A Bargain For A Bride: Clean mail order bride romance (Montana Passion Book 1) (11 page)

Moira’s face fell as Pryor’s meaning settled on her. Instead of sharing her elation, he had already hardened his heart against her, as surely as the winter ground was hard. She had no one to blame but herself, she knew it, for his words were true. She’d refused his generosity in bringing her to New Hope, and she’d refused him now when she chose her brother and her estate over a life lived with him on his simple but prosperous farm.

“Pry, I do care about you. I… I love you. I had hoped you felt the same way.”

“I do. Or maybe I did. But you are not a woman of your word. When you first broke our engagement, I could understand. There was the whole trickery with your uncle, and you proved that you were not the one to enter the contract. I forgave the whole thing and even welcomed you into my home.

“But then, today, you went back on your word again, all because of a letter? I don’t even know what it truly says, but whatever it is, it was worth going back on your word to me. Those words were more important than our agreement. How am I to know that there won’t be something else to make you break your word again?”

“Pryor, I will not. Surely you understand my confusion and my hurt, but it was only momentary! I saw reason, and have seen that you are the choice I want to make. I don’t want to be in Ireland, I want to be here… with you.”

“Are you only saying that because you have no way home, or do you really mean it?”

“I mean it with my whole heart, Pry. And I thank you to remember that I do have a way back; I could buy my passage right this very moment. For that matter, I could sell my claim and live anywhere I choose.” She took a step toward him and reached for his hand, holding it tightly in both of hers. He didn’t respond as his rough fingers lay unmoving in her small hands, but he didn’t pull his hand away, either, an encouraging sign. “Pry, I choose to be with you.”

His expression softened ever so slightly, even if his eyes did not brighten with any sign of warmth. He pondered her statement for a long time, but Moira was resolute. She would wait for as long as it took, willing him to say something. Whether it was news her heart wanted to hear or not, she would wait.

He looked about to speak when the rumbling sound of the train came from the east. Was it already the proscribed time, the day Pryor had told her he would return her to the train so she could move on? What a strange turn of events that would find her standing so close to the depot on just this very day. The ominous coincidence was heartbreaking; would Pryor take this as a sign that she should leave?

I’m not going anywhere!
Moira thought fiercely.
Whether Pryor returns my love or not, I will stay in Montana, I will develop my claim, and I will live the rest of my life as a woman of the frontier, free to live as I choose!

“Moira, I do love you,” he answered over the sound of metal wheels grating against the steel tracks, the brakes working as hard as they might to slow the massive beast.

“But you do not wish me to stay?” she asked slowly, heading off his answer.

“I do! But I cannot listen to any more promises if you’re not going to see them through. My sensibilities and my heart can’t take it. If you’re to stay—with me, I mean, so think of it carefully—you have to mean that you’re staying for good. I don’t know what I’ll do if you leave me.”

Moira closed her eyes with relief, smiling as she nodded. She looked to answer him, to tell him that he would never have to worry that she would leave, but a movement behind him caught her attention. She stared intently at the figure as it moved closer, then pushed past Pryor to walk toward the approaching man. Before she’d taken three steps, she broke into a run, her wool bonnet flying off in her haste to reach him. When she stood before him, she looked intently at his face before throwing herself in his arms.

“Ronan! But… but I do not understand! How? How is it possible that you’re here?” she stammered, the tension in her bones melting away when he put his arms around her, too.

“I’ve been looking for you, dear sister! When I heard what happened, where you’d gone… I was ready to take up our father’s pistols and call out Macomby all the same! And that wretched uncle of ours! Oh, Moira, I cannot believe I found you! The man at the land office—this Mr. Walsh, who dealt with you so grievously—gave me the necessary information to try to locate you. I finally decided the only way to find you was to look for you myself, so I began with the train that should have taken you West.” He held her closer and bent down to kiss her on the forehead. “Oh, it’s taken me two months of looking, and here you are! I cannot believe I’ve found you, and you’re safe! Are you well? Have you been ill? Injured? Treated poorly?”

Moira shook her head. “No, Ronan, all is well! I’ve had such an adventure, but I’m safe and happy. And you’ve arrived in time for my wedding day! It was in my letter!” She turned and indicated Pryor, who stood awkwardly in the distance watching the pair, unable to hear their words.

Ronan looked at his sister sharply and reverted to Irish, shaking his head. “I never received a letter. But married? What is this? I’ve come to return you to Brennan, to save you from this plot our uncle cooked up. I won’t see you left behind and forced into marriage.”

“No, brother, that is not the way of it. I came here of my own accord, I signed on to homestead a claim! I am a land owner now, quite the land baroness, if I say so! But marrying was my choice, not anything inflicted on me.”

Ronan looked confused, then turned his gaze to Pryor. “Is this the man Uncle mandated? I’ll kill him myself for his part in stealing you from us.”

“No! Ronan, look at me. I promise, it is as I say…”

“You do not have to stay just because you’ve… been ruined… by their evil ways,” he answered, looking around furtively and whispering his words directly in her ear so that no one could hear them. “I promise you, we will never speak of it, and it will be as if it never happened.”

“Brother!” Moira cried, her cheeks turning a deep shade of crimson. “No! It is not that way! I swear it! How could you ask—”

“My dear sister, I am sorry, I did not mean to make you cry! I only meant to reassure you, but if it is as you say, I do believe you. I promise you.” Ronan hugged Moira tightly again, whispering his apologies over and over. At the sight of her upset, Pryor came forward, prepared to call out this strange man if need be.

“Moira? Dear? Are you all right?” he asked gruffly, prepared to hate the man who’d made his bride cry. Moira turned and forced a smile for Pryor’s sake before remembering that this was truly a happy occasion. Her brother stood miraculously before her, and her groom waited to make her his wife. There was no more joyous occasion anywhere in Montana than at that very moment in New Hope.

“Pry, of course! This is my brother, Ronan, Lord Brennan. Brother, this is Pryor MacAteer, soon to be my husband, if you’ll give us your blessing.” Both men turned to Moira in astonishment, Ronan because this was such an unorthodox marriage process for a lady of Moira’s station, and Pryor because he was intent on marrying his bride that day, blessing from her brother or no. She smiled broadly at both of them and waited as they begrudgingly shook hands and stated their greetings.

“Ronan… my brother… say you’ll come with us to the wedding. We’re to go to the cabin and have a feast afterward, please come!” She shot him a roguish grin. “Besides, there’s nowhere else to stay, as I learned the moment I stepped down from the train!”

Ronan looked back and forth between Pryor and Moira, taking in their plain attire but their happy, eager expressions. This was not the way he’d envisioned his younger sister leaving his household to wed, but even had to admit that this was a far more jubilant bride than any other he’d seen.

“Mr. MacAteer,” Ronan began grimly. “Are you marrying my sister because she’s a woman of means? Or do you have genuine affection for each other?” Pryor paused, unwilling to dignify the accusation with an answer. He leveled his gaze at Ronan and waited for him to ask what he wanted to know in a way that wasn’t so insulting. His lordship, on the other hand, was more accustomed to staring men down than Pryor, and he waited in kind.

“I am marrying her because I care for her,” Pryor finally replied with a note of finality that plainly said he was not going to entertain any more questions of the sort. “She is kind, and smart, and funny, and her being here makes me happy. If she was a woman of means before we met, then I have to venture a guess that she still will be. But it won’t have anything to do with me.”

Ronan curtly nodded his approval of Pryor’s answer then looked his sister. “Moira, are you marrying this man just so you don’t have to come home and be the lady of Brennan Castle? Because if that’s your reason, I assure you, I will not let you fall into some elderly brute’s clutches. You will have a say in whom you marry, if you marry at all.”

Moira looked to Pryor, realizing that this was Ronan’s test for them before he bestowed his blessing on their match. She sighed, and answered, “I am marrying Pryor because I adore him. He is generous and concerned with the welfare of others, to a fault, I must say. He lives a simple existence out on this frontier, but he does so because it brings him happiness, not because he cannot fare better elsewhere. I’ve been a noble lady my whole life, and it hasn’t fared me too well so far… it’s time I lived a more common life, one that looks for the joy of simplicity instead of excess.”

Ronan nodded again at her answer, then hesitantly pronounced his permission on their marriage. Moira beamed, although Pryor looked somewhat put out that this stranger—who had found them by sheer, stupid coincidence—deigned to oversee their wedding and declare it fit and proper.

“Now then,” Ronan called out in a booming voice befitting the lord of a castle. “Let’s get you to the church and secure this marriage!”

Among the many other things that New Hope didn’t have—a sheriff, a boarding house, a restaurant or kitchen to take one’s meals—the town didn’t have a church or a pastor. A circuit riding pastor came once every other month, long enough to teach the masses to give to the government what was the government’s, and to take up an offering collection, of course.

So that is the reason Pryor and Moira found themselves standing on the porch of the government clerk’s office, exchanging promises to be faithful and caring. Nathaniel, in his ever-present excitement about nearly everything, had told a good number of settlers about the wedding, so it was very nearly a county fair-sized celebration that turned out for their ceremony. The proceedings consisted of a few brief words spoken in prayer over the couple and over the pending harvest for all farmers present, then their signing the license with their marks that they were who they said that they were, and that they were now married.

The couple stepped down from the front porch of the clerk’s low building. They shook hands with all of the well-wishers from the surrounding claims who’d come out specifically to celebrate. The farmers could read a sky as well as any seafarer, so they didn’t linger long in town because of the eerie clouds that hung over the town, threatening to dump snow on them again despite the fact that the last batch still hadn’t melted off all of the buildings and rooftops.

Pryor, Moira, and their smaller group of guests stepped across the wide cattle path and entered Jorgenson’s store, the men ducking nearly to their shoulders to get inside. They exchanged pleasantries and received hearty congratulations from the shopkeeper, who was already demanding to know when to expect young ones. He sent them off with a wedding gift of a basket of fresh fruit, brought in on the very train that had carried Ronan to them.

The wagonload of passengers chatted happily all the way back to Pryor’s cabin. When they arrived, Ronan immediately took in the view of the MacAteer farm, and had to admit he was impressed. The home, though nothing like the grand castle that had existed in the Brennan family for more than three hundred years, was well-suited to raising both a family and a valley full of crops and livestock.

“My sister, it is my hope that you will be happy here,” he said in a moment of stolen words. Moira returned his smile, and nodded.

“And it is my hope that you will come back here someday, any day. I have long had plans for land in America.” She began to explain to him her ideas for establishing the Brennan family in this new part of the country, and watched as his look moved from mere amusement at his little sister’s business acumen, to genuine respect for her talents and head for industry.

The group ate and talked and laughed for the better part of the day, breaking only long enough for the men to see to the chores and the animals and the ladies to cook a filling meal. By dinnertime, Gretchen and Moira had prepared a small feast, compromised of dainty cakes and breads, vegetables from the cellar, a hearty soup of potatoes whose recipe had come all the way from Ireland with them, and a succulent pig that Pryor had butchered and roasted over a pit in the yard for the occasion. It was nothing like the parties Moira had once planned and proudly presented in Ireland, lacking the refinement of well-bred ladies and gentlemen, and lacking the genteel dancing to music provided by visiting court composers from all over Europe, but she would not have traded this simple festivity for any of those lavish affairs.

By evening, the group was ready to disperse for the night. Nathaniel set out for his small, newly-finished home, and politely invited Ronan to stay with him and inspect his claim, casting a quick, surreptitious glance in Gretchen’s direction. Ronan quickly understood and took him up on his offer. For her part, Gretchen insisted there was important work still to be done on the new cabin on Moira’s claim, work that had to begin early the next morning if she hoped to ever finish it all, and she made ready to set off on one of Pryor’s horses for the short trip. Moira helped her wrap in blankets and scarves, but before the maid left, she grabbed her mistress in a tight embrace, weeping silent tears of elation for Moira.

“My lady, I am so proud for you. My heart is near to bursting for your happiness. I know this is naw the match you thought for yourself, nor that your dear mother would have thought for you, but it is a good match, all the same. I know you will be much blessed in your marriage, and find much to love about Mr. MacAteer… and Montana.”

“Why, Gretchen! You sound like you’re leaving on a journey instead of popping over to the neighboring farm!” Moira cried, a feeling of alarm traveling through her and cooling her delight slightly. “I fully expect to see you tomorrow, dear!”

“And ‘twill be so, for now. But you are a married woman now, and a landowner. You do naw have need of a serving girl to braid your hair or do up your stays or lace your gown before the party!” Gretchen smiled weakly. “I had thought to return to Ireland with Lord Brennan and resume my duties in the household, but I could never abandon you here, never knowing what befalls you, never having a familiar face to meet with just to exchange a kind word or two. No, I promise you, I will be here so long as you have need of me, but I fear you’ll find I’m needed no longer.”

Moira grabbed Gretchen and held her close, not speaking for several minutes. When she stepped back, new tears, both from the bliss of the day and from fear of losing the person she’d been closest to her entire life, ran afresh.

“Then I now pronounce you my servant no longer… now you are but my friend, my dearest, most wonderful friend! And I cannot lose you! Come see me tomorrow and we will describe new terms for you. You know, if I am to live here on Pryor’s claim, then I will need an overseer—on salary, of course, and with lodgings—to run my vast estate here in Montana!” They both laughed at the description of Moira’s simple homestead as her estate, but Gretchen nodded, promising Moira she would return late the very next day.

Moira waved from the wide porch of the cabin, watching her friend until she was out of sight. She almost didn’t hear Pryor walk up behind her, but she warmed instantly at the touch of his hands on her shoulders, thrilled at the slight pressure of their weight even through the thick wrap she wore to stave off the cold. She reached both her hands up and held one of his, letting herself lean back against the solid wall of his chest. When she turned her face up to look at his, she saw an expression of pure contentment there.

Moira turned to face her husband and gave him a wry glance. “Do you take me at my word now?”

“What word is that, wife?” he asked skeptically, but did so with a merry look in his bright eyes.

“My word that I will be your wife, that I will live here and be a source of help and comfort, and that I will love you for the rest of our days.” Pryor threw back his head and laughed, a sound Moira swore she could hear echoing throughout their valley. He pulled her close to him, pressing her against his chest as he wound his arms around her.

“Whatever am I going to do with a wife so fine as you? There are no servants here to do our bidding, remember? Not unless you count the goats in the barn, and I’m afraid they’re just too stupid to be of any use around the house.”

“I don’t want my servants, or my gowns, or my castle. This is what I want. A place of my own, with a husband that I chose by my side. You didn’t wish to marry me because I could secure your family’s lands or provide an heir for your title or because I came with a handsome dowry, and that’s all that matters to me.”

Pryor looked at Moira hesitantly, then leaned close to her. She knew what he was after and turned her chin up to his, meeting him as he closed the scant distance between them. He pressed his lips to hers softly, the nervousness they both felt taking its time in melting away as they discovered each other.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the day you stepped off the train,” he finally whispered, taking both her hands in his and pulling her into the house. Moira blushed slightly, but smiled.

“And I’m so glad the moment has finally come that you can,” she answered truthfully.

“So, Lady Moira,” he teased, shutting the door behind them and latching it tight before enfolding her in his strong arms again. “You say you’re ready for this new life as a farmer and homesteader?”

“That I am, but there shall be no more titles for me…other than missus, of course! Mrs. MacAteer, the happiest wife in Montana!”

THE END

Click here to read the next book in this series (Freedom For a Bride: Montana Passion #2)

When Nathaniel Russell received the wonderful news that the bride he'd written off for would be arriving in New Hope, Montana, it was the happiest he'd felt since arriving to settle his claim. And when the strikingly beautiful but somewhat exotic-looking Katia stepped off the train, his heart leapt at the fulfillment of their months of exchanging letters.
But Katia carries secrets that no one in the town expected, secrets that run deep enough to keep them apart forever.

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