Dallas Schulze - Short Straw Bride

“I’d hoped to see you today, Miss Williams.” Andrew Webb stepped in front of her, blocking her view of Reverend Mulligan and his companions. She’d been so wrapped up in watching the McLains that she hadn’t even been aware of him greeting her aunt and uncle.

“Mr. Webb.” She smiled at him and resisted the urge to try to peer around him to see where the McLains were.

“You look very pretty today, Miss Williams, if you don’t mind my saying so.” Andrew flushed a little at his boldness.

“Thank you, Mr. Webb.” He was lying through his teeth, of course. His crooked teeth, she added when he smiled. The powder blue dress she wore was a remade castoff of Anabel’s, and neither the color nor the style suited her. Not to mention the appallingly ugly hat Aunt Dorinda had purchased for her the week before. The brim dripped with ribbon roses and fat bows and made her look like an overdressed mushroom.

“I knew that hat would look a picture on you.”

“This hat?” Eleanor lifted her hand to touch the despised headgear, her attention fully on Andrew for the first time. “Aunt Dorinda bought it from you? ”

“Yes.” Andrew smiled happily. “As soon as I saw it, I thought of you.”

“You did?”

“Yes.” His smile widened. “I’m so glad to see you like it.”

“It’s…lovely,” Eleanor said weakly. It was also the only hat she owned, at least until she could refurbish last year’s bonnet. The tattered condition of that item was the only reason she’d forced herself to don the hat at all.

“I’ve often thought it remarkable how close one can feel to someone with whom one shares one’s tastes, even in such small and unimportant things as styles of dress,” Andrew said, his watery blue eyes focused intently on her face.

Eleanor stared at him, groping for an appropriate reply. Should she admit, right up front, that she despised the hat in question? If she did, would that end the possibility of Mr. Webb being a suitor for her hand? Did she care? To her relief, she was saved the necessity of a reply by Reverend Mulligan’s arrival.

“Zeb, I’d like to introduce you to some friends of mine. This is Luke McLain and his brother, Daniel. Mr. and Mrs. Williams.”

Andrew Webb was instantly forgotten. Eleanor felt her pulse suddenly beating much too fast in the base of her throat. Luke McLain. She rolled the name around in her mind and decided that she’d never heard one she liked more.

“We’ve already met,” Uncle Zeb was saying as he shook hands with both men. “Dealings with the bank, of course. Haven’t seen either of you in quite a while. How’d your place come through the winter? Did you lose much stock?” He looked ready to settle into a lengthy discussion of ranching but a subtle nudge from his wife reminded him of his duties. “Oh, excuse me. Allow me to introduce my wife, Dorinda. And my daughter, Anabel,” he said, pride evident in both voice and expression.

“Miss Williams.” Luke smiled at Anabel, and Eleanor felt something close to despair. No doubt he’d be dazzled by Anabel’s pale beauty, just as every other man was.

“Mr. McLain. And Mr. McLain.” Anabel smiled, revealing the perfect dimples in her cheeks. “I’m very pleased to meet you.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

Eleanor was unreasonably pleased that it was Daniel and not Luke who gave her cousin that reassurance.

“We haven’t seen you at church before, have we?” Anabel asked, widening her blue eyes in a way that drew attention to their pure color.

“We haven’t attended much lately,” Luke said, and Eleanor felt the deep richness of his voice slide over her skin.

“I hope you mean to change that,” Anabel said.

“Now, Anabel, Mr. McLain is going to think you’re being bold.” Her mother’s voice was too indulgent to be called a scold.

“I was just thinking of the importance of tending one’s immortal soul, Mama.” Anabel thrust her lower lip out ever so slightly in the pretty pout that she’d spent hours perfecting.

“Very admirable of you,” Reverend Mulligan said dryly.

“Is this another daughter?” Luke asked, turning to look directly at Eleanor.

“My brother’s child.” Zeb Williams’s tone was flat. “We took her in when he was killed a few years ago.”

There was an awkward little pause, and Eleanor felt the color rise in her cheeks. Her uncle couldn’t have made it more clear that she was an unwanted burden, hardly worth noticing. Tears of embarrassment burned the backs of her eyes.

“Eleanor, this is Luke McLain. His brother, Daniel.” Reverend Mulligan hurried to fill the silence when it became clear that neither her aunt nor her uncle had any interest in introducing her.

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Williams.”

Eleanor raised her gaze to Luke McLain’s face, oblivious to his brother’s equally polite greeting. Up close, he was even more overwhelming than he’d seemed from across the churchyard. His eyes were gray, the same clear color as a lake under a stormy sky. They were like polished steel against his tanned skin.

“Mr. McLain.” The whispered acknowledgment was all she could get out. Her heart was pounding against her breastbone, making her voice breathless. She could barely hear Luke’s greeting to Andrew Webb over the sound of her own pulse in her ears. And then he turned back to her and smiled and she felt her knees go weak.

“Have you lived in Black Dog very long, Miss Williams?”

“Six years, four months and twelve days,” she answered, without thinking. She saw his brows shoot up and immediately wished she could catch the words back. She’d kept track of the days like a prisoner counting out her sentence, but she’d never intended to reveal as much to anyone, least of all Luke McLain.

There was a moment of shocked silence, and then Anabel giggled. “You shouldn’t tease Mr. McLain, Eleanor. Why, it almost sounds like you haven’t been happy with us.”

“I didn’t mean that at all,” Eleanor mumbled, lowering her lashes to conceal the rebellion in her eyes. She’d get an earful from Aunt Dorinda later, she knew. And heaven knew what Luke McLain must think of her.

The awkward moment was interrupted by the arrival of Letty Sinclair. Eleanor felt a twinge of annoyance. Letty was her best friend and, ordinarily, she would have welcomed her presence, but on this occasion Eleanor couldn’t help but feel that Anabel’s soft blond beauty overshadowed her enough without the addition of Letty’s more exotic dark good looks. Guilt over the selfish thought made her smile all the more warmly as she turned to include Letty in their little group.

Reverend Mulligan made the introductions. Eleanor watched in resignation, sure that Luke McLain would be completely smitten by Letty’s raven hair and dark eyes. There’s Italian blood there, mark my words, Aunt Dorinda had said darkly when Letty first moved to Black Dog. But Italian blood or not, the healthy condition of Letty’s bank balance assured her place in the town’s small society, even if her charm and generosity hadn’t already done so.

Better that Luke be smitten by Letty than Anabel, Eleanor thought. Better almost anyone than Anabel. By the time the minister had finished the introductions, Eleanor was already envisioning the wedding with herself as a heartbroken but noble bridesmaid.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Sinclair,” Luke said, looking polite but not overly smitten.

“It’s Mrs. Sinclair,” Letty corrected, smiling in a way that made her eyes sparkle. “I’m a widow these three years past.”

“You must have been a child bride,” Daniel McLain said, his eyes blatantly admiring Letty’s trim figure.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Mr. McLain.”