Mail-Order Bride Switch. Dorothy Clark

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       Chapter Two

      Garret set the oil lamp on the shelf by his hat, slapped the snow from his leather gloves and shoved them in his coat pockets. “If I may, before you take off your coat...” He lifted her dangling curls and once again shook the snow off them. “No sense in letting this snow melt and wet your gown...”

      “Th-thank you.” Lord, please let him think my stuttering is from the cold, not nerves.

      He nodded, helped her from her coat and hung it on a peg. “Give me your hat and gloves. I’ll take care of them. You go warm yourself by the fire.”

      “All right.” She handed them over to him and hurried toward the warmth of the blazing logs as fast as her trembling legs would carry her.

      There’s no chaperone...

      The words he’d spoken earlier had echoed through her mind all the way back from the church. Theirs was to be an in-name-only marriage. Why would he even mention needing a chaperone? She lifted her hand, touched her cold fingertips to her mouth. The kiss had surprised her. She’d thought he’d make some excuse. But at least it hadn’t been cruel. A shudder shook her.

      “There must be at least twelve to fifteen inches of snow out there, and it’s still coming. There’s no telling how deep it will be before morning.”

      She pounced on the subject. If she kept him talking about the weather, she could delay any discussion about their sleeping arrangements. Please, Lord... “You sound worried.”

      “I’m a little concerned.” He sat on a chair by the door and tugged off his boots, put them on the small rag rug under the shelf. “I’m wondering if this is normal for this area. If it is, it could be a problem.”

      “I don’t understand.”

      “If it’s this deep here in the valley, I can’t imagine how much snow there must be up in the high elevations. It might be enough to shut down the trains. And that means no guests for the hotel or dining room. And no supplies coming through. No coal...”

      “Oh.” She turned to warm her back at the fire. “I didn’t realize how dependent Whisper Creek is on the railroad.”

      “It’s completely so.” He shoved his fingers through his hair and came to stand beside her on the hearth. “Mr. Ferndale has declared there will be no ranches in this valley. And he owns all of the land. The problem is, until there are some farms and ranches in the area, we have no source for food other than what is shipped in. If we get snowbound, that could be a real problem. Especially if I had a hotel full of guests to be fed.”

      “What can you do about that possibility?”

      “Not much. Order in enough food supplies to fill the icehouse and storage pantry in case of emergency. But even that wouldn’t last long if the hotel was full of people.”

      She lifted her hems enough to allow the heat of the fire to reach her shoes. The loops over the buttons were too stiff with the cold to unfasten. “It sounds as if you need to buy a ranch.”

      “Spoken like the daughter of a wealthy man.”

      Her cheeks warmed. “I’m sorry. I’m not accustomed to discussing business problems. Father believes women need to be protected from such things.”

      “No need to apologize. It’s a good idea. If things go as well as I hope with the hotel, I might just do it. There have been rumors of some cowboys from Texas buying land for a ranch in the next valley. They may not be adverse to an investor.” He lifted his foot and wiggled his stocking-clad toes close to the fire. “Ah, that feels good.” He repeated it with his other foot. “Sit down and I’ll take off your boots, so you can warm your feet.”

      “No!”

      His eyebrows shot skyward.

      She swallowed hard. “That is...no thank you. My feet are fine.”

      “Miss—er—Virginia, if this arrangement we have entered into is to work, we’re going to need some rules. The first is honesty.” His gaze fastened on hers. “I told you earlier I did not care who I married, that what I care about is saving my hotel. Let me explain further. I do not care to have any personal relationship with any woman, now or ever. You have no reason to fear me. There was no motive other than normal politeness in my offering to remove your boots. I’d do the same for a sister. Now, sit down and let me remove your boots. You might as well be comfortable while we discuss the rules for our arrangement.”

      His voice was polite, businesslike and a touch bitter. She had misjudged him. “Very well.” She moved to one of the chairs, sat, arranged her long skirts and straightened her leg.

      He went down on one knee, propped her foot on his other knee, pushed her hem above the fur trim at the top of her boot and rubbed the heel of his hand quickly up and down over the buttons. Warmth from the friction loosened the loops. Obviously, he had done this before. He unfastened the buttons and pulled her boot off, set it aside and cupped her cold, stinging foot in his hands. She could have purred, it felt so good.

      “Your feet are fine, huh? Your toes feel like ice.” He rubbed her foot a minute, then lowered it to the floor and lifted her other foot to his knee.

      “What is your sister’s name, Garret?”