Page 22 of Seven Brides for Beau McBride (The McBrides of Montana #3)

“And as she walks down the aisle,” Ellie spoke over him, the vision so entrancing she had to capture it immediately before it evaporated, “you’ll pull a handkerchief from your breast pocket, to stem the tide of your tears.”

“Of my what ?”

“You’re overcome, of course, by both her beauty and the flood of your affections.”

“But I ain’t crying about it. I’d just smile at her.”

“You’re smiling through your tears.”

“I ain’t. I’m just smiling.”

“Fine. We’ll hold the tears until after you lift her veil. That’s after the vows, when the minister—”

“You imagined a minister but not a church?”

She ignored him. “—says ‘you may kiss the bride’. Holding your breath with expectation, you’ll take the scalloped lace between your trembling fingertips.”

“I’m trembling?”

“Of course. You’re quivering with anticipation.”

“I am?”

“You are,” she said firmly. “You lift the veil…”

“And I like what I see,” he guessed, satisfied.

“You’re awed ,” she instructed. “As you behold your bride—”

“Wife,” he corrected. “The minister just hitched us.”

“A wife is still a bride for the honeymoon period.”

“Do I kiss her now?”

“Stop rushing. This is the best bit.”

“The kissing? I know.” His lips twitched, amused.

“No. The moment before…”

“ Before the kissing is better than the kissing?”

“Anticipation is always the best bit, don’t you think?” She regarded him earnestly. “Which is why you were misguided to plan for an immediate wedding. You’re wasting the chance to look forward to it.”

“I’ve looked forward to it enough. I’m ready for it.”

“At least Junebug suggested a period of getting acquainted first, before rushing down the aisle,” she said, exasperated.

“That’s only because she had six of you to get acquainted with,” he reminded her.

“I think you’re too rash.”

“Or impressively decisive.”

Ellie sized him up. “No. Definitely rash. You practically had the minister ready to say the blessing and consign you to all eternity, and you weren’t even going to take a day to find out if you liked her?”

“I’d seen her picture. I liked the look of her a lot.” He waved away her pessimism.

“What if you didn’t like her ? What if she got off the train and you didn’t like her personality?”

“Trust me, I like her personality. More than I even like her looks, if I’m honest.” His dark eyes softened. It did odd things to Ellie’s stomach. “I must have read her letters a dozen times over, each. You ever feel like you knew someone, all their secret corners, just from a letter?”

Yes, she thought as she watched his gaze grow dreamy.

Ellie felt like she was caught in a rising tide, and it was lifting her feet from the floor.

It was a confusing, warm, flooding, floating feeling.

She felt like she knew him from his letters and right now, listening to the husk of his voice and seeing the dreaminess of his expression, Ellie could picture him lying in a meadow, staring at the clouds, dreaming half the day away.

For just a bright little moment, Ellie saw the poetry in him.

But then he shook his head and snapped back to the present. “She’s the one for me and I got no doubts,” he said firmly. “I’ll do the right thing by Junebug’s brides, but I plan to marry Diana. And I told her so.”

Ellie imagined standing in Diana’s shoes, listening to that— You’re the one for me , said so fervently, with such passion—and she just about floated away from the romance of it.

Him holding that bouquet of autumnal wildness, his dark eyes shining like moonlit lakes, telling her that he wanted only her, that he’d loved her since her letters…

Oh my. The letters. The letters that Ellie had written.

Color flooded Ellie’s face as she came back to reality.

He was smacked in the heart by Ellie’s letters.

Ellie felt her own heart stop, then lurch, then stop again.

She was in a welter of feelings she couldn’t name.

Surging, completely inappropriate joy, and spiraling, sisterly despair.

She was partly the cause of Beau McBride’s dreamy expression.

Well, her letters and Diana’s photograph.

Oh no. What if Diana didn’t have the same kinds of secret corners that Ellie did? She bit her lip, hoping she hadn’t set Diana up for disaster. Well. Hopefully he’d love Diana’s secret thoughts just as much as he’d liked Ellie’s… He just needed time to find them out.

Ellie must have drifted away into her imagination, as she was wont to do, because when she returned to the present Beau McBride seemed to have moved on from the topic of marriage. “You don’t even have a fireplace up here—you’ll freeze.” He was exploring her attic room and frowning.

Startled from her thoughts, Ellie looked around. He was right. There was no fireplace up here. She moved to the window and pulled the gingham curtains closed. They wouldn’t do much to keep out the chill, but they were better than nothing.

“Rigby can’t leave you up here.” Beau shook his head in disgust. “It ain’t right.”

“I volunteered to take it. There weren’t enough rooms downstairs.

Diana said I could share with her, but I couldn’t deprive her of the opportunity to sleep in a room of her very own,” Ellie said, feeling the thrill of it, all fresh again.

“I’ve never had my own room either, so this is a delight.

Do you know what that’s like, to have the opportunity of your very own room, even just for a night or two? ”

“Yeah,” he said, with an unexpected dash of irony, “I do. But this ain’t a room. It’s an attic.”

Ellie ran her hand over the bedding on the narrow cast iron bed, which consisted of a patchwork quilt over a cotton sheet.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve certainly had worse.

” She tried to ignore the fluttery feeling in her belly as his gaze followed the movement of her hand on the bed.

It didn’t mean anything, of course. It wasn’t like she was having feelings for her friend’s fiancé.

Not really. Heavens, a block of wood would probably feel a flutter when it came to this man.

“Ellie.”

Oh goodness, now she was feeling odd all over. It was his voice saying her name. There was a tone to it, an uncertain hitching quality that made her insides shiver.

“I really am sorry,” he said slowly. “That you got dragged out here, I mean, like this, under false pretenses. I feel real bad about it.”

What was it about those eyes? She just fell headlong into them, like she was drowning in dark water. They swallowed her up whole. As she drowned, she felt a hot loosening in the center of her, like something mysterious and wonderful was uncoiling.

Was this how a swoon felt?

“I hope we can be friends,” he said awkwardly, and she realized she’d been staring like a fool. “Given I’m planning to marry Diana, and she says you’re practically her sister, I think we should be friends, don’t you?”

Yes. Diana. Friends.

“Oh yes,” she babbled. “Of course. Friends. Family really, because, yes, sisters…” She took a step back. She was blushing again. “Yes, we can be friends.”

“I hope the other gals are as understanding as you are.” He pulled an anxious face.

“Doubtful,” she laughed nervously, “as they don’t have a Diana to think of.” Oh, my goodness, she’d just been swooning over Diana’s fiancé. What had got into her? How could she be so disloyal?

Ellie heard clomping and skittering on the stairs and then Junebug stuck her head in, her little fluffy dog following with a clatter of nails on the floorboards. Ellie had never been so glad to see anyone in her life. She couldn’t be trusted alone with this man.

“We’re all eating together in the dining room tonight,” Junebug announced. “That means you too, Beaumont.”

“Your name is Beaumont?” Ellie was startled. He hadn’t mentioned that in his letters.

“No, she’s just being a pain in the ass. My name’s Beau. Just Beau.”

“Sure, it is, Beauregard. You go over to Mrs. Champion’s cottage and freshen up.

You look like hell. Be back here for supper in an hour.

Mrs. Champion says she’s cleaned the dirt off your coat and you can collect it from the kitchen on the way out.

” Junebug turned to Ellie. “That’s what happens when you flirt with people: they spoil you rotten, cleaning your coat when you don’t even deserve it.

She’s probably got cookies waiting for him too. ”

“I don’t flirt.” Beau sounded sour.

“Why are you still here, Beaufort? Go.”

“I don’t flirt,” Beau muttered to Ellie as he passed her. “I’m just nice to people.”

“You can watch him flirt tonight,” Junebug promised Ellie. “It’s a thing to see. So far, I think he’s been off his game.”

“I’m sitting next to Diana tonight,” Beau snapped at Junebug, “and she’s the only one I’m flirting with, so make sure you save her a seat next to me.”

Junebug shook her head. “You’ve already met her—there ain’t no point in you sitting next to her. Or flirting with her. She’s already softened up. You haven’t met any of my other ones yet, only Ellie here.”

“I’m not one of yours,” Ellie told Junebug sharply. “I’m on Beau and Diana’s side.” Ellie ignored the warm glow she felt when Beau gave her a thankful smile.

“You’re good at this,” Junebug told Ellie approvingly after Beau left. “You’ve managed to spend more time with him than anyone else, and I think he kinda likes you.”

The little pest was impossible, Ellie thought. She put her hands on her hips and fixed Junebug with a stern look. “I’m not doing anything except looking out for my friend.”

“Sure.” Junebug tapped the side of her nose and winked.

She was worse than impossible.

“What other dresses have you got?” Junebug demanded. “That one smells bad as well as being ugly.”

Ellie would have closed the door on her but Junebug had already slid into the room and was unlatching Ellie’s trunk. Her dog jumped up on its hind legs, resting its front feet on the lip of the trunk to peer in.

“Get out of there, that’s my private business.”

“Me or Beast?”

“Both of you.”