A Convenient Marriage

Blake Latherop needs a wife in order to keep his business, and his betrothed has apparently eloped with another man. So when his fiancée’s sister, Audrey Prescott, steps off the train in Whisper Creek offering to be his bride, he’s in no position to refuse. But it’s hardly the marriage he had in mind.

Audrey knows she shouldn’t have answered Blake’s letters in her sister’s name...but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him of his fiancée’s betrayal. Now the only way to fix things is through a temporary marriage. But as she comes to love her new life in the West, Audrey dreads the day Blake finds another solution to their situation. Because what started as a marriage of convenience has become so much more for her...

“Audrey, wait!”

His hand wrapped around her upper arm, brought her to a halt. “I didn’t notice the flour in your hair until just now when we were talking. It was barely visible. Truly. I was only teasing.”

Blake was so close she could feel his warmth on her back. She glanced at his hand on her arm, so strong yet gentle, and held her breath against the quivering in her stomach, the ache in her throat. “I know. I was only having a...a ‘redhead’ moment.”

“Then I’m forgiven?”

The bell on the door jingled. “Of course. Now, I have bread waiting to be baked, and you have a customer...” She stood quietly, waited for him to release her arm.

“You back here, Latherop?” Garret Stevenson strode through the doorway, came to an abrupt halt. “Oh, sorry, Mrs. Latherop, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Blake’s hand fell away from her arm. She felt him take a step back—no doubt embarrassed to be seen in what could be interpreted as an intimate moment with her. She turned to rescue him. “Not at all, Mr. Stevenson.” The only thing you intruded upon is my foolishness.

Dear Reader,

When, in answer to prayer, the Lord gave me the idea for this new series, I was very excited. The unique twists to the familiar mail-order-bride story that came to me intrigued and motivated me. And the comforting truth behind the premises for the stories inspired me.

I love the idea that God quietly and lovingly guides His children, even when we think we are the ones making all of the decisions. As William Cowper wrote: “God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform.” How calming and reassuring to know that we truly can rest in Him.

And there was another reason the idea for this series excited me—the research. I’ve always wanted to ride one of the old trains and experience the sway of the car, the clickety-clack of the wheels against the track and the faint smell of smoke as the steam engine chugs on its way West. I’m doing that now (in my imagination) as I write.

How about you, dear reader? Would you like to come along on my next journey to Whisper Creek? I understand there is a new resident. That the apothecary will soon be open for business. And there is that reversion clause in the contract...

Thank you, dear reader, for choosing to read His Substitute Wife. I hope you enjoyed Audrey and Blake’s story. I truly appreciate hearing from my readers. If you care to share your thoughts about this story, I may be reached at dorothyjclark@hotmail.com or www.dorothyclarkbooks.com.

Until the next “All aboard” call sounds,

Award-winning author DOROTHY CLARK lives in rural New York. Dorothy enjoys traveling with her husband throughout the United States doing research and gaining inspiration for future books. Dorothy believes in God, love, family and happy endings, which explains why she feels so at home writing stories for Love Inspired. Dorothy enjoys hearing from her readers and may be contacted at dorothyjclark@hotmail.com.

His Substitute Wife

Dorothy Clark

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Who can find a virtuous woman?

for her price is far above rubies.

The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her...

—Proverbs 31:10–11a

To my first great-grandchild—

may you read this when you are older

and know the joy you have brought to me.

And Sam. Once again. Thank you.

“Commit thy works unto the Lord,

and thy thoughts shall be established.”

Your Word is truth. Thank You, Jesus.

To God be the glory.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Medicine Bow Mountains, Wyoming Territory

August 1868

“Next stop, Whisper Creek!”

Audrey Prescott caught her breath. They were almost there! A sharp spasm in her stomach pulled her gaze from the mountains she’d been watching outside the soot-filmed window. More than a few of the soldiers sharing the passenger car on this last leg of her long journey from New York were staring at her with open admiration. Heat crawled into her cheeks. She locked her gaze on the lanky conductor standing just inside the door, his legs splayed against the rocking of the train.

“We’ll be stopping at Whisper Creek long enough to take on water and coal. You’re all welcome to get out and stretch your legs if you’re of a mind to, but we won’t be more than twenty minutes at most, so don’t wander off. The town’s raw and there’s no food available—and no drink. Town’s dry.” The conductor’s piercing gaze slid her direction; a smile warmed his face. “I’ll be unloading your trunks for you, Miss Prescott.” He stepped back outside onto a small platform and closed the door.

Her trunks. Another spasm struck her stomach. What would Blake Latherop think when he saw her standing beside them at the station? The rhythmic clack of the train’s wheels against the rails, the rocking of the car as they rolled down the tracks were suddenly a comfort she did not want to stop. The train swayed around a mountain wall, blasted its whistle, then chugged through a growth of tall pines and entered a long, broad valley. She stared out the window at the vast field of grasses bisected by steel rails, her stomach roiling.

What had she been thinking, coming to Whisper Creek in Linda’s place? Her plan was foolishness—pure foolishness. She winced, opened her purse and withdrew Blake Latherop’s last letter to her sister. The paper shook. She frowned at the display of nerves and scanned the words she’d read so often she knew them by heart.

My Beloved,

At last! My dearest Linda, it is with great joy I write to tell you the construction of my store is finished. The first of the goods and supplies I have ordered came on Tuesday’s train, and I stocked the shelves this very evening. Tomorrow morning, I will hang the Open sign on the door.

My beloved, there is nothing to stand between us now. Our living quarters upstairs over the store are also completed. It is my hope that the furniture I’ve purchased comes in time for me to have it in place for your arrival.

My dearest Linda, hurry to me. As I told you when I asked for your hand before I came West, the contract I had to sign in order to receive the free land and building lumber in this new town states that I must marry within thirty days of opening my business or I lose the store and all I have invested in it to Mr. Ferndale, the town’s founder. That investment, dearest, is the total of the inheritance I received from my mother that I told you of. But do not fret. Once the town grows, I am confident the store will provide us a comfortable, even prosperous living.

I am enclosing the railroad ticket for your journey to Whisper Creek, as well as money enough to cover any expenses you may incur. Don’t waste a moment, my dearest. Our future depends on you. And I am emboldened, as your betrothed, to tell you I am eager to again look upon your beautiful face and form and to hold you in my arms and pledge to you my undying love.

Until you arrive, I remain your impatiently waiting, always faithful,

Blake

The train’s whistle blew again. Audrey closed her eyes, fighting a rush of panic. What was she doing here? How could she ever have thought of such an insane scheme? The clacking of the wheels slowed. It was a matter of minutes now. The knots in her stomach twisted tighter. She opened her eyes and stared down at the letter fluttering in her hand, guilt swarming. She should never have answered Blake’s letters when Linda asked her. But she’d wanted to believe her sister had changed, that Linda really did intend to marry Blake. And when Linda had gone off on her monthlong visit with friends, what else could she do with Blake so far away and anxiously awaiting a response from his betrothed?

She refolded the letter and ran her fingertip along the crease. Blake wrote beautiful letters full of plans and hope for the future. They deserved a respectful reply, not a careless dismissal! Still, she should have warned Blake that Linda liked to string a beau along until someone new took her fancy. But she’d hated the thought of hurting him—and of being disloyal to Linda. Oh, if only she’d known about the contract Blake had signed on the strength of Linda’s pledge of marriage!

Our future depends on you. Her face tightened. The guilt that had driven her to board the train for Whisper Creek surged. She drew a deep breath and pressed her hand against her stomach, hoping she wouldn’t be sick—though it was no more than she deserved. Dear Lord, I know it’s foolishness, but please let my plan work. Please help me to make amends for writing those letters. I didn’t know the true situation, and—

The train jerked, jerked again and came to a stop. Her oft-repeated prayer blurred into an unarticulated plea from her heart. She peered out the window at a long, plain building shadowed by two huge tubs sitting high on splayed legs and attempted to gather her courage. The engineer and fireman hopped from the train, trotted to the second tub and swung its black-stained chute into place above the coal car. The fireman pulled a cord and coal tumbled down the chute, black dust puffing against the rose-streaked dusk sky. She shifted her gaze to the wood sign hanging from the deep eaves of the depot’s roof—Whisper Creek Station, Union Pacific Railroad.

If you’re so worried about Blake, Audrey, you go marry him!

Bile crept into her throat. Challenging Linda to do the right thing and keep her promise to marry Blake had only made her sister more determined to have her way. Nothing interfered with Linda’s “fun.” Certainly not a little thing like a promise! Audrey swallowed hard and slipped the letter back into her purse. She never should have picked it up when Linda threw it at her and flounced from the room. But it was too late to think of that now. It was too late for anything but clinging to the foolish mission that had brought her here.

Movement caught her attention. The soldiers were standing, waiting for her to detrain first. She dipped her head to acknowledge their politeness, lifted her satchel off the seat beside her and walked to the door. Blake! She froze, stared at her sister’s fiancé hurrying toward the steps the conductor had shoved into place. The strength left her legs. She grabbed for the edge of the door and turned back, but her way into the passenger car was blocked by the line of soldiers behind her.

“Linda, dar—Audrey!” Blake stared up at her, blinked then made a visible effort to collect himself. “I didn’t know that you were—I mean—How nice to see you again, Audrey.” Blake stumbled over the polite words, reached up to take her satchel.

“And you, Blake.” She took a steadying breath, placed her hand in his proffered one and stepped down. He peered behind her, and the eager joy in his expression died. His gaze lifted to the soldier who followed her from the train, raised to the next, then came back and fastened on her. She forced herself to look into his eyes and answer the question that hovered there. “Linda’s not on the train, Blake. She’s not coming.”

“Not com—” His face paled. “Is she ill? Or—”

She shook her head, pushed at the unruly curls on her forehead and wished she hadn’t come either. How could her plan ever have seemed sensible? “No, Linda’s not ill. It’s—” She glanced at the soldiers milling about, took another breath to squelch her nerves and looked back at Blake. Worry shadowed the handsome face she remembered so well. “It’s...complicated. Is there someplace we can go to talk?”

“My store.” He took hold of her elbow and led her toward the steps.

“Wait! My trunks...” She stopped, glanced over her shoulder at the two trunks sitting on the platform close to the tracks.

“Trunks?” His gaze bored into hers.

“It’s a long journey.” She winced inwardly at the lame response, but she couldn’t just blurt out the truth. She needed time to prepare him for that. She did her best not to squirm beneath his long, measuring look.

“They’ll be safe here at the station. Fortunately, an eastbound train arrives in about an hour.” He frowned and urged her forward. “Forgive me, Audrey. I don’t mean to sound rude or unwelcoming. But there is no place in town for you to overnight.”

“But, I’m—” She bit off the words and nodded. “All right. If you’re certain they will be safe.”

He gave a curt nod, ushered her down the steps, then released her elbow. A sound of hammering vied with the whisper of coal sliding down the chute and dropping into the tender car. She lifted the hems of her green gown above the trodden dirt and walked forward eyeing the new buildings framed on either side by the skeletons of more buildings under construction at the end of the road. Behind the raw, unpainted structures, a waterfall gushed from a mountain to splash and dance down a massive rock face to where dark pines sprawled in dwarfed splendor. A creek shimmered its way between the trees and flowed away down the length of the broad valley. The cluster of buildings looked puny against the towering mountains. She stopped and tilted her head back to look up at the snowcapped peaks. “I’ve never seen anything like these mountains. They’re breathtakingly beautiful but...frightening. I—I feel so...small.”

“They take you like that at first.”

Blake’s tone didn’t invite any more casual comments. She walked on beside him, looking at the beginning of Whisper Creek village. Would the new town become her home for a while? She glanced at Blake through her lowered lashes. He looked distressed, concerned. Would he even listen to her plan after he learned—

“Here we are.” He shifted her satchel to his left hand, helped her up the steps, then crossed the deep porch and opened the door.

She moved forward into his store and inhaled the scent of newness, then waited for Blake to lead her to where he intended for them to talk.

He closed the door, set her satchel on the floor and faced her. “Again, I don’t mean to be rude, Audrey. But where is Linda? We’re supposed to be married today. If she’s not ill, why is she not here? What has happened to her?”

The strain in Blake’s voice brought the guilt washing over her. She clenched her fingers around the cord on her purse and wished it was her sister’s pretty neck. “I don’t know where Linda is, Blake. She...married two weeks ago and left town. I’ve not heard from her since. Of course, I’ve been traveling the last—”

“Linda is wed to another?”

She couldn’t tell if his harsh, choked tone was caused by pain or anger—probably both. “Yes.” She rushed to push out words to ease the shock of the news. “I’m sorry—”

“Sorry! My betrothed has given herself to another, and you’re sorry?”

The words exploded from him. She flinched, then pressed her lips together against the useless words of sympathy. There was nothing she could say. It was too late. She should have warned him of Linda’s flirtatious nature when he first started courting her—though he wouldn’t have listened. None of Linda’s conquests did. They were all too blinded by her blond beauty, too smitten by her womanly charms and coquettish manner. Still, she should have tried. The guilt held her mute.

Blake strode away from her toward the interior of the store and stopped. He sucked in a sharp, ragged breath. “I believed her. I built this store—our home upstairs—on the strength of my faith in our love. How could I have been so wrong? Her letters were so full of love and caring...”

My letters. The guilt bit deeper. There was no mistaking the agony in Blake’s voice. She glanced at the door wanting to leave, to not have to witness the pain Linda’s selfish behavior had caused, but Blake’s situation was dire and time was short—and she was his solution. Dear Lord, give me strength. She braced herself for his reaction to her absurd plan. “That’s why I’ve come, Blake. Because of the store.”

He turned, stared and raked his fingers through his hair. “Forgive me, Audrey, I forgot that you were here. I—What?”

“I said that I’m aware of your situation, and I’ve come because I believe there is a way you can keep your store.” Please, Lord, let it be so.

“Keep my store?” Awareness flickered through the shock in his eyes. His face went taut. “No. That’s impossible now. There are only four days remaining before—” He clamped his lips shut, turned away.

“Before you must marry.” How cruel that sounded.

Blake stiffened, spun back around and walked to her, anger in every line of his body. “I appreciate you coming all this way to deliver the news of Linda’s betrayal in person, Audrey. But, as you’ve experienced betrayal yourself, I’m sure you’ll understand that I’m in no mood for polite commiseration—no matter how sincere.” A muscle along his jaw twitched. His hands clenched. “As I said earlier, a train headed east comes through in about an hour. It’s the last one today. As there is as yet no restaurant in town where you can wait in comfort, I’m afraid the bench at the station will have to do. I have to go tell Pastor Karl there will be no wedding. He will have heard the train arrive and will be expecting—” Pain flashed in his eyes. His lips clamped tight again. He bent and picked up her satchel. “I’ll walk you back to the depot.”

She shook her head, his reference to her ex-beau John Barker bringing the pain of being a second-best castoff surging forth and strengthening her resolve to spare Blake as much pain as possible. “I’m not going home, Blake. At least, not unless you tell me to.” He jerked away from the door and stared at her. She looked at his tight mouth, at the pulsing vein at his left temple and blurted out her plan before he dragged her out the door. “I came to marry you.”

* * *

Audrey’s words slammed against the shock of Linda’s betrayal with stunning force. His mind reeled. Blake drew breath to speak, but no sound came. He gave his head a quick shake, struggling to grasp the incomprehensible thought. “I’m sorry, Audrey, but—” He gave his head another shake and stared down into her hazel eyes. Surely, he’d heard her wrong. “Did you say, you came to marry me?”

“Not for real!”

The skin over her cheekbones turned redder than her hair. He rubbed at his throbbing temple, tried to make sense of what she was saying. “I don’t understand. How—”

“The marriage would be real. But you and I wouldn’t—” Her gaze jerked from his, focused on the floor. “That is to say, the marriage would be...”

Her embarrassment brought the word springing forth—“Impersonal?”

“Yes.”

The color on her cheeks flared. He gaped at her, his mind numbed by the shock upon shock. She burst into speech.

“When Linda left, I opened your last letter to answer it and tell you what had happened, but the railroad ticket and money were there, and that’s when I learned that you had signed a contract that states if you do not marry within thirty days of opening your business all that you have invested will revert to the founder of Whisper Creek. And that you had signed that contract because of Linda’s promise to marry you as soon as you had your store and living quarters built.”

“And so you came here to marry me.” It was so preposterous he could hardly credit it, let alone relate the idea to the young woman standing before him. Audrey had always been quiet...reserved...sensible.

“It wasn’t like that.” Her chin lifted. “The letter had lain unopened for over two weeks. Had I responded in kind to explain what had happened, by the time you received my missive there would have been no time left for you to do anything to save your store and all you have invested.” Her shoulders squared. “So I’ve come to honor my sister’s promise.”

“To marry me.”

“Yes. And, as you just stated, there are only four days left for us to do so.”

Four days. “Audrey, I—”

“—think I’m insane.” She stepped closer. “I know it sounds mad, Blake. But I’ve thought it over quite carefully, and it’s the only way I can think of to save your store. The contract states that you must marry—not how you must conduct that marriage. Correct?”

The pain of Linda’s betrayal hit afresh. Bitter gall rose in his throat. “And how long would this pretense of a marriage go on?”

“Until you find another solution to your problem.”

“Until—That could take some time.”

Her gaze lowered to her satchel gripped in his hand. “I’m prepared to wait.”

His mind jolted backward, pulled up an image of her trunks sitting on the station platform. She was serious. She’d come prepared to stay. What sort of man did she think he was? She should have known he wouldn’t consider letting her do such a thing! He set his jaw, shook his head. “That’s generous of you, Audrey. But... Linda’s...behavior is not your responsibility.” His throat tightened at the taste of his beloved’s name on his tongue. “Nor is saving my store. That is my problem. I’m the one who signed the contract.”

“But you did so because of Linda’s promise.”

Of course I will marry you, Blake darling. I love you. Go to Wyoming. I will join you when you build our home. Our home. How wonderful that sounds! Pain constricted his chest at the memory of Linda’s words. He squeezed the satchel’s handle, fought down the urge to throw the case across the room.

“I can do nothing to ease your hurt over my sister’s betrayal, Blake. But I can do something to stop it from costing you your inheritance. I hope you will let me.”

The desperation in Audrey’s voice caught at him. He yanked his thoughts from the painful memory and fastened his gaze on her. “I’m sorry, Audrey. I can’t—”

“Please don’t refuse me! My plan will work, Blake.” She stepped close and peered up at him, her eyes imploring. “Surely you can see it is the only way to save your store! And it will only be for a short time.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I know that you are an intelligent, resourceful man. You will find a solution.”

He put down her satchel and scrubbed his hand across his eyes trying to think through the cloud of shock. “Your faith is misplaced, Audrey. I have no idea what that solution might be. I can’t think...” He drew in a ragged breath, swept his gaze around the store. “Perhaps, given some time, I might think of something, but... I don’t know...” He turned and stared out the window, jamming his hands into his suit jacket pockets. Pain jolted him at the touch of the ring. It was over. His love had chosen another. What did anything else matter? He might as well let Audrey have her way—whatever her reason. He pulled air into his aching chest and motioned for her to join him. “Do you see that small church, down a ways across the road?”

“Yes.”

He fingered the ring, forced out words. “That’s where Pastor Karl lives. He’s waiting to perform the ceremony that would have made your sister and me man and wife.” Bitterness swelled, drove him on. He pulled his hand from his pocket and looked down at her. “There is no place you can stay in Whisper Creek but upstairs in the living quarters with me, so be absolutely certain you want to do this, Audrey. We will have to marry immediately. There will be no opportunity for you to change your mind.” Like your sister. He waited for her answer, his jaw set, the vein at his temple drumming.

“I’ve had days to think about this plan, Blake. I’ve thought of nothing else since I read your letter and boarded the train in New York. I’ll not change my mind.”

Her voice was soft and steady. There was determination in the lift of her chin. He dipped his head in curt acceptance. “There’s one thing more. We will have to play the part of loving newlyweds in front of others. If Mr. Ferndale were to discover that the marriage is a pretense it might void the contract and your...kindness will have been in vain.” Her eyes widened, her posture stiffened. Clearly, she had not realized what her offer entailed. But he understood. He reached for her satchel to walk her back to the station.

“I understand. I shall do my best.”

He straightened, looked at her. It should have been Linda standing there—rushing into his arms... “Look, Audrey—”

“I’m not going home, Blake.” Her hazel eyes bored straight into his. “Not until you have solved the problem Linda has caused you with the store.”

The resolve in her eyes, her stiff posture—everything said she meant it. Well, he’d given her every chance to stop this foolish plan and go home. And she was right—marrying her was the only way to save his investment and not walk away from the store penniless. At least he would salvage something from the ruins of his hopes and plans for the future. And what did the marriage matter? The farce would be over soon enough. He’d think of something. “Very well, then.” He ignored the sickening ache in his chest, pushed her satchel aside and opened the door. “Let’s go. I don’t want to keep Pastor Karl waiting. And, remember...we’re supposed to be in love.”

* * *

May the Lord bless your union with many years of health and happiness.

The pastor’s parting words echoed in her mind with every step she took back to the store. Audrey stole a quick glance at Blake through her lowered lashes and wished she could say or do something that would ease his tension. But that was unlikely as she was the cause of that tension. She took a breath and glanced down at his hand holding her elbow, grateful for its support as she forced her shaky legs to climb the steps to the porch.

Blake released her elbow, led her inside and picked up her satchel. “This way.”

His voice sounded as if his throat had gravel in it. Her heart squeezed. How horrible for him to have had to endure that marriage ceremony with her when he’d just learned the woman he loved had wed another. She remembered the raw hurt when John had cast her aside to make an advantageous marriage. She bit back words of apology and commiseration and followed Blake into the dark interior. Sympathy would do no good. Words could not ease the pain of an aching heart.

She stole another glance at Blake, but the store was too dark and shadowed to see clearly. He led her through a door at the back into another, smaller room, his footsteps and the rustle of her skirt loud in the silence. How much effort it must have cost him to pretend to be a happy bridegroom when he was suffering from her sister’s betrayal. What inner strength he had! Even she hadn’t detected his hidden emotions until the pastor pronounced them man and wife, and he’d kissed her.

She raised her hand and touched her fingertips to her tender lips. Thankfully, the pastor had interpreted Blake’s vehemence as love, not anger. Tears stung the backs of her eyes. How he must have hated being forced to kiss her, to pretend—

“Wait a moment until I light the lamp, Audrey. It’s not safe for you to climb the stairs in this dim light.”

She blinked the tears away and squared her shoulders. A match flared. Blake lifted the globe of a hanging lamp and touched the match to its wick. Light spread over the area and highlighted the taut features of his face. She looked up the open stairs into a soft circle of light at the top. The home he’d meant to share with Linda was up there. Her breath shortened. Oh, Lord, what have I done? This is madness! I can’t—

“Do you want me to go first?”

Blake’s strained voice snapped her thoughts back to him. Her discomfort was nothing compared to the turmoil of emotions he had to be experiencing. She shook her head, gripped the railing and started to climb.

The stairs led to a U-shaped interior hall lit by a pewter oil lamp sitting on a shelf centered between two doorways in the wall they faced. Blake gestured toward the door on the left. “That’s the sitting room. You’ll find it sparsely furnished. I thought—” He stopped, stood beside the door for her to precede him.

He’s thinking about what was to have been. Talk about things! Distract him. She stepped into the dark room and swept her gaze over the furnishings: lamp stands, a chest, two armchairs with cushions facing a settee. Light from the hall lamp shone on the padded arm. Blue damask. Linda’s favorite color. She looked at Blake and forced out words. “It’s lovely. And more than sufficient.”

He nodded, and she followed him back out into the hall, glanced toward a door he indicated on their right. “That’s my office.” He swept his hand toward a door at the end of the short hallway. “And a bedroom.”

She drew a breath, found a bit of courage and spoke before it fled. “Is that where I—”

“No. The room is empty but for a cot. I’ll sleep there.”

She started to protest, noticed his taut face and kept quiet.

Lamplight gleamed on Blake’s dark hair and broad shoulders as he walked past the stairwell and gestured toward that second open doorway now on their left. “That’s the kitchen.”

She glanced into the dark room. The light from the hall gleamed on the polished wood of a dining table surrounded by Hitchcock chairs. It was all she could see in the quick glimpse. She stifled a wish to look around the kitchen and hurried after Blake, almost bumping into his back when he stopped at the door centered in the short hall at the right of the stairs that formed the second arm of the U.

“This is the dressing room. You’ll find everything you need in it—piped-in water, a bathing tub...” That muscle along his jaw jumped. “Towels and other necessities—soaps and creams and such—are in a cupboard.”

All bought for Linda. Her stomach flopped. She couldn’t—

“I’ll light the lamp.” He did so quickly then stepped back out into the hall and opened the door across from the kitchen at the end of the short hall. “This is where you will sleep. You can hang your gowns in here.” He yanked open a door on a cavernous wardrobe, set her satchel down, strode to a nightstand beside a four-poster and lit the lamp. Golden light glittered on a small heart-shaped silver box, spilled onto a beautiful blue-and-white woven coverlet on the bed.

Her gaze froze on the heart-shaped silver box and the thumb of her left hand turned inward, touched the ring on her finger—Linda’s ring. She lifted her gaze to Blake’s rigid back, remembered the tremor that had shook his hand when he’d pulled the ring from his suit coat pocket and put it on her finger. She slipped the ring off and cupped it in her hand.

Blake scrubbed his hand over his eyes and turned, his face as fixed as stone. “I’ll go to the station and get your trunks. You’ll be wanting to settle in.” He strode out into the hall and walked down the stairs.

She lifted her hand, stared down at the circle of gold on her palm and thought of all it stood for—of what it meant to Blake. Tears blurred her vision. She blinked them away, walked to the nightstand and put the ring in the box. It was difficult enough to live with the knowledge that your betrothed rejected the love you carried in your heart for them without seeing a reminder all day. She might stand in Linda’s place, but she’d not wear the symbol of Blake’s love for her.

* * *

Blake threw a blanket over the cot he’d slept on while his store was being built, then turned away before he broke the folding bed into pieces. The quiet sounds from the other bedroom stabbed into him like knives. He wished Audrey would put off unpacking the trunks he’d brought from the depot until tomorrow when he was downstairs at the store. But he had no good reason to ask her to do so. He couldn’t tell her the truth—that every rustle of movement reminded him of Linda’s betrayal, of what should have been. That she was sleeping on the bed that had arrived only yesterday. His and Linda’s wedding bed.

He clenched his fists wanting to smash something the way his dream had been shattered. But there was only the cot. Or the walls. He stared at the wood partition separating him from his bride and jerked his mouth into a bitter smile. If he started punching the wall, he’d likely frighten Audrey into a faint. And how would he explain his bruised and bloodied hands to any customers tomorrow—to Mr. and Mrs. Ferndale, who were certain to come around to wish them well?

His stomach curdled at the thought of the town founder and his wife. They would want to meet his bride. How would Audrey handle that? How would he? He’d best do better than he had at the wedding! His face tightened at the memory of his agony during the ceremony. He’d been so angry over Linda’s betrayal, he was shaking. Still, he shouldn’t have kissed Audrey like that. Remorse washed over him. Audrey had come all the way out to Wyoming to help him keep his store, but there had been nothing of gratitude in that kiss—only anger and frustration. She didn’t deserve that.

What a mess his life was! All of his hopes and careful plans were brought to ruin by Linda’s fickleness. A strangled moan burst from his throat. He shoved his hands through his hair and looked around the empty room that was meant for the children he’d hoped to have someday. His gut twisted into a painful knot. If only he could get out of here and go for a walk, but the moon was too bright. He couldn’t take the chance that one of the few people in town would see him striding down the road. Men didn’t go for solitary walks on their wedding night. At least he could get some air to breathe! He strode to the door leading to the porch that roofed the store’s loading dock and grasped the knob.

A floorboard in the next room creaked. The sound shot through him like an arrow from a warrior’s bow. He froze. There was a door onto the porch from the other bedroom as well. If he went out there and Audrey heard him and came outside... He released his grip on the doorknob. It wasn’t worth the risk. He couldn’t bear to see her again tonight.

Linda... Oh, my heart’s desire...

Memories exploded. Images of his beloved laughing up at him, her blue eyes glowing, her soft, full lips enticing him to kiss her. The silky feel of her blond curls beneath his hands, the warmth of her arms sliding around his neck, the ardor of her return kiss. Pain ripped through him. How could you betray me like this, Linda? How could you turn your back on our love?

He leaned against the door, shaken, ill, furious, fighting for control.

Dear God, what have I done? How will I get through this sham of a marriage?

He paced around the empty room, his steps keeping time with his tumbling thoughts. There were only three things he knew for certain: he owed Audrey an apology for that angry kiss, he would never trust a woman again and there would be no sleep for him tonight. And one more—he had to find a solution to the problem with the store so he could free Audrey from her commitment and get out of this farce!

Chapter Two

Gray light poked through the slatted wood shutters on the windows and formed dim streaks on the carpet. Dawn was breaking. Was Blake an early riser? Audrey blinked her dry, burning eyes and rose from the chair in her room.

She tucked the hem of her white bodice farther beneath the waistband of her long, dark blue skirt then shook out her hems. Her chosen outfit was functional, with the barest nod toward style in the high ruffled collar and the large, flat bow that rested on the fullness of gathered fabric at the back of the skirt—not exactly the sort of dress one would expect a bride to wear on her first day of marriage. But then, she was only a pretend bride standing in her sister’s place. Her hands stilled. Tears stung her eyes. Oh, Linda, where are you? Have you reached San Francisco? Is your husband treating you well?

Her uneasiness, carried since Linda had stormed out of their house, swelled into a band of tightness around her chest. She’d seen Linda’s prospective husband only a few minutes when Linda had come home to get her jewelry and withdraw her share of their inheritance, but something in his eyes had made her uncomfortable. She’d taken an immediate dislike to him. That wasn’t like her. Of course, that could be because he was the reason Linda had broken her promise to marry Blake—if she had ever intended to do so.

She closed her eyes and rubbed at the ache in her temples. Maybe things would have turned out differently if their father were still alive. Or if she hadn’t challenged Linda to do the right thing and marry Blake that day. Perhaps if she’d been less ardent in defense of Blake’s expectation, she could have talked Linda into at least coming West to see Blake again before she married another.

Oh, what did it matter? It was done. Thinking about it would change nothing. She would simply have to live with her guilt. And Linda—She gasped, lowered her hands to press against her chest. Linda did not know she’d come to Whisper Creek! And she was the one Linda relied on since their parents had passed. How would Linda find her if she needed help? Oh, everything was such a mess! And she couldn’t even confess to Blake about the letters. It would only deepen his hurt, and make their situation untenable.

“Dear Lord, please watch over Linda and keep her well and safe. And please help me to be all that Blake needs me to be until he finds a solution to save his store. Help me to play the part of a newlywed well in front of others—to atone for writing those letters. And help Blake’s heart heal. Oh, Lord, please don’t let Blake suffer because of Linda’s selfish ways and my imprudence. Let him heal and find love with another, I pray.”

Tension thrummed along her nerves. Some planner she was. She hadn’t thought beyond the point of marrying Blake to save his inheritance. Now she was caught unprepared. Play the part... What did that mean? How did a loving bride act? Thanks to John’s betrayal, she’d not had a chance to learn about being a bride. An image of Linda’s friend Carolyn Rogers clinging to her new husband’s arm and cooing love words at him flashed into her head. Surely Blake would not expect such behavior from her. He could barely stand the sight of her. And she didn’t blame him.

Tears surged, but she swallowed them back, refusing to cry any more. What was done was done. She couldn’t change it. All she could do now was to help Blake save his store.

She thrust aside her troubling thoughts and hurried to her satchel inside the large wardrobe Blake had made to hold Linda’s many gowns. She couldn’t bring herself to place her grooming aids on the lovely dressing table he had bought for Linda, or to use the products he had provided for her sister. Thoughts of the White Rose paste for teeth, the Pears’ soap and the lovely milk glass Crème Simon jar alongside the tin of Gillette safety razor blades and the jar of Swiss Violet shaving cream on the shelf above the washbowl in the dressing room sent a tremble through her. The sight of those items had brought Blake’s longing to wed Linda home to her as nothing else had. They were so...intimate, sitting there side by side.

Her stomach churned, threatened to empty. Blake resented her for coming to Whisper Creek to marry him, even if it was for his benefit. And he regretted yielding to her arguments and going through with the marriage. That had been clear in that angry ceremonial kiss. And in the obligatory polite way he had treated her last night. There had been no evidence of the casual friendship that had existed between them when he was courting Linda. She sighed and opened the satchel. As uncomfortable as her position was for her, it had to be unbearable for Blake. He loved Linda. And her mere presence, here in the home he had built for the two of them, had to remind him of her sister. All she could do was try to be as unobtrusive as possible when they were alone.

She coiled her long wavy hair into a thick figure eight at the nape of her neck and secured it with hairpins and the pearl hair comb that was a bequest from her grandmother. A quick glance in the long mirror affixed to the inside of the wardrobe door revealed wispy curls lying against her forehead. She smoothed them back and closed the door. Linda’s blond curls looked lovely resting on her forehead. Her own red curls just looked messy. But the room was neat.

She released another sigh and looked around. There was no sign of her being there. She could not sleep in that bed with its pristine blue-and-white coverlet, so she’d sat in the rocker and dozed when she wasn’t pacing and worrying last night away. And she’d made certain there was no sign of disturbance to the dressing room when she’d washed and prepared for the day.

The room was getting lighter. She glanced at the brightness filtering through the shutters. Dawn came quickly in the mountains. Should she go to the kitchen now? She tiptoed to the bedroom door and pressed her ear against the wood. There was no sound, only silence. A frown tugged at her eyebrows. Had Blake finally fallen asleep? He’d been stirring in the next bedroom all through her long sleepless night. Perhaps he’d risen when she dozed off after coming back from the dressing room.

She stepped back, nibbled at her lower lip. What should she do? When did he breakfast? Were there provisions in the kitchen? Surely there were provisions! He’d said there was no restaurant in Whisper Creek, so he had to cook—didn’t he? The questions streaked through her mind, adding to her indecision. The only thing she was sure of was that she did not want to presume for her own use the things that Blake had provided for Linda, or in any way add to his hurt from Linda’s betrayal.

She listened at the door again, heard nothing and turned back into the room. It would be ill-mannered of her to rise first; she would wait until she heard Blake leave his bedroom. She moved to the window, opened the shutters and watched the sun climbing above the mountains. How foolish Linda was to throw away the love of a man as thoughtful and caring and faithful and...and passionate in his feelings as Blake.

* * *

Blake stood with his hand on the doorknob, torn between his desire to leave the confinement of the bedroom and his reluctance to face the agony of the day ahead. He’d been looking forward to Linda’s excitement over all of the things he’d bought for her comfort. How could he face Audrey in his beloved’s place? How could he watch her in the kitchen, using the utensils and pots and pans and stove he had bought for Linda, while she prepared and then shared what should have been his first breakfast with his wife?

Wife. The word stabbed deep. He sucked in a breath and glanced at the light slipping through the window shutters. Morning was breaking. He had no choice but to live through this day. And neither did Audrey. He released the doorknob and massaged the tense muscles in his neck and shoulders, then drew his knuckles along his freshly shaved jaw. Audrey had tried her best to act undaunted last night. But she hadn’t been prepared for the reality of a marriage—even a pretend one. It was obvious when they came back to the store last night that she hadn’t thought beyond the ceremony. There was an unworldliness...an innocence about Audrey. He’d sensed it during their short conversations when he’d courted Linda, and it was strongly in evidence last night. And now he was responsible for her.

His face tightened. He never should have married her—wouldn’t have if he’d had time to think beyond his shock at Linda’s betrayal and the urgency of the moment. But then he would have lost the store. He owed Audrey his gratitude and respect for saving it for him, but—Linda. The ache swelled, burst over him like a wave. He bit back a moan, set his jaw and reached for the doorknob. The sooner he faced this day, the sooner it would be over. He gripped the cold metal, fighting the anguish that had become a part of him. “God in Heaven, help Audrey, I pray. And please help me to hide my feelings. She doesn’t deserve any of this.”

A quick twist of his wrist opened the bedroom door, and he walked down the hallway into the kitchen. Light from the windows gleamed on the new furnishings. The sight of them fueled his determination. He strode beyond the worktable to the stove, opened the firebox, struck a match and lit the kindling he’d readied the day before. He’d choke down breakfast somehow.

“Good morning.”

Audrey. His hand tightened on the damper. He finished adjusting the draft on the stovepipe, turned and pulled his lips into a facsimile of a smile. “Good morning. It looks like it’s going to be a nice day.” A bald-faced lie. It was a wretched day. He should be taking his wife in his arms—

“Yes. It was beautiful watching the sun come up over the mountain. Though it was quite misty.”

Her return smile was shaky. So was the hand she lifted to push back the curl dangling on her forehead. An image of Linda smiling up at him while she twirled a curl around her finger flashed into his head. His chest constricted. Thankfully, Audrey didn’t have blond hair and blue eyes or Linda’s coquettish ways—he couldn’t have borne that. He nodded, turned to the coal box on the floor and scooped up some black chunks.

“The mist rises from the snowcaps.” He slid the coal off the shovel onto the kindling, closed the door and adjusted the draft. Audrey’s skirt whispered against the polished wood floor. He tensed, glanced over his shoulder. She was walking toward him, her hazel eyes shining.

“What a beautiful stove.” The words were a mere whisper. She wasn’t talking to him. He watched her brush her hand across the gleaming cast-iron cooking surface, then raise it to touch the blue porcelain doors on the warming ovens above it before lowering it and resting her fingertips on the chrome handle of the oven door. “Just beautiful...”

It was the exact response he had hoped for—but from the wrong woman. He clenched his hands, reminded himself of what he owed Audrey and cleared his throat. “I’m glad you approve of it. I wasn’t sure—”

“Oh, it’s wonderful! Just look at that spacious oven! Why, I could bake—” She caught her lower lip with her teeth, stepped back and slid her palms down the front of her skirt. “I mean—any woman would love to have this stove to cook and bake on.”

“I’m glad to hear it, because any man likes to eat.” The attempt to ease the awkwardness of this first morning with humor bore fruit. She lifted her head and gave him a tentative smile.

“Would you like me to fix you some breakfast?” She glanced around the kitchen. “Are there provisions...?”

Trapped. Now he had to eat. His stomach clenched at the thought. “There are supplies in the refrigerator, and in the cupboard beside it. If you don’t find what you need, just ask. I will likely have it in the store.” He turned back to the coal box, scooped up more chunks and moved to the corner.

“What is that?”

Fabric rustled. Her dark blue skirt hem floated into sight at the corner of his eye. He glanced up. She was standing in front of the tin-lined sink cupboard gazing toward the column in front of him.

“It’s a water heater.” He opened the door of the firebox and dumped the coal onto the glowing embers.

“A water heater?” She leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “There’s no spigot. How does it work?”

“The water comes from outside into the bottom of this reservoir...here.” He touched a pipe that came up through the floor. “The coal heats the water and it rises to the top. Then the hot water from the top of the reservoir flows out through this pipe—” he raised his hand to a pipe midway up the tank “—into the washbowl and bathing tub in the dressing room.”

“Oh, I see.” She glanced his way and smiled. “I wondered where that wonderful hot water came from.” Her gaze slid back to the water heater. “What are those other pipes for? Does that one—Oh, my!” She leaned forward, peered over the end of the cupboard. “That one comes to this sink!”

He grinned, caught up in her enthusiasm. “That’s right. It brings the hot water here—” he stepped closer, stretched out his hand “—to this spigot. And this one—” he touched another pipe that ran along the wall to the sink cupboard “—brings in the cold water from outside.”

She straightened and looked up at him, her hazel eyes shining bright with gold flecks he’d never noticed before. “And the wastewater?”

“You dump it into the sink and it flows down this screened hole through a draining pipe to the outside.”

“Truly?” Her gaze dropped to the sink cupboard. She gave a soft sigh and slid her fingers along the wood cabinet. “I never would have thought a kitchen in Wyoming Territory would be more luxurious than ours in New York.”

Ours. The thought of Linda took him like a fist to the stomach. He sucked in a breath, looked away. “I wanted the best...”

“Yes, of course.”

She sounded stricken. He glanced back, saw the knowledge of his hurt in Audrey’s eyes. She’d understood what he’d left unsaid. He’d have to do better at hiding his emotions, but how? It was as if Linda stood there between them. He took refuge in honesty. “I’m not really that hungry, Audrey. Coffee will do for me. There’s a bag of Lion’s—freshly ground—in the pantry.” He dipped his head toward the large floor-to-ceiling cupboard at the other end of the stove.

She met his gaze for a moment, then nodded and moved back to the stove. He set his jaw, watched her lift the new coffeepot from the cooking surface, set the insides on the worktable, then turn to the sink cupboard and reach for the tap.

“Wait!” Too late.

Water gushed, hit the rim of the pot and splashed onto Audrey’s hand and blouse. She gasped and jumped back. He reached to turn off the deluge and their hands collided. She jerked hers away, grabbed her blouse and tugged at the wet spot, flapping it to make it dry. “That water is freezing cold!”

Her uneasiness at his touch was plain on her face. Guilt pricked him. She had come all this way to help him. The least he could do was show some appreciation and try to make her as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. He tugged his lips into a slanted grin. “Sorry. I tried to warn you. The water is melt-off from the ice cap piped in from the waterfall. There’s a lot of pressure.”

“I noticed.”

He chuckled at her dry tone.

She looked up, an uncertain smile playing at the corner of her lips. Their gazes met and she looked down, opened the tap slowly and ran water into the pot. “How do you like your coffee?”

“Strong and black.”

She nodded, set the pot on the worktable and moved to the pantry. “Father liked his coffee that way. Two spoonsful for every cup.”

“You made it for him?” The stovepipe crackled. He turned the draft down for a slow burn.

“Every morning.” There was sadness in the smile that curved her lips. “I’m an early riser—like Father was. There’s something special about shar—” Her lips clamped closed. She carried the bag of coffee to the worktable. “Where are your spoons?”

“Here in this drawer.” He stepped beside her and pulled a drawer open while she placed the insides in the coffeepot. “There are towels and things in the drawer in front of you.”

She accepted the spoon he handed her, opened the bag and peered inside, then tipped it from side to side, probing the coffee with the spoon handle.

The rich aroma rose to tempt his nostrils. “Looking for the picture card?”

She stopped searching in the ground beans and glanced up at him with a self-conscious little laugh. “Force of habit.”

She saved them? Linda wouldn’t bother with a picture card. She was too sophisticated and worldly for such things. Obviously more worldly than he’d known. His lungs constricted, cut off his breath. The muscle along his jaw twitched. “I tossed the card away when I ground the coffee.” He moved to the water heater, pretending to adjust the damper on the firebox door.

“It’s of no matter.” The spoon clinked against the coffeepot. “As I said, it’s only habit. I save them for Lily Chaseon—the daughter of our neighbors back home.”

Where she would be had she not come West to help him. His hand stilled. Why would she do that? She was not responsible for Linda’s behavior. He watched Audrey place the coffeepot on the stove, fold down the top of the bag and carry it back to the cupboard, her movements neat and precise. Everything about Audrey was neat—her hair, her appearance in that plain gown...even the way she arranged her thoughts into a sensible argument that had left him no room for disagreement—except on an emotional level. He frowned, shoved his fingers through his hair and determined to stop acting like a graceless boor. At the very least, he owed her good manners. “Audrey...”

“Yes?” She moved to the step-back dresser displaying blue-and-white-patterned dishes and lifted a cup and saucer off the shelf.

“I want to apologize for my behavior last night.” Her posture stiffened. She glanced at him then started for the table.

“There’s no need for an apology, Blake.”

“I think there is. I had no right to kiss you like that—to take my anger out on you. Or to treat you in such an unwelcoming manner after you came all this way to—”

“Please stop, Blake. I realize how...difficult...all this is for you.” The cup rattled against the saucer. She set it on the table and clasped her hands. “I’m so sorry for...everything.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for, Audrey. It is—” his tongue refused to speak the name of his beloved “—your sister who broke her promise to me. You’ve come to help me. And I recognize that that was very hard for you—as is this farce of a marriage in which we find ourselves. And I appreciate what you are doing for me—though my behavior toward you last night did not, in any way, reflect my gratitude. I’m sorry for that. I hope you will forgive me.” He cleared his throat and moved to stand beside her. “It’s early. Dawn has not yet fully given way to the day. Shall we start again?”

Her gaze lifted, the uneasiness that had shadowed her eyes replaced with a hint of the friendliness he remembered. “As you wish.”

“Then we’ll need another cup and saucer.” He grabbed the dishes from the dresser and carried them back to the table. “We’ll have a cup of coffee to toast our...er...partnership in saving my store. Thanks to you, I will have the time to come up with a plan to do so. And we need to discuss how we will make this charade work meantime.” The thought soured his stomach.

“That sounds like the sensible thing to do.” She gave a delicate sniff, glanced toward the stove. “Excuse me, I don’t want the coffee to boil.” She took a dish towel out of the drawer in the worktable, gripped the coffeepot and set it down toward the back of the stove. “That’s better—it’s not as hot there.” She placed the towel on the worktable and gave him another of those tentative near smiles. “It will be a few minutes until the coffee is ready. Shall we begin?”

He dipped his head. “Ladies first.”

“Very well.” She brushed her palms down the front of her long skirt, then raised one hand and gave a small all-encompassing wave. “I am not concerned about cooking or household matters. Since Mother passed away, I have cared for our house and for Father and Li—” She caught her lower lip with her teeth, looked down.

Linda. Pain flashed. He clenched his hands, took a breath and nodded. “That’s good to know. We should know about each other’s lives, should someone ask us.” He ignored the ache gripping him and pressed on. “One question I’m certain will be asked us is how we met.”

Her head jerked up. “What would you have me say?”

“The truth. That we met while I was courting your older sister.” The vein in his temple throbbed. He moved to look out of one of the windows that bracketed the dish dresser to avoid the compassion in her eyes. “The problem is, Mr. Ferndale knows Linda is...was...my fiancée. I often spoke of her by name.” He scrubbed his hand over the nape of his neck, ignoring the knot in his gut. “We’ll have to think of something to explain why we married. And it would be best to stay as close to the truth as possible so we don’t get our stories confused.”

A train whistle sounded, echoing down the valley.

“That’s it!”

“What is it?”

“The train.” He pivoted, met her confused gaze. “We’ll tell people we corresponded, and when...Linda...wed another, you came out of friendship to tell me in person.” The constriction in his chest tightened. He fought for breath to continue. “I think it would be best if we not mention the store, so I will tell Mr. Ferndale when you stepped off the train and I saw you again, I realized my feelings for you had deepened beyond friendship. That I had fallen in love with you through your letters. That we talked, I confessed my feelings for you and you...professed a fondness for me, and agreed to marry me.” He stepped closer, studied her face. “Are you all right with this, Audrey? You look pale.”

“I’m fine...only a trifle uneasy. I’ve never been good at...at dissembling. The coffee’s ready.” She snatched up the towel and turned to the stove.

He watched her lifting the hot brew. Guilt reared. What depths had he sunk to, putting his need to save his fortune ahead of his honor? He squared his shoulders. “Forgive me, Audrey. It’s wrong of me to put you in such a position. There is a train going east early this afternoon. I will put you on it, then go and tell Mr. Ferndale the truth.”

Steam spiraled from the hot pot, misted the air between them. “Thank you for your consideration, but I’m not going home, Blake.” She walked to the table, poured the hot coffee into their cups and returned the pot to the stove. “And you did not put me in this position—I did. And I would do it again. It’s only right after what my sister did to you.”

The hem of her skirt swished across the floor, a quiet accompaniment to her firm words. He studied the resolute look on her face. A different Audrey than he’d ever seen. She’d always been so acquiescent to Linda’s wishes.

“And what you said about me is true. I did come in friendship to tell you what had happened. And we did talk. And I did agree to marry you when you asked me—well, that’s backward, but it’s close enough. The...conditions...of our marriage will remain our private knowledge.” She moved to the refrigerator and opened the door, glanced inside. She closed the door again.

“Sorry, I got meat and butter, but forgot about milk.”

“That’s all right—I can drink the coffee black.”

A real smile tugged at his lips. “That shudder you just tried to hide says different. I have some Eagle Brand in the store. I’ll get it.”

* * *

Audrey listened to Blake walking down the stairs, every step driving his words deeper into her conscience. That I had fallen in love with you through your letters. It wasn’t true, of course. Blake didn’t love her and he didn’t know she’d written the letters. But still, it was a plausible explanation. The warmth of Blake’s letters had drawn her. And she had responded to that warmth—though as Linda, of course. Still, the attraction was sincere. But then, she’d always enjoyed her conversations with Blake...

She eyed the steaming cups of coffee, picked up hers and took a cautious sip hoping to settle her churning stomach. All she achieved was a scalded tongue and a shudder at the bitter taste. Tears filmed her eyes. “Father God, You know I’m sorry for helping Linda deceive Blake. I was wrong not to have warned him she was fickle when he began courting her, but—No. No excuses... Please help me to make amends. Please help Blake—”

Footsteps on the stairs halted her choked words. She blinked her eyes, wiped her cheeks and ran on tiptoe to look out of the window over the coal box beside the stove. A muted hammering came from the raw structure next door. The hotel. He’d written to Linda about—

“Here’s the milk. I’ll open it for you. These cans are hard to puncture, even with a can opener.”

Blake’s thoughtfulness brought another surge of tears. She was too tired and too unnerved by their situation. She nodded and blinked, struggled to get her emotions under control.

“There’s some ground sugar in the bowl—if you use it.”

He’d ground sugar for Linda. “No, only milk.” It was another way she differed from her sister. Linda used spoonsful of sugar in her coffee or tea. She swallowed hard and jerked her thoughts from Blake’s love for her sister before her guilt overwhelmed her and she blurted out the entire story. It would only hurt him more. “I can hear them working on the hotel.”

“You know of the hotel?”

Her stomach flopped. She shouldn’t know about the things he’d written Linda! She groped for a way to cover her error. “Linda shared the things you wrote about Wyoming Territory and Whisper Creek with me.” It wasn’t a lie. Not really. It was only...misleading.

“I see.” His voice was flat, terse.

Another mistake. She shouldn’t have mentioned Linda. She hurried to the dish dresser for the creamer and poured some of the milk into it. “Thank you for opening the can.” Blake nodded and put the can in the refrigerator, but she’d seen the taut line of his mouth, the shadow of pain in his eyes. Her hands tightened on the creamer and spoons she carried to the table. “To continue our discussion—I will need to know your routine in order to plan my household tasks, when to prepare meals and such.”

He held her chair for her, then took the chair across the table and bowed his head. “Thank You for Your provision, Lord. Lead me—us...through this day, I pray. Amen.”

Us. The word hung in the air, awkward and uncomfortable. She stared down at her cup, swirled milk into the hot dark brew and watched the color lighten, knowing Blake wished it were Linda sitting in her place. So did she.

“This is good coffee.”

Was he being polite? “I can adjust the amount if—”

“Nope. It’s perfect as it is.” His smile looked forced. “About my schedule... I really haven’t established one yet as I’ve only just opened for business. Until now it’s all been orders from those building new homes or businesses. That number has been very few, but it’s growing. Still, having only a few residents in the town limits business.” He took a swallow of coffee, glanced over at her. “I’m up at dawn, so I open the store at seven. The first train comes through at seven ten and I’m hoping the passengers will come in and buy things they need—though none have as yet.”

“That’s not surprising.”

“I beg your pardon?”

She stopped stirring and looked up. “The conductor on my train told the passengers there is no food or drink available in town and advised them not to wander away from the station as Whisper Creek is a short stop for refueling and taking on water only.”

“I didn’t know the conductors did that.” He frowned and set his cup back on the saucer. “I’m sure some of those soldiers on their way to their postings farther west would come in for tobacco and other sundries if they knew of my store. Not to mention the civilians. At the moment, my store is the last chance for them to purchase necessities and small luxuries before they continue on their journey.”

She sipped her coffee, weighed the idea that had popped into her head. Would he think her forward if she mentioned it? A foolish worry. How could he think her any more forward than he already did for suggesting they marry? “Perhaps a sign would help.”

He gave her an odd, sort of surprised, quizzical look, then shook his head. “The Union Pacific does not allow signs on their property. I’ll speak to the stationmaster, ask him to tell the conductors that my store is open for business so they can pass the word along to their passengers.”

Her pulse quickened. His descriptions in his letters had made her curious about Whisper Creek, but she’d been too nervous last night to pay much attention to the buildings and surroundings. She took another sip of coffee to keep from asking to accompany him, certain he would prefer to be alone.

The hammering from the building next door grew louder. Blake glanced toward the window. “It will be expected that I take you on a ‘tour’ of Whisper Creek—such as it is. Would that be acceptable to you?”

She grasped at the chance to be away from this home he’d hoped to share with Linda. It would be good for both of them to forget how Linda had altered their lives—at least for a little while. “Yes, of course. I would enjoy seeing the town—‘such as it is.’” She set her cup on its saucer and took a breath, spoke what had been on her mind all morning. “But, before we do, I’m concerned about, that is, I’m not certain I know how to play the part of a newlywed, Blake. What do you want me to do?” The muscle along his jaw jumped. Pain sharpened the planes of his face. She looked away, stared down at her coffee. “If you’d rather wait—”

“No. We’ll take the ‘tour’ now. As for how to act—just follow my example. And bear in mind that I, too, will be acting my part. Don’t flinch away if I should...touch you.”

The vein at his temple was pulsing again. She nodded, hid her clenched hands in her lap. “I’ll be ready as soon as I clear the table.”

“I’ll await you downstairs in the store.” He rose and slid his chair under the table. “You may need a wrap of some sort. Early mornings are cool in the mountains.”

She stared after Blake as he strode from the kitchen, then sighed and carried their cups and saucers to the sink cupboard. Don’t flinch away if I should...touch you. Why would he say that? She’d never had men swarming about her the way Linda did, but it wasn’t as if she’d never had a beau. And he knew she’d been promised until John Barker decided Alicia Blackwell’s sudden inheritance was the wiser move for his future and broke off their betrothal to court the spinster. She frowned and dumped the rest of her coffee into the sink. It was only that this odd situation made her nervous. She wrested what comfort she could from that thought, then set herself to act the part of a new bride.

Chapter Three

“I’m ready.”

Blake pivoted toward the door to the storage room and was struck again by Audrey’s neat, trim appearance, and how well it matched her personality. Linda would be swathed in ruffles and lace that drew a man’s eye to her curves and—He jerked his mind from the conjured image of his beloved and stepped forward. Audrey moved slowly toward him, her gaze sweeping around the store before coming to rest on him.

“Your store is larger than it seemed las—in the dark.” She stopped by a display of Bull Durham tobacco sitting beside piled boxes of ceramic doorknobs on the counter and looked up at him. “There are so many choices. How do you decide what to stock?”

The question halted him. How like Audrey to try to distract him from their ridiculous circumstance. He’d forgotten how kind she was. Her intelligence demanded a well-considered answer. He gathered his thoughts. “I try to think of what will be required to build the town and then keep those items in stock for the men doing the work. Right now, that’s mostly foodstuffs, tools and hardware and other construction needs, along with tobacco products and a smattering of household items.”

“Oh, I see...”

Her gaze slid toward the back corner. A frown formed a small line between her delicately arched eyebrows. He glanced at the tables that sat there, a large one covered with piles of denim pants and cotton shirts, a smaller one covered with a few bolts of cloth and some small baskets of buttons and other notions. “Is there a problem with my dry goods section? I know it’s small. But until your...arrival, there were only two women in town—Mrs. Ferndale and Yan Cheng, the laundress.”

She looked up, met his gaze full on. “Do you want my honest opinion?”

Probably not enough ribbons and lace to suit her. Still, if she was nice enough to pretend interest in the store, he should humor her. “Yes, of course.”

“Very well.” She took a soft breath. “I understand your reasoning—and it makes perfect sense to cater to the majority of your customers. But, if you are hoping to sell to the women passengers on the trains passing through, then—in my opinion—you should bring your dry goods forward out of that dark corner.” She crossed to the table and touched the basket holding ribbons. “It is hard to see what you have displayed here. And the dim light afforded by the overhead lamps does not show the fabric or trimmings in a true light. It is most frustrating to buy a piece of fabric or trim and find when you get it home that it is not the right color at all.” She turned back to face him. “Also, women will not like walking through an entire store of men’s tools to find the few items of interest to them.”

He stared at her, taken aback by her sensible detailed answer. “I see.”

Pink spread across her cheekbones. “Forgive me, Blake. I got carried away—”

“Not at all. I appreciate you explaining a woman’s thoughts on such things to me.” He shifted his gaze away from her face. Linda had never blushed like that. It was surprisingly touching. “I will move the dry goods. Where would you suggest?”

“Me?”

He nodded at the gasped word. “You must have had a place in mind.” The shock on her face turned to dismay.

“No, I didn’t. Truly! I only noticed the darkness of the corner. I wasn’t trying to—”

“But you would place the dry goods at the front of the store?”

“Well...yes. But—”

“Where?”

She stared at him a moment, then walked to a tool-covered table situated at the left front corner of the room. “I would put them here—in the natural light from the window. And—” Her teeth caught at her lower lip. She glanced at him, then looked away and gave a small, dismissive wave of her hand.

“And what?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry, Blake. Please forgive me for being so bold as to offer you advice on your store. I have no experience as a shopkeeper.” She smoothed her skirt, looked toward the door. “Shall we go now?”

“Not yet. I’d like to hear what you were thinking.” The dismayed look returned to her face.

“It was nothing of importance. I only thought...” Her shoulders squared. She waved her hand toward the window. “If you feel you could spare the space, you might want to put a bolt of fabric and a basket of notions, ribbons and such in the window.” She glanced toward the shelves behind the long counter. “And perhaps one of those large ironstone pitchers... And a pewter candlestick... And perhaps a crock of that marmalade...” She met his gaze again. “My thought was—with only tools and hardware items in the window—how are the women passengers to know the store sells things they may want or need?”

“How indeed?” He pushed aside his shock at her astute suggestions, focused his attention on the window. “You make excellent sense, Audrey. A few household items in the display would draw a woman’s eye. I believe I will make those changes before I—we go to the depot to talk to Asa.” He strode to the back table, lifted the bolts of fabric and carried them to the counter. “Which would you suggest for the window?”

Her expression brightened. She hurried to his side, touched a rose silk, an apple-green organdy with a delicate white embroidered flower trim at the edge, then sighed and shifted her hand. “This blue taffeta. Most women are partial to blue.”

He stared down at the taffeta the color of Linda’s eyes, fought back memories of her gazing up at him through her long lashes and shook his head. “I’ll use the green.” The words came out more brusque than he’d intended.

Audrey withdrew her hand, stepped back. “Forgive me, Blake. I—I didn’t think about—”

“No reason why you should.” He cleared the gruffness from his throat, looked over at her and read the understanding in her eyes. “What happened, happened, Audrey. You had no part in it, and you’ve no reason to keep apologizing because of my...feelings. I’ll get over them.” He headed back to the dry goods table.

Will I? Will I ever forget the feel of Linda in my arms? Will the longing to hold her and kiss her, to have her for my own, ever go away? He stared down at the baskets and clenched his hands to keep from throwing them at the wall, busting the table in pieces and walking out the door to never return. It would cost him all he had to leave, but he could find employment, make his way somehow. At least he would be away from all these things that brought back the memory of his plans for a life with Linda. But he had Audrey to think of now. She had come all this way to save his store for him; he couldn’t walk out on the debt he owed her for that. He had to figure out a plan that would release them both from this sham of a marriage!

His temple throbbed. He unclenched his hands, piled the baskets one atop the other and carried them to the counter. Audrey had that stricken look in her eyes again. He groped for something to take her mind off Linda and their situation. “Show me where you would place the things in the window and I’ll clear the spot. If you’re of a mind to, you can put the things you suggested there while I finish switching the goods on the tables.”

She nodded, picked up the bolt of green organdy and followed him down the length of the counter toward the window. “I think it would be good to put them in the center front, where those saws are—if that’s all right?”

“Makes sense.” It was the best response he could manage. He lifted the saws out of the window and carried them to the storage room, fighting the swelling pain of betrayal.

* * *

“I’ll tell them if I ain’t too busy—or they ain’t.”

What an officious little man! Audrey held her smile and stared back at the stationmaster peering out at them, his balding gray head and slumped shoulders framed by the ticket window in the depot wall.

“But I can’t promise you. Things get busier than a hornet’s nest ’round here when a train stops. Them conductors only got but twenty minutes to get any messages from dispatch, see to their passengers and the loadin’ and unloadin’ of freight before they’re out of here. And we got to see to the consignments and waybills. And I got the telegraph and all.”

Blake nodded, let go of her arm and shoved his fingers through his hair. “I understand you have a job to do, Asa. And I know it’s against the Union Pacific rules for any signs to be placed on their stations. But I was wondering if a small one sitting here at the window would be acceptable? That would—”

“I’m afraid not. Rule says clear, no signs nowhere on the property. There’s the telegraph! Got to answer it.” The balding gray head dipped her direction. “Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Latherop.”

“And you, Mr. Marsh.” She was talking to air. The stationmaster had slipped off his stool and disappeared. Clicking sounds drifted out of the open ticket window.

“Well, that puts paid to that idea.” Blake frowned, grasped her elbow and turned toward the steps. “I’ll have to wait for the train passengers’ patronage until I get the store sign made. A large sign, big enough to be read from here. I’ll hang it on the board across the top of the porch.”

“And that will teach Mr. Marsh there is more than one way to skin a cat!”

Blake jerked to a stop. His eyebrows rose. “‘Skin a cat’? Why, Audrey Prescott...er Latherop. You’ve read Major Jack Downing’s adventures!”

She lifted her chin. “Hasn’t everyone?”

His smile turned into a grin—the crooked kind he used to wear when he teased her about something. “Men, yes. But I don’t know any other women who read Seba Smith. They read Godey’s Lady’s Book.” The grin faded with his words. He released her arm, looked off into the distance.

Godey’s Lady’s Book. Linda’s favorite—for fashion. Linda didn’t read the articles. She took a breath and prepared to throw herself on the sacrificial pyre of Blake’s teasing. Anything to draw his thoughts back away from her sister. “Father and I read Major Downing’s adventures together. We discussed them over his morning coffee.” Blake didn’t respond. She moved closer to the edge of the platform, looked down the dirt road to the beginning of the town and returned to their purpose in coming to the depot.

“A large sign will be easily read from here, Blake. And I’m certain one will draw the passengers to your store.” She glanced over her shoulder at him, then lifted her hems and walked down the steps. “Twenty minutes is a long time to simply stand around this station trying not to get in the way of the other passengers or the train crew. And the short walk will be inviting to those who have been sitting in a swaying passenger car for hours.”

“I’d forgotten how optimistic you are, Audrey.” Blake trotted down the steps and stood beside her. “You’re right about the sign. But it has to wait until the store is painted and the trim finished, so there’s the meantime—and it’s obvious Asa Marsh will be of little help. But it’s my own fault. I should have waited to open the store. I was too eager to—” He bit off the words, grasped her left hand and tucked it through the crook of his right arm. “In case anyone sees us walking while I show you around Whisper Creek.”

“Such as it is...” She took a skip to catch up with his long strides.

“Sorry.” His steps slowed, stopped. He stared down at her hand resting on his arm. “Where’s your ring?”

“The ring is safe in its box.” She lifted her chin, looked full into his eyes. “It’s too large and I don’t want to lose it—should anyone ask.” The muscle along his jaw twitched. He nodded and moved forward. She cast about for something to distract him from his tormenting thoughts. “The hotel looks finished outside, except for needing paint and trim like your store. But, I can hear them working inside. When does Mr. Stevenson expect to open for business?”

“Mr. Stevenson?” Blake stopped walking, gave her a puzzled look.

Featherbrain! You distracted him all right. How would you know the hotel owner’s name? She widened her eyes in a look of confusion. “Am I wrong? These things were only mentioned in passing.” Oh, wonderful! That will keep him from thinking of Linda. She pressed her lips together and slid her gaze back to the large raw building before more of her knowledge of Whisper Creek and its residents slipped out. Blake was too much of a gentleman to question her explanation, but she could almost hear him wondering how much of his letters Linda had shared with her. Blessed Lord, please don’t let him guess that it was the other way around. That I—

“The name is correct. Your memory serves you well.” His arm relaxed beneath her hand. She held back a sigh when they started walking again. “To answer your question—Garret Stevenson hopes to open by the end of September on a limited basis. It will be winter before all of the rooms are finished. And then, of course, they will have to be painted and furnished before they can be occupied.”

“And he will buy the paint and the furnishings from you? That’s wonderful, Blake!” She smiled up at him. His strained look brought her back to reality. “I mean—if you still have the store then.”

“Which I will—if I can’t come up with a plan.” Bitterness laced his voice. “I’ve tried, but I’ve thought of nothing that will work. If it weren’t for that contract I signed...”

Her heart ached for him. “It’s not even been a full day, Blake. And this is an...unusual circumstance. You will think of something.”

“More optimism?”

His teasing tone fell flat. “No, not optimism. I have faith in your abilities.” She waved her hand forward. “What is the building on the other side of your store going to be?”

“An apothecary. The owner is not in town yet.” His gaze shifted to their right. “I assume he and his wife will come when the store and their house are finished.”

She looked away from the twitching muscle along his jaw and followed the direction of his gaze. A narrow path to the side of the stores led into the tall grasses. She lifted her gaze into the distance and gasped at the sight of a large white house with a porch and a round turret situated by the creek that flowed down the long valley. “What a beautiful house. It could sit on the finest street in New York.”

“It belongs to Mr. Ferndale, the town founder. The smaller, octagon-shaped house under construction is the apothecary’s.”

“Octagon-shaped? I’ve never seen such a house!” Framework for the eight-sided structure sat beside the creek a fair distance beyond the Ferndale home. Movement caught her eye and she shaded her face with her hand, made out the figures of two men crawling along the roof. The muted sound of hammering floated off down the broad valley. She looked into the distance beyond the homes until her gaze collided with the encompassing snowcapped mountains. “I thought the West was full of cows and cowboys and such.” She drew her gaze back to look up at him. “Where are the ranches?”

“There aren’t many in Wyoming, though ranchers are beginning to move in because of the land opening up and the railroad coming through. I’ve heard some cowboys bought the land in the adjoining valley and are building a cabin and pens and such. Rumor is, they plan to go back to Texas and bring a herd of cattle up next spring. But it’s only rumor. What I know for certain is that there will be no ranches in this valley. Mr. Ferndale owns all of the land and he refuses to have Whisper Creek turn into what he calls a ‘rowdy cow town’ with drinking and gambling and other...disreputable pursuits. He envisions Whisper Creek as a town modeled after his home village back East. That’s why he advertised for—why he won’t allow bachelor businessmen to invest in the town. He wants men who will build stores and homes and raise families here.” He turned his back, cleared his throat.

She stared at his rigid shoulders, snagged her lip with her teeth and clenched her hands. Linda Marie Prescott—or whatever your name is now—it’s fortunate for you you’re not here, because I could cheerfully shake you until your teeth rattled! She looked around for a safe subject, found it in the water gushing and splashing down the mountain behind his store. “Is it possible to get closer to the waterfall, Blake? I’ve never seen one.”

“Yes, of course.” He turned and offered her his arm. “It’s a bit of a walk—if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. It’s a lovely day.”

“All right then. We’ll go around the hotel to reach the path. I’m afraid it is not a good one, merely beaten-down grasses.”

He led her between a small copse of pines and the side of the hotel, then turned right and walked along a rutted dirt path that ran behind the buildings. She glanced up to get her bearings, stopped and stared at a wide, odd-looking wood barrow sitting beneath the floor of a deep, roofed porch. “What is that?”

“My cart. It’s how I get my supplies from the depot to the store. That’s my loading dock.”

She lifted her gaze. “Is that another porch above it?”

“Yes.”

“And that building that adjoins the porch?”

“My stable.”

Her pulse jumped. She’d always wanted to ride a horse. Perhaps—“You ride?”

“No. I need a horse to pull the cart. Mitchel Todd—he runs the logging operation here in Whisper Creek—has been allowing me the use of one of his horses until I can buy one.” He released her arm. “The path is this way. Take care where you step—the grasses are treacherous and the ground is rough where we buried the pipe for the water supply. The trail is too narrow to walk together. I’ll go first in case—”

The blast of a train whistle drowned out his words. His head turned toward the tracks.

The look in his eyes pricked her heart. He’s hoping Linda is on that train. He wants her to come back to him. Her hope for a pleasant, distracting walk to the waterfall died. She lifted her skirt hems and started up the few steps to the loading dock.

He pivoted toward her. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve changed my mind. I think it would be best if we stayed here.”

“But the waterfall...”

She shook her head and continued up the steps. “You can show me the waterfall another time. I forgot that Mr. Marsh might tell the porter about your store. You need to be here if any passengers come to make a purchase.” She hurried across the deep porch, wrenched open the door and rushed through the storage room and up the stairs, aware of him following behind her. She reached the top, swung around the newel post into the short hall on the right and peered over the railing. Blake paused at the bottom of the stairs, then walked on. Tears stung her eyes at the anguish in his unguarded expression. She listened to his footsteps fade away as he entered the store.

Every part of her being longed to help him, to right the wrong done him, but it was impossible. She knew from experience that only God could heal his wounded heart. She shoved away from the railing, grasped hold of her skirts and walked into the bedroom she was using—their bedroom. Everything here was either built or purchased with her sister in mind. There was no place in the living quarters she could go that did not remind her of Linda. And if it was that way for her, how much worse it was for Blake. What had ever made her think coming here to save Blake’s store would ease his agony over Linda’s betrayal? How could he forget what had happened when everything around him was a constant reminder of his lost love? Including her. She never should have come.

Her back stiffened. It was another mistake she would have to live with. She was here now. And she would make the best of it for Blake and herself until he came up with a different plan to save his inheritance. There was no doubt that he would—or that his plan would be much more sensible than hers. Meantime, she would stop trying to ease his pain over Linda’s desertion and concentrate on making his life, and hers, as comfortable and pleasant as possible under the circumstances—starting with this room.

She marched to the bed, stripped off and folded the beautiful blue-and-white coverlet, then opened the blanket chest at the foot of the bed. She snatched out a wool blanket the mustard color of an autumn leaf and put the coverlet inside. The silver ring box gleamed at her. She spread the blanket on the bed, snatched up the ring box and shoved it out of sight at the bottom of the chest. The throw on the back of the rocker worked nicely to hide the ornate dressing table. She arranged her grooming items on top of the woven wool, straightened and looked around. Much better. At least she would be able to sleep in this room now.

Now, for Blake’s room. She set herself, walked the U-shaped hallway around the stairwell, grasped the knob on his bedroom door and froze, unable to open it. It was too...intimate. She whirled about and started back down the hallway.

The room is empty but for a cot.

She stopped, turned and stared at the door once more. A deep breath steadied her. She squared her shoulders, marched back and opened the door. A cot stood in the middle of the room, a sheet, blanket and pillow tangled together on top of it—mute testimony of a sleepless night. She blinked away a rush of tears and opened the doors of a sizable wardrobe on the inside wall. There was a canvas bag on the floor with a rumpled white shirt sticking out of it. She closed the doors and hurried back to her bedroom to get clean linens.

* * *

It was a challenge. Audrey eyed the cot she’d moved so it sat between the two shuttered windows in the side wall and nibbled at her lower lip. How could she make the bed linens stay in place? There was nowhere to tuck them, unless—She smiled, snapped the sheet through the air, let the excess fall to the floor and then tucked the corners beneath the feet of the crisscrossed legs. That should work. Blake’s weight would hold the corners of the sheet firmly in place. She added a top sheet and then the blanket, tucking only the bottom corners under the legs at the foot of the cot, then shoved the pillow into a clean pillow slip, fluffed it and laid it on top. There!

She gathered up the dirty linens, shoved them in the bag in the wardrobe, then stepped back and eyed her handiwork. At least the cot looked more like a bed now. And, if her idea worked as she hoped, Blake would be able to sleep without the linens strangling him in a tangled mess. But he needed a bedside table, and an oil lamp—the days were getting shorter. There had to be one she could use somewhere.

She rushed out into the hallway, glanced toward the door to Blake’s office on her left, then walked ahead to the sitting room. She did not want to overstep her wifely role in this strange marriage. She wouldn’t enter his office unless he gave her permission to clean it. She swept her gaze around the sitting room and spotted a lamp table in the far corner. Would Blake be upset if she took it for his use? Perhaps not, once the deed was done. She carried the table and oil lamp back to Blake’s bedroom and placed them beneath the shuttered window on the right side of his cot. Perfect!

Now, for his clothes. They would be in a dresser in her room—the bedroom he’d planned to share with Linda. Guilt tightened her chest. She pushed it aside and concentrated on the task she’d set herself. She had to bring Blake’s clothes in here where they would be handy for his use. If he didn’t have to constantly enter that bedroom it would be one less reminder of Linda’s betrayal.

She returned to her room and opened one of the large bottom drawers of the highboy. Shirts. She’d guessed right—it was Blake’s dresser. Propriety blended with modesty and brought warmth crawling into her cheeks. She closed the drawer and stared at the dresser. This was too intimate. How could she possibly move his clothes?

Pillow slips.

The idea brought a smile to her lips. She ran to the blanket chest and pulled out a pillow slip, returned to the highboy, covered Blake’s shirts and pulled the drawer free. The bulky weight plopped her to the floor on her backside. “Oh!” She shoved the drawer off her legs, scrambled to her feet, lifted it tight against her stomach and headed for the door. It was a close fit. She turned sideways and edged out into the hallway.

“Audrey, I heard a scraping sound. What are you doing?”

Blake! She whipped around toward the stairs, caught her toe in the hem of her skirt, stumbled and pitched forward, still clutching the drawer that rammed straight into Blake’s abdomen.

“Oof!”

His warm breath gusted by her cheek, his hands clamped onto her shoulders, held her steady. She came to a heart-pounding halt bent forward over the drawer with the top of her head pressing against his chest.

“Are you all right, Audrey?”

The question was a little breathless. Small wonder with the drawer jammed into his stomach. She was breathless, too. “Yes.” The word was smothered by the cloth pushing against her face. She tried to straighten and failed. He tightened his grip on her shoulders, gently pushed her back until she was upright.

“Why don’t I take this?” His hands brushed against hers as he grasped hold of the drawer. “Just out of curiosity... What are you doing with my shirts?”

The shirts and pillowcase were all askew. So was her hair. She could feel the curls tumbling every which way onto her forehead and temples. Wonderful! They would match the red of her burning cheeks. She tugged her bodice back into place, shook her skirt hems straight and looked up. “I thought it would be...handier for you if your clothes were in...your bedroom.” His gaze lifted over her head toward the open door behind her. She snagged her lower lip with her teeth, wishing she could say one thing that did not bring that strained look to his face. “I was taking them there—one drawer at a time so I could manage them.”

He nodded and cleared his throat, lowered his gaze back to meet hers. “And how were you going to move the dresser?”

An excellent question. She shoved her hair comb back into place and lifted her chin. “I hadn’t thought that out as yet.”

“I see.” He frowned and blew out a breath. “I appreciate your...concern, Audrey. But I don’t need to be protected. Nothing can change what has happened. Linda chose another. And while that knowledge is raw and painful, I will come to grips with it given time. Now, come and show me what you intend to do in...my bedroom. And the next time you get an idea like this, call me. I don’t want you hurting yourself.” He stepped aside.

She swallowed back a protest that she was not protecting him, only making things more convenient, and walked ahead of him to his bedroom. She glanced up at his face when he entered. He looked in the direction of the cot and the table, stopped and stared.

“What’s all this?” He put the drawer down on the floor, bent down and looked at the corners of the blanket and sheets trapped beneath the legs of the cot. He shook his head, straightened and scrubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “That’s clever, Audrey. I wish I had thought of it. My feet would have been a lot warmer these past couple of months.” A smile touched his lips, then faded.

She released her breath, thankful he wasn’t angry with her presumption in making over his room—or was pretending not to be. “I hope it works.”

“It looks as if it will.” He headed back for the door. “I’ll get the rest of the drawers, then bring the dresser.”

She looked at his set face and stepped into his path. She’d meant to spare him pain, not cause it. “There’s no need for you to interrupt your work in the store, Blake. I can manage—”

“No. I’ll do this.”

Her stomach sank. Did he think she was overreaching her position in their arrangement? “But the store...”

“I have no customers demanding my time. Won’t have, until I’m able to put up that sign.” He glanced around the room. “Where do you want me to put the dresser once I get it in here?”

“I thought on the back wall next to that door, but you—”

“That’s as good a place as any. I’ll be back.”

And she’d be gone! She wasn’t going to stand here and watch him do the work she’d started. “Before you go...”

“Yes?”

“I was wondering about dinner.” Would he eat anything, or was this another mistake? She squared her shoulders and pressed on. How could things get worse? “I saw packages of meat in the refrigerator. Would roasted beef suit?”

He nodded and looked away. “Roasted beef is fine.”

His taut features said he was only being polite. Probably he had as little appetite as she. Still, they had to eat—and she needed something to do. “Then, I’ll go start dinner.” At least she wouldn’t make any mistakes while—

“Can you manage the fire?”

The question rasped along her already frayed nerves. She jerked to a stop and spun about to face him. “I have been doing the cooking, tending the house and caring for my family ever since my mother died four years ago, when I was sixteen. Of course I can manage a fire. And I can do anything else I set my mind to as well—including moving that dresser!”

She snatched at a strand of hair tickling her neck, jammed it back into the loosened figure eight twist at her nape and jutted her chin into the air. “I may have stumbled with that drawer, Blake Latherop, but that’s because you startled me! I am not incompetent. Or clumsy!” Tears stung her eyes. She whirled and headed for the hallway, her skirts swishing.

“Whoa, wait a minute!” Blake’s hand clasped onto her wrist, drawing her to a halt.

She stiffened and blinked to clear her vision, swallowed hard when he grasped her shoulders and turned her around to face him.

“I meant nothing disparaging by my question, Audrey. It was not a comment on your capabilities, only a statement of my ignorance of them. I can’t know if you can manage a fire, any more than you can know if I like roasted beef. We have a lot to learn about each other.”

She drew a breath and nodded, shamed by her outburst. “You’re right, of course.” She pulled her lips into a rueful smile. “I guess you’ve just learned that I can be a little...overly sensitive at times. Though I try not to be.” His lips twitched, slanting into that grin he used to give her when they were friends. Her stomach fluttered. She lowered her gaze from his face, sought for something to say to dispel the odd feeling. “Father said it comes from my having red hair.”

He let go of her shoulders and peered down at her. “I thought it was red hair and a temper that went hand in hand.”

She crinkled her nose and headed for the kitchen, her shoulders warm from his hands. “I’m afraid I also have one of those—on occasion.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” His teasing tone took any possible insult from the words. He walked with her as far as the door, paused there with his hand braced on the jamb. “If there is anything you need and can’t find, come and tell me. I’ll get it from the store.”

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