“My word as agentleman?” He laughed, a dark rumble of sound that sent shivers up her spine. “Certainly.”
She glanced over her shoulder at the road. The driver she’d hired was a mere speck in the distance.
She had two choices. She could brave the dark and try to walk back to town, or she could stay here, with this man who’d lured her over a thousand miles with a few poetic words and now claimed not to know why she’d come.
“Come in,” he said again. “I won’t bite.”
Squaring her shoulders, Sarah took a deep breath and stepped past him. She hadn’t come all this way to turn tail and run. She’d known the consequences of offering herself in marriage to a complete stranger, and she’d already decided they couldn’t be any worse than the alternative.
She found herself in an entrance hall, at the foot of a sweeping staircase that led to an upper floor. An intricate stained-glass window on the landing threw the oak floor and carved banisters into multicolored shadows. The house was breathtaking, or would have been, she amended, if not for the air of disuse and heavy coat of dust covering every surface.
He gestured with exaggerated grace toward an arched doorway to her left. “Shall we take tea in the parlor?”
With an uncertain nod, she entered the room he’d indicated, only to find the furniture covered with dusty white sheets, as though it had been abandoned for years.
She glanced over her shoulder, wondering what kind of madman would choose to live this way. That was when she noticed his halting walk. Her gaze traveled down his muscular thighs to find that while one foot was bare, the other was encased in an unnatural-looking black boot.
Stunned, she realized he’d lost a foot.
He stopped abruptly, a deep flush creeping across his sharp cheekbones. His expression was frozen and defensive, as though he expected her to say something hurtful. She wiped her face clean of emotion and sat on the edge a grungy covering that appeared to hide a sofa.
For a moment, he remained behind her, his gaze boring into the back of her head. Just when she thought she’d go mad if he didn’t say something, he shuffled forward and swept the sheet off a damask chair.
Settling himself across from her, he waved the stack of letters. “Do you mind if I read these?”
She shook her head. Why should she care? He’d written them.Hadn’t he?
The only sound in the stifling silence that descended between them was the incessant tick of an ivory clock on the mantle. Sarah sat, her body stiff, every muscle aching from her long journey. Her hands trembled, and she locked them together in her lap so he wouldn’t notice.
Dear Lord, what had she done? Back in Georgia, this had seemed like such a good idea. Luke Chandler’s ad for a mail order bride had caught her attention, then refused to let it go. She’d wanted so badly to leave all reminders of her old life behind her.
Colorado. The very word had called to her. What better place to raise a family and begin anew?
What would she do if he turned her away? She didn’t have enough money to return to Georgia. Even if she did, there was nothing to go back to. Her husband had been killed during the last days of the war, and her home was long gone.
Her entire future lay in the hands of this drunken, brooding stranger.
At last, he finished reading. He took an inordinate amount of time refolding the final letter, obviously stalling.
“This is... very embarrassing.” He raked a hand through his dark hair, seeming at a loss. “I didn’t write these.”
She stared at him, keeping her face blank, hoping he couldn’t sense her desperation.
“I wrote parts of them,” he clarified, handing the letters back. “But not to you.”
“I don’t understand.” She’d never even considered the possibility that he might pretend he hadn’t sent for her.
“For some reason, my brother has decided I need a wife.” He looked away, frowning. “He’s the one who corresponded with you, not me. Although, parts of these letters sound familiar. He must have copied some of the passages from letters I wrote to... someone else.”
A hundred questions flitted through her mind, but she held her tongue and nodded. “I see.” She didn’t see. She had no idea what he was talking about, actually.
“I’m sorry about all this.” He tapped his fingertips on the arm of the chair. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you? Do you need a ride back to town and a train ticket back to Georgia? Perhaps I could offer you some monetary settlement for your trouble?”
Heat rose in her cheeks, and she blinked back tears of anger and shame. “That won’t be necessary. I’m certain I can manage.” She surged to her feet and headed for the door, desperate to escape.
But he was surprisingly agile despite his disability, and he grabbed her arm before she could go far. “Wait.”
Sarah found herself trapped between his large body and the arched entrance to the parlor. Her breath came in harsh gasps, and she turned her face against the plaster, mortified by the tears streaking down her cheeks. She hadn’t cried for a very long time, but she’d been on the verge of tears ever since he’d opened the door.
