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

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      Lucas ignored his brother and took a drink of the whiskey.

      “Maybe when all this is over, you’ll find yourself wanting to stay hitched,” Jackson teased.

      “Not likely.”

      Not ever was the real answer, he thought grimly. His marriage to Emily was strictly about the will. He would admit that he liked her a whole lot more than he’d thought he would. She was kind, taking in both Alice and Mary, and giving Hep a job. She was smart as a whip and as fervent as a preacher when it came to her plans. And she kissed finer than a skinny, spinster schoolteacher had the right to kiss. Lucas would have bet a hundred dollars in gold that he’d been the first man to taste her lips and yet she’d left him shaken and aroused. Which was why, despite how much he wanted to, he hadn’t done it again.

      But, even ignoring his attraction and the fact that she was someone very special, their marriage couldn’t last.

      He looked at his brother. “She doesn’t know,” he said quietly. “About what happened.”

      Jackson didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. They’d never kept secrets from each other and their war experiences were no exception.

      Jackson raised his glass. “To my little brother. And his bride.”

      Before Lucas could respond, Jackson was scrambling to his feet and running his free hand through his messy hair. Lucas turned around and saw that Emily had entered the saloon. She rarely came into his place of business, preferring to wave to him from the open door of the office or send in one of the boys always lurking about.

      But it was relatively early in the day and there weren’t very many customers.

      Lucas motioned her forward, then put his arm around her. “Emily, this is my brother, Jackson MacIntyre. Jackson, my wife.”

      Jackson shifted uncomfortably. He reached for his hat, then realized he wasn’t wearing one. “Ma’am. It’s a real pleasure, I’m sure.”