Sherri Shackelford - The Engagement Bargain

My mama says you’re a hero.

Anna was no hero. She was hiding in her room. Once she stepped out the door, she’d have to face reality. Just the idea sent a wave of fatigue shuddering through her.

You two can pretend to be engaged.

How did one simple sentence cast her emotions spinning? Disparate feelings pummeled her senses faster than she could sort them all out. She should have been more outraged by the suggestion. Her injury had obviously sapped her strength. For all her uncharacteristically mild response, she knew she should have felt as horrified as Mr. McCoy had appeared.

A lowering realization. She might be a suffragist, but she was also a woman. Not a bad-looking woman either. Anyone would have believed they were engaged. He could do worse. Anna wrinkled her nose. His opinion was of absolutely no concern.

Or was she reading him all wrong? Was he uncertain of his own appeal? No. That couldn’t possibly be the case. Certainly there were plenty of ladies in Cimarron Springs eager for the attentions of the handsome veterinarian. While she may have been relatively isolated from the normal courting and machinations of men and women, she was not completely ignorant. If she trailed him through the crowded lobby, no doubt she’d observe more than one lady casting him a second glance. Which meant he couldn’t possibly believe the problem rested with him.

Why on earth was she debating with herself?

She was wasting all sorts of time and energy on an absolutely worthless endeavor. None of her speculations mattered. The only way to navigate this mess was with facts—identify the difficulty and solve the problem. Mr. McCoy wasn’t a problem. He was simply a diversion.

A diversion who’d soon be out of her life.

Another thought sent her stomach lurching. “How did he find me, anyway? The detective. Could someone else do the same?”

“He saw me. The day of the rally, carrying you. You’re listed in the hotel register as my...as my guest.”

Long after he was gone, Anna stared at the closed door. Something about how he’d said guest piqued her curiosity.

Mr. McCoy was hiding something.

* * *

Caleb caught up with his sister and blocked her exit. “What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes. You do.”

“Fine.” She sniffed. “I saw the register. You’re already listed as her fiancée. The engagement seemed like an excellent idea.”

“No. It’s not.”

What if Anna discovered his deception in the guest registry, as well? With Jo spouting off about fiancées and his own collusion with the hotel, she’d never believe the two occurrences were not connected.

What would she think? He didn’t even want to contemplate the answer.

“At least everyone would quit assuming you’re mooning over Mary Louise,” Jo said.

While that idea did hold some appeal, he wasn’t letting her off the hook that easily. “Stop pushing, Jo. This is Anna’s decision.”

“Anna?”

“Miss Bishop is an intelligent, independent woman. She will make her own decisions regarding her life. If she wants help, she’ll ask.”

He kept thinking about her trunk. The week before, when they’d switched rooms, he’d carried the trunk himself. While he trusted the hotel staff, the fewer people who knew her whereabouts, the better.

The trunk had been expensive. A sturdy wooden affair with brass buckles and leather straps. Even the stack of books she’d plunked on her side table were leather bound. Her clothes were exquisitely tailored, there was nothing ready-made about Anna Bishop. Nothing at all. He’d traveled far enough away from Cimarron Springs, and he understood that even in the United States, a land built on equality, a class system prevailed. The McCoys had always been a hardworking lot who eked out a humble existence.

Judging from her wardrobe and her luggage, Anna had probably never cooked a meal for herself. He’d read the newspaper clippings Jo collected. Anna’s mother was not just Victoria Bishop; she’d been nicknamed “the heiress.” He might not know much about women, but he didn’t figure an heiress would cotton to the kind of living in Cimarron Springs.

She was above his touch, both in wealth and in her ideology. And while his brain understood the implications, he feared his heart was not as wise.

Jo rubbed her thumbnail along her lower teeth, a sure sign she was worried about something. “Did you think Anna looked pale?”

He’d thought she was stunning. His heart picked up its rhythm, and he absently rubbed his chest. The first few days he’d corralled his wayward thoughts. When he caught himself staring at her lips, he closed his eyes and pictured the day of the rally. He pictured the blood staining his shirt and his hands. Anything that prevented him from thinking of her in a romantic fashion.

With her sitting up and dressed, her hair swept up in a tumble of curls, smelling like cherry blossoms, her lips rosy, he’d found himself staring at those lips once more. Wondering if she’d ever been kissed. While the detective had been talking, he’d been aching to run his hand over the soft skin at the nape of her exposed neck.

Jo pinched him back to attention. “I said, didn’t you think she looked a little pale?”

Come to think of it, he’d noticed the lines around her mouth had deepened and the skin beneath her eyes had taken on the bruised look of fatigue.

“I noticed.” He dragged the words from his throat. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have brought the detective.”

Jo’s expression softened, and she touched his arm. “No, you were right.”

When the hotel staff had let him know the detective wanted to speak to Anna, he’d vetted the man first. “I’ll ask Anna if she wants me to fetch the doctor.”

“She’ll say no,” Jo said. “You know she will. She doesn’t want to be a bother. I can tell.”

“Then I won’t give her a choice.”

Jo didn’t hide her triumphant expression fast enough.

“It won’t make a lick of difference,” he said. “If she refuses our help, we can’t force her.”

“We can show her we care.”

Some of the steam went out of him. “Sure.”

“I’ll check the train station for times. We can give her the information. She can make her own decision after that. We’re doing the right thing.” Jo insisted.

Were they? Were they truly? Anna was in danger, and he was a country veterinarian. Were they really the best choice for her protection? He did know one thing—after seeing her that first day, the blood pooling beneath her, something primal inside him had broken free. He’d do anything to protect her, he knew that much for certain.

Jo rubbed her thumbnail on her bottom teeth once more. “I’ll try and be back by the time the doctor comes. No promises, though.”

“I’m sure Mrs. Franklin will be available if you’re not.”

At least fetching the doctor gave him something to do, something besides thinking of how Anna had looked at him when Jo had suggested the engagement. The look was the same one Mary Louise had given him when he’d asked to court her.

She’d looked at him with shock and derision.

At least this time his heart hadn’t been involved. Not yet, anyway. He didn’t plan on staying around long enough for any more damage to be done.

He’d go to the grave before he let anyone know he’d been playing her fiancé behind her back.

* * *

After a fitful nap that left her no more rested and no closer to a solution, Anna awoke more determined than ever. Her path ahead was clear. Her best hope at ending this turmoil was finding the person who wanted her dead or proving the whole thing was a mistake. Then she could go home.