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The Bride Lottery
Tatiana March
Bidding on his convenient bride!There’s no room in James Fast Elk Blackburn’s dangerous life for a wife, but the gentle beauty on offer in the town’s bridal auction would make the perfect carer for his orphaned niece.Miranda Fairfax is trying to reach her sister in Arizona. Being arrested, then forcibly wed to a bounty hunter, is not part of her plan! Yet Jamie’s rough exterior conceals a compassionate and sensual man, and Miranda soon wishes their marriage could be for real…
Bidding on his convenient bride!
There’s no room in James Fast Elk Blackburn’s dangerous life for a wife, but the gentle beauty on offer in the town’s bridal auction would make the perfect caregiver for his orphaned niece.
Miranda Fairfax is trying to reach her sister in Arizona. Being arrested then forcibly wed to a bounty hunter is not part of her plan! Yet Jamie’s rough exterior conceals a compassionate, sensual man, and Miranda soon wishes their marriage could be for real...
The Fairfax Brides (#u6263ff93-6fa5-55f7-bcef-2e846db924ff)
Three sisters find rugged husbands
in the wild Wild West
Beautiful heiresses Charlotte, Miranda and Annabel Fairfax have only ever known a life of luxury in Boston. Now orphaned and in danger, they are forced to flee, penniless and alone, into the lawless West. There they discover that people will risk all for gold and land—but when the sisters make three very different marriages to three enigmatic men they will find the most precious treasure of all!
Read Charlotte and Thomas’s story in
His Mail-Order Bride
Already available
Miranda and James’s story in
The Bride Lottery
Available now
and
Annabel and Clay’s story
coming soon!
Author Note (#u6263ff93-6fa5-55f7-bcef-2e846db924ff)
When I wrote His Mail-Order Bride—the story of Charlotte Fairfax, who assumes another woman’s identity and ends up married to an Arizona Territory homesteader—I did not intend to write three books. However, it seemed natural to follow with the stories of Charlotte’s sisters, Miranda and Annabel, and it became a trilogy: The Fairfax Brides.
I wanted my heroines to have distinct personalities, and I wanted to write about three different heroes, yet there are common elements throughout the books. All three sisters have to flee from their embittered cousin Gareth, who seeks to control the Fairfax fortune. All three heroes are loners, but each in his own way each of them longs for a woman to love—someone to call his own, someone who will make him complete.
The Bride Lottery is the story of the middle sister, Miranda, and Jamie Blackburn, a part-Cheyenne bounty hunter. Brave and bold, Miranda thirsts for adventure and meets new challenges head-on. Jamie has lost everyone he has ever loved, and lives in a dark world of death and danger. When fate throws them together Jamie finds a chance for redemption in Miranda, but the violence of his profession stands in their way.
I hope you’ll enjoy reading about Miranda and Jamie.
Annabel’s story will complete the trilogy. The youngest, clever but emotionally volatile, Annabel has some growing up to do before she can stand up to her older sisters and find her place in the world.
The Bride Lottery
Tatiana March
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Before becoming a novelist, TATIANA MARCH tried out various occupations—including being an accountant. Now she loves writing Western historical romance. In the course of her research Tatiana has been detained by the US border guards, had a skirmish with the Mexican army, and stumbled upon a rattlesnake. This has not diminished her determination to create authentic settings for her stories.
Books by Tatiana March
Mills & Boon Historical Romance
The Fairfax Brides
His Mail-Order Bride
The Bride Lottery
Mills & Boon Historical Undone! eBooks
The Virgin’s Debt
Submit to the Warrior
Surrender to the Knight
The Drifter’s Bride
Visit the Author Profile page at www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Contents
Cover (#u25ff6b92-10e3-5c1f-929b-36106aadf1a4)
Back Cover Text (#uc3e780d2-809c-5452-8c4e-0c6edcb9a407)
The Fairfax Brides (#udc73b9dc-345d-5a84-9403-aa2547949dc4)
Author Note (#u670402c5-f1b3-5fef-aea0-390ddb651884)
Title Page (#u9caf12c7-a7f3-5af0-b777-16ddb5cbb7f9)
About the Author (#u9ba64f8c-a513-56a6-930e-7e0627554ba6)
Chapter One (#u513fb670-893c-56e6-baae-e4f609d0a4a2)
Chapter Two (#u105ea2de-f5b4-52d9-9322-8c82368adeb3)
Chapter Three (#u6771c0a0-b5f3-588f-919f-6c395a84cbe2)
Chapter Four (#uc661e928-08f4-5e56-a1a7-d6ec46c0a2c2)
Chapter Five (#ub084cd06-4ff5-519c-8beb-d263a2f01e7f)
Chapter Six (#uf427436f-75d8-5a85-81cb-267dbaab8cd2)
Chapter Seven (#u5c8182be-0792-5b8b-9bd4-1d9e6c3f656c)
Chapter Eight (#u73cd7259-3054-579d-a0fa-f1ddff978431)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u6263ff93-6fa5-55f7-bcef-2e846db924ff)
Boston, Massachusetts, July 1889
The night had fallen. In the darkness of her bedroom at Merlin’s Leap, Miranda Fairfax held up a single candle. The flickering light fell on the pale features of her younger sister, Annabel. “I don’t like leaving you behind, Scrappy.” Miranda used the childhood nickname reserved for moments of tenderness. “Cousin Gareth could set his sights on you next.”
“No.” Annabel spoke calmly, even though fear lurked in her amber eyes. “He might have gotten away with declaring Charlotte dead but to do the same with you would raise suspicion. One dead sister is feasible. Two dead sisters would trigger an alarm. I’ll be safe, even after you’ve gone.”
Miranda agreed, and yet the thought of leaving Annabel alone at Merlin’s Leap filled her with dread. The gray stone mansion by the ocean just north of Boston had been a happy home, until four years ago, when their parents died in a boating accident. Since then, the sisters had been at the mercy of their Cousin Gareth, who had come to live with them and was determined to get his hands on the Fairfax fortune.
Charlotte had been the heiress, and Cousin Gareth had attempted to force her into marriage. After Charlotte ran away two months ago, Cousin Gareth had claimed the body of some unknown woman as her. With Charlotte officially dead, Miranda stood to inherit, and now Gareth’s efforts to bring about a marriage were focused on her, forcing her to flee.
“Write to Charlotte and post the letter as soon as you can,” Miranda reminded Annabel. “She needs to understand what Gareth has done. When she turns twenty-five next May and gains access to Papa’s money, she’ll need to prove she is alive before she can claim her inheritance.”
“I’ll write and find some way to mail the letter.” Annabel’s voice quivered. “Just think...if we hadn’t agreed on a code word for Charlotte to get a message to us, we might believe she is dead, instead of hiding in the Arizona Territory, pretending to be some homesteader’s mail-order bride.”
Miranda lifted the candle higher. “We would have known she’s alive from the telegram you retrieved after Cousin Gareth tossed it in the fireplace. The way the constables described the dead woman found on the train made it clear it couldn’t be Charlotte.”
“But without Charlotte’s message we would have feared the worst,” Annabel suggested.
“I know.” Miranda’s tone was bleak. “We’ll keep the same code word. Once I’m safe, I’ll write to Merlin’s Leap as Emily Bickerstaff. Cousin Gareth will intercept the letter, but with any luck he’ll share the contents with you.”
“Make it a letter of condolence,” Annabel suggested. “Emily was Charlotte’s friend. One could assume she might have heard about Charlotte’s passing and would write to the surviving sisters, to express her sympathies.”
Miranda forced a smile. “Good idea.”
Despite being sensitive and prone to weeping, Annabel was the cleverest of them. The best way to calm her nerves was to get her focused on some practical dilemma. The middle sister at twenty-two, Miranda knew she was considered the brave one. She suspected the others had no idea how much her feisty front was bravado.
In the parlor, the clock chimed midnight.
“It’s time.” Miranda blew out the candle and set it down on the rosewood bureau. Solid darkness fell over the room. She would have to make her way downstairs without the benefit of light, for even at this hour the servants might be spying on them.
“Good luck.” Annabel’s tearful voice rose in the darkness. Slim arms closed around Miranda in a trembling hug. Miranda returned the embrace. One more gesture of sisterly love. One more moment of comfort before she faced the unknown. She wanted to cry but suppressed the need. She was the strong one. She had to be.
Gently, Miranda eased away from her sister’s clinging hold. “Check the escape route.”
Annabel fumbled over to the window, parted the thick velvet drapes. A thin ray of silvery light spilled into the room. Craning her neck, Annabel studied the sky through the glass. “The clouds are thinning. There’ll be moonlight.”
“Damn,” Miranda muttered. Normally she avoided swearwords, but tonight she’d employ any means to bolster her courage. Anger might hasten her footsteps as she raced down the gravel path and across the lawns into the shelter of the forest.
She wore a black gown and bonnet, a mourning outfit from when their parents died. The dark clothes would blend into the shadows. And if she pretended to be a widow, it might make things easier during the journey. Men might be less likely to bother a woman grieving for a recently departed husband.
For men would bother her, Miranda knew. She had beauty that attracted them. Her sisters had complained about it often enough, saying it was unfair how she had inherited the best features in the family—their father’s fair hair and blue eyes, their mother’s slender height and patrician elegance.
Miranda had never cared about her looks before. But now she did. They would be a nuisance for a lone female traveling out to the lawless West. To rebuff unwanted advances, she would have to rely on the rest of her heritage, for she had also inherited Papa’s fiery temper that flared up like a firecracker and fizzled out again just as quickly, leaving her to regret things said or done in a moment of anger.
“Hold the curtains ajar to let in the moonlight,” Miranda instructed her sister.
