Shot Gun Grooms: Lucas's Convenient Bride / Jackson's Mail Order Bride

Emily ducked her head. “Yes, of course. I didn’t know her name, but I knew…” She cleared her throat. “At first I thought she wanted a room for her, um—”

“Activities,” he offered helpfully.

She ignored that. “However she explained she wanted peace and privacy, both of which I can offer.”

“Dixie’s not so bad. I don’t guess you two can be friends, but she’s not an evil person.”

Emily thought about her impression of the beautiful woman. “How long has she been in Defiance? With her voice and her manners, I thought she might be from somewhere back East.”

“She arrived about five years ago.” Lucas hesitated. “As for her past, you’ll have to ask her.”

Emily wondered if he didn’t know about Dixie or if he was respecting a confidence. She looked at the man sitting across from her. Even seated, he was tall. His white shirt emphasized the breadth of his shoulders. She found her attention lingering on his silky mustache and remembered the feel of it yesterday when he’d kissed her.

Had she thought about being kissed by a man with a mustache, she would have assumed the experience would be unpleasant, but it hadn’t been at all. She’d liked the way the surprisingly soft hairs had tickled her skin. For one frightening moment, she imagined him kissing other parts of her, such as her neck, and shivered at the thought of the teasing caress.

Emily stiffened. She would not allow herself to continue to think of the incident, nor would she imagine other familiarities. What was wrong with her? She was not the kind of woman who wasted her time daydreaming about a man.

She drew her attention back to the dinner and tried to remember what they’d been talking about. Ah, yes. Dixie and how long she’d lived in Defiance. Not a subject for polite conversation.

“Before, you had mentioned you’ve lived here nearly all your life,” she said.

He nodded. “Yeah. I guess I was about five when Uncle Simon brought us here. Back then there wasn’t a town, just a couple of miner’s shacks and a big tent where an old man sold supplies.”

“Your brother lives outside of town, doesn’t he? I don’t recall seeing him more than once or twice.”

“He keeps to himself. He’s got a house up by the mine.”

“That’s right. I remember you telling me about the mine when you explained your current predicament.”

He grinned at her. “Why use a two-bit word when a dollar one works as well, right, Emily?”

She sipped her cider. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t have a ‘predicament,’ I have a problem. Or a barrel full of trouble.”

She felt awkward and foolish. “I’m sorry if my vocabulary discomforts you.”

“It doesn’t, but I think you should start loosening up. This isn’t the schoolroom and you’re not my teacher. Although if you wanted to tell me I was bad and give me a good paddling, I might be interested.”

She had no idea what he was talking about and a complete certainty that he was teasing her, but she was too embarrassed to speak. Paddle Lucas? Why would he suggest such a thing? And why did the idea of even getting close to touching that part of him make her feel strange inside?

“We were discussing your brother,” she said coolly, and hoped he wouldn’t notice how difficult it was for her to speak normally when all she wanted to do was cover her face and run from the room. “You mentioned you’d sent for a mail-order bride for him.”

“That’s right.” Lucas smiled at her in such a way that she knew he was letting her off easy.

“I never had a brother. It must be very pleasant to have that sort of familial relationship.”

Lucas looked as if he was going to tease her about her word choices again, but he didn’t. Instead he said, “It was. We got into trouble all the time while we were growing up.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“It was.”

When he didn’t volunteer any more information, they ate in silence.

Lucas finished the last of his meal, then wiped his hands on his napkin.

“How interested are you in helping downtrodden women?” he asked.

“I’m not sure what you’re asking.”

“You’re going to need help around this place, with the cleaning, running errands and the like. I know a couple of young women looking for a job.”

“What young women?”

His dark eyes turned angry. “Alice and Mary. I don’t know how old they are. Alice might be fifteen and her sister is a couple of years younger. They don’t have any family and they need jobs.”

Emily wanted to protest that they were children—far too young to be working for a living. But then she remembered that some children were forced into the world by circumstances. If they had no one to support them, they would soon starve. At least by working for her, the girls would be safe. Their duties around the hotel wouldn’t tax them overly much and she could teach them if they hadn’t had much education.

“I’d like to meet them,” she told Lucas.

“I’ll bring them by later.” He rose. “Thank you for supper.”

“Don’t thank me. You’re the one who brought the food.”

“Yes, but you provided the company.”

With that he was gone and Emily was left to stare after him. She didn’t begin to understand her handsome husband. Not his words, his actions or how he made her feel just by being in the same room. But she liked him. He made her laugh. He seemed to enjoy teasing her and she enjoyed his attentions.

She thought about the “incident” and wondered if it was on his mind as well. As he’d been leaving, she’d half hoped he would do that again. He hadn’t. Just as well, she told herself. She was not the kind of woman to dally with a man…although if she found herself in need of a dalliance, Lucas MacIntyre would be the man she chose.

* * *

Lucas returned shortly after nine. Trailing behind him were two overly slender girls in worn cloaks. Their eyes were large, their skin pale and Emily read the fear in their expressions.

“Alice and Mary, meet Emily MacIntyre.”

The older of the two tried to smile. “Ma’am.”

Like her younger sister, Alice had bright red hair and green eyes. The two girls held hands, clinging to each other as if they had no one else in the world.

Emily moved around the desk and approached the girls. “How old are you?” she asked.

Alice spoke for them both. “I’m fifteen. Mary is thirteen. We’re hard workers, ma’am,” she added. “We’re both stronger than we look. I can scrub and clean. Mary’s real patient when it comes to ironing and she knows some cooking.”

“Good.” Emily glanced at her husband. “Have they eaten recently?”

“About an hour ago.”