Mail-Order Bride Switch. Dorothy Clark

back, her eyes imploring Garret Stevenson to believe her. “You see, my father had threatened to throw me out of the house without a penny of support from him until I came to my senses and agreed to the marriage. I had no money...save a few coins of my allowance, and no place to go. I have a cousin, but he stands to inherit all that my father possesses unless I acquiesce. That’s when Millie said perhaps she could help me.”

      He stiffened, stared at her.

      “Millie told me she had answered a posting for a woman who would be willing to enter into an in-name-only marriage with a young man in Wyoming Territory in exchange for a comfortable home and living. She said there was to be no...intimacy involved in the relationship.” Warmth returned to her cheeks. “She told me time was pressing, that the man had to be married by a certain date or lose his business, and so the man had sent her money and a ticket to make the journey. But Thomas—our butler—had proposed to Millie in the meantime, and she had decided to marry him and stay in New York.”

      He sucked in air, shoved his fingers through his hair. “So, as a resolution to your problem, you came to Whisper Creek to marry me in her stead.”

      “Yes.” He looked furious. And she didn’t blame him. A tremble shot through her. Garret Stevenson wanted nothing to do with her. What would she do now? Her mind raced, but there was only one answer. She needed time to make him agree to accept her offer.

      She squared her shoulders and rubbed her palms down the sides of her long skirt. “Please forgive me, Mr. Stevenson. I did not mean to...to take advantage of your precarious position. I was desperate and not thinking clearly. I certainly do not expect you to enter into a sham marriage with me when it was Millie to whom you made the offer.” She took a breath. “I will wire my father to send me funds to repay you for the ticket and money I used to make the journey. And to pay you for a room if you will be so kind as to allow me to stay here in your hotel until the money arrives and I can purchase a ticket home.” Please, Lord, let him agree. And, meantime, help me to convince him to—

      “I’m afraid not, Miss Winterman.”

      “But—”

      “When you used the ticket and the money I sent, you bound yourself to fulfill my proposal for an in-name-only marriage. The details of the agreement are in this letter that was in your possession.”

      What was he saying? “But, Mr. Stevenson, that letter was written to Millie. You expected her to—”

      “Come and marry me. That is true. But she chose to betray my trust.” He set down his cup. “Let me make my position perfectly clear, Miss Winterman. I—do—not—want—to—be—married. But if I am not married by midnight tomorrow, I will lose this hotel and all that I have invested in it to the town’s founder.” His gaze fastened on hers, held it captive. “The marriage I proposed to Millie Rourk was an in-name-only one with no intimacy involved because I do not care who I marry. What I care about is this hotel. That is why I chose Millie Rourk out of the many respondents to my postings. As a maid, she would know how to cook and clean.”

      Her stomach sank. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Stevenson.”

      “You won’t, Miss Winterman. I’m not going to lose all I possess because you have changed your mind about obeying your father’s wishes and returning to marry this man you said you detest.” He stepped to the shelf by the door, lifted his coat off the peg and shrugged into it. “The only man you are going to marry, Miss Winterman, is me. And you are going to do so right now. You are sufficiently warmed to walk to the church. It’s not far. We will discuss the details of our arrangement when we return.” He put his hat on his head, lifted her coat off its peg and held it out to her. “Shall we go?”

      She could stay! The strength garnered from her fear of being forced to return home drained away. She made her wobbling legs move, walked over to him and turned her back. His hand brushed against her neck as he helped her into her coat. She jerked away. The spot spread warmth into her back and shoulder. He waited patiently while she fastened the coat and pulled on her gloves, then he extended her hat and opened the door.

      “There’s one thing more.”

      What else could there be? And what did it matter? Emory would not find her here. She was safe from his threats. She lifted her muff from its peg and looked up at him.

      “John Ferndale knows I was...am...reluctant to marry. Therefore, it’s important that he believes this marriage is a normal, lasting one. And, as small as this town is, that means that whenever we are in public we will behave like loving newlyweds. In private, there will be no personal contact, as we have discussed. Do you understand?”

      “Yes.”

      “Good. I hope you can put on a good act, because right now you look scared to death.”

      She lifted her chin. “It is acceptable, even expected, for brides to look a little frightened on their wedding day, Mr. Stevenson. I will play my part well.”

      “You’d better let me do all the talking until we have a chance to work out a story about our courtship.” He ushered her through the hotel lobby to the outside door. The wind howled, rattling the windowpanes. He frowned, tugged his hat more firmly on his head. “I’m sorry to make you go out in this weather, but if you’re to stay here, our wedding can’t be delayed until tomorrow. There’s no chaperone.”

      She stiffened, fixed her gaze on him. “There’s no need for one.”

      “True. But that knowledge is ours alone. To everyone else, we are a loving bride and groom. You’d best leave that muff here so you can hold on to me.” He pulled the door open.

      Snow blew into the room, plastered against their coats. She staggered backward. He slipped his arm around her and steadied her, stepped to her side. His body blocked the main force of the wind. She tossed her muff onto a nearby chair, grabbed hold of his arm and walked with him into the storm.

      * * *

      “We’re almost there.”

      Virginia kept her head ducked low and braved a glance around Garret. Faint spots of light glowed dimly ahead. A gust of wind swept swirling snow toward them. She jerked her head back behind the protection of Garret Stevenson’s broad shoulders and tightened her grip on the gloved hand he held out behind him.

      “The snow’s drifted across the walk. Stay in my tracks.”

      His pace slowed. His booted feet swept side to side with each step, creating a path for her. She added his thoughtfulness to the few facts she had learned about this man she was about to marry, and hurried her own steps to stay close. Her head butted his back. “Oh!”

      “Sorry.” He turned and looked down at her. “I should have warned you I was stopping. Hold on to the railing while I clear a path up the steps.”

      He stepped forward and the wind hit her, whipped her long skirts to the side and drove her against the railing. “Oof!” She grabbed for a handhold, fought to stand. Hands grasped her arm, pulled her upright. Garret’s strong arms slipped around her waist and beneath her knees, lifted her. Snow crunched beneath his boots as he carried her up the steps and across the stoop. The buffeting wind stopped. She blinked to clear her vision, looked at a red, snow-spattered door and blinked again as it was opened slightly.

      “I thought I heard footsteps.” A slender man in a black suit pulled the door wide. Garret stepped into the church, and the man closed the door behind him.

      “You’re supposed to carry your bride over your threshold, Garret.”

      Heat flowed into her cheeks at the man’s smile. Bride. Her stomach churned.

      “In this weather, we’re fortunate to have made it here at all. It’s blowing up a blizzard out there!” Garret lowered her until her feet touched the floor, stood behind her with his hands resting on her shoulders. “Pastor Karl, may I present my bride, Virginia Winterman. Virginia dearest, this is Pastor Karl.”

      Dearest. She made note of the endearment, straightened and