Harper's Bride (34 page)

Disappointed and frustrated, the pain of loss
sliced through Dylan with a sharp, ruthless blade. He swung around
and gazed unseeing at the guests wandering the lobby. Damn it! Why
had fate conspired against him like this? Now that he'd finally
realized what a dunderhead he'd been to let Melissa go in the first
place, he'd come racing back to Portland, only to lose her
completely.

Rage and the stirring of grief made his heart
thump in his chest. He turned to the clerk and demanded, "Doesn't
anyone in this hotel know where she's gone? Is she still in
Portland?"

The clerk glanced around the curious
onlookers and shook his head. He lowered his own voice to a
whisper, as if hoping to suggest to Dylan that he lower his. "No,
Mr. Harper, we have no idea. I'm sorry."

"Goddamn it!" he erupted, then turned
sharply. He wished there were someone to place the blame on, he'd
love to point a finger at an individual or a group and accuse them
of having lost the one true love of his life. But there was no one
to blame except himself. "Have you got a wife?"

"Y-yes, sir, and three children."

"Here, give these to her," he said, and
shoved the flowers at the clerk. "Where's your bar?"

Like a drowning man spotting a life
preserver, the clerk spied a hotel employee, a young man passing by
in a crisp, white jacket, and snapped his fingers at him. "Keller,
please escort Mr. Harper to the hotel bar immediately."

"But Mr. Stickle, the dining room—"

"Now, Keller. I don't care what you were
doing."

"Yes, sir." The young man faced Dylan. "This
way—" He studied Dylan for a few seconds as he turned to lead him
across the vast carpeted lobby. "Your name is Harper?"

"Yeah, that's right," Dylan grumped, but at
that moment, he thought it should be mud.

*~*~*

Glancing at the new mantel clock, Melissa saw
that it was almost lunchtime, and she started toward the kitchen.
Jenny would be hungry, too. It was wonderful to have a regular
schedule and a sun that rose and set at decent hours.

Just as she brought out a loaf of bread to
slice, she heard a knock at the front door. Maybe the draymen had
found her lamp in their wagon after all. But when she opened the
door, she saw neither the draymen nor her lamp.

She saw a man in a black suit that fit him
perfectly, following the line of his broad shoulders and his long
legs. His heavy sun-streaked hair still brushed his shoulders,
though, and his clear green eyes considered her as if they could
see through her heart to her soul.

"Dylan!" she whispered.

"Hi, Melissa."

She stared at him in amazement, as if he were
a dead man come back from the grave.

"How did you find me?"

"It wasn't easy. I looked for you at the
hotel, and most of the staff knew Melissa Harper, but only one knew
about Melissa Logan. I got lucky when I happened upon Tom Keller.
Um, can I come in and talk to you?" He seemed nervous and hesitant.
Maybe he thought she would order him from her porch.

"Yes, of course." She opened the door
wider.

He stood in the entryway and looked around.
"This is nice, really nice. Homey."

"Thank you . . . um, please . . . do sit
down," she said, motioning him to the new settee.

Jenny let out a loud noise of recognition
then and grinned at Dylan, showing off two little bottom teeth just
coming through her gums.

"Hey, Jenny," he said, and stooped to give
her a kiss. Then he settled lightly on the slick fabric of the
settee.

Melissa perched on a side chair, feeling as
nervous as he acted. God, please don't let it be bad news, she
prayed. She eyed his clothes again. "You look very nice, like
you're going to a wedding or a funeral."

He smiled at her, that sweet, tender smile
that she'd seen once or twice before. It went straight to her heart
and made it ache. "I'm hoping to go to a wedding."

The ache turned to sharp pain. She glanced
away from him, hoping she could get control of the tears that
sprang into her eyes. "Oh, you and Elizabeth patched your
differences?"

"Elizabeth! God, no! Melissa, I want to marry
you
." He startled her by sliding off the settee to his knees
front of her. He took her icy hands in his. "But—but isn't that why
you went back to The Dalles? To marry Elizabeth?"

"No, honey, that was never the reason. I
wanted to see the property and figure out if there was a way I
could get control of it again. It wasn't the house I wanted, it was
the land. It's beautiful there." He explained to her what had
transpired with the taxes and the condition of the house, and what
he'd learned from both Elizabeth and checking around on his
own.

"You want to live in that house?" she asked.
"I thought you hated it."

"I do hate it. I'm going to have it torn down
so I can build a new house on the land. Our house." He looked down
at their linked hands. "I understand why you don't want to have
anything to do with marriage again, and that you want to make it on
your own." He leaned forward. "But, damn it, Melissa, we were good
together. I love you and I love Jenny. I really do. Tell me there's
at least a chance you'll change your mind about living alone."

Flabbergasted, Melissa stared at him. She
could hardly believe what she heard. "You have some idea of how
hard life was for me with Coy. I never wanted to be married again,"
she began, and he sat back on his heels. She went on to tell him
about the incident with her father and her brother, and saw anger
smolder in his features. "As horrible as that day was, I realized
that if not for you, I probably would have let them bully me into
going back there. I'd grown up with being ordered around and
treated like an indentured servant—I didn't know any different.
Until I met you. You proved to me that I was worth more." She
smiled at him, but she couldn't stop the tears that ran down her
face. "I told my father that I didn't want Jenny to know a man like
him, even if he was her grandfather. But I want her to know you and
have you in her life, Dylan. And I want my new life to be with
you."

He smiled up at her—it was a grin that lit
his whole face. He rose to his knees again. "Does that mean yes?
Yes, you'll marry me?"

She nodded. "It means yes. I love you so
much. I loved you long before we left Dawson. And now that neither
of us has any family left—"

"We'll be our own family." He leaned closer
to her and kissed her then. His lips, warm and soft on hers, hinted
at passion yet to come, and the tenderness that had always been
there.

Dylan broke away and rummaged around in his
pocket, relief and bone-deep gratitude washing through him. "I
admit I took a chance and hoped things would go my way." He pulled
out a small box and opened it. "I never gave you a wedding ring
that day in the Yukon Girl. So I figured I should back up and start
from scratch with an engagement ring."

He would have given a day's worth of gold to
see that expression on her face—delight and wonder. She reminded
him of a kid opening a Christmas present.

"Oh, Dylan, it's beautiful!" He put it on her
finger; lucky for him it fit perfectly.

"What kind of wedding do you want?" he asked.
"Neither of your previous ones were much to write home about."

She shook her head and stared down at the
diamond ring, still smiling. Then she looked up at him with those
gray eyes, eyes that had haunted his sleep from the first day he
met her. "It doesn't matter what kind of wedding, it's who you
marry. The courthouse will be fine. Just as long as we're
together." Her smile faded then.

"What's the matter?"

"Oh, I signed a lease on this house for a
whole year! And this furniture, it was just delivered. In fact, I'm
still waiting for a lamp."

He waved off her concerns. "Oh, hell, that
doesn't matter. We can afford to buy out the lease if we decide to.
But we can stay here for a while. Have our wedding night . . ."

They'd have all the nights of the rest of
their lives. At last they had found what they'd always been
searching for.

A family of their own.

###