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

by Ramona Flightner

  He frowned. “You’ll be very welcome in my home. And we’ll adapt to your hours as needed.” He saw her fidgeting, and the furrows between his eyes deepened. “What is it?”

  “I’ve heard rumors,” she stammered out. “And I need to know if they’re true.” His gaze became shuttered as he stared at her implacably. “Have you been threatening my business associates?”

  He sputtered out a laugh and twirled his hat while he watched her. “Hell yes.” At her glare his laugh turned into a chuckle before he contained it.

  “I am my own woman. I am in control of my business and who I deal with. I do not appreciate you speaking with my associates without my consent or my knowledge.”

  He shook his head in confusion. “You are joking, aren’t you? You have to know the only reason I’d speak to those so-called associates is to aid you. I spoke with Tobias to insist he understood you will renegotiate your terms with him so that he’ll no longer bleed you dry for your basic necessities. I spoke with Warren to ensure you’d not be evicted.”

  With rising indignation, she clamped her fists together on her lap. “Those were my tasks.” She thumped a hand to her chest. “I should have done them, not you!”

  He shook his head at her anger. “I don’t understand you. I acted as your fiancée to ensure you’d have less cost in the future and no difficulty in remaining open. I refuse to feel guilty for aiding you. They’re the same actions I would take as your husband.”

  She shook her head as she continued to glare at him. “Spoken like a man. You spoke for me, not with me, not in support of me. You took away my ability to speak for myself. Why can’t you see that I want some voice in my own business?”

  He leaned forward so his elbows were braced on his knees and was now almost nose to nose with her. “And why can’t you see that a man needs to feel as though he’s providing some help to his woman when he’s able to? When you deny him that, then you deny his reason for being.”

  “That’s absurd, and you know it!” She glared at him and then rolled her eyes.

  “Is it? Is it absurd that I was thinking you’d be pleased I’d aided you? That I took time out of my day to ensure you’d remain safe here in this bakery you’ve called home?” He met her irate gaze. “That I informed Tobias how you were to marry me and that you were not fair game to the miners?” He took a deep breath as he attempted to calm his anger. “I only thought of you.”

  She shook her head as her ire abated. “I suppose I can see your point of view. However, you must see that, to me, it’s as though you didn’t respect me enough to act for myself.”

  He shook his head with disappointment as he stared at her. “Why would you want to continue to struggle all on your own when someone is willing to share the burdens with you?”

  She shrugged. “To share them, yes. If you’d been raised to believe you weren’t capable, then each small success is a victory.”

  He frowned. “Aye, but a solitary victory is pathetic.” He froze as the words left his lips. “I didn’t mean that.”

  She paled and looked at her clasped hands on her lap. “Of course you’d believe that my desire to do things on my own would be pathetic. I understand how a man as strong and capable as you would believe that. However, I refuse to concede—”

  “Dammit, I’m not asking you to concede! I’m asking you to realize you’re no longer alone. You have me. You have my siblings. We’ll struggle with you. In three days, you’ll be a MacKinnon.”

  She shook her head sadly. “I’ll still be Annabelle Evans, sister of Fidelia Evans, no matter what last name I’m given.”

  He rocked back to sit on his haunches as though she had hit him with a solid right hook. “One day you’ll want my support. You’ll have to hope I’m still willing to offer it.” He rose, storming out of her room and slamming the back door behind him.

  Chapter 7

  Alistair grabbed two glasses of punch and walked over to Annabelle who stood on the side of the room. “Here,” he said, handing her one of the glasses. He watched as her wary gaze flitted from him to the glass and back to him again. He attempted a reassuring smile, and she finally accepted the glass.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “If I were a newly married woman, I’d try to act a bit more joyful. Especially if the entire town were watching,” Alistair said as he leaned on the wall next to her.

  She frowned at his words, before smiling at him as though he’d told her a great joke. “Next you’ll tell me what to say.”

  “It’s too late for that,” he teased. “Ye already had me thinking ye werena goin’ to accept my brother afore the whole town when I realized ye’d whispered yer vows.” He shook his head. “Should have shouted ’em for all of us to hear.”

  “They were between Cailean and me,” Annabelle retorted, a blush on her previously pale cheeks.

  Alistair chuckled. “Seein’ how the townsfolk didna believe ye’d marry him, nor he ye, it would have been more convincing had ye shouted it out.” He shrugged. “But they’re yer memories, not ours.” Alistair frowned as he watched his brother across the room with a few of his friends, including Warren, the lawyer.

  “What I’d like to know is what ye did to anger him so.” Alistair drained his small cup of punch, wincing. “Too sweet.”

  “He doesn’t like my independence,” Annabelle said with a sniff, ignoring his critique of the punch.

  Alistair laughed, earning a glare across the room from Cailean. “And ye dinna enjoy his interference.” When she stiffened, Alistair nodded as though having puzzled out a riddle. “I wondered what he was mutterin’ about the past few days. Now I ken.”

  “This has nothing to do with you, Mr. MacKinnon,” Annabelle said stiffly.

  He laughed harder. “Of course it does. Ye’re my sister now. An’ I’m Alistair, not Mr. MacKinnon.” He met her chagrined gaze. “Ye’ll have to accustom yerself to a bit of interference in yer life now that ye’re no longer alone.”

  “I was never alone,” she snapped.

  His gaze sharpened. “Aye, ye always had yer sister, but who’s supported ye all these years?” When she remained mute, he nodded. “Now ye’ve me and Ewan and Sorcha. And Cailean.” He watched as she shifted uncomfortably.

  “I am my own woman,” she whispered with fierce determination.

  “Aye, ye are. But now ye have a chance to be more than alone. Ye have a chance for more, Annabelle. That’s a gift most rarely receive. I’d think twice afore rejecting it.” His countenance brightened when he beheld Leticia approaching with Hortence.

  “Ah, there ye are,” he said with a broad smile, clasping Leticia’s hand before lifting Hortence into his arms and kissing her on her cheek. “How are ye, little love?” He chuckled when she whispered something in his ear.

  He met Leticia’s concerned stare. “She’s worried there willna be enough cake.” He ran a hand down her back.

  “Oh,” Annabelle breathed. “Don’t worry, Hortence. I made one special for the MacKinnons. It’s waiting for them at their home for after the party. I’m sure they’ll give you a piece.”

  Leticia shook her head at Annabelle. “With all you had to do, you made another cake?”

  Annabelle shrugged. “When I’m nervous, I bake. It calms me.” She smiled. “Don’t tell Cailean, but I made one for us too.” She bit her lip. “Do you have any idea where we are going after we leave this reception?”

  Alistair chuckled. “If I told ye, he’d kill me. He wants to surprise ye.” He nodded, and she looked in that direction to see Cailean, her husband, walking toward her. Alistair and Leticia drifted away, and she stood alone, staring into his hazel eyes.

  “Hello, Annabelle,” he whispered. “The townsfolk are restless. Will you cut the cake with me?”

  She smiled, hiding her resentment at the forced formality between them. He reached for her hand, and she clasped his, walking by his side toward the wedding cake she had baked for them. When they sliced it, she heard him sigh. “What is
it?” she murmured as she smiled to those watching and applauding.

  “It’s a white cake,” he said as he continued to cut pieces of cake and hand them to her to give to the waiting townsfolk.

  She smiled to the well-wishers and bit back a giggle. “I hope they think it’s delicious.”

  “They will,” he said. When they finished handing out cake, he cleaned his hands on a napkin before wrapping an arm around her waist. “Dance with me?” He smiled as she nodded bashfully. Two men played a fiddle and a guitar in a corner, and the music transformed into a waltz.

  She tripped over his feet and blushed.

  “Follow my lead,” he murmured in her ear. “I don’t know how to dance the waltz well, as you know from the town celebration, but we can still dance.” He led them around the floor, each step more fluid and graceful as she abandoned the waltz dance steps she had learned and allowed herself to move with him. She rested her head against his shoulder and breathed in his scent, a mixture of horses, straw, sandalwood aftershave—and Cailean. When the dance ended, she opened her eyes, surprised to see the townsfolk watching them with speculation and delight.

  “Are you ready to leave?” he whispered in her ear. At her nod, he linked his fingers with hers and led her toward his siblings and Leticia. He laughed at their teasing and seemed entranced as she blushed.

  She hugged Leticia and Hortence, waved at the townsfolk, and walked beside Cailean to the waiting carriage. She smiled at him as he helped her into it and sighed with pleasure to no longer be surrounded by the townsfolk. She fiddled with the pin on her hat to ensure it was secure and waved again at the well-wishers as Cailean eased the team into motion with a soft clicking sound and a gentle flick of the reins.

  “Where are we going?” Annabelle asked as they rolled out of town.

  “A friend of mine has a small cabin outside of town. He didn’t think it right we spent our first night together at the house with all my siblings.” He smiled at her as she blushed. “He’ll be fine as he’s up at the mines for the next week or two.”

  “That was very thoughtful of him.” Annabelle gripped the seat as it hit a pothole, and the wagon rattled down the road. She took a deep breath and focused on the passing scenery, unable to have a conversation while in the rattling wagon.

  As they left town, the valley became broader, and the grassland spread out before them. The rangeland was turning a pale yellow after the spring rains dried up and the heat of summer came, although a hint of green remained. Cottonwood trees and small shrubs lined a small stream on her right. Red-winged blackbirds called and flitted around, the red on their wings a surprising splash of color. After miles of admiring the scenery, she tilted her head to marvel at the wide-open sky that looked as though it never ended.

  The road split, and they made a turn, leaving the grassland behind them as they headed toward the mountains. The air cooled slightly as they rose out of the valley floor. Distant homesteads dotted the landscape. The road rounded a bend, affording a view over the valley. She marveled at the large herds of cattle grazing freely. They seemed to be corralled by streams or trees as no fences dotted the landscape.

  Cailean noted her interest and pointed to a large white clapboard house in the distance. “The Tompkins’s grandson lives there. Manages a huge herd of cattle.” Annabelle nodded as she recalled hearing about their reclusive grandson.

  As they approached the cabin, tall plants swayed in the breeze with their green stalks and a puffed-out cloudlike top in a creamy lacelike pattern. “What are those?” Annabelle asked.

  “That’s bear grass,” Cailean said with a chuckle. “Some years there’s a lot of it, others just a few stalks. This year there’s more than usual.”

  They arrived at the cabin, and Cailean jumped from the wagon and held his arms up to help her down. She paused by the wagon, closing her eyes, raising her head, and breathing deeply of the fresh pine smell mingled with the scent of freshly cut hay. Her expression relaxed further with each deep breath, and, after a few minutes, she opened her eyes to smile at Cailean, watching her. “Isn’t it beautiful here?”

  He nodded, his eyes lit with a bright intensity. “Aye. More beautiful every moment.” She ducked her head. He placed a few fingers under her chin to raise her gaze to meet his appreciative one. “There’s no embarrassment in me finding my wife lovely.” Her flush intensified, but she maintained eye contact.

  He cleared his throat after a moment and led her into the cabin. He brought in a few boxes she’d insisted on bringing from the bakery and a bag with clothes. “I’ll tend the horses,” he said with a quick kiss to her cheek.

  Annabelle stood in the small wooden cabin. Most of the boards were well chinked, although she could still see through a few of them to the outside. Along the front were two windows on either side of the door. A small area with a table and a counter with a wash bin comprised the kitchen space, while the potbelly stove acted as the main source of heat and cooktop. There was no oven. Behind the table, a sheet covered the wall. On the other side of the cabin was a comfortable-looking bed. A table by the bed held a lamp and a thick book, and a lamp hung from a hook in the middle of the ceiling.

  Cailean entered the cabin and set his hat on a hook by the door. He watched out of the corner of his eye as she set a small basket of food on the table. “Would you like help?” he asked as she stood, staring around the sparsely decorated room. He pulled back the sheet to reveal a shelf of plates, pots, and plans. He handed her plates and found silverware, and she set the table.

  “I wasn’t sure where we were going,” she whispered, as she blushed and pulled out a plate of sandwiches. “If I’d known we wouldn’t be at your house, I would have made more food.”

  He rubbed his stomach and smiled. “These will be delicious.” He motioned for her to sit and pushed in her chair for her. After taking a chicken sandwich, he passed the plate to her. He gobbled down his sandwich, frowning to note that she nibbled at hers. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  She smiled and took a large bite of her sandwich. After he’d eaten three and she barely one, he rapped his fingers on the table.

  “I baked us a cake,” she blurted out. She pointed to the basket on the floor. At his delighted smile, she rose and pulled out a small two-layer cake covered in white frosting.

  “How smart I was to marry the town’s baker,” he teased. When she cut it, he stared at it with delight. “It’s chocolate?”

  At his whispered question, she nodded. “I asked Alistair what your favorite was, and he said anything chocolate.” She shrugged, although a smile teased her lips.

  He reached forward, his fingers tracing the smile on her lips. “Thank you.” She shrugged as though it were of no consequence, but he shook his head. “Thank you for your thoughtfulness.”

  “I wanted to give you something on our wedding day. I wasn’t sure what you needed, and so I decided to bake you a cake.”

  He stilled. “I don’t have a gift for you.”

  She took a deep breath and met his worried gaze. “You gave me your name,” she whispered. “I know I acted as though I wouldn’t appreciate that gift a few days ago, and I want to apologize. I hope we are able to find harmony in our marriage.”

  He traced his thumb over her cheek. “I want harmony too.” He smiled as she gave him a large piece of the cake and sighed with pleasure. “I could eat the whole cake now.”

  She laughed. “It’s yours. You can do as you like.”

  He watched her, his expression softening as she laughed. “We should save it as a treat.” He leaned forward and kissed her softly. “Thank you.” After he helped her clear the plates, he studied the tiny living space, with the bed in the corner of the large space. He saw her shudder even though it was far from cold.

  “Dance with me,” he cajoled, holding his hand out to her. She stepped into his embrace, and they swayed in place. He hummed a soft tune for them as he moved them in slow circles.

  “You sing better than you dance,” she murm
ured, tucking her face into his shoulder.

  “That’s faint praise,” he teased. He ran his hands over her back, easing her closer as they moved. “There’s no need to be afraid of me,” he whispered as he felt her relax with each turn, and he slowly held her against him. After many minutes, they stood swaying together, barely moving. He looked down at her, resting her head against his shoulder with a peaceful expression. He traced a finger down the side of her jaw and coaxed her to meet his gaze.

  Awareness flared an instant before he lowered his head and kissed her. The kiss began softly, hesitant, as though relearning her after a long absence. In a few short minutes, he wanted more and gripped her head, kissing her deeply. He growled his satisfaction as she met his passion with her own.

  He turned them toward the bed, pausing when she bumped up against the edge of it. “I love this dress, but it must go,” he rasped, as he kissed the side of her neck. His fingers worked on the demure white gown with buttons down the back, freeing her from it as he pushed it down over her hips. His mouth dipped, kissing her collarbone, before he backed up a step.

  He raised a hand, tracing her kiss-swollen lips with his fingers and met her passion-filled gaze. “I want you. I want us to make love,” he whispered around panting breaths. His breath hitched when she kissed his fingers.

  “So do I,” she whispered. She pulled at his waistcoat and jerked on the buttons, inadvertently tearing one off. She dropped her hands. “Forgive me.”

  He laughed, kissing her on her chin, neck, and then lips. “Never apologize for showing me what you feel. What you want.” He unbuttoned his waistcoat and shirt, flinging them aside.

  She raised her hands and then lowered them again, uncertainty and embarrassment flickering in her expression. He grasped one of her hands and spread it on his chest, palm open. “It’s acceptable for you to touch me. For you to want to touch me. We are married.” He worked on the front ties to her corset, releasing her from the confining garment.