who’d done something wrong instead of our guardian—or you! That wasn’t fair.”

  The rest of the men and women in the room held their breath. Jack braced himself for an explosion.

  “You’re right,” the General said gruffly, surprising them all. “That wasn’t fair. I was upset. I took it out on you. I was trying to keep up appearances at USSOCOM. Convince everyone—including myself—that nothing had changed after Amelia died.” He shook his head. “Everything had changed. I couldn’t keep up.”

  Cass’s shoulders slumped. “We needed you. I needed you. When you stopped inviting me along, it was like I lost another parent.”

  The General shut his eyes. “I never meant for you to feel that way. You were so angry. I thought… I thought you hated me.”

  Cass made a sound, pressed her lips together, but her eyes shone with tears. “I didn’t hate you,” she whispered.

  The General put out his hand. Jack wasn’t sure she would take it, but Cass moved as if propelled by an invisible force to the General’s side and let him grasp hers. “You remind me of Amelia,” he said. “Keeping everything on the ranch running shipshape. I’ll stay out of your way.” His voice got husky, and he shook his head again, scowling. “Damn doctors trying to get me retired. We’ll see about that.” He squeezed Cass’s hand again. “Lake?” he snapped. “You’re up.”

  Jack supposed the man couldn’t take more emotion than that. Cass pulled herself together, wiped her cheek and moved away. The General’s gaze when it followed her was remorseful, but you’d never know how the man felt if you listened to his voice. “Lake? What’s taking so long? Make your report.”

  Alice was back in the kitchen later that afternoon with Cass when Wyoming returned from an appointment in town. Alice had spent the day in her studio and had just popped in to refresh her coffee and for the excuse to stretch her legs. She’d never sat for so long for so many days in a row. Still, she was wide awake. Jack’s visit to her bedroom last night had done that. Ever since he’d cupped her breast, her body hadn’t stopped aching for more.

  Jack would feel amazing inside her. She knew that with a certainty that even a vision couldn’t give her. Maybe the General had sent him. Maybe fate was playing with her again, dictating her future, but she couldn’t deny what she’d felt when he touched her.

  That was a connection worth pursuing.

  Still, a thread of unease had nagged at her all morning. She couldn’t shake the feeling her family was still in danger. Sometimes she felt like the danger was getting closer. Other times it felt like it was already here. She was so anxious about Landon, the General—and Jack—she couldn’t untangle one set of fears from the others.

  Wyoming’s shoulders drooped, and she shook her head before Cass could even ask how things went. “Don’t ask. My interview was a disaster. I don’t even want the job, anyway. It’s not in my field. It would have bored me to tears.”

  “Will’s due back soon,” Cass said encouragingly. “That’ll cheer you up.”

  “I guess.”

  Alice filled her coffee cup and noticed Wye did perk up when the man’s truck pulled around the house a few minutes later. By the time Will knocked on the back door, she was smiling.

  “I think I’ve got the right part this time,” he said cheerfully when Cass let him in. “Come on, Wyoming. I’ll show you how it’s done.” He led the way to the basement.

  “How what’s done?” Wyoming asked, already following him.

  “Manly plumbing work.”

  “Sounds like a handy skill.”

  Corporal Myers appeared in the kitchen. “Wyoming? The General needs you.”

  “Me? What for?” Wye stopped. Will stopped, too.

  “Yeah, what for?” he asked. Wye elbowed him.

  “You’ll have to ask him.”

  Wye hesitated, and Alice could almost see her sorting through her options. Miss out on the chance to spend time with Will, or ignore the General’s summons and risk offending her host. Finally, she sighed and crossed the kitchen. “I’ll be there in a minute,” she told Will and followed Myers out of the room.

  “That father of yours seems determined to get in my way,” Will said to Cass and Alice.

  “The General doesn’t even know you’re here,” Cass said primly.

  Will’s ready smile slipped. “Well, guess I’ll get to it. Without my pretty helper.” He made his way to the basement.

  “I hope Will and Corporal Myers don’t come to blows over Wyoming,” Cass said, getting back to work. “I think she likes Will better, but I can’t help being a little partial to the corporal.”

  “Poor Will. A man in uniform always wins out, doesn’t he?” Alice quipped.

  “Jack will be happy to hear you think that,” Cass said.

  “Dude, you’re spying on your girlfriend?” Connor asked when he caught Jack in Alice’s workshop. Jack, having just rigged up a video surveillance camera behind a rack of her costumes, simply nodded. He’d heard footsteps on the stairs but had known the tread was far too heavy for it to be any of the women arriving. The men would understand. He’d watched the carriage house patiently all morning until he’d seen Alice go back to the house, probably to get more coffee, judging from the mug she’d carried in her hand. He’d hoped to slip in and out of the carriage house in her absence with no one the wiser.

  “Landon Clark keeps changing plans, and he refuses to meet any of us. Even the General. You’d think the man could take a minute to shake the hand of a fallen hero.”

  “She’s not going to like that.” Connor pointed at the tiny camera Jack had hidden. He’d parted the costumes on the rack position in front of it just enough to see through but not so much that the camera would be visible from any distance.

  “I’m not trying to invade her privacy, just keep her safe.”

  “By invading her privacy.”

  “What if this guy is really from Tennessee?” Jack demanded as he packed up the gear he’d used to install it.

  “Landon Clark? No way; he’s been in touch with Alice since before the last round of trouble here.”

  “So?” Jack tweaked the costumes again, trying to make them look normal, while still leaving enough space so as not to block the camera.

  “So the two-bit outfit that’s been sending these people wouldn’t have two plays going on at once. They weren’t that organized,” Connor argued.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Let’s get out of here before Alice gets back.”

  “You’re
making a mistake,” Connor said, but he followed Jack downstairs and out the door. They’d made it halfway across the grounds toward the house when Alice burst out of the kitchen and hurried their way. Jack was surprised when she grabbed both their arms and turned them back the way they’d come.

  “I need your help.”

  “Thought you wanted me to stay out of your way.” Jack wished he could take his words back. “Glad to help, though.”

  “Landon’s on his way, and my studio is a mess. You two can help me straighten it.”

  “Sure thing.” If she cleaned it herself, she might spot his camera.

  “I need you to pull out costumes. Good ones I can feature to show Landon what I’m capable of.” She led the way inside and up the stairs.

  “Will do,” Jack said.

  “Connor, grab a broom.”

  “Already ahead of you.” Connor twirled one he’d found in a corner and started to work his way around the room. Alice began to take her Civil War–era gowns off the dressmaker dummies to stow away. Jack began to peruse the costumes, unsure which ones would be best to showcase.

  “Find complicated ones to demonstrate the breadth of my capabilities.” She pointed to an intricately beaded 1920s-style flapper dress at the end of one rack. “Like that.”

  “What about this one?”

  Jack looked up to see that Connor was perilously close to where he’d installed the tiny camera just minutes ago. He’d propped his broom against a table and pulled one of Alice’s costumes off a rack. Jack sent him a look that should have reduced the man to a puddle, but somehow Connor still stood there.

  Alice crossed the room to look at the delicate fabric of what he guessed to be a ladies’ sheer cotton gown from the Roman era. “That is pretty.”

  “This one is cool.” Connor edged even closer to where the camera was and picked out something vaguely medieval. Any minute he was going to expose the camera to view.

  “I think this one is badass.” Jack grabbed the closest costume to hand, a plain pink ballerina’s tutu.

  Alice shook her head. “Jack, be serious.”

  With a satisfied smirk, Connor went back to pushing his broom. Jack did his best to find costumes that were extra special. When he got close to Connor, he stuck a sharp elbow in Connor’s ribs. “Stop fucking around.”

  “You stop fucking around.” Connor elbowed him back.

  “Oh, my god—can’t you be serious for two minutes?” Alice sighed. “Out. Both of you. I can’t think with this much testosterone in the room.” When neither man moved, she clapped her hands together. “Now! Beat it! I’ll clean up myself!”

  Reluctantly, Jack moved toward the door, relaxing a little when Connor came, too. He waited until they were out of the carriage house before turning on the man. “What was that about?”

  “Just trying to help,” Connor said innocently.

  “You’re an ass.”

  “And you’re still single. Better get cracking before that Hollywood producer steals Alice away.”

  Jack gave up, hustled across the yard and into the house. In the guest room, he pulled out his tablet and opened the video feed. There was Alice whisking around the room, pulling out costumes, putting some of them on the dressmaker’s dummies from which she’d just taken the ball gowns.

  When an expensive car pulled up outside a few minutes later, he moved to the window to watch as a man in his late thirties stepped out, surveyed the ranch in one sweeping glance, took in the house and then the carriage house, and proceeded toward the latter. Jack was struck all over again by the man’s appearance. Instead of being an overweight middle-aged man with a Steven Spielberg complex, like he’d hoped when he’d first heard of Landon, the movie producer was muscular, sharply dressed in a suit and a wool coat, and gave off an impression of tightly coiled energy.

  Alice opened the door before Landon could knock. Even from here Jack could tell she was a little breathless. She beamed at Landon and ushered him inside.

  Jack returned to the video feed, an emotion twisting in his gut he couldn’t name. He was rewarded a minute later when she and Landon came into view. He turned up the volume in time to hear Landon proclaim, “Love the space. It’s perfect for an up-and-coming costume designer.”

  Jack’s shoulders tightened. Prickles moved up his spine, and if he’d had hackles, they’d be raised, he thought as he zoomed in closer on the couple. When a man praised a woman like that, he wanted something from her. And it wasn’t a bunch of costumes.

  “She’s digging him.”

  It was Connor again. This time his dog, Max, was with him. “How the hell did you get in here?”

  “That weaselly little lock on your door isn’t going to keep me out.”

  Connor had been far quieter than Jack had given him credit for. Far more skilled, too. He moved closer. Max prowled around the room.

  “She’s hanging on his every word.”

  “More like the other way around,” Jack said sourly. “Look at him. He’s not even pretending to look at that dress she’s showing him. He’s looking at her.”

  “Do you blame him?” Connor chuckled. “Even Sadie admits Alice is stunning.”

  “She wouldn’t fall for that jerk.” Jack rested his elbows on his desk and watched the action on screen.

  “You don’t think so? I don’t know—he’s got looks, money, style… a film studio.”

  “You think he’s got looks?”

  “Hell, you’re jealous.”

  “Go fuck yourself.”

  Connor chuckled and moved closer, peering at the small screen over Jack’s shoulders.

  Landon worked his way around the studio, Alice in his wake. He touched the costumes she’d put on display. Commented on them. Engaged her in a discussion about authenticity and fabric choices. Connor was right. Landon had the scruffy good looks of an artist or rock star, and he was talking Alice’s language.

  “There’s something off about him,” Jack said.

  “Yeah, he’s trying to bag your girl.”

  As they watched, Landon touched Alice’s arm. Jack half stood. Connor pushed him down again. “Woah, boy. Let this play out. Let’s get a sense of him.”

  Jack knew he should be the voice of reason, but Connor was right; the man’s actions were hitting him at a visceral level. He didn’t want anyone touching Alice.

  “Alice, your work is fascinating. I can’t wait to see the big reveal. Are you sure you won’t show me a peek today?” Landon asked on screen.

  “Not today. Not until they’re perfect.” Alice smiled charmingly. Jack clenched his fists.

  “Let’s go to dinner then, and we’ll talk over the film some more. I’d love to hear your thoughts.”

  “Say no,” Jack ordered Alice. “He doesn’t give a crap about your thoughts.”

  “I’d love to,” Alice said. “And you’ll love Fila’s. It’s casual, but the food is to die for.”

  “Sounds perfect,” Landon said.

  “Sounds like a nightmare. Fuck. I don’t have surveillance in place there,” Jack said to Connor. “I can’t beat them there, either.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Jack remembered how Connor had interfered earlier. “Never you mind about that. Get out of my room.”

  “Hell, no. I’m staying. Look, Alice is leaving to get her things. Let’s see what Landon does while she’s gone.”

  “Everything okay?” Jo asked when Alice slipped inside the house past Jack’s closed door to her bedroom to grab her purse.

  “Of course.” But it wasn’t. So far things had gone swimmingly with Landon, and she thought she had made an excellent impression, but that was only because he hadn’t seen her dresses yet. She’d been so nervous she could barely breathe since the minute he’d stepped into her work room and surveyed it with a critical eye. He’d said nice things about her costumes, but she’d spent the whole time seeing them from the point of view of a stranger, and suddenly every flaw and imperfection had seemed to glow lik
e they were illuminated by a spotlight.

  There was something else, too. Now that she was alone, Alice could admit it. When she’d opened the door to let Landon in, she’d been taken aback by the gleam in his eye as he ran his gaze over her. She’d seen that same gleam in many a man’s eye, and it always prefaced trouble. Was Landon the kind of man who viewed women more as conquests and playthings than living, breathing human beings with thoughts and wants of their own?

  She remembered her last boyfriend, Howie Warner. The way she’d played the doormat to his forceful personality. She was never going to make that mistake again. But how to let Landon know that without losing the opportunity he was offering her?

  “Are you having visions?”

  Alice shook her head. “Not visions…” It didn’t take visions to tell her what Landon was after. Maybe he’d pursued her originally for her costume-making ability. The moment he’d seen her, his objective had changed.

  Or maybe it hadn’t. Maybe he’d drawn up that list of designers to interview, and she was on it because of her looks rather than her talent. He could have found her photograph on the internet. Would he spend all this time and money to come make a play for her if he wasn’t serious about giving her the job? Or was he hoping for a two-for-one deal?

  “Hunches?”

  Alice wasn’t ready to talk about it with Jo. “I just feel like… I feel like something really bad is going to happen, and I don’t know what it is,” she said instead. That was true, anyway. In the last fifteen minutes, her stomach had tightened with dread. “I’m afraid I’m going to fail completely.”

  “You won’t fail. He’ll love your work; everyone does.”

  “What if he doesn’t?” What if he wasn’t even interested in her work?

  “Then you’ll find another opportunity. You’re Alice Reed.”

  “Who does that car belong to? And who’s pulling in?” The bellow came from the General’s office, and Alice stiffened. When she turned to look outside, she saw Will’s work truck parking next to Landon’s fancy town car.

  “Landon’s waiting in the carriage house. I can’t deal with the General right now,” she said to Jo. “Run interference, would you?”