Montana Untamed (Bear Grass Springs, Book One): Bear Grass Springs, Book One

by Ramona Flightner

  Cailean nodded.

  Sorcha continued to sputter but had finally found the good sense to cease speaking.

  Alistair grinned, and Ewan dropped his cup of coffee, splattering the table and floor with it.

  “She will be your sister-in-law, and I want her to feel welcomed here.” Cailean stared at his sister until she nodded her agreement.

  “What about Maggie?” Sorcha whispered.

  Cailean stiffened. “She’s been … gone for twelve years,” he rasped. “It’s time I moved on.” He stood abruptly and strode from the room.

  “How could ye?” Ewan glared at his sister. “How could ye bring up Maggie after he tells ye about his new wife-to-be?”

  Alistair shook his head in disappointment as he watched his sister and rose to follow his brother to the livery. He found Cailean there, picking up a bucket to haul water. He stood in front of his brother, impeding his progress. “Give me the bucket.”

  “Get out of my way.” He shoved at Alistair with little success.

  “Ye are dressed too well to be in the livery. Run the errands ye must. Speak to the preacher. Do whatever must be done this morning to ensure ye keep Miss Evans safe. There’s nothing urgent for ye to do here.” He held out his hand for the bucket, waiting for Cailean to hand it over to him. When he hesitated, Alistair furrowed his brow as he met his brother’s tormented gaze. “I ken ye want to act as though nothing has changed. But everything has.”

  After a moment, Cailean gave him the bucket and brushed past him, walking aimlessly down the boardwalk for a few minutes. He nodded and spoke pleasantries to the few townsfolk who were about, ignoring their curious looks or pointed stares. As he walked down the boardwalk, he passed in front of the General Store. Tobias swept the area in front of the store, the store empty of patrons on the early morning after the dance. Unable to avoid speaking with one of the town’s gossips, Cailean paused to comment on the fine summer weather.

  “Why would I want to discuss the weather with the man who’s finally induced that harpy to act like the woman we know she is?” Tobias said as he nudged Cailean in the shoulder. “Many miners will be mighty happy with what you accomplished last night!”

  “And what was that, Tobias?” Cailean stared out at the empty street rather than focus on Tobias.

  “You showed she is open to temptation.” His lascivious grin widened as Cailean spun to glare at him. “And I know there’ll be plenty to take advantage of such an opportunity.”

  “Miss Evans is my fiancée, and I’d appreciate you speaking of her with respect,” Cailean snapped. “For when you speak against her, you are speaking against me.”

  The broom clattered to the boardwalk, unnoticed by Tobias. “Well, I’ll be damned. Never thought the eldest MacKinnon would marry. Thought you were a more solitary man.” He nodded as Cailean canted forward in warning. “Miss Evans is a most fortunate woman.”

  “She is, and when she’s Mrs. MacKinnon, your attempt to disparage her success at her bakery will cease.” When Tobias began to sputter, Cailean smiled. “She’ll continue her work, and you should stop your whining that she’s stolen business from you. Anyone with a memory knows your short-lived attempt at providing baked goods at the Merc was a disaster.”

  Cailean moved a few steps down the boardwalk and then spun to pin Tobias with a severe stare. “And we’ll renegotiate the terms of her bulk purchase of flour and sugar from you. As a married woman, she’ll receive a better rate.” He smiled as Tobias paled before Cailean continued on his way.

  He stopped in to see the preacher, arranging for the wedding in two weeks. He considered marrying her within the week, but the preacher warned against garnering further gossip with such a hasty marriage. Cailean bowed to his guidance as he wanted no further speculation as to their rush down the aisle.

  Upon exiting the preacher’s rectory, dazed and fighting panic, he stopped short at the sight of Mrs. Jameson. She stood as tall as her five foot frame allowed, her body ramrod straight and corseted to within an inch of life. He nodded to her and hoped to scoot around her. However, she outmaneuvered him and blocked his path.

  “Mr. MacKinnon, I was appalled at the scene I witnessed last night.”

  He bit back a groan. “I’m certain many other circumstances other than my discussion with Miss Evan has appalled you to a greater extent.” He met her censorious glare. “Such as your husband, Vincent’s, antics or the fact your son, Walter, has followed in his father’s footsteps.” He failed to outpace her as she stumbled, quickly righting herself and keeping him in conversation.

  “I couldn’t believe a man of your upstanding position in this town would carry on in such a manner with a woman of such questionable reputation. Why, I’d be concerned about business if I were you! Who would want their horses cared for by those who are so easily seduced by harlots?”

  Any trace of amusement faded, and he clamped his jaw tight. His cheeks reddened with anger, and he stopped to face her. He canted toward her. “I would refrain from speaking about upstanding women in this community. Miss Evans is an honorable woman, as is our schoolteacher, Miss Leticia Browne.” He glared her into silence. “I’d hate for those who offer you their meager support by purchasing your tatting to reconsider their generosity.”

  “Why I never! What a horrible thing to imply. I’d never contemplate damaging anyone’s reputation.” She looked around as though searching for a friendly ally.

  “There isn’t anyone in town who’d willingly buy that pile of dung from you.” He nodded and maneuvered around her.

  He stomped away from her, deciding at the last moment to make one more stop before returning to the livery. He squinted as he entered the darkened interior of the lawyer’s office. “Hello, Warren,” Cailean said. “I have need of your help.” He sat in the chair across from his friend and stretched his legs out in front of him. “And of your discretion.”

  Warren smiled and steepled his hands over his belly. “It seems you’re in a pickle. Never thought I’d see the day Cailean MacKinnon would arrive here after setting the town’s jaws to jabbering. Nor did I think to see you going toe-to-toe with the likes of Mrs. Jameson.” He laughed as he rose, moving to a back room a moment where he emerged with two steaming cups of coffee. “It’s too early yet to think without reinforcement.”

  Cailean hissed as he burned his tongue on the hot beverage. After he blew on it and took another sip, he sighed. “I wish I could teach Sorcha to cook anything, even to brew coffee. She hates the kitchen.”

  “Seems to me her talents must lie elsewhere.” Warren warmed his hands a moment before setting his cup down on the desk. “I’d try to discover those and foster them.”

  Cailean’s gaze focused on his friend and frowned. “How can you know more about my sister than I do?”

  He shrugged. “It helps not to live with her. And I’m not occupied in the livery.” He smiled as he took a sip of his cooling coffee. “You know me. I spend my days sitting in my rocker as I watch the town busy itself outside my window.” Cailean laughed as he knew Warren was often so run off his feet he could use three assistants. “But I know Sorcha isn’t why you’re here.”

  Cailean grimaced at his friend’s inquisitive look. He fought the urge to shift in his chair like a recalcitrant student. “I’m to marry.” He watched as Warren spun his head to the side and spewed his swig of coffee into the waste bin. “That’s the first time I’ve ever taken you off guard,” Cailean said as he grinned with pleasure.

  Warren coughed and sputtered a moment before taking another sip of coffee. “Miss Evans must be the lucky woman.”

  Cailean nodded. When Warren waited for him to speak, he ran a hand through his brown hair. “I just spoke with the preacher. We’ll marry in two weeks. After last night’s goings-on, I have to wed her.” His gaze became distant as his friend watched him with amusement.

  “If the rumors are true, you won’t find it a hardship.” He raised an eyebrow as Cailean glared at him. “I mean, that it seems
you and Miss Evans suit, at least in some regards.”

  Cailean sighed. “I think we do.”

  Warren chuckled as he settled into his chair, one leg crossed over the other knee. “I’d think that would please you.” He waited a moment and then spoke when Cailean remained silent. “What can I do to help you? I wouldn’t think you’d need a lawyer’s aid before your marriage.”

  “Miss Evans has money from her father. I made her a promise I wouldn’t touch it.” He met his friend’s gaze. “However, when I was at the preacher’s, he mentioned that I was a fortunate man to marry a woman with property.” He scowled. “I don’t want Annabelle or anyone to believe I’m marrying her for money.”

  Warren raised an eyebrow, his hands crossed over his belly. “I wouldn’t think it matters what the townsfolk believe. What matters is what you and Annabelle know to be true.”

  Cailean sighed. “We’re only marrying due to gossip and her fear of the townsfolk’s reactions to her actions. Plus the man renting to her advised her this morning how he doesn’t want a harlot in his storefront.”

  Warren snorted. “Dan Stubbens was always the first to act and the last to think.” He settled into his chair as he thought. “I can pressure Dan. I wrote the lease, and he has no right to threaten Miss Evans with eviction.” His grin was slightly wicked. “I’d rather enjoy spouting lawyerly nonsense at him.”

  Cailean laughed. “I also want a contract between Miss Evans and myself.”

  “You want a contract written up, stating that what your wife brings into the marriage is hers and that you can’t touch it?” At Cailean’s nod, Warren said, “That shouldn’t be difficult. It’s a rather commonplace occurrence in many states out East, and there is precedent for it. I’d prefer to have a meeting with both of you so that I know the particulars of what she would like included. That way you can both agree to the wording of the contract.”

  Cailean nodded. “I’d prefer if you’d keep this private.”

  Warren rolled his eyes and waved toward the door. He smiled as he shook Cailean’s hand. “I’ll see you later this afternoon?”

  Cailean nodded and left.

  When Cailean ushered Annabelle into Warren’s office that afternoon, he shared an amused smile with his friend. Annabelle sat stiffly and maintained her distance from Cailean.

  “Now that you are both here, I have the papers prepared for you to sign,” Warren said.

  Annabelle looked from Warren to Cailean. “Would you please explain why I am here?”

  Warren raised an eyebrow at Cailean who shrugged. “Mr. MacKinnon visited me this morning and explained that you are to wed. He wanted to ensure that the property, specifically the money brought to the marriage from your late father, remained under your control even after the wedding.”

  Annabelle gasped, and her starched-stiff posture wilted. She gaped at Cailean. “This is why you wanted me here?”

  He nodded, his eyes glinting with a hidden smile at her surprise. “Aye. I realized I was asking you to trust me when I’d given you little reason to.”

  She shared a long look with him before focusing on Warren. “Will you please explain what you have prepared for us?”

  He turned the document around so that she and Cailean could read it easily. “It’s a very simple procedure. This is a codicil to the recognized legal rights bestowed to your husband upon your marriage. It states that Miss Evans’s premarriage property remains hers, and I wrote out that it specifically meant the money left her by her father. Is there anything else I need to add?”

  Annabelle shook her head and bit her lip.

  “Now, if Mr. MacKinnon were to die, his property would become yours, as is the legal precedent set in the territory. Unless you would like that altered?” He looked to Cailean.

  “No,” Cailean said as he shook his head. “I’d want to ensure she was well provided for.”

  Warren nodded. “Fine. Then, if this is an acceptable document to you both, you both must sign it the day of your wedding or sometime afterward and have it witnessed. I’d then keep it in a secure place.”

  Cailean nodded and held out his hand. “Thank you, Warren.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Clark.” Annabelle rose and stepped ahead of Cailean so that his hand hung in midair rather than on the small of her back.

  She bustled down the boardwalk to her bakery and stepped inside. Cailean followed her, shutting the door behind them. After she locked the front door, she moved to the back and set her purse on the clean counter. She paced the area between the sink, icebox, and counter, while he stood on the other side of the counter, watching her erratic movements.

  “What’s the matter, Annabelle? I thought this would please you.” His brows furrowed as she appeared more agitated at his words.

  She spun around, her back to him. When he saw her shoulders quiver, he closed the distance between them and turned her to face him. A few tears leaked from her eyes.

  “I never meant to make ye cry,” he whispered. His fingers rose to swipe at her cheeks, his calluses evoking a shudder as they swiped along her soft skin.

  She watched him with a hint of wonder, unease, and confusion. “I don’t understand why you visited him. You said your word was your bond.”

  He smiled as his hand dropped to her waist, holding her in place in front of him. “My word is my bond. And I don’t like it when it’s questioned. But I realized you needed reassurances.” He looked deeply into her eyes. “I didn’t want to start our marriage with distrust.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him softly on his lips.

  He groaned, kissing her a moment before easing away. “Why were you crying?” he whispered into her ear as he kissed the side of her neck.

  “No one has ever cared about my wishes before.” She shuddered as he nibbled at her earlobe.

  “Your wishes are quickly becoming my greatest concern.” He kissed her along her jaw before kissing her mouth again. He backed her until she was pressed against the icebox, his mouth slanting over hers as though he couldn’t kiss her deeply enough or long enough. Her hands tugged him closer as they stroked through his silky hair while her body arched into his. He broke the kiss to nibble at her jaw as he panted, “I want ye, Annabelle.”

  She traced her hand over his cheek and shook her head. “Not until we are wed. I … can’t.”

  He dropped his head to her shoulder and took a few deep breaths. “I never meant any disrespect.” He pushed himself away, leaving her plastered to the icebox, holding its handle to maintain her balance. His gaze darkened as he beheld her, mussed with kiss-swollen lips. He spun and marched to the other side of the counter.

  “I won’t visit you much. Not until the wedding.” He saw her shoulders stoop. “Not because I don’t want to.” He met her gaze as the quick flash of despair and humiliation lifted. “But because I have no desire to cause you to feel shame.” His gaze darkened further. “I want you, Annabelle. And I think you want me too. But I will wait until our wedding day afore I attempt to entice you into my bed.”

  She smiled as she watched him, any sadness having disappeared with his words. “Do you know you sound more like your brothers, more like a Scotsman, when you feel deep emotions?” Her smile grew as he flushed. “Thank you.”

  He nodded at her whispered words. “I tried to forget Scotland when I arrived in this country. Part of forgetting was trying to not sound like a Scotsman.” He shrugged. “Some days I succeed more than others.”

  “It’s part of who you are. No matter how hard you try, the past is always with you, like your shadow.”

  His passionate gaze faded as he sobered. “Aye, that I ken too well.” He took a deep breath and looked around her clean kitchen. “I hope you have a good evening, Annabelle.” He spent a few moments on one last lingering look before he slipped out the back door.

  After he’d walked a few doors away from hers, he paused and took a deep breath. He scrubbed at his face before returning to the livery and
Alistair’s inquisitive questions.

  A few days before they were to be married, Cailean knocked on her back door. It was late afternoon, and he knew the bakery was sold out from what Alistair had reported from Leticia. He knocked again before trying the door. He frowned when he found it unlocked and eased it open. He tiptoed into the kitchen area, noting it clean and ready for another day of baking. He ignored the front room as that would only contain bare shelves.

  After a few more steps, he poked his head into her private back room, stilling at the sight of her. She lay with her head on top of crossed arms on her small desk. She breathed deeply as she slept, and he studied her. He had never seen her with such an expression of peace, as she appeared to half smile while she slept. Her black hair was tied back in a long braid down her back, although loose tendrils framed her face.

  He shifted, and his boot heels sounded. She jerked upright, her eyes widening in alarm. Her gaze flew to the doorway, while her hands searched for something on her desk. Only when she recognized him did she cease her frantic movements and calmed. “Cailean,” she breathed. “What are you doing here?” She swiped at her mouth and shook her head as she attempted to shake away the remnants of sleep. “Why do you think you can barge in here uninvited?”

  He watched her as his tender yearning faded. “I didn’t barge in here. I knocked numerous times. I know it was wrong, but, when I tried the back door and it was open, I wanted to ensure you were fine.”

  She flushed at his concern and her cantankerousness. She yawned hugely, hiding it behind a bended elbow. “I must have forgotten to lock it after Leticia left. Why are you here?” She motioned for him to sit, blushing when she realized the only available seat was her cot.

  He perched on the edge of it, his hat held between his fingers. “We are to marry in a few days. I wanted to ensure you were well.” His gaze held a nearly feral intensity as it met hers. “I haven’t seen you in too long.”

  “I’m fine. I have a dress and will meet you at the church at the appropriate time.” She waved around the room. “I have little to move to your house.” When he continued to stare at her, she cleared her throat. “If you’d prefer, I could continue to live here. I know my bakery hours aren’t conducive to a harmonious home life.”