Reluctant Proxy Bride by Margaret Tanner

Author:Margaret Tanner [Tanner, Margaret]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-10-26T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Tyler strode in from the cutting at the side of the house and skidded to a halt on seeing a horse tethered to his front porch. Joel would not lower himself to ride crow-bait like that. Who could it be? He regretted not carrying his Winchester now. Luckily, he had his hunting knife and he bent down and slid it out from the pocket at the side of his boot. He could and would use it to good effect if he had to.

Inching the door open, he immediately spied a wet slicker hanging on the peg. Glancing over to his bed, he saw someone in it. What in tarnation was going on? Then his shocked gaze alighted on a woman’s black dress hanging over a chair.

Stifling a curse, he stepped over to the bed and wrenched the blankets off, then hurriedly replaced them. A semi naked young blonde woman was in his bed. A very pregnant, half naked woman. He rocked back on his heels.

His shock was quickly replaced by anger. “What are you doing in my bed?” he growled.

The woman’s eyes flickered open. The color receded from her already pale cheeks, her pale blue eyes widening with shock. “Are you Tyler Dean?”

“Yes. Who are you?”

Ruth could not believe her eyes. This tall man with grey eyes as cold and stormy as the weather outside, glared at her. His dark wavy hair touched his shoulders, and he wore a full chest-length beard. He looked like a grizzly bear. Anger bounced off him in waves.

“I’m Ruth. Your wife.”

“Wife! Ruth!” Shock dilated his eyes. “That Ruth?” There was no softening in his voice. His expression was thunderous. “What are you doing here and in your condition?”

“I need somewhere to stay.”

He glared at her.

“Someone wants to kill me and steal my baby.”

“You expect me to believe a ridiculous story like that? Anyway, you can’t stay here.”

“You would turn me out in this storm? I’m your wife.” He must be all of six feet tall and looked even taller since she was lying down.

“On paper only. You got your fifty dollars, I got my ranch, and that is the end of it.”

“You have to help me,” she pleaded.

“No, I don’t.” He clenched his hands at his sides. His features became even harder, until he looked like a graven image carved from stone. “Whose baby is it?”

“My…my husband’s.”

“It’s certainly not mine.”

“No, my late husband. He was killed in a fire when I was about three months pregnant.”

“I’m sorry.” He tugged at his beard. “I guess you’ll have to stay the night here.” His concession was grudging. “It’s not fit for man nor beast outside. Where did you get the crow-bait from?”

“What?” She struggled to sit up and grabbed a blanket to hold against her chest.

“The horse.”

“I knew it was old, the livery man told me so, but he said it was sound and would get me here. He gave me the saddle for nothing.”

“I’ll go and unsaddle it and dry it off. It will have to stay where it is.

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