Wolf Creek Wife

“You have until Slade recovers to accustom yourself to the idea that you are marrying him.”

“I will not accustom myself to the idea. We would both be miserable. I’m twenty-three years old, Win. Perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

He cut another sideways look her direction. “And you’re certainly doing a fine job of it, aren’t you?”

“You are a horrible, dreadful man!” she huffed, folding her arms across her chest and tapping her foot against the floor of the buggy. She turned toward him. “And let me tell you something. You may be able to force me to do what you want, but you may have a hard time convincing my potential bridegroom. He doesn’t look like the kind of man to be coerced into doing anything he doesn’t want to do. He could make mincemeat of you.”

“Don’t forget I was boxing champ at Harvard,” Win reminded. “Stop worrying and leave Slade to me.”

Blythe knew there was no use arguing any further. “Gladly.”

Neither sibling spoke another word during the remainder of the trip to Wolf Creek, which suited Blythe just fine.

* * *

By the time they reached the big, white, two-story house where her mother lived, Blythe wanted nothing more than to escape to her room and never come out. It was a feeling she’d experienced a lot the past few months. Somehow she managed to hold back the tears while Win helped her down from the buggy.

Without bothering to thank him, she raced up the front steps and pushed through the door, rushing up the wide staircase. She barely heard her mother call her name. Secure for the moment in the sanctity of her bedroom, she slammed the door and threw herself face-first onto the bed, where she promptly lost her tenuous grip on her control and burst into tears.

How could one person possibly be so miserable? And how and why did she keep getting into these life-altering situations? Even more disturbing, it didn’t look as if things were going to get better anytime soon, if ever. Sobbing so hard she barely heard the knock at the door, she rolled onto her back and flung an arm over her eyes.

“Come in.”

“Sweetheart?”

Libby Granville’s voice held the soothing tone Blythe remembered from her childhood. Her mother’s embrace and that soft, calming tone had always brought comfort, whatever was ailing Blythe. As usual, the tenderness she heard in her mother’s voice caused her to cry even harder. For long moments Libby just lay beside her, letting her get out all the hopelessness.

When her weeping subsided to an occasional hiccup, Libby handed Blythe a clean handkerchief and brushed back the tendrils of hair clinging to her wet cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” she said at last. “I never meant to cause another big to-do. I’d never deliberately hurt you or bring shame to our family. I thought that if I left Boston, I’d leave all the ugliness behind.”

“You will, sweetie,” Libby told her, giving her cheek a pat. “I’ve been the subject of gossip and so have a lot of others here in town. People tend to forget in time.” She smiled at Blythe. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

Blythe outlined every detail of the previous afternoon, starting with the reason for her ride. Libby listened without comment, and Blythe finished by saying, “And now Brother McAdams told Will that he absolutely would do the right thing by me, and Win is backing him up.”

She looked into her mother’s eyes. “I think Win is just tired of dealing with me and the Boston situation. He wants me out of his hair.”

Libby chuckled. “Well, that did knock the props out from under your brothers. They’re accustomed to fixing things, and they didn’t have a clue how to make that right. I really think that’s why Win is pushing so hard on this.”

“So marrying me off to a man we hardly know will fix all my woes and stop the gossip?”

“I believe he thinks so.”

“But he doesn’t even like Will.”

“He doesn’t like that Will won’t sell to him,” Libby clarified. “I know your brother, and I suspect that he admires Mr. Slade’s tenacity.”

“What do you think, Mama?” Blythe asked.

Libby hugged her tighter. “I know from personal experience that there will be more talk about you and Mr. Slade. Some will say that you should have come for help no matter what, and some will think you did the best you could do. Of course there will be a huge hue and cry for Will to marry you to make an honest woman of you.”

“Nothing happened!”

“I know that. You know that, and so does Mr. Slade. But the old ways of looking at things are pretty much set in stone. It would take a strong person to flaunt those customs. Are you that person?”

Blythe sighed. She knew she wasn’t. She hated strife and turmoil and being the topic of conversation. And she hated the notion of being forced into a marriage with a man she didn’t even know. “You did.”

“I didn’t have much choice after Lucas kicked me out and took my boys from me.” She smoothed the hair away from Blythe’s face. “I think we should take a wait-and-see attitude. A lot will depend on how much pressure Win puts on Mr. Slade, and a lot will depend on Mr. Slade’s character.”

Libby rose from the bed. “You sleep for a while. Things may look different after a few hours.”

Chapter Three (#ulink_b548a379-912a-5449-83cd-bf307fdcab81)

“She talks like she isn’t going to do it,” Libby told her son as he ate the breakfast she’d fixed for him while he returned to his house to get ready for Sunday services.

“She’ll marry him,” he said, pinning his mother with a determined look. “We have to do something to stop this insane course she’s on.”

Libby sat down across from him and rested her forearms on the table. “What insane course is that, Win?” she asked with a lift of her shapely eyebrows.

Win frowned. “She’s obviously not very good at making the right choices. She needs a strong man to keep her in line.”

“Oh, good grief!” Libby cried, losing all patience with her stepson. Having borne the brunt of a man’s controlling nature herself during her first marriage, she had little tolerance for some of the ridiculous moral codes one was expected to live by. “She helped a sick man, Win! She didn’t run off with him.”

“Not this time,” he reminded.

“That isn’t fair. You know as well as I do that she had no idea who Devon Carmichael was or what he was up to, just as I had no clue about the kind of man Lucas Gentry was when I married him. Any young woman might have done the same.”

“Maybe,” Win acknowledged.

“There’s no maybe to it. You know I’m right. Your poor sister was almost destroyed when she found out the truth about Devon, and she’s a long way from being over it. I know time can change things, but I fear she may never trust another man with her heart.”

Win’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “She’ll be the better for it, believe me.”

Libby looked aghast at the comment. “I cannot believe you’ve become so cynical. Please tell me you don’t mean that, that you haven’t given up on finding love again.”

Seeing the concern in her eyes, he sighed. “To tell you the truth, Mother, I don’t know if I have or not. Love can be extremely painful. I’m starting to think that marriages of convenience are the best way to go.”

“I’m sure there are advantages, but there is nothing like the love of a devoted spouse and a good marriage to bring you happiness.”

“Like Blythe found?” he quipped with a mocking lift of his eyebrow.

“Are we back to that?” When Win didn’t answer, Libby said, “I guess her choice does play a huge part of her future, doesn’t it? I just thank the Good Lord that we found out the truth about Devon before she had a baby or two.”

“That is a blessing,” Win said. “And you’re right. Her past does have a direct bearing on her future. You know as well as I do that finding a decent husband in Boston was out of the question, and the selection of suitable men around here is slim at best. If you factor in what happened last night—which will be all over town by noon—I think you’ll agree that an arranged marriage is an ideal solution. There are no expectations beyond the basic, no broken hearts.”

Libby’s narrowed eyes told him that she did not agree with his assessment at all. “Sometimes I wonder if you even have a heart. You flirt with every female who crosses your path and flit from woman to woman, but all you’re doing is toying with them. It’s almost like you buried your heart when we buried Felicia.”

“Maybe I did,” he told her. “She may have been the love of my life.”