Nathan’s Montana Bride (Sweet Historical Mail Order Bride Romance) (Montana Ranchers Brides series) (2 page)

Nathan frowned. He leaned forward and spoke quietly. "I didn't just come here for an answer or an explanation Abby."

She looked at him. There was a determined expression on his face. His blue eyes seemed to shine as they looked at Abby. When he spoke his voice was quiet and filled with a hard determination.

He paused, looked around for a moment and the spoke quietly.

"I came here to take you back to Montana with me."

CHAPTER TWO

"What do you mean? Take me to Montana with you?" Abby demanded. She realised her voice was louder than she would have liked, given the circumstances and subject of her conversation with Nathan Grantly.

Nathan shot a glance at some of the hotel guests seated nearby. Newspapers had been rustled and eyes were peering over the tops of them.

Abby lowered her voice to a whisper. "Are you mad Mr. Grantly?"

The corner of Nathan's mouth creased into the barest of smiles. He shook his head. "I haven't lost my senses. I didn't come all the way out here just to give the impression that I am some crazy rancher. I am perfectly serious Abby. I aim to make you my bride."

Abby felt a wave of panic rise in her. Surely he couldn't be serious. She suddenly had a sense that this man was dangerous. Perhaps he would abduct her and drag her to the nearest train and force her to go West with him. She glanced around. How could this be happening in the middle of Boston?

"But I have already told you that I cannot be your bride. I...cannot provide you with what you want in a wife."

Nathan's eyes seemed to wander slowly around Abby's features, down her shoulders and, briefly down the rest of her elegantly attired figure. Abby thought there was an obvious approval on his face. He liked what he saw. But was it merely physical attraction? If so, that was even less appealing to Abby.

Nathan took a deep breath and his shoulders seemed to broaden. The labor of outdoor life had shaped this man's body. "What I want in a wife is neither here nor there. What I need is someone who can be a mother to my daughter," he said slowly.

Abby stiffened. "I cannot be a mother to your daughter. That is simply not possible."

"Why not? You are strong, fit and young. You will be well provided for in Montana. I can make sure your life there will be a good one," Nathan said. "In return all I ask is that you make my little girl happy and bring her up to be as fine a lady as her mother was," he concluded, his voice drifting off at the mention of his wife.

Abby felt her her heart sink at the mention of Nathan's deceased wife. She could only imagine how hard it must have been for him, how difficult life must have been for poor little Emma. But that was none of her concern. She had to be absolutely adamant about that. To even consider becoming Nathan Grantly's wife under these circumstances was unthinkable, no matter how much sympathy she felt for Emma.

"I am truly sorry for your loss. And I'm sure life has been very hard for you both."

Nathan's eyes softened. "Indeed it has. It has taken all my strength to protect Emma from the pain of her mother's loss. But she's a strong little girl."

"I think you have done a wonderful job. You have my deepest respect."

Nathan's eyes lit up. "Only your respect?"

Abby turned away. "That is all I can offer Nathan. Nothing more."

"I was under the impression you were a woman of your word, Abby" he said.

Abby raised herself upright. "I am, Nathan."

"Then become my wife," he stated bluntly.

Abby almost flinched at the sound of the words. They sounded so direct, almost vulgar.
 

"I would prefer you don't speak like that. Especially here," she said leaning in closer to him.

"I have come a very long way to ask you to keep your promise, Abby."

She realised with surprise that he seemed entirely comfortable using her name. It sounded unusual and somewhat engaging as he said it each time in his deep, resonant voice.
 

"My name is Abigail Long. And you do not know me, sir" she said trying to contain her emotion.

Nathan's eyes fixed on her. "You are the woman who agreed to become my mail order bride. You answered my announcement, we corresponded, you were enthusiastic about possible matrimony and then you confirmed that you would be my wife. I was very happy Abigail," he said, using her full name once again.

Abby's lips tightened and she stared at Nathan. She didn't know what to say. His account of things was entirely accurate, save for the last part, when she had ceased their correspondence, something she had done for good reasons, none of which she was inclined to share with him now or ever.

"And then there was silence," he said. "You stopped writing to me. Why?"

Abby remained tight lipped.

"Why would you do such a thing. Isn't your word worth anything?" he asked.

"Of course it is," she blurted out, outrage rising inside. She lowered her head and stared at her gloved hands resting on her lap. Her fingers were clutched in a tight ball.

There was a long silence and then Nathan reached over and briefly touched her hand. His touch sent a shock through her, prompting Abby to raise her head quickly, her eyes widening.

"Please do not touch me. It is not seemly," she stated firmly.

Nathan withdrew his hand. "I apologize if I offended you," he said softly.

Abby searched the room for any sign
 
that Florence and Emma might be returning. She wanted this conversation, this entire meeting to finish as soon as possible.

"Mr. Grantly. You must appreciate the difficulty you have placed me in. I receive a card from you informing me that you have arrived in Boston for the purpose of meeting with me to discuss our impending matrimony. An arrangement which I was under the impression was no longer possible. Against my better judgement I agreed to meet with you, accompanied by my loving sister Florence, acting as my chaperone. Upon our meeting you present me with the fact that you already have a daughter, whose existence you saw fit to conceal from me. Now you have the audacity to ask me to be your mail order bride and go and live with you on your, no doubt extensive ranch in Montana. You can see how all of this could place me in a very awkward position, not to mention the discomfort it causes me."

Abby finished her quiet summary and gazed directly into Nathan's eyes. He merely nodded slowly. "So will you come to Montana and be my wife?" he asked with a quirk of his eyebrow.

"Oh!" Abby ejaculated with a gasp. "You are being extremely difficult about all of this," she complained.

"I don't think I am. You gave me your word. One way or another I won't be denied."

Abby was transfixed for a moment by the bald simplicity of that last statement. What did he mean?

"I am telling you I cannot become your wife," Abby declared.

Once again the papers rustled around them. Abby had the sudden desire to be out of the hotel. Looking up she was relieved to see Florence and Emma reappear.
 

Abby stood up. "I have given you my answer Mr. Grantly. I hope you have the decency to accept it."

Nathan looked up at her and cocked his head to one side. For a moment Abby felt very conscious of his gaze as she stood in front of him. Then she drew herself up and walked away from Nathan Grantly toward her sister.

Within moments Abby and Florence had said their hasty goodbyes in as polite a manner as possible under the circumstances.
 

It was with the greatest relief in her life that Abby took Florence's arm and headed out of the hotel. She did not look back toward Nathan and Emma, even though she knew that that was the thing she most wanted to do.

Nathan stood with Emma and watched Abby and Florence walk out of the door to the hotel.

He had tried his best and he had failed. From the moment he had boarded the train in Montana he had suspected that this would prove to be a fruitless errand. And indeed it had turned out to be so.
 

But what a beautiful woman Abby Long was! She had taken his breath away. She was so elegant and refined. He worried that even if she had agreed to be his wife on the ranch in Montana she would find it hard to fit in to such a life.

But Nathan had seen evidence of the strength which had attracted him during their correspondence. She was a feisty and strong young woman who would make a perfect mother for Emma.
 

Nathan had tried his best and he had failed. There was nothing else he could do. He had hoped to persuade Abby in person. Indeed he had noticed she didn't exactly find him repulsive. In fact he was sure that on more than one occasion she'd had to restrain her emotions.
 

Nathan had tried reason and it had failed to persuade Abby.
 

"When are we going to see Abby again Papa?" Emma asked, looking straight up into her father's eyes.

Nathan smiled and laid his hand on Emma's soft hair. "Maybe soon, darling. You never know."

Emma's eyes glistened and Nathan was suddenly sure that his daughter was going to cry. He didn't want that. Not again. Not here.

He crouched down and took his daughter's face in his hands. "There now Emma. Let's have none of that."

Emma rolled her eyes and swallowed. "She's so beautiful Papa. Isn't she?"

Nathan nodded. "She sure is Emma. Almost as beautiful as your mama."

Emma smiled gently at the mention of her mother. "No-one is as lovely as my mama was," she said.

Nathan stroked Emma's cheek. "I know that darling. I know."

"Are we going home soon?"

Nathan nodded. "Look's like we are."

"She might change her mind."

Nathan stood and took Emma's hand and started to head toward the stairwell. "Let's just wait and see. Shall we?"

CHAPTER THREE

"You can't be serious Abby," Florence said. They were back home in Abby's room in their family's townhouse which faced onto a square in the centre of which was a large garden. Carriages drove by in the late afternoon sun. The windows were open and the air coming in from outside made the room cool and fresh.

The two sisters lay on the bed, side by side.

"I am serious. He asked me to go to Montana with him," Abby said.

Florence sighed. "That must be exciting," she said with a dreamy tone of voice.

Abby looked askance at Florence. "What! Florence Long. What has gotten into you."

Florence smiled. "Think of how wonderful it must be to live out there. No rules. No horrible men preying on us at parties. You'd have everything you need. He looks like he has money," she said.

Abby shrugged. "I've no doubt he has. But there is more to life than money."

"You'd be surrounded by a beautiful land."

"And no doubt the smells of a ranch!" Abby replied.

Florence laughed. "He's a fine looking man," she said quietly.

Abby gave her sister a stern look. "It's not just about looks. There's more to being married than looks," she stated firmly.

Florence was right. Nathan Grantly was a fine looking man. He was tall, wide shouldered, with powerful legs that looked like they'd know how to tame a horse. His dark hair was lustrous and thick and his eyes seemed to always have a shine in them, in spite of the sadness and hardship he'd had to endure with the passing of his wife. Yes. If she was really pushed, Abby would have to admit that he was a handsome gentleman.

But she could not marry him! That was simply not going to happen. No matter how fine looking he was; no matter how appealing it was to live out in Montana; no matter how wealthy he was with the ranch and all. She couldn't see herself as the wife of a rancher. Not with the darkness that clung at her soul.
 
The past and the truth couldn't be ignored. There was the reality of the truth she had discovered and it would not go away.

Until that moment had arrived, until the shattering truth about herself had been revealed to her, the prospect of life in Montana had had strong appeal. There were too many boring and terrible young men hovering around the Long sisters, hoping for some social advantage from a marriage to a family whose father was a man of influence in Boston.
 

No. There were too many truly odious men on the social scene. This year in particular had been the worst. Abby thought about the parties she'd had to endure. Yes. That was the word. Endure.
 

The men at those social gatherings were from some of the middling types in
 
Boston society. They were from families that aspired to greater things. And one of those things was marrying their useless sons off to Abby or Florence Long.

Abby sighed in disgust when she thought of one in particular. Carlton Fisker.

Abby felt her stomach turn at the thought of him. It wasn't that he was particularly unpleasant looking, or that he was terribly boring to be with. It was more to do with the fact that she had heard the most awful things about his private life.
 

Whispers in the corners at social functions had told of secret trysts, visits to unsavory places and associations with the lower sorts of female companion.

It all added up to the fact that Carlton Fisker was not the sort of man that Abby would ever associate with.

Florence interrupted Abby's thoughts. "Papa wants to speak to us. We'd best be getting downstairs."

"What does he want this time," Abby said, rising up off the bed. She did love her father, although he could be rather strict at times. He was rather too fond of making speeches and making announcements. Abby wondered what it would be this time.

They made their way down to the parlor. Their father, Lucius Long, was seated on his favorite chair, in front of the fire, with a book in his lap. Despite it being a fine summer's day, her father insisted on keeping himself warm. He was always a man who preferred caution to risk.

Abby's mother was seated at the window table, knitting. The only sounds were the clicking of her mother's knitting needles and the deep, slow tick of the clock.

"Ah, girls," her father said. "Please have a seat. I have an announcement to make."