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Montana Passions: Stranded With the Groom / All He Ever Wanted / Prescription: Love
Allison Leigh
Christine Rimmer
Pamela Toth
Stranded With The GroomThe annual mail-order bride re-enactment was a smashing success – until librarian Katie Fenton found herself ‘wed’ to a sexy mystery man – handsome Justin Caldwell. And then there was the blizzard that kept them snowbound alone together afterwards…All He Ever WantedSingle dad Cameron Stevenson has been sending smouldering looks at Faith Taylor, who saved his son from a cave-in at an old mine. But does she return his affection? How can she resist the gorgeous Stevenson males – especially when they’ve had so much sadness already?Prescription: LoveThe hospital is abuzz with rumours about Chris Taylor and our newest resident Zoe Hart. They’ve had their hands full of injuries in ER – and though the California girl seems too cool to be swayed by our eligible local hero, everyone knows his smile’s hot enough to melt winter ice!
Montana Passions
Christine Rimmer
Allison Leigh
Pamela Toth
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
In the town of Thunder Canyon there are men who can send pulses racing and temperatures rising!
Montana Passions
Three thrilling and satisfying romances from three beloved Mills & Boon authors!
Stranded With the Groom
By
Christine Rimmer
CHRISTINE RIMMER came to her profession the long way around. Before settling down to write about the magic of romance, she’d been an actress, a sales clerk, a janitor, a model, a phone sales representative, a teacher, a waitress, a playwright and an office manager. Now that she’s finally found work that suits her perfectly, she insists she never had a problem keeping a job—she was merely gaining “life experience” for her future as a novelist. Those who know her best withhold comment when she makes such claims; they are grateful that she’s at last found steady work. Christine is grateful, too—not only for the joy she finds in writing, but for what waits when the day’s work is through: a man she loves who loves her right back and the privilege of watching their children grow and change day to day. She lives with her family in Oklahoma.
For Montana readers everywhere. Welcome to Thunder Canyon, Montana.
Chapter One
“A mail-order bride,” Katie Fenton muttered under her breath. “What were they thinking?“
In Thunder Canyon, Montana, it was the first Saturday after New Year’s—and that meant it was Heritage Day.
The annual celebration, held in the big reception room of Thunder Canyon’s sturdy stone-and-brick town hall, included rows of brightly decorated booths, some serving food and others displaying endless examples of local arts and crafts. There was always a pie auction and a quilt raffle and, as evening drew on, a potluck supper and dancing late into the night.
Also, this year, the Thunder Canyon Historical Society had decided to put on a series of historical reenactments. In the morning, they’d presented the local legend of the great Thunder Bird, a mythical figure who took the form of a man every spring and met his mortal mate on sacred ground. According to Native American lore, their joyous reunion caused the spring rains to fall, the leaves and flowers to emerge and the grass to grow lush and green.
At two in the afternoon, there was the discovery of gold in 1862 at Grasshopper Creek—complete with rocks the size of baseballs, sprayed gold to look like huge nuggets.
And now, at four-thirty, it was time for the mail-order bride—played by Katie—arriving by train to meet and marry a man she’d never seen before.
Katie stood huddled on the narrow stage at the west end of the hall. Perched on a makeshift step behind a rickety cardboard mock-up of a steam engine and a red caboose, she kept her shoulders hunched and her head down so she couldn’t be seen over the top of the fake train.
Utterly miserable—Katie hated, above all, to make a spectacle of herself—she stared at the door hole cut in the caboose. On cue, she was supposed to push it open and emerge to meet her “groom.”
Outside, the wind howled. A storm was blowing in. Though the local weatherman had promised nothing much worse than a few flurries, most of the Heritage Day crowd had departed the hall during the past half hour or so and headed for the safety of their homes.
Katie herself was more than ready to call it a day.
But unfortunately, this year for the Heritage Day revels, a local merchant had come up with the bright idea of providing free beer on tap. The beer booth was a big hit. Certain of the citizenry had been knocking it back since eleven or so. They couldn’t have cared less that the predicted flurries seemed to be shaping up into a full-blown blizzard. They were too busy having a grand old time.
Out on the main floor, someone let out a whistle. Katie heard the impatient stomping of heavy feet on the old, well-polished hardwood floorboards.
“C’mon, where’s the bride?”
“Get on with it. We want the bride!”
“The bride!”
“The bride! Give us the bride!”
Katie cast a desperate glance to the tiny wing area at the edge of the stage where sweet old Emelda Ross, one of the few members of the Historical Society who’d yet to go home, hovered over an ancient reel-to-reel tape recorder.
“The bride, the bride!”
“Wahoo, let’s see her!”
Katie gave Emelda a shaky nod. Emelda turned on the tape and two loud train whistles erupted: her cue.
Sucking in a big breath and letting it out slowly, Katie tugged on her 1880s-style merino wool frock, adjusted her bonnet and pushed open the cardboard door.
The beer drinkers erupted into a chorus of catcalls and stomping.
“The librarian!” one of them shouted. “Hey, the librarian is the mail-order bride!”
Another let out a whoop. “Hey, Katie! Welcome to Thunder Canyon!”
“We love you, Katie!”
“If your groom stands you up, I’ll take you, Katie!”
Lovely.
With care, so as not to knock over the train, Katie emerged to face the crowd. She smoothed her dress again, her nervous hands shaking. How, she wondered miserably, had she let herself get roped into this one?
With great effort, she forced a wobbly smile and waved at the beer drinkers, who obligingly clapped and stomped all the louder. She stared out over the seventy or so grinning faces—many of them looking downright woozy by then—and longed to be anywhere but there.
It was all dear old Ben Saunders’s fault. The high school history teacher had been the one to propose the mail-order bride reenactment. The Historical Society went wild for the idea—all except for Katie, who was lukewarm on the concept at best.
Since most of Katie’s fellow society members were well into their forties at least and the other two younger ones were already slated to play the legendary Thunder Bird and his mortal love, it was decided that Katie should play the bride.
She had tried to say no, but who listened? No one, that’s who. And now, here she was, alone in front of the cardboard train, a ludicrous spectacle for the Heritage Day beer drinkers to whistle and holler at.
Ben himself was supposed to be her groom. Unfortunately, the history teacher had awakened that morning with terrible stomach cramps. He’d been rushed to Thunder Canyon General for an emergency appendectomy. And then, when the sky darkened and the wind came up and the first snowflakes began to fall, pretty much everyone from the society except Emelda had decided to go home. They made the plans and now Katie stood on the stage alone, shaking with nerves and stuck with the follow-through.
Since her “groom” was in the hospital, she’d almost succeeded in canceling this ridiculous display. But then, a half hour ago, an out-of-towner named Justin Caldwell had agreed to step in and take Ben’s part. Caldwell was a business associate of Caleb Douglas—Caleb being a local mover and shaker who owned half the property for miles around and also happened to be a second father to Katie. Caleb had ribbed the stranger into playing the groom. The poor guy resisted at first, but when Caleb kept after him, he couldn’t refuse.
And speaking of Justin Caldwell…
Where was he?
Frantically, Katie scanned the noisy crowd for her impromptu pretend groom. Good gravy. In a moment, one of the drunken men down on the floor would be staggering up to take his place.
But no—there he was.
He stood off to the left, at the edge of the crowd, wearing the ill-fitting old-time garb—complete with silly red suspenders and clunky nineteenth-century-style boots—intended for the potbellied Ben Saunders. Katie met the stranger’s piercing blue eyes and a crazy little thrill shivered through her. Even in the ridiculous outfit, the guy still somehow managed to look absolutely gorgeous. She felt the grateful smile as it quivered across her mouth. If she had to make a fool of herself, at least it would be with the best-looking man in the hall. And beyond being handsome, there was the added attraction that he appeared to be sober.
“The groom!” someone shouted. “Where’s the damn groom?”
“Right here,” Justin Caldwell answered easily in a deep, firm voice. He took off his floppy felt hat and waved it high for all of them to see.
“Get up there and claim your bride!”
“Yeah, man. Don’t keep her waiting!”
Justin Caldwell obliged. He mounted the steps at the side of the stage and came toward Katie, his long strides purposeful and confident. When he reached her, he gallantly swept off the floppy hat a second time. Her overtaxed heart raced faster still.
And then, of all things, he reached for her hand. Before she could jerk it away, he brought it to his full-lipped mouth.
Katie stood stunned, staring into those gleaming blue eyes of his, every nerve in her body cracking and popping, as he placed a tender kiss on the back of her hand.
The crowd went wild.
“That’s the way you do it!”
“Oh, yeah!”
“Way to go!”
His lips were so warm—and his hand firm and dry. Her hand, she knew, was clammy and shaking. Gulping, Katie carefully pulled her fingers free.
Caleb’s business partner nodded and put his absurd hat back on. He looked so calm. As if he did this sort of thing every day. He leaned in closer, bringing with him the subtle scent of expensive aftershave. “Now, what?” he whispered in that velvety voice of his.
“Uh, well, I…” Katie gulped again. She just knew her face was flaming red.
“Kiss ‘er!” someone shouted. “Lay a big, smackin’ one right on ‘er!”
Everyone applauded the idea, causing Katie to silently vow that next year, under no circumstances, would there be free beer.
“Yeah,” someone else hollered. “A kiss!”
“A big, wet, juicy one! Grab ‘er and give it to ‘er!”
Justin Caldwell, bless him, did no such thing. He did lift a straight raven-black eyebrow. “The natives are becoming restless,” he said low. “We’d better do something…“
Do something. His soft words echoed in her frazzled mind. “The, uh, ceremony…”
He smiled then, as if mildly amused. “Of course.” He suggested, “And for that we would need…” He let his voice trail off, giving her an opportunity to fill in the blank.
She did. “The preacher.” Her throat locked up. She coughed to clear it. “Uh. Right.”
“Get on with it!” someone yelled.
“Yeah! Get a move on. Let’s see the rest of the show!”
Outside, a particularly hard gust of wind struck the high-up windows and made them rattle. Nobody seemed to notice. They kept laughing and clapping.
“So where is this preacher?” her “groom” inquired.
“Um, well…” Katie wildly scanned the crowd again. Where was Andy Rickenbautum? The balding, gray-haired retired accountant was supposed to step up and declare himself a circuit preacher and “marry” them, but Katie couldn’t see him among the crowd. Evidently, like most of the Historical Society members, he’d headed home.
Maybe Caleb, who’d gotten such a kick out of the whole thing, could help out and play Andy’s part…
But no. Caleb appeared to be gone, too. And Adele, his wife, who had taken in a teenaged Katie and raised her as her own, was nowhere to be seen, either. Now what?
At the Heritage Museum several blocks away, the society had set up a wedding “reception,” complete with finger food and beverages and an opportunity for folks to see up-close the artifacts of the life the mail-order bride and her groom would have lived. The idea was to lure everyone over there behind the “bride” and “groom,” in the museum’s prized refurbished buckboard carriage. They’d all enjoy the snacks, look around—hopefully make a donation—and then head on back to the hall for the potluck supper and dancing that would follow.
But without the fake wedding first, how could they hold a pretend reception?
A couple of the beer drinkers had figured that out. One of them yelled, “Hey! Where’s the preacher?”
“Yeah! We need the dang preacher to get this thing moving!”
What a disaster, Katie thought. It was definitely time to give up and call the whole thing off.
Katie forced herself to face the crowd. “Ahem. Excuse me. I’m afraid there’s no one to play the preacher and we’re just going to have to—”
A resonant voice from the back of the crowd cut her off. “Allow me to do the honors.” Every head in the room swiveled toward the sound. The source, an austere-looking bearded fellow, announced, “I’d be proud to unite such a handsome couple in the sacred bonds of matrimony.”
Someone snickered. “And just who the hell are you?”
The tall fellow, all dressed in black, made his way to the front of the crowd. He mounted the steps and came to stand with Katie and her “groom.” “The Reverend Josiah Green, at your service, miss,” he intoned. He dipped his head at Katie, then turned to Justin. “Sir.”
Someone broke into a laugh. “Oh, yeah. Reverend. That’s a good one…”
“He’s perfect,” someone else declared. “He even looks like a real preacher.”
Looking appropriately grave, the “reverend” bowed to the crowd. The usual whistles and catcalls followed. “Reverend” Green turned his gaze to the spindle-legged antique table a few feet from the cardboard train. “I see you have everything ready.” On the table, courtesy of the Historical Society, waited a Bible, a valuable circa-1880 dip pen and matching inkwell and a copy of an authentic late-nineteenth-century marriage license.
Emelda, smiling sweetly, emerged from the wings. A smattering of applause greeted her as she got the Bible and handed it to the “reverend.”
“Ahem,” said the “reverend.” “If you’ll stand here. And you here…” Katie, Justin and Emelda moved into the positions Mr. Green indicated.
