His Substitute Wife

“Please don’t refuse me! My plan will work, Blake.” She stepped close and peered up at him, her eyes imploring. “Surely you can see it is the only way to save your store! And it will only be for a short time.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I know that you are an intelligent, resourceful man. You will find a solution.”

He put down her satchel and scrubbed his hand across his eyes trying to think through the cloud of shock. “Your faith is misplaced, Audrey. I have no idea what that solution might be. I can’t think...” He drew in a ragged breath, swept his gaze around the store. “Perhaps, given some time, I might think of something, but... I don’t know...” He turned and stared out the window, jamming his hands into his suit jacket pockets. Pain jolted him at the touch of the ring. It was over. His love had chosen another. What did anything else matter? He might as well let Audrey have her way—whatever her reason. He pulled air into his aching chest and motioned for her to join him. “Do you see that small church, down a ways across the road?”

“Yes.”

He fingered the ring, forced out words. “That’s where Pastor Karl lives. He’s waiting to perform the ceremony that would have made your sister and me man and wife.” Bitterness swelled, drove him on. He pulled his hand from his pocket and looked down at her. “There is no place you can stay in Whisper Creek but upstairs in the living quarters with me, so be absolutely certain you want to do this, Audrey. We will have to marry immediately. There will be no opportunity for you to change your mind.” Like your sister. He waited for her answer, his jaw set, the vein at his temple drumming.

“I’ve had days to think about this plan, Blake. I’ve thought of nothing else since I read your letter and boarded the train in New York. I’ll not change my mind.”

Her voice was soft and steady. There was determination in the lift of her chin. He dipped his head in curt acceptance. “There’s one thing more. We will have to play the part of loving newlyweds in front of others. If Mr. Ferndale were to discover that the marriage is a pretense it might void the contract and your...kindness will have been in vain.” Her eyes widened, her posture stiffened. Clearly, she had not realized what her offer entailed. But he understood. He reached for her satchel to walk her back to the station.

“I understand. I shall do my best.”

He straightened, looked at her. It should have been Linda standing there—rushing into his arms... “Look, Audrey—”

“I’m not going home, Blake.” Her hazel eyes bored straight into his. “Not until you have solved the problem Linda has caused you with the store.”

The resolve in her eyes, her stiff posture—everything said she meant it. Well, he’d given her every chance to stop this foolish plan and go home. And she was right—marrying her was the only way to save his investment and not walk away from the store penniless. At least he would salvage something from the ruins of his hopes and plans for the future. And what did the marriage matter? The farce would be over soon enough. He’d think of something. “Very well, then.” He ignored the sickening ache in his chest, pushed her satchel aside and opened the door. “Let’s go. I don’t want to keep Pastor Karl waiting. And, remember...we’re supposed to be in love.”

* * *

May the Lord bless your union with many years of health and happiness.

The pastor’s parting words echoed in her mind with every step she took back to the store. Audrey stole a quick glance at Blake through her lowered lashes and wished she could say or do something that would ease his tension. But that was unlikely as she was the cause of that tension. She took a breath and glanced down at his hand holding her elbow, grateful for its support as she forced her shaky legs to climb the steps to the porch.

Blake released her elbow, led her inside and picked up her satchel. “This way.”

His voice sounded as if his throat had gravel in it. Her heart squeezed. How horrible for him to have had to endure that marriage ceremony with her when he’d just learned the woman he loved had wed another. She remembered the raw hurt when John had cast her aside to make an advantageous marriage. She bit back words of apology and commiseration and followed Blake into the dark interior. Sympathy would do no good. Words could not ease the pain of an aching heart.

She stole another glance at Blake, but the store was too dark and shadowed to see clearly. He led her through a door at the back into another, smaller room, his footsteps and the rustle of her skirt loud in the silence. How much effort it must have cost him to pretend to be a happy bridegroom when he was suffering from her sister’s betrayal. What inner strength he had! Even she hadn’t detected his hidden emotions until the pastor pronounced them man and wife, and he’d kissed her.

She raised her hand and touched her fingertips to her tender lips. Thankfully, the pastor had interpreted Blake’s vehemence as love, not anger. Tears stung the backs of her eyes. How he must have hated being forced to kiss her, to pretend—

“Wait a moment until I light the lamp, Audrey. It’s not safe for you to climb the stairs in this dim light.”

She blinked the tears away and squared her shoulders. A match flared. Blake lifted the globe of a hanging lamp and touched the match to its wick. Light spread over the area and highlighted the taut features of his face. She looked up the open stairs into a soft circle of light at the top. The home he’d meant to share with Linda was up there. Her breath shortened. Oh, Lord, what have I done? This is madness! I can’t—

“Do you want me to go first?”

Blake’s strained voice snapped her thoughts back to him. Her discomfort was nothing compared to the turmoil of emotions he had to be experiencing. She shook her head, gripped the railing and started to climb.

The stairs led to a U-shaped interior hall lit by a pewter oil lamp sitting on a shelf centered between two doorways in the wall they faced. Blake gestured toward the door on the left. “That’s the sitting room. You’ll find it sparsely furnished. I thought—” He stopped, stood beside the door for her to precede him.

He’s thinking about what was to have been. Talk about things! Distract him. She stepped into the dark room and swept her gaze over the furnishings: lamp stands, a chest, two armchairs with cushions facing a settee. Light from the hall lamp shone on the padded arm. Blue damask. Linda’s favorite color. She looked at Blake and forced out words. “It’s lovely. And more than sufficient.”

He nodded, and she followed him back out into the hall, glanced toward a door he indicated on their right. “That’s my office.” He swept his hand toward a door at the end of the short hallway. “And a bedroom.”

She drew a breath, found a bit of courage and spoke before it fled. “Is that where I—”

“No. The room is empty but for a cot. I’ll sleep there.”

She started to protest, noticed his taut face and kept quiet.

Lamplight gleamed on Blake’s dark hair and broad shoulders as he walked past the stairwell and gestured toward that second open doorway now on their left. “That’s the kitchen.”

She glanced into the dark room. The light from the hall gleamed on the polished wood of a dining table surrounded by Hitchcock chairs. It was all she could see in the quick glimpse. She stifled a wish to look around the kitchen and hurried after Blake, almost bumping into his back when he stopped at the door centered in the short hall at the right of the stairs that formed the second arm of the U.

“This is the dressing room. You’ll find everything you need in it—piped-in water, a bathing tub...” That muscle along his jaw jumped. “Towels and other necessities—soaps and creams and such—are in a cupboard.”

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.”

Tension thrummed along her nerves. Some planner she was. She hadn’t thought beyond the point of marrying Blake to save his inheritance. Now she was caught unprepared. Play the part... What did that mean? How did a loving bride act? Thanks to John’s betrayal, she’d not had a chance to learn about being a bride. An image of Linda’s friend Carolyn Rogers clinging to her new husband’s arm and cooing love words at him flashed into her head. Surely Blake would not expect such behavior from her. He could barely stand the sight of her. And she didn’t blame him.

Tears surged, but she swallowed them back, refusing to cry any more. What was done was done. She couldn’t change it. All she could do now was to help Blake save his store.

She thrust aside her troubling thoughts and hurried to her satchel inside the large wardrobe Blake had made to hold Linda’s many gowns. She couldn’t bring herself to place her grooming aids on the lovely dressing table he had bought for Linda, or to use the products he had provided for her sister. Thoughts of the White Rose paste for teeth, the Pears’ soap and the lovely milk glass Crème Simon jar alongside the tin of Gillette safety razor blades and the jar of Swiss Violet shaving cream on the shelf above the washbowl in the dressing room sent a tremble through her. The sight of those items had brought Blake’s longing to wed Linda home to her as nothing else had. They were so...intimate, sitting there side by side.

Her stomach churned, threatened to empty. Blake resented her for coming to Whisper Creek to marry him, even if it was for his benefit. And he regretted yielding to her arguments and going through with the marriage. That had been clear in that angry ceremonial kiss. And in the obligatory polite way he had treated her last night. There had been no evidence of the casual friendship that had existed between them when he was courting Linda. She sighed and opened the satchel. As uncomfortable as her position was for her, it had to be unbearable for Blake. He loved Linda. And her mere presence, here in the home he had built for the two of them, had to remind him of her sister. All she could do was try to be as unobtrusive as possible when they were alone.

She coiled her long wavy hair into a thick figure eight at the nape of her neck and secured it with hairpins and the pearl hair comb that was a bequest from her grandmother. A quick glance in the long mirror affixed to the inside of the wardrobe door revealed wispy curls lying against her forehead. She smoothed them back and closed the door. Linda’s blond curls looked lovely resting on her forehead. Her own red curls just looked messy. But the room was neat.

She released another sigh and looked around. There was no sign of her being there. She could not sleep in that bed with its pristine blue-and-white coverlet, so she’d sat in the rocker and dozed when she wasn’t pacing and worrying last night away. And she’d made certain there was no sign of disturbance to the dressing room when she’d washed and prepared for the day.

The room was getting lighter. She glanced at the brightness filtering through the shutters. Dawn came quickly in the mountains. Should she go to the kitchen now? She tiptoed to the bedroom door and pressed her ear against the wood. There was no sound, only silence. A frown tugged at her eyebrows. Had Blake finally fallen asleep? He’d been stirring in the next bedroom all through her long sleepless night. Perhaps he’d risen when she dozed off after coming back from the dressing room.

She stepped back, nibbled at her lower lip. What should she do? When did he breakfast? Were there provisions in the kitchen? Surely there were provisions! He’d said there was no restaurant in Whisper Creek, so he had to cook—didn’t he? The questions streaked through her mind, adding to her indecision. The only thing she was sure of was that she did not want to presume for her own use the things that Blake had provided for Linda, or in any way add to his hurt from Linda’s betrayal.

She listened at the door again, heard nothing and turned back into the room. It would be ill-mannered of her to rise first; she would wait until she heard Blake leave his bedroom. She moved to the window, opened the shutters and watched the sun climbing above the mountains. How foolish Linda was to throw away the love of a man as thoughtful and caring and faithful and...and passionate in his feelings as Blake.

* * *

Blake stood with his hand on the doorknob, torn between his desire to leave the confinement of the bedroom and his reluctance to face the agony of the day ahead. He’d been looking forward to Linda’s excitement over all of the things he’d bought for her comfort. How could he face Audrey in his beloved’s place? How could he watch her in the kitchen, using the utensils and pots and pans and stove he had bought for Linda, while she prepared and then shared what should have been his first breakfast with his wife?

Wife. The word stabbed deep. He sucked in a breath and glanced at the light slipping through the window shutters. Morning was breaking. He had no choice but to live through this day. And neither did Audrey. He released the doorknob and massaged the tense muscles in his neck and shoulders, then drew his knuckles along his freshly shaved jaw. Audrey had tried her best to act undaunted last night. But she hadn’t been prepared for the reality of a marriage—even a pretend one. It was obvious when they came back to the store last night that she hadn’t thought beyond the ceremony. There was an unworldliness...an innocence about Audrey. He’d sensed it during their short conversations when he’d courted Linda, and it was strongly in evidence last night. And now he was responsible for her.

His face tightened. He never should have married her—wouldn’t have if he’d had time to think beyond his shock at Linda’s betrayal and the urgency of the moment. But then he would have lost the store. He owed Audrey his gratitude and respect for saving it for him, but—Linda. The ache swelled, burst over him like a wave. He bit back a moan, set his jaw and reached for the doorknob. The sooner he faced this day, the sooner it would be over. He gripped the cold metal, fighting the anguish that had become a part of him. “God in Heaven, help Audrey, I pray. And please help me to hide my feelings. She doesn’t deserve any of this.”

A quick twist of his wrist opened the bedroom door, and he walked down the hallway into the kitchen. Light from the windows gleamed on the new furnishings. The sight of them fueled his determination. He strode beyond the worktable to the stove, opened the firebox, struck a match and lit the kindling he’d readied the day before. He’d choke down breakfast somehow.

“Good morning.”

Audrey. His hand tightened on the damper. He finished adjusting the draft on the stovepipe, turned and pulled his lips into a facsimile of a smile. “Good morning. It looks like it’s going to be a nice day.” A bald-faced lie. It was a wretched day. He should be taking his wife in his arms—

“Yes. It was beautiful watching the sun come up over the mountain. Though it was quite misty.”

Her return smile was shaky. So was the hand she lifted to push back the curl dangling on her forehead. An image of Linda smiling up at him while she twirled a curl around her finger flashed into his head. His chest constricted. Thankfully, Audrey didn’t have blond hair and blue eyes or Linda’s coquettish ways—he couldn’t have borne that. He nodded, turned to the coal box on the floor and scooped up some black chunks.

“The mist rises from the snowcaps.” He slid the coal off the shovel onto the kindling, closed the door and adjusted the draft. Audrey’s skirt whispered against the polished wood floor. He tensed, glanced over his shoulder. She was walking toward him, her hazel eyes shining.

“What a beautiful stove.” The words were a mere whisper. She wasn’t talking to him. He watched her brush her hand across the gleaming cast-iron cooking surface, then raise it to touch the blue porcelain doors on the warming ovens above it before lowering it and resting her fingertips on the chrome handle of the oven door. “Just beautiful...”

It was the exact response he had hoped for—but from the wrong woman. He clenched his hands, reminded himself of what he owed Audrey and cleared his throat. “I’m glad you approve of it. I wasn’t sure—”

“Oh, it’s wonderful! Just look at that spacious oven! Why, I could bake—” She caught her lower lip with her teeth, stepped back and slid her palms down the front of her skirt. “I mean—any woman would love to have this stove to cook and bake on.”