His Dangerous Bride (The Brides of Paradise Ranch - Spicy Version Book 2) (2 page)

“Yes,” Virginia added as the two of them pushed him toward a flowery sofa against one wall and nudged him to sit. “Mrs. Breashears has sent us profiles of all of the young women at Hurst Home, and we’ve been pouring over them since then, working out exactly which girl would be right for you.”

“You…have?” This might have been a good time for him to run after all. Only the promise of promotion and a better life made him stay.

“Of course, my boy,” Josephine said. “I love you dearly, and I want nothing but the greatest joy for you. And as we all know, the greatest joy comes from a happy and successful marriage to a woman who suits your temperament in every—good heavens, Luke, what happened to your face?”

Josephine’s expression hardened to something midway between alarm and anger. She reached out and touched her fingertips to his swollen, purple eye.

“You’re just noticing my shiner now?” Luke flinched away from her.

“You finally asked me to find you a bride. What else was I supposed to think about?” Josephine’s tone turned scolding.

“Land sakes, Luke. You were in that stupid saloon fight last night, weren’t you?” Virginia sighed crossed her arms. “Almost all of Howard’s ranch hands and a few of mine were involved. Picked a fight with Bonneville’s men, or so I hear.”

“We did not pick that fight,” Luke growled. “They started it with that lousy, crooked deal Bonneville worked out with Dashiell’s Stockyard.”

“And you decided to take it to the next level, I suppose?” Josephine pursed her lips.

“We couldn’t just let them gloat like they were.” It wasn’t much of an excuse, and both women hummed and clucked over it.

“In light of this mess, I think I’d pick Eden Gardner over Talia Lambert,” Virginia said.

Josephine leaned back, nodding at Luke and humming her assent. “Definitely Eden. Talia seems like such a sweet, sunny girl, but I think you’re right about Luke needing a firmer hand after all.”

“A firmer hand?” Luke scowled, leaping off the sofa to pace the room. “What’s this about a firmer hand? I’m a man, Ma, not some snotty kid.” He puffed up his chest and stood tall to prove the point. If only his side wasn’t so sore and his left eye could open all the way.

“Come now, son, you’ll like Eden Gardner.” Josephine smiled and patted the spot on the sofa where Luke had been sitting. “The report Mrs. Breashears sent indicates that she’s sharp, quick-witted, and tough. Apparently, she’s at Hurst Home because there was some trouble with her family. Mrs. Breashears isn’t specific, but it sounds like they abandoned her.”

“Abandoned her?” Luke’s shoulders dropped from their tight bunch. Long-dormant emotion flared from those painful days when his sour old grandfather had dumped him and his siblings at the orphanage door and walked off, two days after his parents succumbed to fever. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Is…is she pretty?”

Josephine and Virginia shared a grin. “Mrs. Breashears doesn’t make judgments about the girls’ appearances in her reports, but she does say that Eden has dark hair, brown eyes, and freckles.”

“Freckles?” Luke’s mind conjured an image of a girl of no more than fifteen bearing a face full of freckles, a shy smile, and eyes glowing with adoration. Well, he wasn’t so keen on a girl that young, but the adoration and the face he could take. He nodded in consideration, then said. “All right. Sounds good. How soon can she get here?”

Josephine laughed. “In a hurry, son?”

“Yep,” Luke answered before he could think better of it. He inched sideways to the tea table, searching for pastries. He hadn’t eaten that morning, after all. “The cattle drive is only a month away, and Franklin will need to make a decision before that.”

“Cattle drive?” Josephine asked.

“Franklin?” Virginia echoed.

Luke selected a warm muffin from a plate on the table, took a bite, and said while chewing, “I asked Franklin to let me lead the cattle drive to Culpepper. He said he needed proof that I was stable and responsible. That’s why I’m here.”

“Ah,” the two older women said in unison.

Josephine cleared her throat, lips twitching as though she was trying not to giggle. “I’ll telegraph Mrs. Breashears this afternoon to see what we can arrange.”

“If she’s willing, I’m certain Eden could be here by the end of the month,” Virginia added. “It doesn’t take that long to journey from Nashville to Haskell.”

“Good.” Luke stuffed the rest of the muffin in his mouth. “I’m pleased.”

Josephine and Virginia tried not to laugh.

“In the meantime, you’d best clean yourself up and think about the qualities a sober and mature husband should have,” Josephine said. “I’m sure Pete would be more than happy to let you know what you should expect in your new role as husband.”

“I think I can manage that on my own, Ma.” Luke winked and started for the door. “I’m no spring chicken.”

The two older women giggled and snickered. Luke paused as he reached the door and turned to them with a scowl.

“What?” he demanded.

“Nothing, nothing.” Virginia held up a hand to hide her grinning mouth.

“It’s just that you may want to consider that married life is not what you’re thinking it is,” Josephine added.

“Ma. I’m twenty-seven years old. I’ve heard all about Bonnie’s business,” he admitted, though his cheeks flared red as he did. “I know what goes on in a marriage.”

Virginia burst out in snorting chuckles.

“If you say so, my dear.” Josephine’s lips twitched as she gave him a downright patronizing look. “If you say so.”

Chapter Two

Eden Gardner stepped down from the train, the heels of her boots clicking against the hard wooden planks of the platform, and tapped the telegram in her hand against her pursed lips. Haskell, Wyoming, her last chance for a safe, normal life. She narrowed her eyes as she glanced from the stretching, mist-shrouded mountains against the horizon, to the shimmer of heat across the summer-dried fields on one side of the town—still parched late into September—to the two- and three-story buildings lining the town’s main street.

She counted what she could see from the platform—hotel, bank, mercantile, saloon, church, station house, a handful of other businesses. Not to mention the jail. Residential houses seemed to keep to the side streets, away from the main thoroughfare. Every building looked new. Fresh coats of paint, lace curtains billowing out of upstairs windows, open to combat the unseasonable heat, sanded fence rails and hitching posts between lots. Women fanned themselves as they strolled down the street, shopping baskets on their arms. Shouting children chased each other up and down the board sidewalks in front of shops. The few men she saw who weren’t at work in front of their shops wore fancy clothes, stiff Stetsons, and shiny buckles. Not a one of them appeared to be armed.

Easy pickings.

She chewed her lip and shook her head, scooting to the side when a particularly rotund man who had been on the train since Cheyenne, bumped her as he disembarked. Eden clenched her jaw—and her fists—but thought better of lashing out at the man. Mama always said there was no point in picking a fight over small potatoes. Brent would have shot the man dead—and probably Mama too, while he was at it.

A shiver of fear shot town her spine. Brent was exactly why she wasn’t in St. Louis anymore.

She cleared her throat and unfolded the telegram. It was an answer to one she had sent from Denver the day before, advising Mrs. Virginia Piedmont, Mr. Charlie Garrett, and Mrs. Josephine Evans—and, of course, Mr. Luke Chance—that she would be on the 10:15 from Cheyenne. It read, “
Message received. Stop. Will be there. Stop
.” It didn’t bother to specify
who
would be there. As long as it wasn’t Brent, she’d be able to rest easy. She’d been careful about disappearing, making herself untraceable. Now she only needed to play her last card to hide herself in a new life entirely. This had to work.

Eden glanced around at what probably passed for a flurry of activity on the platform. Haskell wasn’t what she would describe as a metropolis. Three passengers besides her had gotten off the train. One was a lady who was now busy hugging a slightly older woman. Probably relatives. Well-off, but not wealthy. The passenger’s purse dangled from her wrist. She wasn’t paying attention. Any child passing by with a sharp blade and a quick hand would eat well tonight on the contents of that purse. The other two passengers, including the man who’d bumped her, had moved on. Businessmen. Fine suits. Billfolds tucked in their jackets. Not worth the effort.

Of course, relaxed souls without a care in the world were a sign of peace and prosperity. Lord knew she could use some of that. The prospect of picking up her life and moving it to a place she’d never been, barely heard of, to marry a man sight unseen was a daunting one, but it was still better than the constant suspicion and frazzled nerves that her life back East had descended into. A little peace and quiet would be a godsend. Marriage, homemaking, popping out a couple babies—Eden was ready for it all.

The focal point of the action on the platform centered around a tired-looking man in his thirties—the stationmaster, judging by the uniform—and two porters who helped him unload the train, one of whom couldn’t have been more than fifteen. The stationhouse door had been left open, a desk was visible from where Eden stood. She grunted in disgust and shook her head. It would take her less than a minute to waltz into the stationhouse, find the cashbox, and walk out, and no one would be the wiser. She’d probably even have time to pick the cashbox’s lock. Easy as pie. If that was the life she was still after.

Not anymore.

Shaking her head, she marched to the side, approaching the younger porter. She reached into the buttoned pocket inside of her traveling jacket that held her reticule, taking out her luggage ticket and tucking away the telegram.

“Excuse me.” She tapped the young porter’s shoulder. “Here’s my ticket.”

The young man—who had the same coloring as the stationmaster, probably his son—straightened and gawped at her.

“My luggage ticket?” She held out the ticket with a reassuring smile. No sense in giving the poor boy any reason to be suspicious of her.

“Oh. Oh, right. Sorry. I’m kinda new to the job, but Pa needed help and…” He cleared his throat. “Your luggage. Right. Sorry.”

He took her ticket with a bashful smile, scrambling off to the open doors of the luggage car. He was sweet, really, all bright eyes and eagerness. And helping his father. Eden always approved of that. Sleepy old Haskell had its charms beyond being in the middle of nowhere.

“Miss Eden Gardner?”

Eden spun as her name was called. Right away, she spotted a distinguished gentlemen in an expensive suit, a gold watch fob glistening across his waistcoat, and an attractive older woman in sensible but stylish cotton.

“Miss Eden Gardner,” the woman said, a statement this time instead of a question. She picked up her pace, coming forward with outstretched hands. “I’m Mrs. Josephine Evans, and you have no idea how overjoyed I am to welcome you to Haskell.”

“She took the words right out of my mouth,” the gentleman said. He came to a stop in front of her and touched the brim of his hat before taking her hand in a firm shake. “Charlie Garrett, at your service.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet both of you.” She wasn’t even lying at that. Her shoulders relaxed and her back stopped aching. It was because of these two, and Mrs. Piedmont, that she was getting this one-in-a-million chance to start over.

As soon as she let go of Mr. Garrett’s hand, she searched behind him, scanning the area around the station. “Where’s my husband?”

Mrs. Evans’s brow shot up. Mr. Garrett sputtered, then burst into a hearty laugh. “No beating around the bush with you, I guess.”

Eden crossed her arms and smiled at him. Handsome, tail end of his prime. Confident, competent, and likely able to take her down before she knew what was happening. Yes, she liked Charlie Garrett at first sight.

“I never saw much point in beating around any bushes,” she told him and Mrs. Evans. “It’s a waste of time when seconds matter.”

“Is that so?” Mr. Garrett’s lips twitched as he worked to get his grin under control. His eyes held experience, understanding, knowing. She’d have to watch out for him.

A slow but equally satisfied grin spread across Mrs. Evans’s face. “Oh yes,” she said, rubbing her hands together as though relishing a prize. “She’ll be perfect. Luke won’t know what hit him.”

Damn. By the sound of things, Eden would get along with Mrs. Evans like they were two peas in a pod. And if what Mrs. Breashears had said was right, Mrs. Evans was Luke Chance’s adopted mother, which meant she’d be Eden’s mother-in-law. Haskell was growing on her already.

“I’m here, I’m here!” a call came from the row of hitching posts to one side of the train. “Sorry I’m late.”

Mr. Garrett and Mrs. Evans turned, and Eden leaned to the side, arms still crossed, to get a look at the man who was climbing down from a handsome chestnut gelding. He moved with the horse as though the two of them had one mind, looping the reins around the post with hardly a glance. When he turned in Eden’s direction, her heart stuttered in her chest.

“Well,
hello
,” she hummed.

The man strode forward with wide, sure steps. Cocky steps. The kind of steps that said he could handle any situation and keep smiling while doing so. His shoulders were broad, his arms strong under sleeves rolled up past his elbow. A hint of dark blond hair was visible under the brim of his worn hat, and straight, white teeth flashed as he smiled. He hopped up onto the platform with ease. Eden had half a mind to ask him to turn around so she could get a look at his backside.

“Are you Eden Gardner?” he asked, striding to a stop between Mr. Garrett and Mrs. Evans. He raked her from head to toe with a fiery gaze that said he liked what he saw.

Hot damn.

“That’s me.” She stepped toward him, holding out a hand.

He took it, his grip firm and warm. “Luke Chance. Pleased to meet you.”

His confidence, his strength, that hint of mischief in his eyes as he smiled at her—yep, she could have done much worse in a man. Now all she needed to do was make sure he sealed the deal before he saw right through her and called it all off.

“All right.” She looked at Mr. Garrett, then Mrs. Evans. “He seems like he’s got all the right parts in all the right places. I’ll marry him.” She nodded. The faster the better.

Mr. Garrett swallowed another snort of laughter. Mrs. Evans looked like she might crow.

Luke Chance’s grin faltered, and he darted a look between Mrs. Evans and Mr. Garrett, then narrowed his eyes at Eden. “Didn’t you already agree to marry me when you got on that train?”

Eden shrugged. “Figured it’d be best if I got a look at you before truly making up my mind.” She feigned confidence to hide her desperation, even from herself, and raked him with the same assessing look that he’d given her. “You look good. Pretty face, strong arms. I can live with that.” She pivoted to the train, frowning. “Where did that porter get off to with my trunk?”

“I’ll handle it,” Luke said, jumping into action. He still looked a fair bit baffled, but he marched off across the platform to the open door of the train’s luggage car without a lick of hesitation. “Hey, Athos, I’m here to fetch Miss Eden Gardner’s luggage,” he told the stationmaster with just the right amount of authority in his voice.

A grin played across Eden’s lips as he leaned into the luggage car, his trousers pulling tight against his rump. Nothing to be ashamed of there. He knew how to take charge of a situation too, by the look of things. It’d be easy as pie to entrust her safety to a man who knew how to get things done. And she knew a trick or two about how to make him want her. This plan was going to work after all.

“I think Mr. Luke Chance and I are going to get along just fine,” she hummed, settling back on her heels to watch him. Her soon-to-be-husband was quite a sight.

“Come on now, Hubert,” Luke called down the length of the luggage car to where Athos’s boy was yanking a long, narrow trunk free from a pile of others. “It’s not like that’s a full steamer trunk. Your last name isn’t Strong for nothing. Give it a push.”

Hubert grunted. “I’ve just about got it.”

Luke nodded, then glanced over his shoulder to see if Eden Gardner was watching. A sizzle shot down his spine—lighting up a few precious things below his belt that shouldn’t have been lit in public—when he saw that she was. His mail-order bride wasn’t just watching him, she was
perusing
him. Her pert, cupid’s-bow of a mouth ticked to the side in an appreciative grin. Her dark eyes flashed with curiosity. Hell, he’d never had a girl look at him like that before, at least not outside of the saloon. But Bonnie’s girls batted their eyelashes more at the cash he carried and the hope that he might put it to good use, for a change, than at him. Good girls definitely weren’t supposed to give fellows they’d just met the eye like that.

Lord above, what if Eden was at Hurst Home because she’d been working at a place like Bonnie’s? Would he mind if his wife had that sort of a past? Another warm shiver passed down his spine, making parts of him jumpier than fire in a windstorm, at the prospect. Hell no, he wouldn’t mind.

“Here you go, Luke.” Hubert groaned as he carried the long trunk enclosed by iron bands and a huge lock to the door. “Careful, it’s heavy.”

“I think I can manage,” he told the boy with a wry grin. But when Hubert squatted to hand the trunk over, Luke sagged under its weight. “What does she have in here?”

“Lead pipes?” Hubert suggested, hopping down from the car.

It sure felt like it. Luke adjusted his grip on the trunk’s handles, bracing it to the point where the muscles of his arms strained against his shirt. He pasted on a smile as he turned to Eden, Josephine, and Charlie. He wasn’t about to make a fool of himself by looking like the trunk was heavy.

Fighting the sheen of sweat breaking out on his back, he strode over to Eden and grinned. “Where do you want it?”

Eden’s lips twitched, one dark eyebrow flickered up. She bit her lip, and said with a saucy hum, “Anywhere you want to put it, sweetie.”

Luke nearly dropped the dang trunk on his foot. With the state her look and that comment had him in, it likely would have hit something precious on the way down. The sweat dripping down his back doubled, and not because of the weight in his arms.

Josephine seemed to find the situation too funny to say anything. She had turned half away, her hand covering her mouth, as she pinched her lips shut to keep from saying anything. Typical Ma. Charlie was the one who answered, “I’m sure Herb Waters has a wagon you can rent for the afternoon, unless you can find someone heading out to Paradise Ranch who’d be willing to transport the trunk.” He shifted, spotting something in the street. “There you go, there’s Cody Montrose. He can take care of it for you.”