Dorothy Clark - His Substitute Wife

All bought for Linda. Her stomach flopped. She couldn’t—

“I’ll light the lamp.” He did so quickly then stepped back out into the hall and opened the door across from the kitchen at the end of the short hall. “This is where you will sleep. You can hang your gowns in here.” He yanked open a door on a cavernous wardrobe, set her satchel down, strode to a nightstand beside a four-poster and lit the lamp. Golden light glittered on a small heart-shaped silver box, spilled onto a beautiful blue-and-white woven coverlet on the bed.

Her gaze froze on the heart-shaped silver box and the thumb of her left hand turned inward, touched the ring on her finger—Linda’s ring. She lifted her gaze to Blake’s rigid back, remembered the tremor that had shook his hand when he’d pulled the ring from his suit coat pocket and put it on her finger. She slipped the ring off and cupped it in her hand.

Blake scrubbed his hand over his eyes and turned, his face as fixed as stone. “I’ll go to the station and get your trunks. You’ll be wanting to settle in.” He strode out into the hall and walked down the stairs.

She lifted her hand, stared down at the circle of gold on her palm and thought of all it stood for—of what it meant to Blake. Tears blurred her vision. She blinked them away, walked to the nightstand and put the ring in the box. It was difficult enough to live with the knowledge that your betrothed rejected the love you carried in your heart for them without seeing a reminder all day. She might stand in Linda’s place, but she’d not wear the symbol of Blake’s love for her.

* * *

Blake threw a blanket over the cot he’d slept on while his store was being built, then turned away before he broke the folding bed into pieces. The quiet sounds from the other bedroom stabbed into him like knives. He wished Audrey would put off unpacking the trunks he’d brought from the depot until tomorrow when he was downstairs at the store. But he had no good reason to ask her to do so. He couldn’t tell her the truth—that every rustle of movement reminded him of Linda’s betrayal, of what should have been. That she was sleeping on the bed that had arrived only yesterday. His and Linda’s wedding bed.

He clenched his fists wanting to smash something the way his dream had been shattered. But there was only the cot. Or the walls. He stared at the wood partition separating him from his bride and jerked his mouth into a bitter smile. If he started punching the wall, he’d likely frighten Audrey into a faint. And how would he explain his bruised and bloodied hands to any customers tomorrow—to Mr. and Mrs. Ferndale, who were certain to come around to wish them well?

His stomach curdled at the thought of the town founder and his wife. They would want to meet his bride. How would Audrey handle that? How would he? He’d best do better than he had at the wedding! His face tightened at the memory of his agony during the ceremony. He’d been so angry over Linda’s betrayal, he was shaking. Still, he shouldn’t have kissed Audrey like that. Remorse washed over him. Audrey had come all the way out to Wyoming to help him keep his store, but there had been nothing of gratitude in that kiss—only anger and frustration. She didn’t deserve that.

What a mess his life was! All of his hopes and careful plans were brought to ruin by Linda’s fickleness. A strangled moan burst from his throat. He shoved his hands through his hair and looked around the empty room that was meant for the children he’d hoped to have someday. His gut twisted into a painful knot. If only he could get out of here and go for a walk, but the moon was too bright. He couldn’t take the chance that one of the few people in town would see him striding down the road. Men didn’t go for solitary walks on their wedding night. At least he could get some air to breathe! He strode to the door leading to the porch that roofed the store’s loading dock and grasped the knob.

A floorboard in the next room creaked. The sound shot through him like an arrow from a warrior’s bow. He froze. There was a door onto the porch from the other bedroom as well. If he went out there and Audrey heard him and came outside... He released his grip on the doorknob. It wasn’t worth the risk. He couldn’t bear to see her again tonight.

Linda... Oh, my heart’s desire...

Memories exploded. Images of his beloved laughing up at him, her blue eyes glowing, her soft, full lips enticing him to kiss her. The silky feel of her blond curls beneath his hands, the warmth of her arms sliding around his neck, the ardor of her return kiss. Pain ripped through him. How could you betray me like this, Linda? How could you turn your back on our love?

He leaned against the door, shaken, ill, furious, fighting for control.

Dear God, what have I done? How will I get through this sham of a marriage?

He paced around the empty room, his steps keeping time with his tumbling thoughts. There were only three things he knew for certain: he owed Audrey an apology for that angry kiss, he would never trust a woman again and there would be no sleep for him tonight. And one more—he had to find a solution to the problem with the store so he could free Audrey from her commitment and get out of this farce!

Chapter Two

Gray light poked through the slatted wood shutters on the windows and formed dim streaks on the carpet. Dawn was breaking. Was Blake an early riser? Audrey blinked her dry, burning eyes and rose from the chair in her room.

She tucked the hem of her white bodice farther beneath the waistband of her long, dark blue skirt then shook out her hems. Her chosen outfit was functional, with the barest nod toward style in the high ruffled collar and the large, flat bow that rested on the fullness of gathered fabric at the back of the skirt—not exactly the sort of dress one would expect a bride to wear on her first day of marriage. But then, she was only a pretend bride standing in her sister’s place. Her hands stilled. Tears stung her eyes. Oh, Linda, where are you? Have you reached San Francisco? Is your husband treating you well?

Her uneasiness, carried since Linda had stormed out of their house, swelled into a band of tightness around her chest. She’d seen Linda’s prospective husband only a few minutes when Linda had come home to get her jewelry and withdraw her share of their inheritance, but something in his eyes had made her uncomfortable. She’d taken an immediate dislike to him. That wasn’t like her. Of course, that could be because he was the reason Linda had broken her promise to marry Blake—if she had ever intended to do so.

She closed her eyes and rubbed at the ache in her temples. Maybe things would have turned out differently if their father were still alive. Or if she hadn’t challenged Linda to do the right thing and marry Blake that day. Perhaps if she’d been less ardent in defense of Blake’s expectation, she could have talked Linda into at least coming West to see Blake again before she married another.

Oh, what did it matter? It was done. Thinking about it would change nothing. She would simply have to live with her guilt. And Linda—She gasped, lowered her hands to press against her chest. Linda did not know she’d come to Whisper Creek! And she was the one Linda relied on since their parents had passed. How would Linda find her if she needed help? Oh, everything was such a mess! And she couldn’t even confess to Blake about the letters. It would only deepen his hurt, and make their situation untenable.

“Dear Lord, please watch over Linda and keep her well and safe. And please help me to be all that Blake needs me to be until he finds a solution to save his store. Help me to play the part of a newlywed well in front of others—to atone for writing those letters. And help Blake’s heart heal. Oh, Lord, please don’t let Blake suffer because of Linda’s selfish ways and my imprudence. Let him heal and find love with another, I pray.”