Montana Mail-Order Wife. Charlotte Douglas
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wonder she’d fainted at the thought of marrying him. Between the train wreck and her amnesia, she’d already suffered too many shocks. News of their engagement had been the last straw. Guilt seeped through him for telling her so abruptly.
And tenderness followed as he noted the sweet curve of her cheek against the pillow, reminding him of countless times he’d carried a sleeping Jordan to his room and tucked him in without waking him.
Ah, Jordan. I thought I’d worked out everything for you, and now look what I’ve gone and done.
“Will she be okay?” He shifted aside for the nurse to check Rachel.
Rachel’s lids fluttered, and she opened her eyes. “I’m fine. Just a little tired.”
The nurse concurred with Rachel’s assessment. “But no more outings until tomorrow. In the meantime, rest.”
Rachel propped herself on her elbows, watched the door close behind the nurse, then turned amazing emerald eyes toward him. “Sorry if I worried you. I’m fine, really.”
Weak with relief, he grinned. “Coulda fooled me. I thought you’d gone into cardiac arrest at the mention of marriage.”
A delightful blush brought the pinkness back to her cheeks, and a dancing smile brightened her eyes. “You’re the first man who’s ever proposed to me.” Her smile dimmed. “That I can remember, anyway.”
His face flamed with discomfort. Because she couldn’t recall the circumstances of their engagement, she’d jumped to all the wrong conclusions.
Not that he blamed her.
Ever since she’d first met him, she couldn’t help noticing the unintended signals of his unexpected and definitely unwelcome attraction to her that he’d been relaying like a microwave tower. He had to set her straight before she embarrassed herself, or him, further.
He dragged a straight chair beside the bed, straddled it backward, and folded his arms on the backrest. Explaining in a letter would have been a lot easier, without his tongue wrapping itself around his teeth. And without the distraction of too-green eyes, kissable lips and a pert nose turned up at just the right angle.
“My, uh, proposal,” he said, “isn’t what you think.”
She had punched the automatic control and raised the head of the bed so her face was even with his. At his disclaimer, she grew so still that, if her eyes hadn’t blinked, he would have sworn she’d gone comatose again.
“If your proposal isn’t what I think, maybe you’d better tell me what it is.” Her clear, steady voice projected an inner strength he hadn’t noticed before.
“We weren’t, uh, aren’t…in love,” he blurted with more emphasis than he’d intended.
She blinked again, but didn’t move. He wished he could guess what she was thinking behind those wide eyes the color of summer leaves.
He tried to explain. “I didn’t want you to expect—”
He hit a dead end. How could he renounce caring for her when his rebellious heart contradicted him with every beat? But such attraction was ridiculous. A grown man didn’t fall head over heels for a stranger, no matter how perfect. Rachel O’Riley had cast a spell that had to be broken. Otherwise, his well-laid plans were ruined.
“What I mean,” he chose his words carefully, “is that sometimes people do fall in love just by exchanging letters, but…”
Her feathery eyebrows peaked, laughter sparked in her eyes and she blinked again. She seemed to be enjoying his discomfort.
Her amusement goaded him to be more blunt than he’d planned. “Anyway, I don’t love you.”
There, he’d said it.
When he looked at her, he wished he’d cut out his tongue before uttering the words. Her lower lip trembled, tears filled her eyes and her shoulders shook. For a horrible instant, he feared she would break into sobs.
Then, as if she could contain herself no longer, she burst out laughing.
He shoved his chair away from the bed and stood, scratching his head at her reaction. Maybe the knock on her head had caused more problems than amnesia.
“That,” she gasped, “is the most unromantic proposal I hope I’ll ever receive. If it was that awful the first time, I must have been crazy to accept. It’s probably best I can’t remember.”
She wiped her eyes with a corner of the sheet and stared at him, her lips twitching as if she wanted to laugh again.
He stuffed his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and gazed out the window to avoid her ironic smile. He should be happy she wasn’t taking his proposal too seriously, but her amusement annoyed him. “Maybe talking about this should wait until your memory returns.”
“No, please.”
He whirled back toward her at the panic in her voice. “But without all the details, it sounds so…”
“Cold?”
He nodded. He hadn’t had a problem with their agreement before, but now, seeing her so fragile that a puff of wind could blow her away, staring at him from the hospital bed with those big eyes…
“Maybe you’d better tell me all the details,” she suggested in a calmer voice.
“The nurse wants you to rest.”
He needed time to think, to figure out the best way to explain. Time to cool his simmering desire, brought about, he assured himself, only by the intimacy of the hospital room and her scanty attire. He barely knew the woman. How could he be attracted to her?
“I’ll rest better once you’ve told me everything.” Her guileless expression pleaded with him. “If I know the facts, my imagination won’t exaggerate things.”
He couldn’t understand his reluctance. She’d known all the particulars before her accident and had agreed to the arrangement. Why should stating them a second time make any difference?
Because she’s not just words on a page anymore. She’s a real person, flesh and blood with feelings, who makes me feel alive again for the first time in years.
“Okay,” he said with a sigh of resignation, “I’ll try to explain.”
He opened his mouth, but again words failed him. He’d never felt this stupid before. If she’d been a lame horse or an ailing cow, a broken chainsaw or a clogged pump, he’d know exactly what to do, but she was a woman, a beautiful and charming female, and he had almost no experience to fall back on. What little know-how he’d once possessed was rusty from lack of practice.
“Maybe,” she suggested gently, “you should start at the beginning.”
In the beginning there was Maggie, he thought.
“I was married before,” Wade said.
Chapter Three
Rachel tamped down her rising panic. What had she gotten herself into, agreeing to marry a man she didn’t know, a man whose first marriage had obviously ended in divorce?
Out of nowhere, a visceral reluctance to commit herself to any man bore down, engulfed her, then vanished as quickly as mist on the river evaporated in the sunlight. The irrational sensation made her fear the wreck had affected more than her memory.
Maybe she was losing her mind.
Or maybe Wade Garrett’s faltering revelation had induced her fleeting dread of intimacy.
He was taking his sweet time explaining their so-called engagement, but she wouldn’t pressure him. She wasn’t going anywhere, not anytime soon. And if his details were as disastrous as his proposal, maybe she had better absorb them slowly.
Clearing her face of any