Judith Bowen - His Brother's Bride

“He’s gone, Noah. Your brother’s gone. He’s left.” “He’s gone, Noah. Your brother’s gone. He’s left.” “What are you talking about? What do you mean, he’s gone?” “This.” Abby fumbled in her skirt pocket and took out a balled-up sheet of lined paper. “This!” she cried. Noah opened the crumpled paper and scanned the few lines on the page. “I’m so sorry, Abby,” he read. “I wish I could have faced up to it, but I just can’t marry you....” The letter was signed simply Jesse. Noah swore. His brain was spinning. Left her! The stupid, useless son of a bitch had left her. High and dry Alone. Pregnant. With no one to turn to—except him. “Come on,” he said, leaning down and taking her by the arm. She staggered to her feet “Come inside and let’s talk this over.” Noah cleared his throat “You got any money? Enough to go home?” “I can’t go home again, I just can’t,” she said, shuddering. “And I quit my job. Who’s going to hire a teacher with a baby on the way? No husband? Maybe...maybe I could start over. somewhere else....” She buried her head in her hands and her shoulders shook. He glanced at her. “I have one idea,” he said. “You could marry me.” Letter to Reader Dear Reader, Every baby ought to be welcomed and loved, but certainly every conception isn’t planned—all women know that! Still, when it happens, expected or unexpected, a woman’s life is never the same again. Usually the expectant mother has the love and support of a good man. When she doesn’t, she hopes she can count on the love and support of her family. That’s looking on the brightest side. Too often, the single mother is shunned by her community and her family. When she has no man to stand by her, either, where does she turn? American Abby Steen finds herself in that situation when she moves to Canada, pregnant and alone. Glory rancher Noah Winslow has no plans to marry—ever. But how can he turn his back on a woman in trouble? Especially when it’s his brother who’s responsible for the whole mess? I hope you enjoy this new story in my MEN OF GLORY series set in Alberta ranch country. I know you’ll recognize some of the townspeople, and the ranch and farm folk, too. About the Author Judith Bowen P.S. I’d love to hear what you think of Noah and Abby’s story. Drop me a line at P.O. Box 2333, Point Roberts, WA 98281-2333 Title Page His Brother’s Bride Judith Bowen www.millsandboon.co.uk Dedication For Paula An Editor in a Hundred CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN CHAPTER SEVENTEEN CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Copyright

“He’s gone, Noah. Your brother’s gone. He’s left.”

“What are you talking about? What do you mean, he’s gone?”

“This.” Abby fumbled in her skirt pocket and took out a balled-up sheet of lined paper. “This!” she cried.

Noah opened the crumpled paper and scanned the few lines on the page. “I’m so sorry, Abby,” he read. “I wish I could have faced up to it, but I just can’t marry you....” The letter was signed simply Jesse.

Noah swore. His brain was spinning. Left her! The stupid, useless son of a bitch had left her. High and dry Alone. Pregnant. With no one to turn to—except him.

“Come on,” he said, leaning down and taking her by the arm. She staggered to her feet “Come inside and let’s talk this over.” Noah cleared his throat “You got any money? Enough to go home?”

“I can’t go home again, I just can’t,” she said, shuddering. “And I quit my job. Who’s going to hire a teacher with a baby on the way? No husband? Maybe...maybe I could start over. somewhere else....” She buried her head in her hands and her shoulders shook.

He glanced at her. “I have one idea,” he said. “You could marry me.”

Dear Reader,

Every baby ought to be welcomed and loved, but certainly every conception isn’t planned—all women know that!

Still, when it happens, expected or unexpected, a woman’s life is never the same again.

Usually the expectant mother has the love and support of a good man. When she doesn’t, she hopes she can count on the love and support of her family. That’s looking on the brightest side. Too often, the single mother is shunned by her community and her family. When she has no man to stand by her, either, where does she turn?

American Abby Steen finds herself in that situation when she moves to Canada, pregnant and alone. Glory rancher Noah Winslow has no plans to marry—ever. But how can he turn his back on a woman in trouble? Especially when it’s his brother who’s responsible for the whole mess?

I hope you enjoy this new story in my MEN OF GLORY series set in Alberta ranch country. I know you’ll recognize some of the townspeople, and the ranch and farm folk, too.

Judith Bowen

P.S. I’d love to hear what you think of Noah and Abby’s story. Drop me a line at P.O. Box 2333, Point Roberts, WA 98281-2333

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Paula

An Editor in a Hundred

CHAPTER ONE

Carlisle, Minnesota

November

WHAT IN HEAVEN’S NAME had happened to her friend? She’d gone to the ladies’ room nearly fifteen minutes ago.

Abby played with her empty glass and tried to ignore the curls of cigarette smoke that floated lazily in the overheated air. The atmosphere in the bar was thick with sweat and sawdust and booze and hormones belonging to both sexes. Plus the music. She could hardly hear herself think.

She wasn’t used to this. The one gin and tonic she’d had was making her feel dizzy. That, and the music. As soon as Marguerite returned from the ladies’ she was going to ask if they could leave.

Abby felt thoroughly uncomfortable sitting by herself at a table along the wall. She hoped no one would think she was looking for company. From time to time she glanced around quickly, trying not to meet anyone’s eyes. If her father could see her now. If the good folks in Wicoigon. South Dakota, could see her now. Mavis and Perry and the well-meaning Viola Palmerston, the town librarian, the widow who’d had been so helpful to her when Frank died.

Damn. There was a big cowboy at the bar who she swore kept watching her. It gave her the creeps. She didn’t dare look any closer. Besides, without her glasses on, what could she see, anyway? That had been an exercise in vanity, leaving her glasses at the motel room, thinking she looked better without them. Who would care?

“Another one, ma’am?” The waiter paused briefly, his tray loaded with beer glasses, pitchers and a stack of flimsy foil ashtrays.

“No, thanks.” She shook her head, not sure the waiter could hear her in the din. She was getting out of here. If her so-called friend didn’t show in another two. minutes-Abby glanced at her watch—she was leaving without her. Trust Marguerite to go off with someone else, or sit down at another table.

Abby would just take a taxi to the motel. Tomorrow was a busy day for Wicoigon Jersey Farm at the stock show, and she could use the sleep. Her father would never forgive her if she blew this fair. He lived and breathed Wicoigon Jerseys, and if he hadn’t had a bad fall last week, he’d be here at the agricultural exhibition himself, showing the family company’s top young bulls and heifers with Pepper and Will.

But he wasn’t. Abby was in charge on her own. Pepper and Will, both eighteen, her niece and nephew, twins, weren’t around much except to fulfill their duties of mucking out the stalls and feeding the cattle. They were supposed to be her assistants, but Abby did most of the showing and grooming herself.

Not that she minded. She loved cows. She’d grown up with the gentle doe-eyed Jerseys and they were still her favorite breed, although she hadn’t worked on the farm for quite a few years, since before she’d married Frank. The Carlisle exhibition brought cattle of all breeds, both dairy and beef. It was one of the big stock fairs of the year, and Carlisle blue ribbons were valuable additions to any breeder’s showroom wall. Wicoigon Jerseys already had nearly a dozen.

Everything had changed. Frank was dead now, nearly two years ago. And then last year... when her baby daughter had been born dead—

Abby released her empty glass from nerveless fingers. She still couldn’t bear to think of it. People said things happened for a reason. People said you’d get over it. People said it wasn’t as though you’d gotten to know the child.... That was the stupidest of all the things people said. She’d so hoped she’d have the baby at least-something of Frank, to keep with her always. She’d longed for that baby, as she’d longed for nothing else on earth. And then? An accident of birth, they said. Couldn’t be helped.

And now Abby Steen had no one and nothing.

Frank had been killed in a traffic accident when the rig he was driving smashed into another rig on an interstate in Georgia. Her husband of just over three years had been working extra time to supplement her teaching salary, in the hopes that they’d be able to buy a house of their own, now that they had a family on the way. Abby had been three months pregnant when Frank was killed.

How could such terrible things happen to one person? Her mother had told her that everything happens for a purpose. How could that be true? What horrible purpose was there in two gentle, innocent souls like her husband and her infant daughter dying like that? She’d named the baby, over the objections of her doctor and her parents, who’d said it would only make the pain worse. Mary Francesca, for Frank. How could the pain be any worse?

Sometimes Abby didn’t think she had anything to live for anymore. She had nothing to hope for. But she stopped that thought as soon as it hatched, as she’d done so often, out of habit There were her parents, approaching retirement age. They needed her, in their way. And her older sister, Meg. Abby wasn’t especially close to her family, but she’d had to lean on them in the past few years. She’d always be grateful that they’d been there for her.

Still, the grief had withered her soul until she sometimes thought she was more like a dried-up sixty-year-old spinster than a young woman. Just twenty-eight. Her friend Marguerite had had to cajole her even to agree to come out this evening. She’d have preferred to stay in the motel and watch something on television and go to bed early.

Which was what she should have done, obviously. Now she had to haul herself out of this den of iniquity, as her mother probably would have called it. She’d had her gin, she’d lost her friend, and now it was time to get out of there and get some sleep.

“Ma’am?”

The rich baritone at her left shoulder had her spinning. She reached up to push aside the blond lock that had snapped across her nose as she turned. “Yes?”

She sounded almost angry. Schoolmarmish. She hadn’t meant to. Nor had she been in a classroom for quite a while.

“I’d like to buy you a drink, if I may?” It was the cowboy she’d been sure was examining her from across the dance floor, from his position at the bar. He was big, as she’d thought. Tall and handsome and friendly looking.

Of course, what would she know? She hadn’t dated since Frank’s death. She had very little interest in men, although she dreaded the loneliness that seemed to surround her.