Courtney could barely believe it. Alexandra was here. Along with her frightening ex-bounty-hunter of a husband. It felt so good to see her old friend again, but odd at the same time. It was such a strange mixing of past and present, but not in any way Courtney could have imagined.
The Alexandra Courtney had known back in Boston had been polished and tutored in all the ways of Boston’s elite society. Alexandra’s aunt had seen to it. Though Alexandra had often talked about her childhood in Montana, Courtney now suspected that she might have toned down the truth of how she’d been raised by her adventurous father.
One thing that was exactly as Courtney had expected was the relationship between Alexandra and her husband, Malcolm Kincaid. The man was as forbidding, hard, and frightening as any man Courtney had ever met—except when he looked at his wife. The love and respect in his eyes then could not be mistaken.
Courtney’s heart warmed for her friend, even as it ached for herself.
Alexandra’s arrival had put a bright light on the fact that her time with Dean was running short.
After an initial greeting, Dean excused himself to lead his exhausted mount to the barn. Watching him walk away, Courtney realized that she hadn’t even asked how his night went—if he’d found whoever was responsible for the attacks on Lawton livestock.
Though Alexandra had a dozen questions after Courtney’s announcement in the yard, Courtney insisted on waiting to explain everything until they were more comfortable.
Alexandra’s husband excused himself, also claiming the need to see to their horses, and left the two women to settle in for a more private chat in the parlor.
“Your man is everything I imagined and more,” Courtney declared as soon as they were alone.
“I know,” Alexandra replied with a wide grin. “I am sorry it took us so long to get here. We weren’t in Helena when your letter first arrived, but we headed out as soon as we could. I still cannot believe you left Geoffrey standing at the altar.”
“It seems so long ago now, almost like it happened to a different woman. Like I was a different woman.”
“From where I stand, it looks like that might be the truth of it,” Alexandra replied, her blue eyes sharp and knowing. “You’ve gotta tell me how on earth you ended up married to a cattle rancher.”
Courtney sighed. “Oh, it’s such a strange story, I’m sure you won’t believe it. I honestly did not know I was being married until well after it was done. The judge refused to grant an annulment until we tried out being husband and wife for four weeks. We’ve got another eight days to go.”
“That’s…that is, ah…”
“Unbelievable. I know. But it’s true.”
Alexandra leaned forward, her long black braid falling over her shoulder as she reached for Courtney’s hand. “And how have you been faring here as a cowboy’s bride?”
Courtney looked down, then gave a shrug before she met her friend’s questioning, concerned gaze with a jaunty half smile. “I’d say I’ve managed pretty well. Better than I ever would have expected. I am learning to cook and speak Spanish, and Dean has been teaching me how to ride. I named two of the cutest baby goats you’ll ever see. Oh, and I helped to deliver a baby just last night.” She held her hands out to the side. “Which is why you found me in such a disheveled state. I’m afraid I haven’t slept much except brief little naps while Pilar labored.”
Alexandra stared at her in stunned silence.
When her friend’s shock continued for several minutes, Courtney laughed. “What is it? You are looking at me as though I just grew an extra head.”
“Did you? Is another brain controlling my friend right now? Because that might explain things.”
“Oh, come on now,” Courtney chided, her cheeks warming with a mixture of affronted pride and embarrassment. “I’m not so different. Perhaps I’ve just never had the opportunity to test myself. Maybe I’ve always had it in me to be a rancher’s wife and just had to come out here to find out.”
Alexandra’s expression dimmed into a serious little frown. “You sound as though you wouldn’t mind continuing on as such.”
Courtney considered lying. She realized how such a confession would appear to her friend. But as their eyes met in the quiet of the little parlor, Courtney didn’t want to keep the truth to herself any longer. “I want to stay,” she whispered.
Alexandra blinked but did not look particularly surprised. “And your husband? What does he want?”
Courtney dropped her gaze. “Dean is…proud and strong and committed to his responsibilities and this ranch.” She smiled softly. “He’s fiercely loyal and brave and stubborn and far too serious most of the time, though that has started to change.” She met Alexandra’s gaze. “He also has no desire to take on the burden of a wife he never wanted, especially not a woman like me who grew up pampered and privileged with no particular skills.”
“I think you are selling yourself short.”
Courtney smiled. “No, I’m not. You know where I came from. I can host a grand party and shop like I was born to it. This place—Dean—deserves more than what I have to offer.”
Alexandra frowned, looking like she still wanted to argue. “I’m sorry, Court. Does he know how you feel?”
She shook her head. Her throat was too tight to speak.
“What if you told him?”
Courtney looked at her friend in horror. “I could not handle that kind of rejection from him. And he would have to reject me. I am not the wife he wanted.”
“Have you…been intimate?” Courtney’s involuntary blush answered that question quickly enough, and Alexandra continued bluntly, “You might not be able to get an annulment.”
“Then we will get a divorce,” Courtney replied, doing her best to keep her heartbreak from showing in her voice, though she couldn’t hold back the tears that filled her eyes. “One way or another, our marriage will end after next week.”
“I’m so sorry,” Alexandra murmured again.
Courtney gave her a watery smile. “At least I had him for a little while.”
Alexandra stood and reached for Courtney’s hands to bring her to her feet as well. “Why don’t you go get some sleep? You look dead on your feet, and things might feel different after you’ve gotten some rest.”
Courtney gave a weak little laugh. “I do feel like I could curl up right here on the parlor floor and sleep for hours.”
“Go on then. Malcolm and I will still be here when you awake.”
* * *
Dean turned on his heel and headed straight back to the kitchen. He’d left his mud-caked boots outside the back door, and he shoved his feet back into them before heading to the barn in long, angry strides. The words he’d just heard battered at his heart like a blacksmith’s hammer.
“You might not be able to get an annulment.”
“Then we will get a divorce. One way or another, our marriage will end after next week.”
Nothing good ever came from eavesdropping, even when it was unintentional, and as soon as he heard Courtney’s firm declaration, he hadn’t wanted to hear another word.
What had he expected? That she’d want to stay?
What an idiot he was.
He’d known from the start she didn’t belong here.
He’d started to believe she might be different. That she might want to make a real go of things. That she might have grown fond of the ranch. Of him.
She might enjoy their marriage bed, but he had been stupid to think her feelings extended any deeper.
Idiot. That’s what he was.
Storming into his office, he went straight for his grandfather’s bourbon. He poured a shot into a glass and downed it in one quick swallow, then poured himself another.
“Mind if I join you for one of those?”
Dean looked up to see the gunfighter standing in his doorway.
“I was seeing to our horses,” the man said with a jerk of his head back toward the barn. “You passed right by me.”
Dean would have preferred to drink alone, but he had no idea how to get rid of the man. “Suit yourself,” he finally said, reaching for another glass.
“Name’s Malcolm Kincaid.”
Dean had heard of him. A year ago or so, there had been a shoot-out over near Wolf Creek. Something about a corrupt land baron who had the law in his back pocket. From what Dean recalled, Kincaid was a bounty hunter who had seen justice meted out and freed a town from an oppressive tyrant in the process.
Not a gunfighter, but damn close.
Thinking of Kincaid’s vocation recalled Dean to his current problem with Hayes. Perhaps a former bounty hunter could be of some assistance. He was afraid he was gonna need all the help he could get to see the matter finally resolved.
“Dean Lawton,” he replied as he handed a glass of bourbon to the other man. “Have a seat.”