Page 18 of Seven Brides for Beau McBride (The McBrides of Montana #3)

“He can’t wait to spend time with you all,” Junebug said, stepping in front of him. “You’ve got to forgive his inability to string two words together—he’s lived in the mountains his whole life and he ain’t sure how to behave with ladies. You seem to have discombobulated him.”

More fluttering, and now some sighing, and a host of shining eyes radiating anger, bewilderment, amusement, understanding and… something else that made Beau feel a bit light in the head.

“Excuse me, ladies, I’ll just take him off for a minute and let him collect himself,” Junebug said cheerfully. “Maybe open the window—your perfumes might be a touch too intoxicating.” Junebug grabbed Beau and yanked him out of the parlor.

Normally Beau would have kicked up at being manhandled, but he was painfully aware that he had an audience. And he was a little lightheaded, probably from all the perfume, like Junebug said.

Rigby had clearly lifted his game as a hotelier now that the Bellevue was playing host to all these pretty girls, because the dining room was looking fancy, Beau thought dumbly, as he fanned himself with his hat.

He was vaguely aware that Ellie Neale had followed them through to the quieter room, closing the door behind her.

She opened the window a fraction and the freshness of pine and creek water rushed in on the breeze.

Beau’s head cleared a little. Rigby had also cleaned his windows, Beau realized, which gave a disturbingly clear view of the whorehouse over the road.

Beau wondered what Junebug’s brides thought of that.

Ellie Neale was certainly staring. “Is that…?” she asked, scandalized.

“Yes,” Junebug said shortly. Her dog barked and jumped up on one of Rigby’s chairs.

“You’d think they’d at least throw a shawl over their… um, shoulders.” She cleared her throat. “They must be cold.” It was a sunny bright day but November nonetheless, the shadows cold as a cellar.

“Go back to the parlor,” Junebug instructed Ellie. “Git in there with the others where you belong.”

“I’m not marrying him, so I don’t need to join the harem.

” Ellie pushed Junebug’s dog off the chair and sat herself down at the table by the window, tucking her ugly brown dress under her neatly.

“Do you think I could have another cup of tea while I wait? It’s been a long day.

I might even faint,” she said, in an oddly hopeful voice.

Junebug ignored her.

“I might faint right in the middle of that harem in there. Wouldn’t that be a horrid thing to happen.”

“Go ask Mrs. Champion for tea, Bug,” Beau ordered.

His head was getting clearer by the minute.

Sweet damn, being around those gals had acted on him like a shot of moonshine.

“And get her to send some tea into the…”—he resisted the word harem —“parlor. Tell her to send some cake or something. I’ll pay. ”

“I’m not a waiter,” Junebug protested. “But if you’re paying, you can get me some cake too. I ain’t had no lunch. It’s possible I could faint too.”

“You don’t seem the type,” Ellie said dismissively. “You’re far too robust.”

“Not without cake I ain’t.”

“Go, Bug, or I’m walking out that front door right now, your brides be damned.”

“Make sure he doesn’t go anywhere,” Junebug told Ellie, jabbing a threatening finger at her. “He’s a treacherous sort. You don’t look strong enough to stop him by force, but you’re wily enough, I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

“I’ve never considered myself wily,” Ellie mused as Junebug slipped out. “It seems like a quality that belongs to the great beauties of the world. Like Cleopatra.”

Beau sighed and sank unsteadily into the chair opposite her. “I’m sorry about my sister. It’s worse than having a rabid dog.”

“I suppose I’m more sympathetic to you chasing her around the station,” Ellie said warily. “Now that I’ve met her.”

“I told you. She’s a demon.” Beau rubbed his face tiredly. “I wish Morgan was back—he always could handle her better.”

Now that she wasn’t glaring at him and accusing him of child abuse, Ellie Neale was oddly calming.

She had a sensitive face, with big dreamy brown eyes.

She wasn’t beautiful, the way Diana was, or even disturbingly pretty, like all those girls in the parlor, but something about her unruly braids and distracted air was appealing.

She looked like a girl who would gladly go on a ramble in the woods, probably asking questions the whole time.

She had an oval face with a pointy chin, an upturned nose, and lips that were thin but perfectly formed.

Junebug was right, though, her brown dress was hideous.

And given Ellie had brown hair and brown eyes, it gave her a pervasive brownness. Like gravy.

“My brother Morgan’s in Nebraska,” Beau told her, and even in this mess of a situation he smiled at the thought.

He might not like Junebug ordering up brides for him , but watching her order one up for Morgan had been amusing in the extreme.

The idea of Morgan trapped in Nebraska with his wife’s family tickled Beau.

His brother didn’t like people at the best of times and imagining him trying to behave himself with that strait-laced bunch made Beau grin from ear to ear.

From what Pip said, her folks were rectitudinous in the extreme. And Morgan sure as hell wasn’t.

“Oh. You didn’t mention that in your letters…

I mean…” Ellie blushed. She turned red more often than anyone he’d ever met.

When she was mad, when she was confused, when she was thinking about bears, when she was staring out the window at whorehouses.

Right now her whole face blazed pink and her ears were red as ripe strawberries.

“I mean… Junebug,” she corrected herself. “In Junebug’s letters…”

“Yeah, he got himself hitched.” Beau shook his head.

“I could have died when he wrote and told us.” But he remembered the way Morgan acted around Pip and grinned.

His brother had looked like he’d taken a solid blow to the head, he’d been so struck by the buxom redhead.

It had been one of the things that had got Beau thinking about ordering up his own wife—being struck looked like one hell of a fun time.

Morgan had fought it, but that was Morgan for you.

He never knew how to embrace a fun time.

“Morgan seemed as likely to get married as a beaver is to fly,” he said affectionately.

Beau was taken aback when Ellie laughed at his beaver line. Her whole face changed. It was like dawn breaking or something. She just lit up. She had small white teeth, and they caught on her lower lip as she smiled at him. It really was a very nice lower lip…

Beau mentally pinched himself. He needed serious help if even this waif in brown was pricking his interest. Clearly this was what happened when there were too many girls—it overwhelmed the system.

Junebug burst back into the room carrying a tray.

“Mrs. Champion’s getting cake for everyone else, but I said no way in hell was I eating a cake made of carrots.

” She put the tray down with a clatter on their table, knocking over the jar of dried flowers.

Beau and Ellie reached for it at the same time and their fingers tangled.

Beau snatched his hand back, feeling callow.

“Pip started all this carrot nonsense and it’s a crying shame Mrs. Champion has seen fit to continue it.” Junebug unloaded the teacups and teapot, and a plate teetering with cookies. “These are only sugar cookies, but they beat carrot cake, hands down.”

“I like carrot cake,” Beau said, rescuing the teapot as Junebug almost sent it flying. “Ellie might too.” He smiled at her again, hoping despite himself to see her shine back. She didn’t.

“I’ve never had it,” Ellie confessed. “We didn’t get much cake back home.”

“You ain’t missing anything, not with carrot cake.” Junebug splashed tea into the cups and ladled in sugar and cream. “Chocolate cake is a whole other situation, though.”

“Bug! She might not want sugar.”

“Stop fussing. The girl’s been travelling for days—she needs sugar.” Junebug pulled up a chair and grabbed a cookie. “Now, let’s sort this mess out before you scare off my girls.”

“There’s nothing to sort.” Beau felt his irritation rising.

“No. Because he’s marrying Diana,” Ellie told Junebug firmly.

“Ignore her,” Junebug told Beau. “She won’t be making sense until she’s got some sugar in her.”

“I’m making perfect sense. He proposed and Diana accepted. There’s nothing more to discuss.”

Beau felt a wave of gratitude. It was nice to have support when facing Junebug. And it was especially gracious of Ellie, given she’d come all this way to marry… him.

Hell. How must that feel, to travel halfway across the country to find yourself promised to the exact same man as your best friend… He felt a spurt of sympathy.

Beau glared at Junebug. His amoral little sister had gone way too far this time.

“If anyone should be glaring, it should be me,” Junebug said blithely, before cramming a cookie in her mouth.

“No,” Ellie told her sharply. “It should be me. ”

“Agreed,” Beau said.

Junebug rolled her eyes. “Well, we can sit here and argue about who’s more aggrieved or we can get on with the task at hand.”

From the parlor, Beau could hear the rising chatter of female voices as Junebug’s brides were delivered their carrot cake. The sound made Beau feel like an animal in a trap. He had to tell them he was marrying Diana, and he had to get it over with as soon as possible.

“No!” Junebug slammed her hand on the table when he made to stand. The teacups rattled in their saucers and the pile of cookies went tumbling. “Sit back down. You made that bet fair and square and you’re going to see it through.”

“Bet?” Ellie frowned. “What bet?”

Beau winced.

“What bet?” Ellie turned on Junebug.

Junebug placated her. “I can explain.”