Once a Mail Order Bride

by Bold, Diana

  Her laugh was filled with bitterness. “Well, I suppose I should be grateful he didn’t leave me there to become a whore.”

  “It will be all right.” He turned away from the horse. “I’m sure they’re sleeping.”

  “That’s good. I don’t think I could bear to face anyone tonight... not after everything that’s happened.”

  He wanted to take her in his arms once again but didn’t trust himself to let her go. There seemed to be nothing else to say, so he took her hand and led her up to the house, entering through the back door. The house was dark and silent except for a lone candle someone had left burning at the foot of the stairs.

  “Shall I sleep in the same room I stayed in before?” Sarah met his gaze in the candlelight, a wealth of meaning in her simple question.

  The mere thought of holding her in his arms all night and waking to her beautiful smile did something strange to the pit of his stomach. But he knew Matt was liable to barge into his bedroom unannounced, and he still wasn’t ready for the forced intimacy of sharing a bed.

  “Yeah. I guess that would be best.”

  Pain flickered across her features before she managed to hide it. She brushed past him, her shoulders stiff with hurt.

  Unable to let her leave this way, he caught her hand and spun her around, pulling her into his arms and kissing her. She resisted for a moment, but then relented, melting into his embrace.

  “Goodnight,” he whispered, as he let her go.

  She touched her lips with her fingertip then managed the ghost of a smile. “Goodnight, Luke.”

  “LUKE, WAKE UP.”

  Luke moaned in protest and rolled onto his side, pulling the blankets over his head in an effort to escape the insistent voice.

  “Get up. I need to talk to you.” Someone jerked at the blankets, dislodging them despite Luke’s sleepy attempts to keep them in place.

  “Go away.” Luke groped for the edge of the quilt, unsurprised to discover his tormentor was Matthew.

  Matt plopped down on the edge of the bed. “Did you find her?”

  Luke squinted and regarded his brother through bleary eyes. “Do you have any idea how late I got to bed last night? What time is it?”

  “Half past eight,” Matt informed him in a much-too-cheery voice. “So you did find her.”

  Luke yawned, trying to focus. “She’s upstairs.”

  Matt smiled. “I knew everything would work out. She’ll make you a good wife.”

  Luke sat up. Last night’s events washed over him with cold clarity. “Oh, God,” he muttered. ”This is a disaster.”

  Matt shook his head, obviously dismayed. “You seemed to feel something for her last night.”

  “If you knew anything about how I feel, you wouldn’t have sent her here.” Luke glared at his brother for a long moment, and then relented. “She’s going to stay on for a while, but we haven’t talked about marriage.”

  “You haven’t talked about it?” Matt surged to his feet, staring down at Luke incredulously. “You can’t keep her here as your mistress. If you don’t want to marry her, let me take her to Denver. I’ll find her a teaching position, if that’s what she wants.”

  “She wants to stay here.” Luke wasn’t ready to commit to marriage, but he wasn’t about to let Matt take her away. “Besides, she’s furious with you. She doesn’t want your help.”

  Matt looked dumbstruck. “What do you want me to do?”

  “You don’t have to do anything. Go back to Denver. Leave me alone. Believe it or not, I can manage quite well without you.”

  After a long, uncomfortable silence, Matt grinned. “I think you’re right.” He leaned forward, slapping Luke on the back. “Maybe you don’t need me at all.”

  SARAH TOOK A DEEP, steadying breath at the top of the stairs. She tried to smooth the ingrained wrinkles in the skirt of her emerald dress, but it was a futile attempt.

  The house was quiet, and she cursed herself for sleeping so late. She couldn’t imagine what Luke’s brother and sister-in-law must think of her lazing the entire day away.

  She descended the stairs and peered into the parlor. The room was empty, but someone had stripped the covers off the furniture, and they lay in a dusty white heap in the corner. Sarah made a mental note to begin her cleaning here. It wouldn’t take much, just a mop, a bucket of soapy water, and some elbow grease.

  Across the hall from the parlor was a large room occupied by a piano. There were some art supplies spread out on a table near the window, and an easel was turned toward the wall.

  A door led from the music room to the adjoining dining room. The massive oak dining table was covered with a thick layer of dust. Shaking her head in dismay, she pushed open the door to the kitchen. It was spotless, a complete contrast to the rest of the house.

  Her lips curved into a smile as she surveyed the well-stocked, organized pantry. So much food! At one time, her family had been blessed with this kind of plenty, but the war had turned them into paupers. For years, she’d done nothing but worry about where her next meal was going to come from.

  She took a deep breath and inhaled a hundred different scents. Cinnamon, pepper, yeast, and other things she couldn’t even name. Food meant safety on a primitive level. She wanted to stay here, wanted it with fierce intensity.

  There was no sign of Luke’s brother, and for that she was grateful. It would have been difficult to be nice to the man after what he’d done.

  She drifted back into the hall and stared at the door to the only downstairs room she hadn’t yet explored. Luke’s bedroom.

  She was wildly curious. The rest of his home hadn’t given many clues to his character. Would this, his most private sanctuary, be any different?

  The door was ajar, and she glanced over her shoulder to make sure she was alone before peering inside. Her breath caught when she discovered Luke still sound asleep in his big, comfortable-looking bed. Towering piles of books lined the walls.

  He lay on his stomach, a shaft of afternoon sunlight gilding his dark hair to gold and highlighting the bare curves of his shoulders and upper back. Her gaze roamed down the expanse of sun-kissed flesh, until she reached the tangled sheet around his waist.

  Dear God, he was more beautiful than any man had a right to be.

  He’d kicked the sheet off his good leg, and she stared hard at his well-muscled, hair-roughened calf and long, slim foot. His other leg remained covered, hidden even in sleep.

  She backed away, wondering again how he’d been injured. Perhaps he’d slipped with an ax or tangled with some wild mountain creature. Heart aching, she closed the door.

  She went to the kitchen and gathered some cleaning supplies. Perhaps if she stayed busy enough, she wouldn’t think of Luke and how much she wanted the safety and security a marriage to him could provide.

  He’d said he didn’t want a wife. But he’d rescued her from the saloon and told her he’d help her.

  How could she make sure he wanted to marry her?

  She kept remembering his fury when she’d cooked him breakfast that first morning. He’d accused her of trying to trick him into marriage.

  Could it be that simple? Was he worried he might fall prey to the temptation of a well-cooked meal and a clean house?

  If so, she intended to domesticate him to death.

  Chapter Eight

  LUKE AWOKE DISORIENTED and out of sorts. His room was dark, and he had no idea how long he’d been sleeping. With a lazy stretch, he contemplated going back to sleep. He closed his eyes, but a soft, repetitive thwacking sound caught his attention, and he remembered he was no longer alone in the house.

  With a smile, he let his head fall back against the headboard. He pictured Sarah bustling around in his kitchen, that charming, distracted look on her face. The thought filled him with a strange contentment, one he was careful not to analyze.

  He sighed and scooted out of bed, struggling to attach the boot to his stump and get dressed in the dark. Following the noise, he found Sa
rah in the parlor, standing upon a chair, beating at the heavy, dark green drapes with furious determination.

  “Pretending those curtains are my brother?”

  Sarah spun around and his heart skipped a beat as she tilted precariously before regaining her balance. “Good morning,” she said with a bright smile. “Did you sleep well?”

  This was one of the reasons he liked her so much. She always seemed so glad to see him.

  He grinned, giving a pointed glance out the window at the darkness. “It’s hardly morning. You should have awakened me.”

  She shook her head and carefully stepped off the chair. “You were exhausted. Besides, I slept until late afternoon myself.”

  “Oh, that’s good.” He skirted the sofa, noticing as he moved closer that her face was flushed and her skirt had black spots on the front, as though she’d been kneeling on the floor. Something smelled delicious. Fresh bread, he guessed, and his stomach growled, reminding him how long it had been since he’d eaten. Sarah had been very busy, indeed. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

  “I won’t accept your charity. If I’m going to stay here, I intend to earn my keep.”

  He had a sudden, unbidden vision of her body twined with his, her skin flushed from his lovemaking.

  “You’re my guest,” he muttered. “Not my housekeeper.”

  She stared at him, her green eyes shadowed with uncertainty. “Perhaps it would be best if you told me exactly what to expect from this arrangement.”

  He thought of the dark times, when he’d drunk himself unconscious, only to wake up and start all over again. He’d raged against God for taking his leg, the woman he’d loved, and his belief in himself. His despair had seemed bottomless, and he still wasn’t certain he’d conquered his demons.

  Sarah had brought a little light to his life, but it wouldn’t last. It never did.

  “I don’t know,” he told her helplessly. “Perhaps we should just play it by ear for a while.”

  She frowned, and he knew his swift change of mood hadn’t gone unnoticed.

  “I made some soup for dinner,” she murmured, changing the subject. “It’s almost ready.”

  He nodded. “Thanks, I’m starving.”

  Sarah left the room, and he went to the window, staring up the hill at the barn. This was a mistake. He liked having Sarah here. He liked it too much. He knew he was hard to live with and wondered how long she would stay before he drove her away, too.

  The house already felt alive in a way it hadn’t since he’d moved in. It embarrassed him that he’d left it in such a state of disrepair. He wasn’t sure why he had. Perhaps because he’d loved the house on sight and thought it deserved a family, not a crippled old ghost rattling around within its walls.

  Pressing his forehead against the cool glass, he thought of the horses and blessed his two hired hands, Joe and Hank, for taking care of them when he was too incapacitated to do it himself.

  He needed to pull himself together. He needed to make some changes. It was unbearable to know that people pitied him.

  “Luke?”

  At her call, he left the parlor and made his way into the kitchen.

  She put a few slices of bread on a plate and set it on the table, gestured for him to sit down, and then took her place across from him. She’d made a rich, creamy potato soup swimming with bits of bacon, and the bread was still warm from the oven.

  She watched him anxiously, her shoulders relaxing when he made a soft sound of approval.

  “This is good.”

  “I didn’t know what to make,” she told him, taking a bite herself. “I didn’t know how to cook until the war. All our people ran off and someone had to learn how. But there was never much to eat, so I’m afraid my menu will be limited.”

  Our people. Her words disturbed him, reminding him that they were worlds apart in some ways. He also disliked the reminder of the hardships she’d faced, in part because of what he’d fought for.

  Even during his worst days in the Union Army, he’d never gone hungry. But he’d seen the people of the South suffering. He’d seen the barren fields and looted houses.

  He cleared his throat, trying in vain to push the images away. “Just make a list of everything you need that isn’t already here. I’ll send one of the men into town to pick it up.”

  “There are others on the ranch?”

  “Yeah, I have a few men living in the bunkhouse down by the river. They help me take care of the horses.”

  “Horses? Is that what you do here?” She sounded doubtful, and he realized he’d shown damned little evidence of his profession since she’d arrived.

  He trusted the men. They could run the ranch without his help, but he loved the work. It had been his salvation at times.

  “Did you think I spent all my time drunk in bed?”

  Sarah glanced away, color rising in her cheeks. “No. Of course not.”

  He took a deep breath, struggling not to get angry. If he wanted her to believe he was more than a self-absorbed drunk, he’d have to show her with actions, not words. “I’m trying to breed some good mountain horses. The men I hired have forgotten more about horses than I’ll ever know, but I’m learning.”

  “I’m sure you’ll do very well,” Sarah murmured. “You’re an extraordinary man.”

  He frowned. It made him uncomfortable to think she was talking about his foot. He wished she’d pretend not to notice.

  “It must have been nice to live out here during the war,” she murmured after a lengthy silence. “Away from all the death and fighting. You didn’t have to worry about the damned Yankees destroying everything your family worked so hard to build, killing everyone you ever loved.”

  Matt had told her he hadn’t fought in the war, and he wanted to strangle the bastard all over again. How could he tell her he’d fought for the Union? He didn’t want to see the light in her eyes turn to hatred. She was such a ferocious little Confederate; she’d surely see him as the enemy. She’d never understand his views. He’d gone against most of his family and friends, lost almost everything he loved because of his fierce beliefs.

  “There were troops out here from both sides. There were even a few minor skirmishes. I don’t think anyone in the entire country remained unscathed.”

  There. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but he’d managed to evade the truth quite well.

  Sarah toyed with her soup, a faraway look in her eyes. “Union marauders came to our plantation just before the end of the war. They stole everything we had left and raped my sister, Rachel.”

  “God, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” He reached across the table and took her hand, offering whatever comfort he could.

  She blinked away the sheen of tears in her eyes. “You can’t imagine the way people treated her after that. Our neighbors shunned her. They all seemed to think she’d done something to deserve it.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Luke said. “Those people should be shot.”

  “Do you really think so?” Sarah looked at him with undisguised gratitude. “I thought so, too.”

  “What happened to your sister? Where is she now?”

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “In the family cemetery back in Georgia. She hanged herself rather than face any more humiliation.”

  Luke’s heart went out to poor Rachel, but he also felt a spurt of anger at her for leaving Sarah all alone. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again, rubbing his thumb along her wrist. He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “Me, too.” She gave a shaky laugh and pulled her hand away. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive,” Luke insisted. “You can tell me anything, Sarah. We’re friends, right?”

  “Of course,” she murmured, biting her lip. “Of course, we are.”

  A heavy silence descended between them for the rest of the meal. When he finished eating, he cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. “I’ll be working outside tomorrow, so y
ou needn’t worry about breakfast or lunch. I’ll eat with the men.”

  She glanced up from her bowl, and he saw she’d been toying with her food. She’d hardly eaten a thing. “What would you like for dinner?”

  “Whatever you feel like making.” He attempted a smile. “I’m not particular.”

  She stood and started cleaning off the table. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

  Luke helped her clean up, even though he sensed she wasn’t happy about it. She seemed so eager to please him, as if her place here depended on her cooking skills. He wished he’d handled things better last night. He should have bowed to the inevitable and asked her to marry him.

  He wanted to spend the evening making love to her instead of dancing around each other in the kitchen, but he was terrified of taking that step. He didn’t want to be vulnerable in that way, never again.

  He wasn’t at all tired, having slept the day away, but his nerves couldn’t stand much more of her company. “I’ll see you in the morning. I’m going back to my room to read for a while.”

  She finished putting away the last clean bowl and nodded, not looking at him. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Chapter Nine

  EVEN THOUGH HE’D BEEN awake all night, Luke managed to make it out to the bunkhouse at the crack of dawn the next morning. Neither Hank nor Joe seemed surprised to see him.

  They took his help, or lack of it, without comment. Hank poured him a cup of the thick, dark swill that passed for coffee and nodded to a place at the warped, rickety table. “You working with us today, boss?”

  Luke sat down, and Joe handed him a plate of eggs and bacon. “Yeah,” he muttered, taking a bite. He fought the need to explain why he hadn’t worked all week. The crotchety old pair had no patience for weakness, and he hated the pitying looks on their faces whenever he admitted to going on a drinking binge.

  Neither of the old coots had ever married, so he doubted they’d be any more sympathetic if he told them about Sarah.