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Authors: Barbara Woster

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BOOK: Fate's Intervention
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Why else would he invite us along, if he wasn

t seriously considering matrimony to my little girl.
A
man doesn

t invite just anyone along to meet his mother, does he?


If you say so. Speaking of daughters, where is
Elizabeth
?


S
he wasn

t feeling
very
well, so she decided to forgo lunch and remain in the cabin. Why?

Matthew sat up straighter, his nerves tingling with dread.


Did you happen to notice that Mark wasn

t in my company either, Clifford?

Matthew said, standing and pulling on his coat.

Stanharbor hefted his bulk out of the seat and glared at Matthew,

Certainly you are not suggesting that my daughter is . . . is . . . ,


Fornicating with my brother?

Matthew said in his deliberately blunt way, and ducked as Stanharbor

s fist flew toward his face.

For a man your size, you are incredibly swift, but I suggest you save that anger for my brother,

he said, heading for the door,

because if Mark lives up to his reputation, your daughter will have every
reason
to demand marital rights.

Matthew

s visage was grim as he made his way down the corridor to his cabin, and if the string of curses issuing from Stanharbor

s mouth was any indication, he wasn

t pleased either. Matthew only hoped he was wrong about this, or there would definitely be hell to pay.

He inserted the key into the lock on his cabin door and swung it open. Empty. Damn! That left little doubt in his mind now as to his brother

s whereabouts.


Where

s your cabin?

He asked Stanharbor.


We

re in the next compartment,

he said, pointing over Matthew

s shoulder.

Obviously, Mark couldn

t obtain the same first class accommodations for us as he managed to do for you two.

Matthew
sighed in exasperation
and headed for the next train car. He couldn

t believe his ears. It was very likely that they would find Elizabeth in a compromising position, and all
Stanharbor could dwell on was his travel arrangement
s
.
He didn

t bother to enlighten Stanharbor that it was he, not his brother
,
who
had arranged for his and Mark

s travel arrangements.
He pushed open the door and stepped across the short expanse separating the two cars
.


W
hat
number?


T
wo-two-seven,

Stanharbor relayed.


Why don

t you stay here and wait? If I

m right, you may not want to witness this in such a candid way.


That

s
my daughter, Daragh,

Stanharbor said stubbornly,

a
nd
if someone is taking advantage . . . I

ll wait here,

he finished softly, as if only just realizing what he may see if he entered that room. He closed his eyes and groaned, hoping that Matthew

s instincts were wrong, but if they weren

t . . . .


A
re
you okay, Clifford?


S
imply dandy. You go on ahead. I

ll follow along shortly.

Matthew nodded,

Give me your key.

Stanharbor dug into his vest pocket and retrieved the key, and Matthew couldn

t help but notice how his hands shook as he passed it over to him.
No dad, not even one as obviously unfit as Clifford Stanharbor, should have to go through this, Matthew
deliberated,
his mood darkening
more with every passing thought
.
He nodded again to Stanharbor,
and
then headed down the corridors of the
second-class
car, his eyes scanning the numbers on the doors.

He stopped in front of two-two-seven and his heart sank. Something was definitely going
on in there. Damn! He so hoped he

d be wrong, but as usual, his brother couldn

t keep his pants buttoned and now there would be no appeasing Clifford Stanharbor with anything less than a wedding

or his brother

s imminent demise. Neither of which was likely to sit well with his mother.

As
quietly as possible, so as not to alert the occupants, Matthew inserted the key and slowly turned the knob on the door. He pushed it open and closed his eyes against the sight that met him.

His brother was
at
o
p Elizabeth rutting like a pig, oblivious to the pain he was causing her as a virgin

if her sobs were any indication.
He was also oblivious to Matthew

s presence, but not Elizabeth. Her eyes widened in horror at seeing him standing there and she started pushing frantically at Mark

s shoulders.


Not yet, baby
,
I

m not done,

Mark
breathed
heavily, his pale buttocks shaking with the intensity of his thrusts. Elizabeth winced

from the pain or the humiliation, Matthew couldn

t tell.


Yes, you are,

Matthew growled, and hauled his brother to his feet by his hair, shoving his naked carcass into the corridor. His pants followed.


Get dressed, you jackass,

he snapped, and then turned back to Elizabeth.

You too, Miss Stanharbor. Your
father
will be along momentarily.

Elizabeth groaned and grabbed at her clothing strewn across the small interior of the cabin, wincing with each movement.
Matthew closed the cabin door to give her a little privacy and then turned his rage on his brother, who was standing there clutching his pants in front of him
like a shield.


You sorry, no good . . . I ought to have you horsewhipped,

Matthew
threatened
, his breathing near the point of hyperventilating.


That
won

t be necessary, Matthew,

Stanharbor said quietly, clutching a repeating rifle in his hand. He raised the barrel and pointed it at Mark.

If you would kindly step aside, Matthew, I

ll see this matter dealt with decisively.


Matthew, do something!

Mark squealed, trying to meld into the wall. His eyes mirrored the horror he felt at seeing a rifle pointed at his privates.


I am,

Matthew said smugly, backing away,

I

m getting out of his line of fire.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-
EIGHT


Dearly beloved,

the minister said, eyeing the rifle with unease,

we are
gathered
here today to join this
man,
and this woman
,
in holy matrimony
. . . a
re
you
quite certa
in that they want to wed?

The minister asked, scanning the dejected faces of the bride and groom.


Get on with it, Preacher,

Matthew said from his position as guard behind
Elizabeth
.


But I

ve never performed a ceremony with a shotgun in attendance,

the minister said, turning his gaze worriedly toward Stanharbor who held the rifle tightly, its muzzle pointed directly at Mark

s back.

Isn

t there another minister on the train that

s willing to preside . . . ?


You heard the man,

Stanharbor snapped,

he said, get on with it, or the next place this rifle will be pointing is your heart.


Easy, Clifford,

Matthew said,

T
his isn

t his fight.

Stanharbor sighed heavily,

J
ust
keep this ceremony moving, Preacher. I

m sorry if I caused you any undue stress.


Just so, but I want it noted that I

m not pleased with this whole thing, and it doesn

t do my heart good to see the bride crying during a ceremony that supposed to make her smile. There.
I have lodged my protest
, so we

ll continue now. If there is any man or woman who objects to this union . . . ,


You can skip that part,

Matthew interjected,

s
ince
obviously no one else is here, but us five.


Can

t I object?

Mark whined and winced when the barrel of the rifle pressed against the small of his back.

I guess not.

The minister droned on about the duties of husband to wife and wife to husband. Stanharbor glanced at his daughter

s profile and saw the tears slowly streaming down her face. He hardened his heart against the sight. She

d saddled up her pony and now she was going to have to ride it.
H
e couldn

t help but wonder if her tears were the result of the belting he

d given her in their cabin prior to the ceremony, or the fact that she was now forced to marry a man who was clearly not of her liking

in bed, anyway.


Do you, Mark David Daragh, take this woman, Elizabeth Marigold Stanharbor, to be your lawfully wedded wife? Do you promise to honor and keep her, in sickness and health, forsaking all others, until death do you part?

When Mark didn

t open his mouth, Matthew stepped up behind him,

T
his
is the part where you say

I do

. Now, say it, or you won

t have to worry about being married to the girl

we

ll be holding your funeral instead!


I do!

Mark murmured unwillingly.

The minister coughed lightly and turned his attention to Elizabeth, who was now sobbing softly,

A
nd
do you, Elizabeth Marigold Stanharbor take this man, Mark David Daragh, to be your lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to honor and obey him, love
him,
and keep him, forsaking all others, until death do you part?

BOOK: Fate's Intervention
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