The Bride Wore Spurs. Janet Dean
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do.”
“I do, too.” He touched her hand. “Reckon with all those I dos, we’d better get hitched and keep you here.”
Her gaze locked with his. She lost herself in his eyes, dark, mysterious, full of life and offering marriage.
“See something you like?” he said, dimple twinkling.
Heat surged to her cheeks. Nothing about the man met her disapproval. “No, nothing much.”
When had she uttered a bigger lie?
Matt’s self-assured, relaxed posture said he was sure of himself—and of her, most likely. Why wouldn’t he be? She’d done the proposing. First.
“With the six-year difference in our ages and your year away, we don’t know each other all that well. But, we’re alike in our bond with this land.” Expression earnest, Matt leaned toward her. “I can think of far worse reasons to marry.”
Just like that, with few words, the bargain was sealed.
“We need to do this right,” he said, taking her hand and sending a shiver along her spine. He moved as if to get down on one knee.
With a gasp of protest, she snatched her hand away. “This marriage is business only. No need for a proper proposal.”
“Is it really? Just business for you?”
Her gaze settled on those eyes searching hers, as if peering into her soul. She wouldn’t get swept up by a handsome face and fall for a man. Not even a man with a dazzling smile and a dimple begging for her touch.
At her silence, he took a step back, erect, formal. “Hannah Parrish, will you marry me?”
A lump rose in her throat. Once she agreed, there’d be no turning back. Yet what choice did she have? “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
“We’ll need to marry soon.”
Hannah stiffened. “How soon?”
“Today’s Monday. Can we get it done by Thursday?”
Get it done. As if marriage was on his list of chores. Her stomach clenched. How could she be ready in three days?
“Martin’s a very sick man,” he reminded her. “He’d want to see you wed.”
For Papa she could do anything. “Yes,” she said in a voice that wobbled.
“I’ll do my best to be a good husband.” His soft tone matched the kindness in his eyes.
She had no idea what constituted a good husband...or for that matter, a good wife. Could she fit into a husband’s expectations? Especially a mature man like Matt?
One thing Hannah knew, she could never abide a bossy spouse. Papa seldom gave her orders. Until now. She’d grown up making her own decisions and had felt stifled under Aunt Mary Esther’s thumb. She couldn’t imagine a lifetime of being dictated to by a man. Would Matt allow her the freedom she needed?
Her gaze swept the land. To remain on the ranch, to keep her way of life and to give her father peace, she’d marry.
If only they had more time.
If only Papa wasn’t dying.
If only they were in love.
She thought of the tenderness that had fleetingly appeared in Matt’s eyes. Perhaps love was possible...eventually.
No, that expectation was a foolish peg to hang her heart on. A fairy-tale ending wasn’t what she wanted. She would deal with the real world. Papa was dying. To run the ranch and remain on the land she loved, she’d marry a man she didn’t.
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