| |
A rare cool wind blew towards a sprawling three-story mansion, causing the dark red curtains at the sides of the balcony doors to flutter invitingly. This had the man seated behind the table look up from the report he was reading, a thoughtful expression on his face.
He stood up a moment later and headed out to the balcony. He was a tall, golden-haired man with cold blue eyes and a ruggedly handsome profile. Even though he was dressed in an expensive handmade suit, he exuded the kind of earthy masculinity that belied his roots. Born a rancher, always a rancher, as his great-grandfather had liked to say. And it was true, for he was, in a nutshell, the type of man who was used to wielding power, whether inside a corporate boardroom or astride a horse.
Someone knocked on his door before opening it a second later, his visitor – a beautiful well-preserved woman in her late forties – clearly having no intention to wait. She was dressed in a floral wraparound dress, with clouds of expensively dyed hair curling around her unlined face.
“Devon?” Mary Beth caught sight of her only son in his balcony and hurried towards him as fast as her five-inch stilettos could carry her. “Devon, tell me it’s not true.” She came to his side and pulled on his sleeve insistently.
Turning to kiss her on the cheek, Devon said obediently, “It’s not true, Mama.”
Mary Beth almost sighed in relief until she saw the mocking gleam in Devon’s eyes. “You wicked boy!” Her son was usually so serious it was hard to tell when he was making one of his rare jokes.
“Contact whoever wrote this announcement and have them take it back!” She waved the rolled-up newspaper in her hand at his face, which was so like his dear Papa. Unfortunately, she thought pitifully, that was the only thing Devon had inherited from Desmond. Whereas her husband lovingly doted on her and did everything she asked, their youngest child proved to be the opposite, insisting on doing things his way, never mind if she did not approve – like now.
The memory of what she had read from the papers made Mary Beth shudder. “This is not a laughing matter, Devon! How can you marry someone you don’t know at all?”
“Actually, I know her far better than any of the giggling debutantes you’ve pushed my way in the past two decades.” His voice was still pleasant, but the grim look in Devon’s gaze brooked no argument. “Last night was the final straw, Mama.”
Mary Beth colored. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she muttered, avoiding his gaze by turning towards the magnificent views before them, which consisted of an amazing blend of orange and blue skies, huge magnolia trees, and jade green waters of the creek bordering the edge of their lands and going all the way down to San Antonio.
Primrose was the flagship property of Montgomery Ranches, and it made Mary Beth feel faint, thinking that the mistress of Southwest Texas’ richest and most famous ranch would be some woman they didn’t know from Adam!
“Be reasonable, Devon. You cannot just order a bride—-”
“It’s your fault I did, Mama. You went too far last night.” His lips thinned as he recalled the distasteful event. Mary Beth had invited a group of her friends – a polite term to describe fifty or so guests – to have dinner in his home. He had agreed but warned Mary Beth that he would be arriving late and heading directly to the stables upon reaching home. Ella, one of his most prized Thoroughbreds, had just given birth, and he wanted to make sure that its colt was faring well.
Armed with the knowledge of her son’s plans, Mary Beth had arranged for all the stablehands to take their leave and for her friend’s daughter, Jill Bartwell, to wait for him inside one of the stalls – naked. The plan was for Mary Beth and her friends to come across them just as Devon chanced upon Jill and force them into a shotgun marriage.
Considering Jill’s father was a man Devon deeply respected and one who unfortunately loved his spoiled daughter greatly, the plan might just have worked. If Jim Bartwell had learned of the two of them being found together in a compromising position, if Jill had been able to utter her lie about Devon playing her false and promising marriage if she gave her body to him – if Jim had insisted that Devon marry his daughter, Devon knew he would have eventually caved in.
Jim had been the one to save him from bankruptcy and the ranch from being repossessed following his father’s untimely death. Devon owed him too much to cause him pain.
But fate had thankfully intruded. Last night, Devon had been tied up with work and he had sent his vet ahead of him. It was Dr. Green who had stumbled upon the naked Jill, Dr. Green who had eagerly offered to marry the scheming socialite to protect her honor, and now it was Dr. Green engaged to the Bartwell heiress
His mother was still bemoaning his decision.
“Mama, enough.”
The tone Devon used immediately silenced Mary Beth. Her son was the quintessential alpha male, never to be completely civilized and born to lovingly dominate the women in his life. When he spoke like that, Mary Beth knew there was no point protesting. He had made up his mind, and nothing would sway him from it.
“I have done you the courtesy of informing you of my decision this morning because you are my mother. But it was not a request. I will be marrying Ms. Hilary White in a week, and I will be very, very displeased, Mama, if I learn that you are anything but welcoming to my future bride. She will be a permanent part of our family and as such is deserving of your love and loyalty.”
When Devon said ‘displeased’, Mary Beth knew it meant curtailing her many pleasures, such as being able to treat her friends to lavish retreats in any one of the many ranches Devon owned across the country.
It was a horrible enough threat for Mary Beth to assure him hastily, “Of course I will support her, Devon. You have my word.”
“Thank you, Mama. I appreciate that.” A brief smile curved on Devon’s thin lips, temporarily transforming his face in a way that reminded Mary Beth of the once sweet and light-hearted child he had been before his father’s death. She blinked, but when she looked back at her son, the smile was gone and once again replaced by the usual austerity on his good-looking face.
Once his mother had left, Devon went back to his office, closing the balcony doors behind him. Sitting down, he ignored the reports on his desk and pulled his drawer open to retrieve a brown envelope. He shook out its contents, and the first to fall out of the envelope was a full-length photo of a petite dark-haired woman with generous curves, which the agency had provided. The second was a handwritten letter from his mail-order bride, who also happened to be the subject of the photo.
Devon made a call to Charlotte, who answered on the third ring. “Hello, Devon. What can I do for you?” The agency’s owner was brisk but friendly.
“I just need to ask a few questions for confirmation.”
“Go ahead.”
“This woman, Hilary White, you’re a hundred percent sure she’ll suit me?”
As Devon was one of her few childhood friends and like a brother to her late husband, Charlotte was one of the few people who knew what haunted the somber ranch owner and had caused him to choose to focus all his time on his business. She had been there when Devon suffered the indignity of seeing his Mama flirt with other men in an attempt to make her husband jealous and spend more time with her than working at the ranch. She had seen Devon struggle to conquer his dislike and disappointment as the entire town watched Desmond Montgomery sink into debt, to the point of mortgaging his prized ranch, just to indulge his Mama’s lifestyle.
There was no doubt that Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery had loved each other exclusively and passionately, but the way they loved had still been wrong, and it had scarred Devon for good. Love repulsed him like a horrible disease, and he would do everything to prevent it from entering his life. It was why, Charlotte knew, he had asked for her help. But what Devon didn’t know was that Charlotte was determined to do the opposite.
Devon was a good man, and he deserved to find the right woman for him.
And so she lied, “Absolutely.” In their prior agreement, Devon had asked for a woman down on her luck and would be on her knees in gratitude for his proposal. He had wanted someone mousy, plain, and domesticated.
Well, Hilary White was all that...for now. With the right man to make her bloom, Charlotte was sure she would be more than beautiful. She would be mesmerizingly vibrant, a woman who could love so selflessly that she just might make the ice around Devon’s heart crack.
Soon, Devon and Hilary would finally meet, and the knowledge had Charlotte cautioning him, “Remember. I had to write letters to her on your behalf—-”
“As long as you didn’t lie about anything—-”
“Of course not!” And she hadn’t, but she did make him sound more romantic.
“Then there’s nothing to worry about. I will make sure she does not find out I had written the letters.” A few minutes later and Devon ended the call, his pensive gaze on the photo. There was something about the woman on the photo that called out to him. Devon was a man with very selective tastes in women, but everything he wanted this woman had. Her skin was gorgeous and creamy, and her lips were small and pink – he would like to see them stretched when she took his cock into her mouth for the first time.
But more than anything, what attracted Devon the most was the promise that she had something which most women lacked – a rare immunity to material possessions.
It was what Charlotte’s report had suggested, which included her school and work records, credit reports, and a detailed summary from an investigator who was hired to follow her for one week.
If she really was what all these documents suggested she was, then Hilary White was indeed a most suitable bride, and Devon could not wait until he had the right to claim her sweet curvy body.
****
MORE THAN A THOUSAND miles away, Hilary White was seated on an old leather swing chair, legs tucked Indian style, and facing her tiny desk. She had long brown hair that matched the shade of her eyes, and her body had more curves than what was fashionable. At that moment, she was also completely unaware of being the object of desire of a billionaire rancher.
The room she was in was small and cramped, sparsely furnished and with peeling wallpaper. Across the woman’s desk was a tiny window, which sadly didn’t show any of the spectacular nightscape Miami was much known for. Instead, it only showed the cracked concrete façade of the apartment building next to hers – and nothing else. It was an uninspiring sight, and it was one of the many reasons Hilary “Harry” White had finally found the courage to sign up with Heart’s Match, an agency that specialized in bringing prospective couples together.
When Harry had come across the website while looking for Western romances to read, she had been initially skeptical. It had the “mail-order-bride” feel to it, but surely that was ludicrous? Surely no one would say ‘yes’ to becoming a mail-order bride at this day and age?
Or at least no one, Harry had thought with a heart beating rapidly in rising excitement, except her.
She was so sick of living in the city. If she had the money to do so, she would have left a long time ago and moved to somewhere in the country. She wanted to live in a place surrounded by nature, but the hows and whys were terrifying to think of, and so she had just dreamt and dreamt, knowing that was all it would amount to: dreams never to come true...until now.
According to the website, the agency was only looking for women ready to settle down for marriage and domestic bliss in the heart of Texas. Only women considered suitable would be contacted, and to be considered suitable interested parties were to submit their resumes – just like in job applications! – and a letter stating their reasons for wanting a match arranged for them.
Hilary had poured her heart out in that letter – and now this.
Dear Miss White,
That one line had Hilary “Harry” White’s heart beating madly. Practically everyone nowadays used the abbreviated form of ‘Miss’. To do the opposite was old-fashioned, and that was the very reason why Harry was so wonderfully happy at seeing the word ‘Miss’ spelled in its entirety.
Taking a deep breath, she moved on to the next line of the letter.
I am deeply thankful that you have agreed to my proposal. You sound like a well-rounded and sensible woman, and I do believe we will get along very well.
Hilary’s lips curved in a rueful smile. Her match made her sound like an old frump.
I shall be fetching you personally at the San Antonio International Airport. I will be wearing a white shirt and jeans. I shall be looking for a beautiful brunette wearing a red dress.
Until we meet,
Your match
And that was that, Harry thought, smiling again. She had heard Texans being described as men who didn’t talk much, the proverbial strong and silent type. That was a dream come true for her, too. Here in the city, men talked too much – and most of the time, they talked about themselves. It would be incredible to meet a man who didn’t talk or act like he walked on water.
Hilary lovingly folded the letter and slid it back into its envelope before moving to the next letter, this time from the agency’s representative.
We are delighted to inform you that the individual we have selected for you has offered a proposal of marriage. As stated in our contract, every individual we consider for matchmaking has been thoroughly investigated. You have nothing to worry about regarding your personal safety.
Following are the details regarding your match.
Initials: D.J.M.
Residence: Evergreen, Texas
Age: 35
Field of work: Ranching
Harry sighed dreamily. With her eyes closed, it was quite easy to dream of a man who toiled in his ranch diligently during the day and eager to come home to his loving wife – that would be her! – in the evenings. She couldn’t picture his face just yet, but that didn’t matter. She had never been the type to care much about looks anyway. Even if her future husband turned out to be hideous in appearance, Harry was sure she would still fall in love with him as long as he had a good heart and proved to be a loving husband to her.
Enclosed is your flight’s itinerary and with everything already paid for by your match. Please be reminded that you are to make a decision as to whether or not to push through with the agreed marriage in 24 hours. We encourage you to review the terms and conditions of our contract prior to confirming your acceptance or rejection of the proposal.
If you have any concerns or questions, we are at your disposal.
Sincerely,
Mrs. Charlotte Carmichaels
As Harry curled up to sleep on her narrow creaking bed, her mind drifted towards the future, which now held such promise when once it only meant an endless dreary routine. Absently, she cast a look around her apartment, with its ancient furniture and even more ancient appliances, all of which she had inherited from the tenant before her. If she and her future husband lived in a room just like this, it wouldn’t be so bad. At least then she would have someone to share her life with.
That was all, Harry thought wistfully, she ever really wanted. For once in her life, she just wanted to feel like she belonged to someone – and that someone would want to belong to her, too.