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“I’ve got a proposition for you.”
Dora’s eyes narrowed. Whatever it was, she didn’t want to hear it.
“I’ll pay you fair market value for the house and the acre of land it stands on,” Grey St. Bride announced. Her jaw fell, and while he waited for her response, he went a step further. “I’ll even include a bonus if you’ll agree to vacate the premises within one week.”
By the time she remembered to close her gaping mouth, Dora’s fists were clenched at her side. Not even that could prevent the tremors that raced up and down her body.
Nor did it quell her sudden fear, her doubts.
Could Grey force her out? If he did, where could she go to start over? No matter how much he paid her, money didn’t last forever. She, more than anyone, should know that.
“No, thank you,” she said, her voice betraying her feelings by only a slight stiffness. “I believe I’ll stay.”
Blue eyes had never looked more arctic. “The devil you will.”
Praise for Bronwyn Williams
Longshadow’s Woman
“This is a perfect example of Western romance writing at its very best…an exciting and satisfying read.”
—Romance Reviews Today
The Paper Marriage
“From first page to last, this is the way romance should be.”
—Old Book Barn Gazette
“Creating multi-dimensional characters in a warm-hearted story, Ms. Williams draws you into the heart of her tale.”
—Romantic Times Magazine
#587 THE PRISONER BRIDE
Susan Spencer Paul
#588 THE QUEST
Lyn Stone
#590 SARA AND THE ROGUE
DeLoras Scott
The Mail-Order Brides
Bronwyn Williams
MILLS & BOON
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Available from Harlequin Historicals and
BRONWYN WILLIAMS
White Witch #3
Dandelion #23
Stormwalker #47
Gideon’s Fall #67
The Mariner’s Bride #99
The Paper Marriage #524
Longshadow’s Woman #553
The Mail-Order Brides #589
To the keepers of the Cape Hatteras lighthouse, which includes our grandfather, E. D. Burrus, and our great-grandfather, Bateman A. Williams.
And to our sister, Sara Shoemaker, for duties above and beyond.
Contents
Chapter One
April 1899
St. Brides Island, on the Outer Banks
of North Carolina.
Considering all she had lost over the past few months—her father, her fiancé, her friends and her reputation—it was her personal maid, Bertie, that Adora Sutton missed most at this moment. Feet spread against the rocking motion of the boat, she tried to brush out the worst creases from her gown. The travel stains would have to wait. As for her hair, which was unmanageable at the best of times, all she could do was flatten it with her hands, pin it down and hope the wind wouldn’t set it free again. There was no way she could keep a hat on her head in this wind—it would be gone the moment she stepped outside.
“I’ll set your bag out onto the dock, miss,” said the young mate as she left the protection of the cramped passenger section. “Mr. St. Bride, he’ll see to it.”
“Yes, thank you very much,”