Issued to the Bride One Marine (Brides of Chance Creek Book 4)

by Cora Seton

  His childhood home had been of much newer construction, though, built during an era that didn’t prize grace and architecture. A four-bedroom, two-bath structure without much to recommend it except its location on his uncle’s large spread. His uncle’s place had been the original home on the ranch, of course, and it was old and charming, like Two Willows was. Logan had always felt a sense of relief when he’d entered it. His aunt and uncle, while Catholic, weren’t as devout as his parents were. They worked hard but didn’t take things so seriously. He’d grown up in a loving home, but the difference between his parents’ expectations and his own dreams was so large he never felt quite as at ease there.

  Neither of his parents worked the ranch; his mother had been a librarian and his father worked at a hardware store. They’d taken the house on his uncle’s spread because family was important to the Hughes—and because the price was right. His father pitched in during the busiest seasons, but once Logan had grown able to do a man’s work and could take his place, he’d stepped back from even that.

  Logan had spent most of his time helping his uncle and the hands. By the time he’d left for the Marines, he’d known just about everything there was to know about working with cattle, which was part of the reason the General had chosen him for this role.

  When his phone buzzed in his pocket, Logan stopped, pulled it out and took the call. It was his brother. “Hey, Anthony.”

  “Hey, yourself. Mom said you hadn’t gotten in touch in a while.”

  “Been busy.” Busy hiding the mess he’d gotten himself into. He didn’t want to give his parents any ideas that he might come home.

  He still couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been, rushing into the Major’s house—busting down his door—like an avenging angel ready to save a damsel in distress.

  “Busy, huh? Too busy to call your mother? She worries, you know.”

  “Stop playing parish priest with me.”

  His brother chuckled. “Sorry. It’s hard to step out of character, you know?”

  Logan did know. He’d worked hard to break out of the character his parents had wanted to cloak him with and become a Marine, instead.

  “I’ll call her—soon as I can.”

  “Call her today.”

  “If I have time. I’m… busy.”

  “Where are you? Can you at least tell me that? Still in Florida?”

  Logan always found it hard to lie to Anthony. Ten years older than him, Anthony had always held the upper hand in their relationship and was a man of the cloth now, like their much older brother, James. James was a missionary in Ethiopia. No one expected him to call home all the time.

  “No—I’m in… Montana.”

  “Montana? What kind of mission are the Marines running in Montana?”

  “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you. And I can’t tell you, so don’t ask.”

  “Already did,” Anthony pointed out. “You know, if you had to join the military, the least you could’ve done was be a chaplain. It would have eased Mom’s heart to know—”

  “That wasn’t my path,” Logan snapped. They’d gone over this a thousand times. His mother had two priests for sons. Wasn’t that enough? Why harp on the one that got away? “You can tell her that next time you two talk.”

  “I know you don’t think you have a calling—”

  Seriously? They were going to do this again? Logan shoved his free hand in his pocket. “I know I don’t have a calling.”

  He had no desire to be a priest. Didn’t think God would have him after so many years in the service, anyway. Surely he’d broken far too many commandments to make that even possible, if he’d ever had an inkling that way.

  Which he hadn’t. Not ever.

  So how to explain his dreams?

  He wasn’t a priest in them, either, he reminded himself. Normally he wasn’t one for dreaming much at all.

  Which made them even more—

  Weird.

  “You ever think about St. Michael?” he asked Anthony as casually as he could.

  “St. Michael? What about St. Michael?”

  Logan couldn’t tell his brother he’d been dreaming about the saint. Anthony would have him home and in a collar before he could finish the sentence.

  “St. Michael carries a sword.” He touched the medallion again. His middle name was Michael—for the saint. His first name represented a touch of whimsy his mother seemingly hadn’t had before or since. “He’s supposed to be a protector. Like me,” he asserted, unsure why it seemed so important to clarify the connection.

  “Not exactly like you. He was a saint. You’re a Marine,” Anthony said.

  “I protect people, just like he’s supposed to.” That’s what the dreams had to mean, right? In them, St. Michael descended from the heavens and handed him that radiant sword he was always depicted with. In the dreams, Logan took the sword, held it firmly and wielded it like he knew what it was for.

  He always woke with the sense he was supposed to protect—someone.

  Which was why, when he’d heard the Major’s wife yelling, he’d gone charging in like a white knight.

  Unfortunately, she wasn’t the damsel he was looking for.

  And now he’d skunked his career.

  He knew Anthony—and his parents—would interpret the dream very differently. “It’s symbolic,” his mother would say. “The sword is the word of God. You’re meant to protect your parish. Come home and take up your calling.”

  Logan fought the urge to rip the medallion from his neck and toss it away. “Look, I’ve got to go.”

  “Call Mom—”

  Logan hung up. He’d call his mother.

  Just as soon as he caught himself a wife.

  Kitchen duty. Lena hated nothing more than kitchen duty, but it was better than simpering around among the guests in this travesty of a dress. Like Brian had predicted, she’d been fending off male attention ever since the reception had started. Jo’s wedding had been beautiful, and now her sister was glowing like she’d reached some stage of nirvana. Lena was happy for her. Really. But all this romantic love stuff was pissing her off.

  As were her fake nails. Maybe if she scrubbed some dishes, they’d fall off.

  Lena slammed a pile of dishes into the sink and ran water over them. Outside, people danced, music and laughter sliding in the open windows to fill the kitchen.

  The night was cooling down, however, and already some men were building a bonfire to keep folks warm. Soon autumn would really make its presence known and they’d be in for another hard Montana winter.

  Lena didn’t mind. She loved every season at Two Willows. Coming home from the barns on a cold, crystal winter evening, every star a bright pinprick in the sky—

  Those were moments to live for.

  She could almost enjoy herself if there weren’t so many damn men around the place these days. She’d come across Brian, Connor and Hunter having a chat about how to handle security on the ranch once Hunter left with Jo on their honeymoon They hadn’t even bothered to add her to their little conference, although she’d always guarded this property with her life. When she’d burst in to add her two cents, they’d all looked guilty, like they’d been caught doing something wrong.

  Which they had.

  They’d underestimated her again. Just because Scott had gotten the drop on her didn’t make her useless. She’d been caught off guard once and only once. It would never happen again.

  “We didn’t want to bother you—it’s your sister’s wedding,” Hunter had said.

  “It’s your wedding!” she’d cried back at him. He’d exchanged glances with the others, as if he hadn’t understood the distinction. Apparently, men were supposed to handle things like security. Women were supposed to slither around looking sexy. She would bullwhip the lot of them if she could get away with it without upsetting her sisters.

  Instead, she’d given them a piece of her mind and left them to it. They could make all the plans they wanted; she was the one
who knew Two Willows like the back of her hand. She could keep it secure. When her mother died eleven years ago, and the General refused to come home, she’d pledged to keep her sisters safe.

  Although lately she’d been failing on every front.

  But that was the past, she told herself sternly. She’d learned her lesson.

  Someone knocked on the front door, and Lena dried her hands, relieved to get away from the dishes—and her ugly thoughts. She had to get things back in hand. No more self-defeating thoughts. No backing down from the job she’d worked toward her whole life.

  This was her ranch. Hers. Not Brian’s or Connor’s—or Hunter’s, for that matter.

  Her cattle operation.

  She hoped they understood that.

  The knock sounded again.

  She hoped the General understood that, too. Two Willows wasn’t Reed land—it had belonged to the Griffiths—her mother’s family.

  He didn’t get to call the shots here. Much as he thought he did. He’d sent three men, and her sisters had married them. He’d better not think he could—

  She had almost reached the door when the knocking became a thunderous pounding.

  Irritated, Lena yanked the door open—saw a tall man, with the shoulders of a fullback and biceps of an MMA superstar, his blue eyes flashing with humor, his mouth tugging into a smile as he took her in.

  “Hello, baby girl. My name’s—”

  “Oh, hell no!” Lena slammed the door shut.

  And locked it.

  Chapter Two

  ‡

  When the door swung open again a few seconds later, it wasn’t Lena who beckoned Logan inside. It was her younger sister, Alice, the otherworldly beauty Jack Sanders was supposed to marry. A white cat twined its way around her feet, gave him a baleful look and stalked away up the hall.

  “Excuse my sister’s behavior,” she said. “It’s been a long day, and she’s tired.”

  “More like pissed off,” Lena shouted from somewhere behind her. “He’s all yours, Alice.”

  “Come on in.” Alice opened the door wider, her expression half chagrined, half amused. “I assume the General sent you?”

  Logan nodded. “Guess I don’t make the best first impression.” It wasn’t the first time a woman had slammed the door in his face, though. He suspected he’d survive, but this wasn’t a promising start.

  “You’re not here for me,” Alice said after considering him. “But I’m not sure I understand…” She trailed off and glanced in the direction Lena had disappeared.

  Logan heard clearly what Alice didn’t say: Why would the General send someone like him for Lena? Was he so unqualified she could see it just by looking at him? He didn’t usually lack for female company, but he’d never considered marriage before, either. Maybe that’s what she saw.

  “She’ll come around. After all, how can she pass this up?” he quipped to cover his discomfort and indicated his body as if it were a prize on a television game show.

  “Uh… sure.” Alice led the way down the hall toward the back of the house, leaving Logan with the sinking feeling he’d blown another first impression.

  Batting a thousand.

  As usual.

  He touched his St. Michael medal. He could use a saint’s protection—from himself. One thing for sure, he knew how to stick his foot in his mouth.

  Alice stopped, and he nearly walked right into her. She spun to face him.

  “Faith… and a sword.”

  He waited for her to clarify her pronouncement, but she didn’t. “What about them?”

  “You’re going to need a lot of faith to win her—and as strong as my sister is, she’s going to need help before all is said and done. I’m not sure where the sword comes in.” Alice’s shoulders slumped a little, and she shook her head. “Sorry. It felt important to say that, but my radar’s off these days. Nothing is clear.”

  Radar? Did she mean the hunches she was supposed to get? The men who’d arrived in Chance Creek before him had told him all about those. Logan wasn’t one to believe in that kind of thing, but then he wasn’t one to have dreams about saints, either.

  Was Lena the woman he was supposed to protect?

  Alice kept going, and he followed her through the kitchen into the backyard, where Hunter and Jo’s wedding reception was in full swing. Hearing the live music, seeing the swaying bodies on the makeshift dance floor and the happy conversations taking place all around him, made Logan relax. Nothing was going to happen tonight. All he had to do was get himself settled in as a guest at Two Willows—and give Jo her wedding present from her father.

  The bride and bridegroom stood near the dance floor, chatting with friends. As he approached them, Logan had to smile. Hunter was the happiest he’d ever seen the Navy SEAL. Jo was petite and beautiful in her wedding gown, beaming at her husband with so much love it eased Logan’s heart even more. Hunter was a good man. He deserved to be loved like that.

  Would anyone ever love him that way? He searched for Lena in the crowd but didn’t see her.

  Probably not.

  “Hunter, Jo, this is Logan Hughes. The General sent him,” Alice said.

  “I’ve got something for you,” Logan said to Jo after he’d shaken hands with Hunter, as if they’d just met, rather than having spent months in each other’s company already. He presented Jo with the gift the General had sent with him. “For you. From your father.”

  “The General?” Jo’s face clouded a moment, but when she undid the wrapping paper, opened the small box and pulled out the locket he’d sent, she softened. “It’s a lot like the one he gave to my mother,” she said, touching a necklace she wore. “My sisters and I have been sharing it between us, but each time one of us gets married he sends us one of our own.”

  “He loves you very much.”

  Jo nodded but dipped her head.

  Logan knew why. The General hadn’t come to her wedding. He hadn’t come to Cass’s or Sadie’s either, though.

  “When will he come home?” she asked him suddenly.

  “I wish I knew. But I don’t. He left for the Middle East this morning. It’s going to be a hard trip.”

  Hunter came to his rescue. “One more dance before we head out,” he told his new wife.

  “Or two. Or three,” she said, happy again.

  When they’d left, Logan scanned the crowd a second time but didn’t see Lena until he turned back toward the house. Through the open windows he saw her crossing and re-crossing the kitchen. Cleaning up, he realized.

  Avoiding him.

  To hell with that, Logan thought. He was here to catch a bride.

  Time to start.

  Alice was a traitor. How else to explain why she’d opened the door and let that… man… walk in. He’d been sent by the General, anyone could see that, and she already had three interlopers to contend with.

  Considering she and Alice were the only two unmarried sisters left, it didn’t take a genius to figure out Logan was meant for one of them. Whether the General sent the men for that purpose, or they’d concocted the scheme to win Two Willows for themselves by marrying his daughters, she couldn’t be sure. For all their pretense they hadn’t known each other before coming here, it was clear to her they had.

  She stacked the dishes more vehemently than was prudent, creating a massive pile, and carted them to the sink, just making it before most of them slid from her fingers into the soapy water. Jo jumped back and narrowly avoided the splash. Still holding a lone wooden spoon, she surveyed the puddle of water at her feet. Damn it, couldn’t one thing go right?

  A slow whistle behind her made Lena spin on her heel.

  There he was. Leaning up against the doorjamb.

  Watching her.

  “Baby girl, I knew from your photographs you were pretty,” Logan said. “But they didn’t do you justice. You’re hot.”

  Was her mouth hanging open? She was pretty sure her mouth was hanging open.

  No one spoke to her that wa
y. No one.

  Except Scott.

  Lena pushed that thought into the far recesses of her mind.

  “How about we start over? I’m Logan Hughes. Your dad sent me here to take care of you,” he continued, apparently unaware of her fury. “I know it’s been dangerous around Two Willows this summer and fall, but you don’t have to be afraid anymore—”

  Afraid? Did he think she was afraid? Did the General think she was?

  Logan broke off and chuckled. “Hell, I can’t even finish my own thought. You’re too distracting. This is why I could never be a priest.” He looked her up and down. “I like what I like: girls who aren’t afraid to be girls, you know what I—? Ow! Fuck!”

  He tried to grab the wooden spoon, but Lena was too fast for him. She got in a few good whacks to his shoulders, chest and head before he could grab for it again, but it was the crack across his mouth that gave her the most satisfaction. Girls who aren’t afraid to be girls.

  Logan snatched the spoon away. “Shit, woman, have you lost your mind?”

  “Have you lost yours? I’m not some girly-girl you can sweet talk into your bed, asshole. Get the hell out of my house. I don’t want you, and I never will!”

  She stalked out of the room, barely registering the shock, then pain, then determination that flashed in his eyes. She made it up the stairs, into her room—

  And slammed the door hard enough to rattle every window in the house.

  This was the joker the General had sent to be her husband?

  He must despise her more than she’d ever guessed.

  Logan was grateful for his heavy work coat when he met up with Brian and Connor in the barn the following morning. Hunter and Jo had left the night before on their honeymoon to the east coast, and he meant to pitch in and do his part of the chores before he confronted Lena again. He’d gotten an eyeful of the burned-out stables on his way here and was glad that no one—and no horses—had been injured in the blaze. He’d heard about the way Jo had run into the flames to rescue her animals, and how Hunter had finally gotten her out of there.