The Borrowed Bride. Elizabeth Lane
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What if he didn’t come?
What if he’d changed his mind?
She wouldn’t blame him if he backed out. After all, she hadn’t given him any encouragement. Judd knew, of course, that she didn’t love him. Truth be told, she wasn’t even sure she liked him. But that didn’t matter, Hannah reminded herself. This was a legal arrangement, to protect her baby’s rights until Quint returned. She and Judd would be living together like two polite strangers in a boardinghouse, with his mother and the formidable Gretel as chaperones.
A nunnery couldn’t be safer.
She was yanking the last tangle of wild morning glory from among the string beans when she glanced up to see a tall rider approaching the gate. Even silhouetted as he was, against the blaze of the setting sun, there was no mistaking Judd. Hannah’s emotions fluttered between dismay and relief. He’d come early, giving her no time to clean up. Her hair was plastered to her head beneath her mother’s ugly sunbonnet. Her face was smudged with dirt, and her gingham dress felt glued to her body. But why should her appearance matter? It wasn’t as if they were courting. He’d made her a plainspoken offer last night. Now he’d come for his answer.
She could only hope it was the answer he wanted to hear.
Judd eased out of the saddle, opened the sagging gate and led his horse through. It was early yet, barely sundown. The family would still be at evening chores. He should have waited until after dark. But never mind, he wouldn’t be here long. All he needed was a single word from Hannah—yes or no.
Turning, he closed the gate behind the horse. He could see Hannah now, standing in the family garden, clad in the faded gingham she’d worn to see Quint off on the train. A blue sunbonnet dangled by its strings from her left hand. With her right hand, she was hurriedly finger-combing her hair back from her face. The motion strained the fabric of her bodice against one swollen breast.
Judd tore his eyes away from the sight. Hannah might be his future bride, but she was carrying his brother’s child. He’d be well-advised to discipline his gaze.
Hannah had seen him. She hesitated, shading her eyes against the sunset. Then she started down the slope. She was tall like her mother, with a graceful stride that no one else in her family possessed. Just watching her walk toward him was a pleasure.
“Hello,” she greeted him as she came within speaking range. Judd could feel the tension in her voice. Maybe she’d decided to refuse his offer. He had to be prepared for that.
“Let’s walk,” he said, tethering his horse to the pasture fence. “When you’re ready you can tell me what you’ve decided.”
With a silent nod she turned onto the footpath that led along the creek. The tall wheatgrass rustled in the wind. From somewhere beyond the willows, a bobwhite quail piped its plaintive lay-low, lay-low.
Judd waited for Hannah to speak. He’d promised he wouldn’t rush her but it wasn’t easy to keep still. It was as if she held his life in her strong, young hands.
“I don’t suppose you’ve heard from Quint,” she said at last.
Judd exhaled slowly. “You know I’d tell you right off if I had. I went into town and checked the mail myself. There was nothing.”
“But he’s got to be alive, don’t you think? Surely, if the worst happened, somebody would notify his family.”
“One would hope so. I’m already working with an agency in Denver. They’ve got a good reputation for finding people. But anything they can do is going to take time.”
She clasped her work-reddened hands. Her interlaced fingers flexed and twisted. “Meanwhile, there’s not much we can do except wait, is there?”
“You and I can wait. It’s the baby who can’t.”
“I know.” She turned to face him. The setting sun cast her features in soft rose-gold, like a Renaissance painting. “That’s why I’ve decided to accept your offer, Judd. Until Quint comes home, I’d be honored and grateful to be your wife.”
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