A Matter of Marriage (3 page)

“Theo
is a wise man, Mr. MacLean. He knows I won’t be able to rest until I’m sure you
have not been seriously injured. The Hotel Grand Victoria has a resident
physician and is well-known for the service it offers to its guests.”

He
knew all about the solicitous courtesies of a first-class hotel, but that had
been another life. “I am not a guest,” he said as the bellboy disappeared
inside with his bag.

“You’re
quibbling, Mr. MacLean. Once you’ve registered, you will be. Now, please, come
with me.”

Alex
gave in. Irritating his future employer would be foolish. And Miss Fairbanks
would find out soon enough why he was here. Once they were inside, he would
splinter the illusion she held of being safe on the grounds of her hotel. “You’re
the boss. Which way?”

“Follow
me.” She started toward a pathway along the exterior of a huge round room lined
with tall, double-hung windows. “The doctor’s home and office are in a cottage
on the other side of the Grand Ballroom.”

Alex
tried to keep an eye out for another assault. However, his attention kept
veering to Miss Fairbanks and the innate elegance of her body’s movements. He
admired the bold purpose in her walk. She belonged here and she knew it. He
envied her that. He belonged nowhere, and his life had no purpose. Surviving
day-to-day wasn’t nearly enough for him, and it hadn’t been for a good while
now.

Four
months ago in Oregon, he thought he’d found his sense of purpose again. Emma
Turner had treated him like a man instead of a monster. She hadn’t stirred him
the way Miss Fairbanks was doing, but Emma had eased his loneliness with
conversation and shared with him her dream of having a family. Alex had
realized then that, without family, without a wife and children to love and
provide for, he was nothing but a piece of flotsam drifting aimlessly on the
current. Wanting to remarry and settle down again, he had asked Emma to be his
wife.

Horrified
by his proposal, she had unloaded her true feelings for him. What did she want
with a poor, appallingly scarred carpenter who kept his past to himself? She’d
only engaged him in conversation out of pity, and in hopes of attracting the
new preacher’s interest.

Alex
had immediately taken to the road again, continuing his empty existence until
today, when a woman unlike any other needed his protection. Needed him. For a
moment, his life had purpose again, and it felt good.

If
only that feeling could last.

*   *   *

Julia
stifled a residual shiver from her narrow escape and glanced back at the tall,
broad-shouldered man who had risked his own safety for hers. If Alex MacLean
hadn’t thrown himself at her, conveying her away from that flowerpot … well,
she would no longer have to worry about the looming deadline her father had set
for her.

Finding
the right man had taken some doing and three false starts that wasted four of
the precious six months specified in her father’s will. Those men had seemed
like good prospects, but once each of them set eyes on her and found out who
she was, they became like salivating dogs. They had wanted more than she was
willing to offer, much more. She had settled on her fourth choice, Phillip
Williamson, an old friend who would not take advantage of her. He was due to
arrive today after a long journey from Pennsylvania. She expected him at any
moment, had been waiting for him on the veranda when Mr. MacLean arrived.

Tomorrow,
she and Phillip would speak their vows, meeting the deadline with one day to
spare. She prayed nothing would go wrong. For the last few weeks, every time
she crossed another day off her calendar, Julia wished she had traveled to Phillip,
but she hadn’t wanted to leave the hotel in someone else’s hands. Ignoring her
roiling stomach, she told herself Phillip would be here as planned, then leave,
also as planned. Her life would be just as she wanted it, except that she would
never again feel what she had felt a few minutes ago in Alex MacLean’s powerful
embrace.

Initially,
when Mr. MacLean had grabbed her, crushing her to him, she had been overcome by
her shock at his conduct. Now that she’d had time to think about his actions,
though, Julia realized she had felt a gentleness in the way he held her. He had
not hurt her, nor let her be hurt. Mr. MacLean had taken the brunt of their
fall, carrying her weight as if it were nothing.

She
marveled at his strength, agility, and reflexes. He had selflessly protected
her, leaving her with a lasting warmth that was unfamiliar and all too
enticing. She felt it still as she remembered him pressing her face to his soft
shirt and hard chest. The scent of wood shavings and fresh-cut lumber had
filled her senses, taking her back to the hotel’s creation and construction,
momentarily soothing her.

She
aimed another look at him, wondering about him and where he was from.

He
gave his shirt a shake and brushed at the carriage-drive dust on each sleeve. “Is
there something wrong with what I’m wearing, Miss Fairbanks?”

“No!”
She abruptly faced front, her cheeks heating. “Of course not. I’m sorry. I
didn’t mean to stare.”

“Everyone
stares,” he said, his voice deepening with what sounded like despair and
resignation. “It’s human nature.”

Julia
wanted to disappear into the shrubs bordering the path. She had spoken without
thinking and put a foot in it. Of course he would think of his scar. No wonder
he had wanted to go inside when he saw the guests watching them from the
veranda. The poor man. His poor face.

Seeing
his scar had taken her by surprise, but she had controlled her reaction, as
well as her sympathy for him. He did not strike her as a man who wanted
anyone’s pity. But now he had been physically hurt on her account.

He
deserved better from her.

She
slowed her steps, letting Mr. MacLean come up beside her. “Is your back paining
you?”

“I’ll
live.”

“I’m
glad.” She slanted a look at the handsome side of his face. He did not meet her
gaze. A days’ growth of beard darkened an appealingly strong jaw framed by
sun-lightened brown hair. Longer than customary, his hair fell across a high
forehead, which she had always believed marked a man of character. His eyes
were a rich brown with golden flecks.

Having
spent her life in two hotels, she had seen many good-looking men, but this man
was different. To her, what set Mr. MacLean apart was the way he had been
admiring her hotel when she first noticed him from the veranda, as if the Hotel
Grand Victoria were more than just a building to sleep in and eat in. His
appreciation had made her smile, but then his demeanor had changed. He had stared
up at the building for so long she’d grown worried. Now, Julia could not forget
how alone he had appeared. On reflection, he had seemed almost devastated by
something only he was seeing.

“A
penny for your thoughts,” Mr. MacLean said, his eyes very much on her.

Caught
looking at him and thinking about him again, Julia felt her face heat for the
second time in a matter of moments. “I … was just thinking about your arrival,”
she said, wanting to be truthful without giving away all of her thoughts. “You
seemed to like the look of the Hotel Grand Victoria.”

“I
do like it.” He continued watching her, as if he were speaking about more than
the hotel.

She
felt impossibly warmer and suppressed an urge to fan her cheeks. Memories of
his arms wrapped tightly around her, and her face pressed to his chest, filled
her mind and made her long for what she would never have—a marriage based on
mutual attraction and love.

Julia
gave her head a shake. This had to stop. In less than twenty-four hours, she
would be a married woman who needed to uphold her spotless reputation. With a
ring on her finger, she would become the legal owner and caretaker of the Hotel
Grand Victoria. That was what she wanted, and she mustn’t let anything—or
anyone—distract her from the course she had set.

As
they approached the two-story, beachside cottage, Julia wracked her brain for
something to fill the potent silence. “Dr. Dolan has lived here with his wife
and daughter for five years. Having a physician on the premises is a great
comfort to the hotel’s guests, many of whom come to Coronado for their health.
The ocean air is very beneficial.”

“I
can imagine.” Though he didn’t smile, his eyes seemed to shine with what she
suspected was amusement at her expense, as if he knew how he was affecting her.

Julia
ground her teeth. Her reaction to him was really beginning to annoy her. She
considered leaving Mr. MacLean on the doctor’s doorstep and returning to her
duties. But how could she? He had likely saved her life. In addition, he was a
guest, and she always treated her guests with the utmost respect and
hospitality. Besides, if she didn’t take him to the doctor herself, he might
not go at all, and she could not bear it if he neglected an injury incurred on
her behalf.

Stepping
up to the door, she knocked harder and louder than necessary.

Mary
Dolan opened the door. “Julia!” The older woman smiled. Dabs of flour speckled her
round face and red apron. She smelled of cinnamon and nutmeg. When she looked
at Alex, her smile faltered at the sight of his scar, but then her smile
widened into one of delight and welcome. She grasped his hand and pumped it
vigorously, oblivious to the pain thinning his lips. “Mr. Williamson, it’s
wonderful to finally meet you. We’ve been so looking forward to meeting Julia’s
young man.”

His
eyebrows rose, and he glanced over at her.

Julia
cringed. She opened her mouth to correct Mary’s mistaken notion, but her friend
barely paused for breath as she released Mr. MacLean.

“My
dear girl, you have chosen yourself a … a strapping fellow. A little dusty
around the edges, perhaps”—her gaze avoided his face and traveled over the dirt
and bits of shell that still clung to his clothing—“but very strapping. Kate
will be jealous. Just this morning she was asking after you. We both want to
know every last detail about your wedding arrangements.”

She
winced at her friend’s eagerness to be involved in a wedding that was nothing
more than a business arrangement—not that the Dolans were aware of that fact.
Ashamed of what her father’s will was forcing her to do, and half afraid the
Dolans would try to talk her out of her plan, she had not confided the truth to
them. They knew nothing about the rapidly approaching deadline imposed on her,
only that she was marrying a man she had known as a girl back in Philadelphia and that his business affairs there precluded his arriving any earlier.
Keeping her secret from the Dolans had placed a heavy weight on her heart, but it
couldn’t be helped, not if she wanted to secure the hotel’s future.

“Mrs.
Dolan,” Alex said, rubbing his now-floured hands on his pants, “as much as I
enjoy receiving compliments from attractive women such as yourself, you have me
confused with someone else. My name isn’t Williamson. It’s MacLean, and I’ve
only just met Miss Fairbanks.”

Mary
blushed as colorfully as her apron. “Oh, dear me. I just assumed. You see—”

“Mary,”
she broke in, “Mr. MacLean is a guest. Phillip has not arrived yet, though I
expect him very soon. I brought Mr. MacLean here because he is in need of the
doctor’s services.”

“Oh,
my goodness. Please come in. I do go on sometimes.” She rubbed her hands
self-consciously on her apron and stepped back. “I hope it’s nothing serious.”

“Only
a few bruises,” he said, motioning Julia to precede him into the cottage. “They’ll
keep.” As Mary closed the door, he added, “Miss Fairbanks, my congratulations
on your upcoming nuptials. When is the happy event to take place?”

Happy
event? Ha!

“Tomorrow
evening,” Mary answered for her, eyes sparkling. “A privileged few of the hotel
staff have been taken into Julia’s confidence, and they are as eager as I to
set eyes on her beau. If I had my way, she would invite everyone to the
ceremony and arrange a huge reception in the Grand Ballroom, but she insists on
a small and quiet affair.”

“Mary,
Phillip and I agreed to keep the occasion private.” For more reasons than Mary
Dolan could ever guess.

Mary
pushed out her bottom lip. “But it just doesn’t seem right. You’re the owner of
the Hotel Grand Victoria now. When your father married your stepmother—God rest
her soul—he put on the biggest party Coronado had ever seen.”

“Yes,
he did.” Julia wished she could forget. Just thinking about it made her blood
boil. He had married less than a year after her mother’s death. The party cost
a small fortune and celebrated nothing but his latest attempt to father a son—his
latest failed attempt. Harriet Lincoln Fairbanks had tried her best, but she
conceived only once and miscarried halfway through her pregnancy. Her
devastation had brought back Julia’s memories of her mother pining for the
babies she lost, as well as Julia’s own devastation when she found her
two-month-old sister cold and lifeless in her cradle.

“Mary,”
she said, slamming the door on her painful memories, “as you well know, I am
nothing like my father. I do not wish to marry with any fanfare.” A civil
ceremony in San Diego would have suited her and this sham of a marriage, but
she had to make some concessions to her position.