Montana Bride

Austins thumb brushed the underside of Willas chin, tilting her face gently up to bring her gaze to his.

Are you all right?

She stared into his blue eyes. They were kind and filled only with concern.

Her hand seemed to lift of its own accord and land on the center of his chest. Not to push him away or to act as a barrier between them, but simply to touch him.

Id like to stay.

You sure?

She nodded. It was hard not to be tempted by the kindness on his face and in his voicetempted to believe in fairytales. If she were a different woman she might think she was starting to fall in love.

Willa kept her hand on his chest. His heart thudded reliably. It was an intimate thing, to feel it beat, and it made the moment between them real and changing. Austin was no longer a stranger, but a man she wanted to know.

AUTHOR NOTE

Writing stories set in Montana Territory is one of my favourite things. Its fun to put aside my daily troublesthe laundry needing to be done, the chequebook I keep meaning to balance, the errands Ive been putting offand sit down with my laptop. I sink into a different time and place, where life is slower paced, where there is no traffic noisejust the tweet of birds and the wind whispering through an old-growth forestand where the things that really matter in life are the same. Love and belonging, duty and family. These are the themes I found myself exploring when I wrote the first few sentences of MONTANA BRIDE.

I was touched by Willas tragedyboth her abusive marriage and her being a pregnant and penniless widowand by her strength in facing marriage to a stranger again, knowing what kind of man she could end up with. A young woman who has never known love, she worries about what kind of mother shell make, but she clearly wants to do her best.

Austin Dermot is a character from my earlier Moose, Montana Territory, stories who was passed over every time a new lady came to town. I started wondering about him and felt sorry for the poor mansurely a nice guy like that deserved to catch a nice woman of his own? He is a man who wants to love and be lovedbut unfortunately for him he has chosen a mail-order bride who doesnt believe her scarred heart can ever love.

I hope you enjoy this story about Willa finding her heart and discovering the wonder and renewal that love can be.

Thank you so much for choosing Willa and Austins story.

Jillian Hart

About the Author

JILLIAN HART grew up on her familys homestead, where she raised cattle, rode horses and scribbled stories in her spare time. After earning an English degree from Whitman College she worked in advertising, before selling her first novel to Mills & Boon® Historical Romance. When shes not hard at work on her next story Jillian can be found chatting over lunch with a friend, stopping for a café mocha with a book in hand, and spending quiet evenings at home with her family. Visit her website at www.jillianhart.net

Previous books by the same author:

LAST CHANCE BRIDE

COOPERS WIFE

MALCOLMS HONOUR

MONTANA MAN

BLUEBONNET BRIDE

MONTANA LEGEND

HIGH PLAINS WIFE

THE HORSEMAN

ROCKY MOUNTAIN CHRISTMAS

(short story in A Season of the Heart) MONTANA WIFE ROCKY MOUNTAIN MAN ROCKY MOUNTAIN BRIDE ROCKY MOUNTAIN WIDOW (part of Western Weddings anthology) ROCKY MOUNTAIN COURTSHIP (part of Stetsons, Spring and Wedding Rings anthology) ROCKY MOUNTAIN WEDDING (part of Mail-Order Marriages anthology)

Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

Jillian Hart

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Chapter One

Montana Territory, April 1884

The town of Moose, next stop! The blue-uniformed train conductor strolled through the rocking passenger car with the ease of a man used to riding the rails. Sparse gray hair poked from beneath his cap as he grabbed the bar overhead, stopped in the aisle near her seat and offered her a fatherly smile. Would you like help with your satchel, miss?

Willa Conner straightened her spine, clasped her hands together in her lap and shook her head slightly. As nice as it sounded to have the kindly mans help, she was used to doing things on her own, especially since her husbands sudden death. If marriage had taught her anything, it was to never rely on someone else.

Thank you, but no. She offered what she hoped passed for a polite smile, but the edges of her mouth felt tense and stiff. The train was already slowing, and the great shadowy expanses of forested foothills and mountainsides whipping by the window were not flashing by quite as fast. Moose, Montana Territory. She was almost there. Terror beat in her chest with bone-rattling force, but she set her chin and hoped her fear did not show. I can manage.

All righty then. He tipped his cap to her and moved on, offering help to the pair of older ladies toward the back of the car.

The whistle blew a long blast, nearly drowning out the ear-splitting squeal of the brakes. Willa perched on her seat, looking beyond the haze twilight made on the window glass to the break in the trees. She caught glimpses of a tiny log shanty, a sod stable and split-rail fencing before the trees closed back inher first peek at the outskirts of the town she would be calling home.

Maybe I have made a mistake. She laid her hand on her reticule, thinking of the letter within. A written proposal from a stranger, from a man she had found through a newspaper advertisement. Hed sent her a train ticket and so shed come to marry a man shed never met. As her ma used to say, beggars cant be choosers, and her heart skipped a beat as if threatening to fail. She was a widow with no family and nowhere else to go. She had no more choices. Penniless and alone, she only had this door open to her, the only path in a cold and lonely world.

What would he be like? She grabbed the seat-back in front of her as the train jerked to a slow, screeching stop. As shed wondered and fretted all the way from South Dakota, she tried to imagine what kind of man would propose to a woman sight unseen? A desperate one, thats what. One who could not convince any woman able to set eyes on him to be his bride.

Fear gripped her as she hauled herself to her feet with what strength of will she had left. Would he be cruel? A drunk? Did he work hard, or was he a laze-about? Terrible visions flew into her head as she hauled her satchel from the overhead rack by one strap, pulled on her wool coat and followed the fresh sweep of chilly air to the open doorway.

You take care, miss. The conductor seized her firmly by the elbow. Her shoe hit the step and then she next made contact with the icy boards of the platform. He released her before she could thank him, turning to aid someone else off the train.

A tiny snowflake brushed her cheek, icy against her skin. She shivered against the wintry world where strangers hurried by to greet one another warmly, where families were reunited gratefully or hugged desperately, about to be torn apart.

Excuse me. A man bumped her shoulder on his way to board the train, marching past her as if she were nothing more than a bench at the edge of the platform.

Feeling out of her element, she stumbled farther into the shadows, clutching her satchels grip in both hands. Which man was Austin Dermot? She searched the faces of every male on the platform. Several were in the company of wives and family, so she didnt wonder about those. Mr. Dermot was a bachelor. When a shadowed figure paced in her direction, her pulse stalled. Was that man her betrothed?

He was short of stature and the bald skin of his head reflected the light from the trains windows. His eyes, the color of coal, reflected no kindness. His rough hands curled naturally as if used to being balled into fists.

She shivered, fear clawing around her insides like talons. Please, not that man. Please dont let it be him. Air caught in her lungs, making it impossible to breathe as he stalked nearer to her. To her relief, he marched past her, casting a sneer in her direction.

Willa? A baritone voice rumbled behind her, low and deep and as richly warm as buttered rum. The only soul who would know her name in this unfamiliar place had to be him. It had to be her husband-to-be.

She pivoted on her heels, unable to stop the hope taking root in her heart. A man with a voice like that might not be unkind. Another snowflake struck her cheek as she faced him. He was cloaked in shadows, a tall man with brawny shoulders. Her entire being jittered with a rapid-fire tremble. Her throat went dry. Mr. Dermot?

Call me Austin.

She still couldnt see him. He stood between the bars of light from the train windows, lost in the twilight. She caught the impression of a burly man, which made sense since he owned a livery stable and did heavy work. This was the moment of truth. If she wanted to change her mind, it would have to be now.

Let me take that for you. Was it her imagination, or were notes of kindness layered in his voice?

She hoped so. Before she could collect her breath, he lumbered out of the shadows and into the wash of light. Golden lamplight bronzed him, illuminating the thick brown fall of his hair, bluebonnet-blue eyes, high cheekbones and chiseled rugged face.

He was handsome. That completely surprised her and her mind shut down. She had been prepared for anythingunfortunately none of it good. She had learned to expect the worst, which had generally been the way most things in her life had worked out. So, what was wrong with this handsome man that he had to settle for a mail-order bride?

His hand clasped around the grip, taking the satchel from her. He smelled pleasantlyof hay and wintry wind, soap and manand his irises had light blue sparkles in them that lit when he looked at her. The train doesnt stay here for long. We had best make sure we get your trunks from the baggage car.

I dont have any trunks. She swallowed, wondering for the first time what he might see when he looked at her. She smoothed a patch in her wool overcoat. Everything I own is in the satchel.

Is that right? Realization etched compassion into the hard planes of his face. Maybe he felt sorry for her poverty, or maybe he was attempting to hide disappointment.

You are no prize, Willa. The words swirled up from the past. She shut out her late husbands voice, but she could not deny the truth of his words. She might not be a prize but neither was she a disgrace. She lifted her chin and gathered her dignity. I did not exaggerate. In my letter I said I had nothing to bring to the marriage.

You are enough.

His kindness was unexpected. Her throat burned, and she looked away. The earlier hustle and bustle on the platform had died out, families reunited with loved ones had gone on their way and only one couple bid a tearful goodbye as the conductor tossed a trunk into the baggage car. An icy wind drove snow before it in falling waves.

Looks like theres a storm on the way, which means we had better head for the church. He held out his other handit was big and well-shaped with long blunt fingers and a wide-callused palm.

If she took his hand, their deal would be set. There would be no turning back. She pressed her hand to her still flat stomach, torn. Her every instinct screamed at her to run. She had made this mistake before in marrying Jed. But if she did not marry Austin, where would she go? Who would hire a pregnant woman, and alone how would she provide for the baby once it was born?

Willa swallowed hard, knowing she had no real choice. She laid her hand in his, realizing he was much larger than shed first thought. His fingers engulfed her hand as they closed around her, but it was gentleness she felt as he led her along the platform.

Is the reverend waiting? Cold panic slid through her veins.

He is. I didnt tell him your story. He paused at the steps leading down to the street. A faint haze of lamplight drew him in silhouette. He towered above her, making her feel small and protected from the drive of the wind. He kept a good hold on herin case she slipped on the iceand continued speaking. It wasnt my place to say anything, although I think Reverend Lane has his suspicions. Hes agreed to marry us, unless youve taken one look at me and changed your mind.

Me? No. She couldnt afford to do that. Austin Dermot may be a complete stranger, but he was her salvation and much more than she expected, perhaps much more than she deserved. Shed never had anyone escort her down a set of steps before or protect her from a driving arctic wind. Have you?

Changed my mind? Not a chance. A smile shone in his voice as the darkness swallowed him. He was a faint impression in a background of snow and night as he helped her into a covered buggy. A horse blew out his breath, as if impatient standing in the cold.

There now, were almost on our way, Austin rumbled low to the horse as he untied him from the hitching post. No need to get huffy.

The horse snorted, and Austins roll of brief laughter was the warmest sound shed ever heard. A man who laughed was not what she had prepared for.

Thats Calvin. Hes never been one to withhold his opinion. The buggy swayed slightly as the large man settled onto the cushioned seat beside her. Not a crudely made cart behind an ox, as she was used to. Not even a more serviceable wagon, but a fine buggy.

Oh, he is definitely going to be disappointed in me. In the light of the church, when he would be able to get a good look, he would change his mind then. As the buggy rolled smoothly to a start, she knew the tables had turned. Shed spent a good deal of her journey worrying about the man. Now she was the one in question.