Mail-Order Christmas Brides Boxed Set. Jillian Hart

to meet you both,” Maeve said with a smile for the women. They nodded in return.

      Maeve reached up to her hair. Curls sprang from her head the way they did in damp weather. The whole bunch of it had escaped its pins and was, no doubt, spreading out around her head like a wild dandelion on fire. She looked down and saw her hat had rolled under one of the benches. She walked over and bent down to retrieve it. The cook at the house where she had worked had given her that old wool hat so she could take Violet to church without having anyone gossip or complain that she wasn’t dressed in the right church clothes.

      When she stood up, she saw that Noah had walked close to her.

      “I don’t mean for our marriage to be real,” he said to her. He spoke low, clearly not wanting the others to hear. “If that’s what you want to talk about, don’t worry. I thought the ad made it clear that I’m suggesting we have one of those—what do they call them—marriages in name only?”

      “I read the ad. I know you don’t want a regular marriage.”

      She meant to keep her voice quiet, but she was troubled. What kind of a wedded life would they have? No affection. And no more children after the baby that was coming—which he didn’t even know about she realized with a sinking heart. Maybe he didn’t want more children.

      Maeve barely noticed the gasps of the two older women. She was watching the deep red spread over Noah’s face.

      “I thought you’d be fifty years old at least,” he protested, no longer trying to be quiet. “A marriage in name only means sleeping apart.”

      “I know what it means,” Maeve snapped.

      Noah’s jaw was clenched and his words came out low. “You’re too young to give up your life for a steady job. I’m trying to give you a chance to avoid this marriage. If it’s a matter of money to get home, I can give you some—with extra.”

      “I don’t take charity,” Maeve said defiantly, even though it wasn’t true. After she’d lost her job, she wouldn’t have been able to provide food for her and Violet if her only friend, the cook at the house where she used to work, hadn’t given her bags of foodstuffs every few days. Her pride had been another recent casualty in her life.

      “Good, then work for me,” Noah challenged her. “You and your daughter can live in the house. I’ll move to the bunkhouse.”

      Someone gasped even louder than before and Maeve heard footsteps coming closer.

      When Maeve looked up, she saw the stern-faced woman, Mrs. Barker, standing there with her hands on her hips as she scolded Noah. “You can’t ask this young woman to live out there with all those ranch hands of yours and no wedding ring on her finger. Shame on you, Noah Miller. You know her reputation will be in tatters if she does that.”

      “I don’t mind,” Maeve said quietly. A reputation was a luxury she could not afford to consider.

      “She and her girl would be staying in my room in the house,” Noah assured the other woman. “My men will vouch for me staying in that room off the bunkhouse. You don’t need to worry about Maeve and her girl. I’ve got a comfortable bed for them. Made the frame myself.”

      “I can’t take your bed.” Maeve blushed when she said it. Sleeping in the man’s bed felt intimate. She glanced around and saw that the preacher was walking toward them now, too.

      “Yes, you can.” Noah’s voice was deep and filled with some emotion she couldn’t identify. He’d turned from the other woman and was focusing on her. “It comes with the job. You’ll need to rest if you expect to get up early and fix breakfast for the men. Coffee and fried eggs will do. Can you cook them?”

      “Anyone can fry an egg,” Maeve said, feeling relief flow over her. He meant to keep her for now. “And, coffee, of course.”

      “We’re set, then?” he asked.

      She gave him a nod as she felt a slight roll in her stomach. It must have been the thought of frying eggs. The smell had given her problems when she was carrying Violet, too. Not that she had a choice now. She had to cook eggs.

      Her friend in Boston had said that ad might not be all she hoped and it looked as if she was right. But it was winter and she had a daughter as well as a baby to consider. She needed to keep them warm and fed. Besides, if she gave Noah time to come to love Violet, she could tell him about the baby.

      * * *

      Noah clenched his hands into a fist. The woman looked pale. He had confused things and he didn’t know how to make everything right. After she got rid of that hat, the woman had been glorious, with her pink cheeks and her copper hair tumbling down to her shoulders. She was a beauty and deserved the kind of happiness he’d heard a good marriage could bring. The very thought of working for him seemed to turn her sickly, though.

      It depressed him to have to disappoint her, but he hadn’t been able to keep his first wife, Allison, happy. And he’d loved her. Her list of things she wanted had been long—a proper house, a set of English china, a silk dress for every day of the week, copper pans in the kitchen, Irish linens in the bedroom, hand-painted angels on the mantel in the parlor and a maid. He would have sold every possession he had if she would have stayed with him and raised a family. Unfortunately, he hadn’t had much worth selling in those days.

      The irony was that, after she’d left him, his herd of cattle had increased. Slowly, he’d built up his ranch, adding the kind of proper house Allison had always said she wanted. He never expected to see her again, but he’d found himself adding all of the little luxuries she had wanted. It was more to prove to himself that he could afford them than because he had much use for them.

      Maeve was silent and the preacher was standing next to her.

      “I can’t take advantage of her,” Noah said to the reverend, feeling guilty now that Maeve had stopped being angry with him. “And that’s what I would be doing. She deserves a better marriage and she’ll find it if she takes some time.”

      “I won’t be changing my mind,” Maeve said.

      “You can get married any day you want if that’s what you decide to do,” the preacher announced calmly. “Things might look different in the morning. Better to put it off until you are both happy about the decision. Your men will make good chaperones. I’ll speak to them.”

      Noah noticed that Maeve was watching him.

      “Sounds sensible to me,” Noah said, ignoring that spark within him. He had begun to wonder what it would be like to forget about fairness and marry the woman. He had little doubt, though, that Maeve would find a better husband than him if she took some time to look around. The new banker was a widower. He was a few years older than Noah, but he seemed nice enough. And he played the violin. Women liked things like that.

      “As long as I get paid for the cooking I do,” Maeve said, her voice wavering a little as though someone had taken advantage of her in the past.

      She suddenly looked even younger than her twenty-five years, and he felt his hands curl into fists. He would not mind having a word or two with the man who had given Maeve a hard time. But he couldn’t say anything.

      So he nodded instead. “We better start heading home, then. Jimmy should have our wagon sitting out back.”

      It didn’t take long to say farewell to the preacher and the two women. They all promised to come back to the church in the next few days if that was what he and Maeve wanted. Noah could tell they were disappointed. He came to hear the sermons when the weather was nice enough to get into town, and he knew the women had been praying for him to find a wife. He hadn’t asked them to do that, but he suspected his ranch hands were behind that, too.

      The winds didn’t let up when Noah helped Maeve and the girl into the wagon. He brought forward a couple of old blankets and a buffalo hide he kept in the back for when the weather was like this. He wrapped a blanket around their heads and tucked the others around their legs. He put the hide over