Mistaken Bride

How could a stranger affect her so?

He was a full hundred feet away and Bridget still couldn’t make out his features, yet she couldn’t look away. She knew—she knew—he was different. Special. And just like earlier, she was inexplicably drawn to him, fascinated, perhaps even bewildered.

A shiver of anticipation skittered up her spine and she instinctively leaned forward. Toward him. Her eyes narrowed for a better look.

He wore a dark frock coat over lighter-colored trousers and carried what looked like a soft-crowned brown hat in his right hand. By his dress alone she knew he was no average dock worker. Or weary traveler.

He had to be a businessman. An American businessman?

In spite of the impeccable clothing and dark hair cut in a very modern style, a shocking air of raw masculinity resonated out of him.

He surveyed his surroundings with meticulous care, checking faces only. Occasionally he would stop and ask a question of someone, shake his head, then continue his search.

She still couldn’t see the color of his eyes, but he seemed to be looking for someone in particular.

Grace? Was he here to claim Grace?

No, that couldn’t be right. The baby had been born on the journey over. This man had not been on the ship, she would have remembered him. He couldn’t possibly know of the child’s existence. Could he?

Her body reacted with an odd sensation and she tightened her hold on Grace. The baby wriggled in her sleep but didn’t awaken.

Bridget lowered a soothing kiss to the child’s forehead, even as she kept her gaze locked on the stranger.

Meeting such a person on her first day in America could be a dangerous prospect, especially if he was here to seize Grace.

If only Bridget could see his eyes, she would know more about the man’s intentions and his character.

Look at me, she silently ordered.

As though hearing her call, his head turned in her direction. It was only then that Bridget realized several people were pointing at her.

Her? Or Grace?

Oh, Lord, please no. No…

Despite her desperation, or perhaps because of it, the moment her gaze met the stranger’s Bridget lost her ability to breathe. She couldn’t look away, didn’t want to look away. The man’s eyes were indeed blue, a liquid silver-blue, and filled with a fathomless pool of blank emotion, except for a flicker of…what? What was it she saw in that instant? Hurt? Loneliness?

For that brief instant, she felt an undeniable pull. She reached out her hand, as if she could soothe him from this distance.

He gave one hard blink and the moment passed.

Her throat clenched.

He was coming her way.

And looking very determined.

She almost considered melting deeper into the shadows, but if Grace belonged to him, Bridget couldn’t deny him his right. She had to trust he would be good to her.

She took a step forward. Toward him.

He took one slow deliberate step, as well.

Feeling a bit light-headed, Bridget sighed.

Grace gurgled.

The stranger took another step forward.

Bridget sighed again. Really, this odd reaction to a total stranger was beyond ridiculous. She didn’t know this man. Or his intentions. She should slip back into the safety of the shadows.

She almost did just that, thinking it the wisest course of action. Except one of Bridget’s flaws was that she never retreated from a dare. And, oh, my, the man’s intense blue eyes held quite the dare.

Chapter Two

William Black stood in muted astonishment. That hair. Wild and glorious, the sight of those untamed curls refusing to obey their pins drew him yet another step forward.

Was this woman his future bride, the one he’d sent for all those months ago?

Surely not. Yet several people had pointed at her when he’d mentioned her name—Bridget—and then given her ordinary description of brown hair and dark eyes.

There had to be some mistake. There was nothing ordinary about the woman. She was a blend of the unexpected and the extraordinary, a beautiful female impossible to overlook. In short, everything he avoided in a woman.

As if to mock him, a beam of sunlight escaped like a finger through a crack in the clouds, landing directly on her, bathing her in golden brilliance. Under the bold light of midday she looked delicate, inviting, almost ethereal.

What if this was his Bridget?

He’d paid for her passage and promised to marry her, promised to make her a much-needed part of his family. He couldn’t go back on his word, regardless of his current misgivings. Duty and honor were the principles that guided his life, all that a man had left when everything else was stripped away.

Will swallowed, remembering what had driven him to acquire an Irish mail-order bride in the first place. Irish women were supposed to be honest, hardworking and proper.

No proper woman had hair like that.

Whoever she was, the beauty staring back at him was perfectly unsuitable to become the mother of his three-year-old twins.

Not after the pain Fanny had put them through this past year and a half.

For a dangerous moment Will’s mind fled back in time. To the day when he’d been fool enough to think he could make his marriage work. When he’d thought love was enough to conquer every obstacle thrown their way.

He knew better now. He would never marry for love again. His children deserved stability. And his poor mother deserved relief from the physical demands of caring for a pair of toddlers, no matter how well-behaved.

If this woman with her wild hair and commanding eyes was the one with which he’d corresponded, then Will would honor his promise. As he would any other business transaction. But what would become of his family then?

Mind made up, he continued forward, then stopped, frowned, dropped his gaze. The woman was holding a baby in her arms.

The letter hadn’t mentioned a child. Had his intended lied to him? A burning throb knotted in his throat. Was she using him to—

He cut off the rest of his thoughts. He was jumping to conclusions before he’d even met her. The baby might not be hers. And there was still no proof this was indeed his bride.