The Unexpected Bride Read online

  “It’s a good hour and a half before we get to Paradise Haven. Would you like to get something to eat before we head out?”

  Rainee loved the deep sound of his voice. Even though his mannerisms at present were somewhat aloof, some of her doubts about coming here eased. After all, Mr. Bowen had rescued her from that vile man with the overpowering stench and yellow teeth. Not to mention his looks were far superior to those of any man she had ever encountered. Granted, she knew from experience looks could be deceiving, but still, his sapphire eyes and blond hair were quite pleasing to her eyes. In fact, the color reminded her of her father’s eyes. Immediately Rainee regretted the comparison. Her heart yearned for her father—to be held in his arms again and to feel the security his protection and love provided.

  The back of her eyes stung, but she plucked up her courage, knowing crying would solve nothing.

  She forced herself to focus on the gentleman in front of her. “Thank you, but no. I am fine, sir.” Even if she had need of anything, it would be far too humiliating to inform him she was penniless because some scoundrel at the last stagecoach stop had stolen her money. Good thing she had already purchased her ticket for the last trek of her journey. Otherwise she shuddered to think what might have become of her.

  For the millionth time, Rainee wished she had secured her funds underneath her skirt. Her personal maid and dear friend Jenetta had advised her to do so, but once again Rainee’s stubbornness had overruled any such logic.

  Many times her father had warned her that her stubbornness would get her into trouble one day. He feared he would not be able to secure a husband for her because of her flawed temperament. Inwardly Rainee sighed. So far, Father was right. Well, that was not entirely accurate. Many a man had pursued her. Not because of any burst of feeling toward her but because of her father’s money. Except one man. And she would rather go live with savage Indians than marry him.

  Mr. Bowen cleared his throat. She looked up at him.

  “That your trunk?”

  “Yes.” Rainee glanced at the medium-size chest containing everything she owned. With a weighty sigh, she decided to not think about what and whom she had been forced to leave behind. It was all too vexing. And so was this man’s aloofness toward her. Gone was the warmness his letters contained. Perhaps his journey had tired him. That she understood. Tiredness had seeped into her bones until every part of her ached with fatigue.

  She watched him lift the trunk as if it weighed no more than one of the plumes on her hat. He stepped off the platform and headed around the corner of the stagecoach stop. Rainee followed him, careful to keep her eyes anywhere but on his retreating form. One glimpse of his leg muscles had been enough to make her chastise herself for acting like a wanton woman instead of the lady she had been brought up to be.

  Once her belongings were secured on the wagon, he headed to the front of the buckboard where she stood, and he extended his hand.

  Rainee glanced at his large palm, admiring the strength of it, then looked up at him. Impatience covered his face. She quickly placed her satchel and parasol on the wagon seat, then settled her hand in his, allowing him to help her onto the wagon. She arranged the bustle of her dress and sat, then snatched her satchel and parasol off of the seat and placed them in her lap. “Thank you, sir.”

  He responded with a curt nod.

  Turning her head away from him, she suppressed the urge to roll her eyes and whistle away the awkwardness. She knew their meeting would be uncomfortable, but she had not anticipated it being quite this bad. Then again, what did she expect? That the moment he laid eyes on her, he would declare his undying love and sweep her off her feet, and they would live happily ever after?

  Hah. In a pig’s eye. She shuttered at the expression. It must be the length of the trip or the hot sun or the man readying the horses and the wagon—something—because every thought she had was taking her places she did not want to go.

  Besides, those kinds of things only happened in the dime novels she and her best friend used to sneak into her room and read. Until the day her mother had discovered them. After a long lecture, she forced Rainee to toss them into the fire. It broke her heart watching the edges curl into black ashes. They were her only reprieve from the stuffy social world she lived in, a world overrun with rules of proper etiquette, rules she had a hard time obeying because they all seemed so meaningless and empty.

  The wagon seat dipped, jolting Rainee’s mind from past shadows. She looped the handle of her satchel over her wrist and opened her parasol, careful to keep it out of Mr. Bowen’s way. Careful to keep herself out of his way as well.

  His arm brushed against hers, and his broad shoulders took up a goodly portion of the now cramped seat.

  Leather, trail dust, and a scent that reminded her of her father after he had shaved drifted up her nostrils. More reminders of home. A home that no longer existed.

  Once again, she could not believe she was about to marry a complete stranger. One she had placed an advertisement for. That act alone was scandalous. Claws of dread pierced her insides as she realized once again what she had done. The need for air threatened to swallow her up, but she sat up straighter and fought for every breath. No fainting spell would overtake her. Not this time. Though they had been a problem in the past, she vowed as of this moment she would fight them with all her might.

  Mr. Bowen snapped the reins. The wagon lurched forward and Rainee clutched the side of the seat to keep from jostling into him, but her shoulder collided with his anyway, and their eyes connected and held for the briefest of moments.

  Long after he turned away, however, the memory of his eyes the color of sparkling sapphires stayed with her. Eyes that were handsome but held no warmth. Only a sort of detachment and something else she could not identify. This was going to be a very long ride indeed.

  Haydon couldn’t wait to deliver the woman to his brother. This well-bred, beautiful woman sitting next to him was the kind he now avoided like poison ivy because they were shallow and cared about nothing but fancy balls and frippery. Appearance and financial status were everything to them. And he’d had his fill of that type of woman.

  “Mr. Bowen.”

  He wanted to ignore her but his conscience and upbringing wouldn’t allow him to be rude. “Yes?” Haydon gave her a quick glance.

  “You said in one of your letters you lived in Paradise Haven with your family.”

  His body tensed. He didn’t write those letters, so he had no idea of their contents. No knowledge about what her response had been. What her advertisement was about. Haydon shifted his weight and ran his thumbs over the leather reins.

  He looked toward the mountain dotted with several clapboard buildings and mining shafts as he struggled with what to say or do, wishing he could flee into one of those mines and hide out until this whole mess was over and done with.

  “Would you mind telling me about them?” Her soft voice was a tad shaky, but her asking spoke of a confidence he couldn’t deny.

  He let out a breath of relief. At least that he could answer. “My brother Jesse is twenty.” He glanced at her, then back at the dirt road. “His wife’s name is Hannah. They’re expecting their first child in a few months. They have their own place on the ranch. My brother Michael is sixteen. My sister Leah is thirteen and Abby is five. They live in the big house with my mother.”

  “What about you? Where do you live?” Words poured from her mouth like thick honey. Sweetness and innocence surrounded this woman. This woman he wanted to get away from as quickly as possible, he reminded himself. Even though she seemed harmless enough, he knew just how deceiving appearances could be. His former wife Melanie had taught him that. The dread of going through something like that again twisted his gut tighter than a three-stranded rope.

  “I have my own place on the ranch.” Concerned she would start asking him more questions, he decided to ask her about her home life instead. He only prayed it wasn’t something she had already shared in the letters
or her advertisement because then he would have to inform her that he wasn’t the one who had sent for her. And he wasn’t going to do that. That was Jesse’s job. “What part of the South are you from?” he asked, keeping his eyes forward.

  Talons of fear scraped up and down Rainee’s body. How did he know she was from the South? She had not told him that in her letters or her advertisement. She had even gone so far as to have one of her friends post her letters and advertisement in Chicago.

  What should she tell him? Not one to tell falsehoods, she would have to choose her words carefully. She gathered her courage and forced herself to look at him.

  “I’m sorry. Perhaps you aren’t from the South. I just assumed with your accent that you were. But then again—” he rubbed his chin “—your mannerisms remind me of some of our neighbors back East. They were British.”

  Rainee’s muscles relaxed.

  “My Father was raised in England, and my mother was raised in the South.” Before he could ask her any further questions, she plucked up her courage to say what she had wanted to say back at Prosperity Mountain. “Mr. Bowen, I know you must think it quite strange for a woman to post an advertisement in search of a husband. But please believe me when I say I had no other choice.”

  Her brother had seen to that.

  Chapter Two

  “Mr. Bowen? I am sorry to disturb you, but could I trouble you to stop? I am in need of a break.”

  He looked at her flushed face and the damp tendrils of hair clinging to her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight. I should have let you rest a while before we left Prosperity.” Remorse for his ungentleman-like manner and his inconsideration doused him with shame.

  With her head tilted off to the side, questioning eyes peered out from under the brim of her hat. Sensing it took a lot for her to ask, he wanted to put her at ease. “I could use a break myself. Whoa, Lulu. Whoa, Sally.” He pulled on the horses’ reins. The tack jingled and the wagon creaked as it came to a stop.

  He hopped down and set the brake, then wrapped the reins around it.

  The woman beside him rose and closed her parasol, leaving it and her handbag on the seat before moving toward him.

  He reached up toward her. When she placed her hands on his shoulders and he sprawled his hands around her small waist, feelings long buried deep inside him poked through the protective wall he’d built around his heart.

  He hurried to set her down and once he knew she was stable on her feet, he extradited himself from her as fast as possible.

  “Thank you.” Her gaze trailed toward a small creek. “Please excuse me.”

  As much as his gut wanted him to, he couldn’t leave her to traverse the rocky ground by herself. Thin rock and rough terrain wouldn’t bode well with her fancy dress. Haydon retrieved two canteens from the back of the wagon. “Allow me to help you.” Even though he didn’t want to touch her again, he slung aside the turbulent feelings raging inside him and clutched her elbow to steady her.

  When they reached level ground, ground devoid of rock, he released her elbow. The cluster of pine trees brought a welcoming reprieve from the hot sun.

  He filled their canteens with river water and handed her one. She twisted the lid and tilted it up, taking a long drink. His gaze landed on her sleek, graceful neck. She leaned over and refilled her canteen, then dipped her hanky into the tepid water and daintily blotted her face and neck.

  What a vision she was. A lady of poise and grace. The epitome of femininity.

  Quicker than a flash, an image of Melanie invaded his mind, bringing with it all the bad memories. Memories he’d rather forget.

  That Jess, he groaned inwardly. It’s all his fault I’m even thinking about Melanie again. Well, buddy boy, nothing will induce me to get involved with a woman again. Nothing.

  The sooner he got this task over with the better. When he got back to the ranch, he’d hand her over to Jesse to deal with.

  To distract himself, he unscrewed the lid on his canteen and pulled in a long drink.

  Minutes later, after they’d finished taking their break, he steadied her again until they reached the wagon.

  She pointed toward the hillside and asked, “Would you mind if I pick some of those red and yellow flowers to take to your mother?”

  Did she have to be so sweet on top of being beautiful? That combination was the worst kind to lure a man in. But he couldn’t turn her down. His mother loved flowers and thoughtful gestures like that.

  “Sure.” He took her canteen and put both of them back into the wagon.

  Making sure she didn’t slip on the small pile of thin rocks, he held her hand until she stepped over them.

  She leaned over and broke the long stem off at the bottom and studied the bloom before she placed the flower under her nose and smiled. “These are quite lovely. What are they?”

  “Red columbines. My mother’s favorite.”

  She darted her gaze up at him and her face beamed, even though he had seen her fatigue just moments before.

  She started gathering more and stopped only to dab the sweat off her forehead.

  Haydon couldn’t bear to watch her suffer, so he jumped in and helped her. When they had a nice bouquet, they headed back to the wagon.

  He grabbed his canteen and opened it, then retrieved his handkerchief from his pocket and saturated it with water. “Hand me the flowers.”

  She gave them to him, and he wrapped the soaked cloth around the stems. “That will help keep them until we get to the ranch.”

  “Thank you.” Her smile lit up her face. She really was sweet.

  Not liking that train of thought, he quickly helped her into the wagon, climbed up himself and down the road they went. A road that now seemed longer than it ever had been before. Having her sitting next to him had him squirming like a worm. The sooner he got them to the ranch, the better.

  Rainee glanced at the flowers in her lap. It was very thoughtful of him to help her gather them and then help preserve them until she could give them to his mother. Her own mother never tired of getting fresh bouquets of flowers, and Rainee loved seeing her smile. How delightful it was to be able to do something nice for Mr. Bowen’s mother, too.

  Soon she would be her mother also.

  Her heart smiled with joy.

  Rainee cut a sideways glance at him. Whatever it took, no matter how uncomfortable or how hard things became, she would make this situation work. Fear would not dissuade her from doing anything less. Besides, she had no other choice.

  When the beatings became more severe, life-threatening even, after months of praying, she and Jenetta had concocted this plan of escape. Good thing their strategy had worked. Because the night she had fled she overheard her brother’s scheme to sell her to their fifty-eight-year-old neighbor—the repulsive Mr. Alexander, or Mr. Gruff as she called him. They were to wed that next day. Just thinking about it made her tremble. That man was cruel to his very soul. Just like her brother, Ferrin.

  Thank You, Lord, for guiding my steps and for delivering me from Ferrin’s wicked plans. Help me to be a good wife to Mr. Bowen. And if You would be so kind, would You please delay the wedding ceremony to give us a little time to get to know each other before we wed? Thank You.

  Rainee hoped God would especially answer her prayer about getting to know each other first because her intended was obviously a man of few words. And even fewer smiles. What if he was cruel like her brother? That thought frightened her. God have mercy on her if she had left one boiling pot for another. Or, she gulped, something worse.

  She blocked out the distressing thoughts from her mind and took in the view around her. Several head of magnificent spotted horses grazed in a grassy meadow, which seemed to go on for miles. A frolicking black foal with a white spotted rump bucked and kicked and nuzzled its matching mother. A deep longing to spend time with her mother and to be a carefree child again bled deep into her soul, but self-pity would not change the past. She dragged her slumped shoulders int
o an upright position, determined to make the best of her new situation.

  Farther up the road, she noticed a herd of pigs. She closed her eyes and cringed against the thousands of fingernails scraping their way up her spine. A deathly fear of the four-legged beasts had always plagued her, and she loathed the stench that accompanied them. Her nose wrinkled, and her mouth twitched just thinking about the offensive odor.

  To get her mind off of the wretched creatures, she turned her attention onto an amazing cluster of lavender blooms covering the wide-open field. Curiosity got the best of her. “Mr. Bowen?”

  He glanced at her, then back at the crusted road. “Yes?”

  “Those purple flowers over there…” She pointed toward the field overrun with the fragile flowers. “What are they, please?”

  “They’re Camas plants.”

  “Camas?” Rainee tilted her head and shifted her parasol so she could look at him.

  “Yes.”

  “Are the pigs eating them?”

  “Yes. They love them.” He looked out over the fields. “In fact, the hogs love the Camas bulbs so much the people around here actually call this place Hog Heaven.” He glanced at her. “Informally, that is.” His masculine lips curved into a smile.

  And what a beautiful smile it was. She wished she could see more of them. If only she knew how to make that happen. But at present, that seemed improbable.

  “What a dreadful waste of such lovely flowers.”

  “It’s not a waste. The Camas bulbs are the only thing that helps the hogs survive the rough winters here in Paradise Haven. They’re about the only animal that can survive the winters here. For now anyway.” He glanced at her, then back at the herd of swine. “But, I’ve heard tell the railroad will be coming through here sometime soon. That’ll make it easier to get supplies to feed cattle through the winter so they won’t starve.”

  Just how bad did the winters get here anyway? Although she wanted to ask, she also wanted to know more about the fascinating Camas plant. “Are they only edible to hogs?”