Brazen: Married By Necessity, #1

Brazen

(A Married By Necessity Novel)

by Carol Burnside

BECAUSE OF A SECRET not hers to tell, spinster Rachel must marry quickly, and Angus is the first man who comes to mind. He’s a hard worker and strong. She’s seen him eyeing her and senses hunger in his gaze. Rachel goes to Angus, the local blacksmith, alone at night and asks him to marry her.

Although eager to accept her brazen offer, Angus is suspicious, thinking it's some kind of prank and she's been put up to this to embarrass him. After all, what would a lady like Rachel want with the likes of him? His work is hot and dirty, and his lineage doesn’t exactly have the pedigree ladies look for.

When he realizes she’s sincere, his heart won’t let him refuse her, but even the road to a quick, convenient marriage isn’t smooth. Angus keeps his feelings for Rachel hidden. After the ceremony, Rachel finds a distance she can't bridge...until tragedy strikes.

Will they ever find the courage to declare their love, or will their stubborn need to protect their hearts prevail?

BRAZEN

Published by B & R Bookery

Copyright 2023 Carol Burnside

All rights reserved.

Edited by Delilah Devlin

Cover Design by Dar Albert

http://WickedSmartDesigns.com

This is a work of fiction. People and locations, even those with real names, have been fictionalized for the purposes of this story.

Discover more about Carol Burnside and her alter ego, Annie Rayburn at http://www.CarolBurnside.com/

Table of Contents

Story Blurb

Copywrite

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

A thank you note

About the Author

Connect with the Author

Books by Carol Burnside

Books by Annie Rayburn

Notices

CHAPTER ONE

Southwest Arkansas , Sumac Settlement, 1882

Rachel Dunn, you best get a wiggle on. Ivy is awaitin’ and ready to kick up her heels. Her brother’s voice carried through the thick pine door to Rachel’s room. The agitation lacing John’s words was a recent addition, though she wasn’t certain he was aware of it.

Coming. She placed the small looking glass face down on the bureau, brushed a long, brown hair from her bodice and smoothed a hand over her soft, high bun. Donning her lace-and-flower trimmed little bonnet completed her most fetching ensemble, which matched her yellow sleeveless ball gown.

Perhaps a bit too fancy for a barn dance, but she needed to find a husband.

The results of her efforts would depend on the men of Rabbit Ridge and her feminine wiles.

If indeed she had any.

Here I am, she announced and sailed into the parlor. John sat on the best piece of furniture in the house, a deep blue velvet settee, with his elbows resting on splayed knees, worrying his hat in his hands.

Rachel stilled. What is it, John? You look like you swallowed something disagreeable.

He turned his hat over and back. Ivy and me, we’re...

Don’t tell me you two are bickering already. Save that for after the wedding, she teased, hoping he wasn’t trying to tell her what she’d overheard three Sunday’s ago, how he and Ivy had schemed to nudge single men in her direction in hopes she’d marry soon and go to live in her own home.

Likely that time had come in the form of a community social.

We played with fire and got caught.

Oh. Rachel eased into the nearest chair, her mind crammed with thoughts. No wonder he’d been touchy of late. John would want to do right by Ivy Gundersen as soon as possible, and in a manner of speaking, Rachel was standing between them and the preacher.

She’d have to do something about that, and a lot faster than she’d planned.

You’re being awfully game about this. I figured you’d have a conniption fit and throw something at me.

Hardly. Besides, you’re not the first man this has happened to. How far along is she?

John ran a nervous hand over his reddish-brown hair slicked with tonic. It seemed he’d spiffed up a little after his evening chores, too. A few weeks, maybe as many as six.

She’s sure? There are signs?

He nodded, hard enough to make her think there were a lot of them.

Then we don’t have a lot of time.

Rachel, you don’t—

A week, maybe two. Would that be too long? I should be able to make other living arrangements and move out by then. Brave words, but where would she go? A boarding house? Could she cook, wash dishes, or wait tables for the little café? Would that result in enough money to survive?

I won’t turn you out of your home. What do you take me for?

"It’s well known that two mistresses in a house spells a heap of trouble. No matter how sweet-natured Ivy is or how much we care for each other, she won’t want to feel like a guest in her own home. She’ll want to fix it up to her liking, build her own nest, so to speak, and she’d have that right.

I’ll want my things about me and fear I’m not nearly as kind as she. You’d be stuck in the middle and that’s not fair. I like Ivy and don’t want us to get crossways with each other. It’s better if I’m out before the wedding. Besides, you don’t need four mouths to feed.

John blanched at her words as if that thought hadn’t occurred to him. But where would you go? How will you support yourself?

Let me worry about that. I won’t go if you don’t approve of my plan.

You have a plan?

Well, no. But I will as soon as I think on it some. You’ll see.

I can’t believe you’re taking this so well. It’s more than I deserve, Rachel.

And more than you’ll receive from Ivy if we don’t get moving. Rachel forced a light tone into her voice. Are you ready?

As John closed the front door behind her, Rachel schooled her features, trying not to let it show how his news had shaken her. She tried for a look of utter unconcern.

How many times would she cross that threshold before this was no longer her home? John lent her a hand up into the buckboard with a grin rounding his cheeks.

What is it now? she asked.

I only noticed something I should have earlier.

What’s that?

How grand you’re lookin’ this evening, little sister. He smirked as he climbed on the other side. Smell good, too. You’ll be attracting male attention tonight.

Oh, don’t go on so. I bathed and changed to my best dress is all. Her lips twitched at his obvious relief over having gotten the confession off his chest. She couldn’t let him know he’d transferred the weight squarely onto hers.

Used that special lilac soap you’ve been saving, didn’t you? One might think you fancied up for someone special. Anyone I know?

She shot him a silencing look and remained quiet because she wasn’t about to tell him she’d planned to do some light flirting, trying to catch a suitor’s eye, but now knew it shouldn’t be her focus. I just wanted to look nice for the dance. After all, it’s not every man who wants a tall woman who’s only marginally attractive.

You look nice to me. He released the brake and flicked the reins over the horses, sighing loud and long. No doubt he wondered if she’d ever succeed in finding her own household to run.

John didn’t have a cruel bone in his body, but his desires for Ivy were running roughshod over his common sense these days. Same went for Ivy. Bad enough that at twenty-six, most women Rachel’s age were wed and had babes in their arms and at their feet. His and Ivy’s plan would put Rachel in a pitiable position, causing unkind folk to snicker behind her back.

Until she’d learned about Ivy’s confinement, Rachel hadn’t felt much urgency to wed. But now...

You’ve had schooling and took to some subjects better’n me. Maybe you could teach.

Not too many children attending right now with crops being harvested and livestock butchered. I doubt Miss Jenson needs help keeping up with the few that do attend from town. I could try applying at the two boarding houses. I can cook.

Not at the Watters place. I don’t like the looks of that man. He’s squinty-eyed and visits the doxies.

That left the widow McBride’s place, and everyone knew she considered her place a step above others because of her own superior cooking.

Rachel worried her bottom lip between her teeth. She was educated, and like most women, knew how to cook, sew, quilt, clean, and do needlework. She could also tend a garden and help process butchered livestock, but none of that was remarkable nor marketable.

The sole hotel in town hired only Mexicans or blacks, and the Mercantile was run by a nice couple from back East who had three nearly grown children to help them.

Though she wore a bonnet to shade her face from the setting sun, Rachel looked out over the fields they passed by, so John couldn’t glimpse the stricken look on her face. What was she going to do? There were only a handful of women hereabouts who’d be in the market for a seamstress, and with the availability of ready-made goods from the mercantile and orders from the catalog, the infrequent special occasion dress wouldn’t support her.

There had to be something, or she’d shame John and end up being visited by the squinty Mr. Watters. Her stomach rolled at the very thought.

If only she were married, but to whom?

An image rose in her mind so suddenly and clearly it was as if she’d saved it for just this occasion. She tightened her grip on the reticule in her lap, her breath coming faster. Did she dare?

Could she convince a man who’d shown her marginal interest that she’d make him a good wife? She, a woman not prone to encouraging male attentions, needed to catch the interest of Angus Brody. Even his name gave her shivers.

Probably because he was huge. Tall, barrel-chested, and with heavily muscled arms and legs, Angus Brody was a commanding presence. In his work as a blacksmith, he usually wore dark clothing and a thick leather apron, which only added to the mysterious impression he projected, as did his overly long black hair, curling at the ends. The last time she’d seen him, he’d worn it tied at his nape with a thin strip of leather, revealing clean-shaven skin when most men wore some kind of facial hair.

Though his appearance should give her pause, she’d never known him to use his brawn for anything other than his work. His eyes were gentle on the rare occasions when his gaze had settled on her for a brief moment. Moments that had made her heart race and her cheeks flush.

She was still entertaining thoughts of Mr. Brody and how and where she’d approach him tonight when John drew the wagon to a halt.

I won’t be but a minute, Sis. He smoothed his thick mustache, dismounted, and hurried to the Gundersen’s door. He’d hardly knocked when Ivy swung the door inward, a wide smile wreathing her face. She looked quite fetching in a pale blue gown trimmed in white lace as she waved at Rachel. Afterward, she only had eyes for John as he escorted her to the wagon, their feet making light thuds on the small boardwalk to the edge of the fenced yard.

Rachel scooted to the far edge of the seat, allowing room for Ivy to sit beside John. She liked Ivy and looked forward to having her as a sister-in-law.

My, my! Don’t you look just grand in your best bib and tucker, John Dunn. Doesn’t he, Rachel? And you’re looking especially nice this evening.

As are you, Ivy, Rachel admitted in all honesty. Fine as creamed gravy.

Oh, you’re too kind. Relief flooded Ivy’s face. She chattered on nervously as she climbed aboard, assisted by John, who must have relayed that he’d shared their news with Rachel. She smiled at the petite, blue-eyed blonde, her heart refusing to cease its vicious fluttering.

Never in her life had she needed the courage she would have to summon tonight. Mr. Brody did something to her no one else did, and it wasn’t a