The Unexpected Wife

For a moment, his head swam as if a prizefighter had landed a knockout punch. “My what?”

Mrs. Clements stepped forward, wearing a broad grin that hinted at trouble. “Miss Smyth is the bit of news I was referring to.”

Matthias’s head started to throb. The last thing he needed was a riddle. “What the devil are you talking about, Mrs. Clements?”

The older woman smoothed her hands over her white apron and cleared her throat. “We ordered you a wife. Miss Smyth is your fiancée.”

Chapter Four

“Y ou ordered a what?” Matthias shouted.

Abby started at the sound of Mr. Barrington’s bellow. His voice, rich and full of anger, hinted at a man who was used to giving orders, a man who didn’t like surprises.

She watched the color drain from Mr. Barrington’s face and his full lips flatten in a thin grim line.

He hadn’t been expecting her.

Of course, it all made sense now. On the road yesterday and moments ago when he’d arrived he’d acted as though she was a complete stranger to him. Which of course, she was. Why hadn’t Mrs. Clements told her the truth last night?

For a moment her knees nearly buckled. She’d come so far, and given up so much. For what? A lie. “Mrs. Clements, what do you mean, we ordered you a wife? Who is we?”

Mr. Barrington glared down at the older woman. The children’s voices drifted from behind the curtain. He lowered his voice. “Very good question.”

There was no hint of remorse in Mrs. Clements’s eyes. “Frank, Holden and I decided you needed a wife,” she said, her tone clipped and practical.

“Tell me this is a joke,” Mr. Barrington said, his voice laced with fury.

Abby closed her eyes, clinging to her composure. If this was a joke, she was the one who’d been fooled.

Mrs. Clements’s smile remained intact but her gaze reflected steel. “No mistake, Matthias. We put an ad in the San Francisco Morning Chronicle.”

“Was she in on this?” he asked, jabbing his thumb toward Abby.

Annoyance flickered in Abby. Her life was dissolving into a mess and Mr. Barrington was blaming her. “I can assure you, I had no idea. I believed your letter…the letters to be genuine and from you.” Abby pressed her hand to her unsettled stomach. Now she understood why Mrs. Clements had artfully dodged many of her questions last night.

Mr. Barrington’s gaze pinned her. “What letters?”

The heat in his blue eyes made Abby take a step back before she turned and went to her reticule. Frustrated by her cowardice, she pulled out a neat bundle of four letters tied together with a blue ribbon. Anger and frustration quickened her step. “Letters from you.”

He took the letters and thumbed through them, before he handed them back to her. His warm fingers brushed hers. There was nothing tender about his touch. Strictly matter-of-fact. “They are not from me.”

Abby lifted an eyebrow. It took everything in her not to run screaming from the room. “Yes, I surmised that much.”

Her sarcasm seemed to catch him by surprise. She imagined a glimmer of respect in his eyes.

“I wrote the letters,” Mrs. Clements said. “I acted on your behalf, Matthias.”

Mr. Barrington’s face looked as if it had been etched from granite. “Why would you stick your nose into my life? I did not ask you to do anything like that.” His voice rose again.

Mrs. Clements shrugged, but she did take a half step back. “You’ve done so much for everyone in the valley and you’ve been struggling so since Elise died. You are not the kind of man who asks for favors, so we took matters into our own hands.”

“Did anyone stop to think that I don’t want a wife?” he said tersely.

“In Montana one must be practical. It’s not always about what we want,” the older woman shot back.

Abby felt as insignificant and unwanted as she had in her uncle’s house. “Mr. Barrington, perhaps we need a moment to talk alone.”

Mr. Barrington speared her with a hard look. “Look, Miss…”

“Smyth,” she supplied.

He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly tired and very frustrated. “We have nothing to discuss.”

Abby blinked at Mr. Barrington. “I beg to differ. There is a great deal to discuss, considering I just uprooted my life to be here.”

He was clearly a man who relished control. He worked his jaw and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling as if he were trying to keep his temper in check. “When will Holden be back, Mrs. Clements?” He fired the question like a bullet.

Mrs. Clements tucked her hands in the deep pockets of her apron. “He said he’d be gone at least a week.”

“If he’s smart he’ll stay away a hell of a lot longer. It’ll take longer than a week for my anger to cool on this one,” he said. “Damn his scrawny hide.”

Abby pinched the bridge of her nose. At this moment, she was sorely tempted to take the last three dollars she had and buy a stage ticket to anywhere. The unknown was far more appealing than Mr. Barrington at the moment. But like it or not, she was stuck. “Mr. Barrington, you and I really do need to discuss this matter.”

He swung his gaze to her. “Lady, you were brought here under false pretenses and for that I’m truly sorry. But I’m not marrying you.”

Pride had her lifting her chin a notch. “Nor was I expecting you to.”

“Good.” He stared at her with bone-jarring intensity. Never had a man looked at her so intently. A soft shiver danced down her spine.

“Matthias…Abby,” Mrs. Clements said sweetly. “I think you’re both being a bit hasty. Miss Abby is right. You need time alone to get to know each other.”

He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “Time is the one thing I don’t have, Mrs. Clements. I got two boys to raise and a ranch to run. I don’t have time to be a nursemaid, let alone court a city woman.”

Abby clenched her fists. “I am not helpless, Mr. Barrington.”

He let his gaze roam the length of her body. “Lady, you don’t know the first thing about life out here.”

“I’ve learned many skills in my life. Montana is no different than many of the other challenges I’ve faced.”

He lifted a gaze. “That so?”

“Absolutely,” she said all bravado as she stepped toward him. Inches away, the energy from his body radiated.

“So you know all there is to know about working back-breaking hours, milking cows, planting gardens, churning butter and chopping wood.”

In truth, she didn’t know a lot about those things. “I know about hard work.”

“That doesn’t cut it. And I don’t have the time to teach you.” He swung his dark gaze to Mrs. Clements, dismissing Abby completely. “Put Miss Smyth up and when Holden arrives she can catch the next stage home. I’ve got a ranch to tend.”