A Bargained-For Bride

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  “You weren’t?” Boone asked, the doubt obvious in his voice.

  “No…I wasn’t,” Jilly affirmed. “It really does upset me when you go runnin’ off to danger. I really do worry.”

  Boone sighed with obvious pleasure in her response. Reaching across the table, he took her hand in his and said, “I bargained for you, Jill. You know that, don’t you?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, truly confused.

  “With your grandpa…that day I asked him if I could marry you,” Boone began to explain. “I told your grandpa that if he convinced you to marry me, you’d always be taken care of…that I’d make sure everything I own, everything I’ve built, all of it would belong to both of us. That way if anything ever happened to me, you’d be provided for. It’s why I went to your grandpa in the first place. I heard him talkin’ to Doc Havasham the one night, and he was worried about what would become of you if somethin’ happened to him and your grandma. And he didn’t want you marryin’ up with that jackass Jack Taylor. So I told him…I made a bargain with him—that if he made you marry me, then I’d see that you had everything you would ever need for your comfort and safety.”

  Tears of heartbreak filled Jilly’s eyes, for she realized then that she was nothing more to him than another citizen in Mourning Dove Creek in need of saving. That was all. Boone Ramsey had married her to ease her grandpa and grandma’s worries—not because he favored her—not even because he wanted a wife—but simply out of pity.

  Yet Boone seemed to misunderstand her tears. “Truly, Jill. Even if somethin’ happens to me while I’m out helpin’ hunt outlaws or diggin’ little girls out of wells, you’ll always have a nice home, money…and everything you need. It’s what I promised your grandpa in the bargain.”

  “So you just married me out of pity?” Jilly said, tears escaping her eyes to trickle over her cheeks. Snatching her hand from under his, she added, “You felt sorry for me? That’s all?”

  Boone frowned. “Well, no…of course not,” he answered. “Like I said, it was a bargain I made with your grandpa. He got the knowledge that you’d always be well cared for, and I got—”

  “It’s why you didn’t haul me to your bed and have your way with me on our weddin’ night, isn’t it?” she squeaked as the pain in her heart began to branch out into her limbs and throat. “You just married me out of pity!”

  Boone’s frown deepened then, and he growled, “So what if I did, Jill? Why did you marry me? Huh? Not out of choice, and certainly not because you wanted to. You married me out of pure spite aimed at that jackass you’d been sparkin’ with for a month down by the creek. So what’s worse, huh? Marryin’ out of spite? Or out of pity? Answer me that!”

  Shoving his chair back from the table, Boone stood, glaring down at her as his broad chest rose and fell with the labored breathing of anger.

  “For your information, Boone Ramsey,” Jilly cried, standing up from her own chair and glaring at him, “I married you for the same reason I brought that silly orange to you one Christmas ten years ago!”

  “Oh, now you’re gonna claim you married me out of pity too?” he grumbled.

  “No!” Jilly sobbed. “I married you because I love you! I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember! I just couldn’t let myself admit it because…because—”

  “Don’t you stand there and tell me you love me unless you really mean it, Jill,” Boone interrupted as moisture filled his beautiful green eyes. “I made myself a promise ten years back…that that little girl who brought me that orange on Christmas…that I’d always watch out for her, no matter what I had to do. And that Jack Taylor, he was gettin’ his hooks deeper and deeper into you, and I knew I had to do somethin’. So I went to your grandpa, and I bargained for you, Jill. That’s what I did! I bargained with Doolin Adams for the hand of his granddaughter. He got the peace of mind that you would always be cared for…but aren’t you at all curious about what I got?”

  “I know what you got, Boone,” Jilly wept. “You got to be the hero again…to pull a little girl out of a well or a little boy out of a rain-swollen creek. That’s what you got.”

  “No,” Boone argued, however. “I got you, Jill. I love you! I’ve wanted you since you were old enough to want.”

  But Jilly’s heart was too busy breaking to hope in that moment. “Is that so?” she asked.

  “That’s so,” Boone answered.

  “Then why didn’t you, if you care for me so much, if you really wanted me…then why didn’t you want me to share your bed the night we were married?” she asked.

  “Because you didn’t want me, Jill,” he answered. “You weren’t ready for me to love you then. You were still gettin’ over Jack Taylor.”

  “But I wasn’t!” Jilly confessed wholeheartedly. “I was over Jack Taylor before I got back home from tellin’ him Grandpa had promised me to you! I still don’t completely understand what I was thinkin’ where Jack was concerned. Maybe…maybe it was simply that…if I couldn’t have the man I wanted, I thought I had to settle for the man I could get.”

  Boone’s eyes narrowed. “You’re lyin’,” he accused.

  “I’m not,” Jilly assured him, shaking her head. “You are.”

  “No, I’m not,” Boone growled.

  “Then prove it,” Jilly challenged.

  “You prove it,” Boone challenged in return.

  “You prove it first,” Jilly countered. “You’re the one who claims you went to my grandpa because you wanted me and didn’t want Jack Taylor to have me. So you prove it first.”

  Jilly could feel the contention between her and Boone dissipating—felt her heart cease in its misery and begin to hope once more.

  “All right, I will,” Boone mumbled.

  Jilly gasped as Boone stepped up directly in front of her, slipped his suspender straps from his shoulders, and stripped off his shirt, tossing it to the table.

  Instantly she was in his arms—held tight against the warmth of his firm, muscular body—his mouth having captured hers in a hot, ravenous kiss. Jilly didn’t pause in responding, for there was no reason to pause. Boone Ramsey loved her! She could feel that he did—taste that he did. And when she allowed her hands to gently caress the breadth of his shoulders to travel up the back of his neck to his hair—as she felt a tremor travel through his body and he increased the intimacy of their kiss—she melted to him—surrendered her heart and body to his.

  “I love you, Jill,” Boone mumbled against her mouth. “I…I maybe didn’t understand just how much that day I went to your grandpa…not at first. But when I left your grandpa standin’ there on the front porch—walked right past you and you looked at me when I greeted you and said, ‘Afternoon, Mr. Ramsey’—that was the moment I had to admit to myself the real reason I’d asked your grandpa for you…because I love you…and I want you for me…for mine.”

  “I love you too,” Jilly whispered. “And…and I think Grandpa already knew it the day you talked to him about me.”

  “Why do you think that?” Boone asked.

  Jilly smiled. “Because he agreed to your bargain, Boone,” she answered. “And he never would have if he hadn’t already known my secret about you…that I’ve loved you for simply ever. I mean, think about it—an eight-year-old girl givin’ away the best part of Christmas mornin’?”

  “Jill,” Boone began, “I promise…come this Christmas, I’ll show you what the best part of Christmas mornin’ really is.”

  Jilly giggled, “The orange, of course.”

  “Nope,” Boone said, taking her by the waist, lifting her, and hefting her over one shoulder.

  As Boone laid Jilly on her bed on her back, hovering over her like a wolf that had captured its prey, he smiled and said, “This,” as his mouth claimed hers in a kiss that proved he’d loved her all along.

  Epilogue

  Taking the beautiful, ripe orange from its hiding place in the drawer in the small table next to their bed, Jill Ramsey turned to her husband and said, “Me
rry Christmas, Boone Ramsey!”

  Boone chuckled as he took the orange she offered. “You couldn’t wait until the sun was up and we were out of bed?” he asked, smiling at her as he studied the orange.

  “No,” Jill answered. “And do you know why not?”’

  “Because we promised to be to your grandma and grandpa’s house for Christmas breakfast?”

  “No, silly,” Jill laughed. Taking the orange from him, she pressed her thumbnail into the soft orange skin and began to peel it back.

  “Then why?” Boone inquired, raking a hand back through his hair. “It’s so early. You’re up before the rooster, darlin’.”

  “Because, Boone Ramsey,” Jilly began to explain as she placed the orange peelings on the side table and separated a segment of orange from the rest, “I’ve been waiting four months to do this.”

  Then placing the orange segment between her teeth so that half of it was in her mouth and the other half was protruding from it, she leaned over her husband and said, “Now kiss me.”

  Boone smiled. “Oh, I see,” he mumbled as he took his wife’s shoulders, pulling her to him. The moment their mouths met, Jill bit into the orange wedge, sending the sweet, cool juice from the wedge of orange to meld with their kiss.

  “It’s an orange kiss,” Jill explained as she pulled away from Boone and separated another wedge of orange for them. “It’s our new Christmas tradition…orange kissin’.”

  “I like it,” Boone mumbled as he gathered her in his arms, rolling her over so that he lay on top of her as they shared another wedge. “It’s my favorite Christmas tradition.”

  Jill giggled. “It’s only the first time we’ve done it,” she reminded him. “How can it be your favorite tradition already?”

  “Well then, it’s my favorite Christmas gift,” he said, kissing her again.

  “Are you sure of that?” Jill asked him, placing another orange wedge in her mouth.

  “Oh, I am,” Boone assured her, kissing her again.

  Jill sighed with feigned disappointment. “Well, then I guess I’ll have to save the other gift I have for you until later,” she said.

  “I don’t need another gift,” Boone said, kissing her throat. “Other than you on Christmas mornin’, I mean.”

  Jill giggled, set the orange on her pillow, and wrapped her arms around her handsome husband. “Not even if it’s a gift you’re givin’ me too?”

  “But that’s what I mean. I get you on Christmas mornin’, and you, my little orange kisses wife, get me.”

  Jill laughed. “No, I mean somethin’ else. I have somethin’ else to give to you.”

  Boone smiled, brushed the hair from Jill’s face as he smiled down at her, and asked, “What?”

  Jill gazed into her husband’s eyes a moment—marveling at the fact that she saw her own reflection in their brilliant green. She loved Boone more and more every day, even though each night as she drifted off to sleep safe and warm in his arms, she thought it would be impossible to love him more. But then, whenever she awoke, she always did.

  “Well, it won’t really be arrivin’ for another five months or so…and of course Doc Havasham can only give me an estimation of when it will arrive…”

  Jill watched with delight as understanding washed over Boone.

  “A baby?” he asked in an awed whisper. “Are…are you gonna have a baby, Jill?”

  “Yes, Boone…I am,” she answered.

  Jill was astonished then as she continued to look at Boone, for she hadn’t expected to see moisture gather in his eyes the way it was.

  “Are you happy, Boone?” she asked, worried for a moment that perhaps he wasn’t.

  “I am, Jill,” he said. Rolling off her, he placed his hand over her tummy. “I am.” He shook his head in wonderment. “Every night I go to bed thinkin’ that I can’t possibly love you any more than I already do. But then I wake up and feel you next to me, watch you breathe as you’re still sleepin’ sometimes…and I realize that I do love you more and more every day. And now…now I can’t even imagine this, Jill…a baby…our baby. I don’t think I’ve ever been this kind of happy before.” He paused, kissed her cheek, and gazed at her with the moisture of pure joy still lingering in his eyes. “Thank you for lovin’ me. I don’t need any more than that…just knowin’ that you love me. Everything else is pure luxury, the way I see it.”

  “Even orange kisses on Christmas mornin’?” she asked.

  “Even orange kisses on Christmas mornin’,” he repeated, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand. “You’re the sweetest treat I know, darlin’. Even sweeter than orange kisses on Christmas mornin’.”

  Jill smiled, reached out, and caressed the breadth of his strong shoulders. “Is that so?” she teased.

  “That is so,” Boone answered.

  “Then prove it,” Jill flirted with her husband.

  Boone laughed, picked up the orange from Jill’s pillow, and tore away another segment. Leaning over her, he said, “Oh, I will,” and then put the orange segment between his teeth and kissed her.

  ###

  Author’s Note

  Way back in the olden days (i.e., 1991–1996), when I was writing my books as Christmas and birthday gifts for close friends, most of my books were about as long as this one, A Bargained-For Bride. Being a young wife and mother—a lot younger than I am now, anyway—I wrote my books by stealing ten minutes here and twenty to thirty minutes there. And being that I didn’t really have a lot of time to write, my books continued to be novella size.

  In fact, it wasn’t until 1996 that I found my time and attention span were both long enough to finish a full-length novel—The Heavenly Surrender. But even as I began writing full-lengthers (The Visions of Ransom Lake, Shackles of Honor, Dusty Britches, etc.) I found that, on occasion, I needed a break from writing the longer stories—from riding the draining emotional roller coasters with my characters in the novel-lengthers. So in between novels, I’d write a novella here and there. Sudden Storms, the original novella-length Weathered Too Young, and The Rogue Knight gave me those quick reprieves from writing the longer novels.

  Now, also along the journey of writing, I inadvertently found myself working part-time from home for about a year for another author—a published author—Orson Scott Card (Scott, as family and friends called him). I didn’t do much for Scott—just basically policed the youth poetry section on his website. Teens could post their poetry for critique by other teen poets, and I just had to make sure nothing inappropriate was posted and that no one was posting cruel comments. Remember, this was back when we all still had dial-up modems, so it took me a couple of hours a day.

  During this time (1996–1997), Scott read a couple of my stories and encouraged me to publish. He even wanted to publish them himself through his own publishing company. But I still had small children and didn’t really want to pursue it at the time. Also, Scott had some things arise that began taking up a lot of his time too. So we both went merrily along our separate paths.

  However, one thing Scott Card did mention to me before I quit working for him was that he believed e-books were going to be the future. Remember, this was back in, like, 1998—so I couldn’t even conceive that people would ever give up tangible books in favor of e-books. So I guess we know how smart I was not, right?

  Jump ahead a bit to 2004. By this time, I had had several books published and was pretty overwhelmed with the whole book business. Enter Marnie Pehrson—a friend of my sister’s whom I had gotten to know online. Marnie called me one day with a suggestion. Having begun to hear little whisperings of the same thing Scott Card had stated to me years before—that e-books would soon be up and coming—Marnie suggested I allow one of my older novella-length books to be available to my readers as an e-book version.

  Yes, I did laugh. I thought she was crazy! Nuts! Off her rocker! Who would read a book on their computer? Seriously?

  Yet as Marnie explained the process to me, I began to think, “Hmm…it might
give the readers something to read between the book releases of full-length novels—a ‘quick fix’ of romance reading, so to speak.”

  And so Sudden Storms became an e-book—and it soared! I couldn’t believe it! Even as readers were writing to my customer service lady, asking, “What in the world is an e-book?” Sudden Storms was being downloaded like hotcakes! (Hmmm…that metaphor needs work.) Readers loved the quick, easy, get-it-right-this-minute e-book fix.

  Being that they were so instantly popular, more of my older, novella-length works were published as e-books—but as e-books only. In fact, during this time of my writing and publishing career, I would often write novellas just for the purpose of pleasing those readers who wanted e-books as well as print books. Love Me, The Prairie Prince, the novella-sized Saphyre Snow, Sweet Cherry Ray, the first and much smaller version of The Highwayman of Tanglewood—all these titles were originally released in e-book format only.

  But I so enjoyed writing the smaller titles! Though they were just as emotionally involving for me, the ride wasn’t as long, you know? They kept my attention span from getting bogged down, and they lightened my workload somewhat.

  But then Scott Card’s wisdom and prophetic smarts kicked in. Amazon birthed the Kindle, and the whole world changed forever. What Scott had predicted years and years before began to roll forth.

  Skipping all the business nonsense, the fact that I had been published by another publisher and self-published long before self-publishing hit the stance it now has, let’s just say, it rocks a business’s world when something so epic as what Amazon began to institute takes hold and flies. With so many indie authors now (indie being short for “independent,” or self-published), e-books are thicker than fleas on a hound dog! In a venue I was an explorer and entrepreneur in, I found that I missed printed books. I personally still prefer a printed book. I don’t even own an electronic reading device yet (at least not in September of 2013).

  Thus, while everyone was jumping on the e-book bandwagon, I found that I wanted to do what I could to make sure printed books endured as well. It’s one reason you can find hardcover editions of most of my novel-lengthers on my website. Therefore, I began sticking to writing novel-lengthers—because novel-lengthers make better hardcover editions.