Mail Order Bride and Her Boss (#9, Brides of Montana Western Romance) (A Historical Romance Book): Brides of Montana Western Romance, #9

By Leah Laurens

Love and redemption aren't won... they're earned.

Lily Dyer needs to get away from her husband.

Not tomorrow, not tonight, but now.

He's hurt her for the last time.

But when she finally finds her courage, it's not her life he threatens.

She has two choices:

1- Stay and her family lives,

2- leave and they all die.

Her mother, her sister, her nieces and nephews...

Lily has no choice.

Then Edward comes into her life.

He's her boss' son, and he's all the things her husband isn't.

She shouldn't care about him, but she does.

He shouldn't want her, but he does.

Edward offers to help Lily escape her life... and give her a new one.

There's a secret she's been keeping though.

When Edward finds out, will he still want her?

Soon things go wrong, and Lily will do whatever it takes to set them right again.

Even if that means murder.

Lily might be able to escape from her husband, but she will never escape her past.

Is it ever too late for redemption?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Leah Laurens
• Release date: Feb 16, 2020
• ISBN: 9781386327486

Leah Laurens

Leah Laurens is a multi-voiced writer who always been a lover of historical romance novels since young, especially that of Western Romance. A romance set in the American West, Leah’s novels involve characters that are strong in character, each with a strong personality and with different pursuits in life. The Hero has his own adventures in life that he wants to pursue, the Heroine learning to survive and conquer the harsh challenges sometimes. Despite the many differences, there is somehow a destiny the hero and heroine must fulfil by meeting each other and to fall in love.  Through Leah’s writings, she hopes to inspire many who are waiting, questioning about love in a sometimes cynical world. That there will always be that silver linings in the clouds which one sees in their life. Some of Leah’s inspirations came from authors like Linda Lael Miller, Harper Sloan.

Book preview

prologue

*   *   *

Blisspeak,

Missouri 1883

Lily Dyer set her small bag beside the bed and took a deep breath. Ray was in the other room. She could tell by the way he'd come in that he was drunk. He stumbled across the floor of their small home, calling her name.

Lily... Lily!

The blood rushed out of her head and for a moment, she wobbled on her feet. Her husband's voice often had that effect on her. In the beginning of their relationship, when he was still courting her with butterscotch and soft declarations of love, her head had gone light and her knees wobbly whenever he'd said her name. Now, not quite a year later, it was fear that made her knees buckle and her hands shake.

Lily! Ray shouted again. Get out here!

Lily rolled her shoulders back, bracing herself. She was determined to go through with her plan, knowing full well the consequences that awaited her. Ray would not be happy, but she already had one black eye, so what was one more?

She walked slowly into the sitting room, setting her bag just outside their bedroom door. She had not written to her mother or sister; she hadn't dared. If Ray had somehow found the letters and learned what she was planning before she was ready to tell him, it would only have made things worse.

Now, however, she had no choice. The time was here. Her lawyer, Robert Shannon, had told her that she must make a formal declaration if she were to have any hope of appealing to a judge's sympathy.

She already knew that there was no way Ray would ever grant her a divorce, but Mr. Shannon thought he could help her nevertheless. He'd assured her, repeatedly, that he specialized in such things as contentious divorces and knew how to gain a judge's favor even without a husband's consent.

Lily doubted very much that Robert could hold to his word, but she'd seen the look of determination in his eyes and appreciated his fervor. He'd managed to help her friend, Caroline Shannon, though the circumstances surrounding Caroline's own divorce were slightly different and quite well-known. Lily did not think they had a similar enough situation to warrant a divorce without Ray's consent, but she found it impossible to give up all hope when speaking with Robert.

Her bruises would matter little to a judge on their own. Ray was her husband; he had the right to do as he wished with her. Still, with Robert's help, maybe it would somehow be possible...

Lily! Where are you? You better be home!

Lily cleared her throat, and Ray turned around. He blinked red eyes and his lids drooped heavily. He smiled a lopsided grin.

There you are, he said. Where you been?

I was in the bedroom, she said.

He smiled lasciviously, his head teetering on his shoulders. "Of course, you were. I know you like your little naps." He chuckled. It sounded raspy and unsettled her nerves that much more.

Lily blushed. She almost never napped, though she had, on occasion, told Ray she was lying down so that she might have a moment's peace from him. It had not often given her the peace she desired though. Ray was prone to joining her for her naps, and she had discovered early on that for him nap was simply a code for becoming intimate with her.  She had stopped napping altogether since that realization.

Why don't we go take a nap now? he said, taking a step toward her. Together?

He closed one eye, and Lily thought he was attempting to wink at her.

I can't nap now. I have a meeting with my lawyer in an hour.

The smile faded off Ray's face. Lawyer? What lawyer? Why don't you talk sense?

This is it. Lily drew in a fresh breath. She sucked in so much air her lungs actually ached. She held it for a moment then let it go, the words flying out of her mouth in a fast jumble.

I'm leaving you. I want a divorce. I'm going to my mother's. There were no pauses. She left Ray no room to interrupt.

He cocked his head to one side and stared at her, saying nothing for a full minute.

No, you're not, he finally said. It wasn't anger she heard, just a simple declaration of fact.

Lily nodded. I am.

Ray laughed. There's not gonna be any divorce. I won't allow it. I won't agree to it. You're not going anywhere.

Lily took several steps back, never taking her eyes off him, and picked up her suitcase. Why hadn't she asked Caroline or Robert to stand beside her as she told Ray her news?

She shook her head, knowing full well the answer to her question. Embarrassment was a powerful motivator. For months, she'd made excuses for Ray. She'd lied to her friends and family about the bruises on her face and covered the ones on her body. Her friends had seen through her though, especially Caroline and Della. They had never once been fooled.

Della Garrison had been especially aggressive in encouraging Lily to leave her husband. She'd gone so far as to apply to Sheriff Chambers, asking him to speak to Lily and talk some sense into her.

Sheriff Chambers had only angered her though. He'd attempted to frighten her with horrific stories of women he'd encountered in his years as a lawman. Women who'd been beaten by their husbands and nearly killed. In some cases, he'd told her, they had been killed.

Lily had appreciated everyone's concern, but she'd had no intention, at that time, of listening to anything anyone said. It had not been until Caroline had obtained her divorce from her own abusive husband that Lily had begun to think seriously of the possibility, and even then, she had not thought it likely. She still did not, but she had come to understand something infinitely more important—if she did not leave Ray now, today, she might very well become another one of the sheriff's horror stories.

I'm going, Lily said, having no idea where the courage came from. She moved toward the door.

Ray moved to block her.

I've already told you—you're not going anywhere. Now get in there and fix my dinner or you're gonna get a good walloping.

She hesitated, then took two steps toward the kitchen. Her breath was coming in short bursts now, and she didn't know how much longer she could stand it before passing out. She put her bag down.

Ray relaxed and moved to the sofa.

That's better, he said, falling heavily onto the tattered cushions.

Lily ran.

She grabbed her bag and had her hand on the doorknob when she felt Ray's fingers grab hold of her hair and yank her back. For a drunken fool, he was fast. Her feet tried to find their ground but failed, and she stumbled backward, falling onto her bottom.

Ray, no! she cried out, then felt the back of his hand on her cheek. Her face crashed to the floor, and Ray grabbed hold of her, picking her up by the collar of her dress.

The look in Ray's eyes was like nothing she'd ever seen before. He was looking at her as though she were a wild horse he was tired of dealing with, or perhaps a rabid dog he no longer wanted. She closed her eyes, afraid this was it, and regretted that the last image she would see before she died was Ray's.

For a brief moment, she thought of Edward, and relief flooded her. Edward Saunders. The name sounded in her head like a sweet melody. She clung to it. His face painted a far better picture than her husband's. If she could only keep it in her mind as the end came, perhaps she could go in peace.

Edward was her boss' son and the type of man she ought to have married. The type of man who would never hurt her, never say cruel things to her, never treat her like she was lower than a dog. She focused on his dark hair and light brown eyes, allowing them to penetrate her body in ways Ray never could.

Ray slapped her cheek again, and her eyes broke open.

Edward was not here. She barely knew the man, really, when she thought about it. They'd spoken only occasionally, though those occasions had become more and more frequent just before his last trip. She knew her feelings for him could never be returned. Even if they were, it would do them no good. She was married, for better or worse. Edward was nothing but a fantasy in which to escape; that would have to be enough.

Make my dinner, Ray said, his face close to hers. She tasted blood.

I won't, she said, shocked by her own words. She had never refused Ray anything. I don't care what you do to me. Hurt me. Kill me. I won't be your dog anymore. She shook free of him and picked up her bag, holding her breath.

Ray was so shocked that he actually let go of her without a fight. He just stood gaping at her. The smell of alcohol on his breath was harsh; it burned her eyes. The silence hung between them, heavy and still. She had never felt silence before, but she felt it now. It was all around her, pressing on her shoulders, her chest, her head. If she'd closed her eyes, she'd have thought there was a hundred-pound weight pushing against her.

Finally, Ray said, If you leave, it won't be you I kill. A small smile spread across his face.

Wh-What do you mean? she asked, her voice cracking.

You know what I mean. You're pretty, but you're not as stupid as some others. His smile widened. He was missing a tooth in the upper front row. It had been knocked out months ago in a drunken saloon fight.

Ray, if you so much as touch anyone in my family, I'll-I'll—

You'll do nothing, like you've always done. There was a long pause while Lily tried to think of a way out of this, but her mind had gone blank. She had the feeling it was going to stay that way.

You left me once, he said. How long did it last? A day? Two?

A week, she muttered, the old, tired shame heating her cheeks once again.

Ray nodded. I took it easy on you that time. This time, I won't.

He leaned forward, and she could have sworn his blue eyes turned black, like he was some sort of demon. She prayed to God that he might see her through this.

Ray wasn't yelling. His eerie calm frightened her more than the shouts she was used to. She wished he would yell or call her names or... anything, so long as it was something she had seen before, because this... this was different. And different scared her.

Ray laughed. He was enjoying her fear, almost like he was feeding off it. "Your mother... your sister... I'll do to them what I really want to do to you."

Her throat was almost too dry to speak, but she forced the words from her mouth anyway. Ray, no. It's me you want to hurt, not them. Please.

His smile was still there. You can save them, Lily. It's your choice.

Lily's shoulders shook. Her bottom lip trembled. She pictured her mother and her sister... her sister's children. Would Ray hurt them as well?

She released the breath she'd been holding and dropped her bag, then she went into the kitchen to begin dinner.

*   *   *

chapter 1

*   *   *

Edward Saunders entered his home exhausted. He set his bag on the hall floor and Myra, his father's maid, appeared as if from nowhere. She curtsied to him.

Good morning, sir. How was your trip?

Uneventful, which is all one can hope for when inspecting a factory.

In truth, he always found his trips dull. Small towns were a large part of the business he shared with his father, but he had little use for them otherwise. The only cities that ever interested him were large ones. Had he spent the last fortnight traveling throughout New York City or even Jefferson City, he was certain he'd have returned in a better mood.

Myra nodded. She was a short but slender woman in her late forties and had been putting up with his father for nearly two decades. Though formally she worked for both Edward and Charles Saunders, it was his father who had hired her, and it was his father who utilized so much of her time.

Mr. Saunders was not expecting you back so soon, I think. He'll be pleased to see you. She reached for his bag.

Edward waved her off.

I've got it, Myra, thank you. You have enough to do without taking my bags up for me. He had been eight when Myra had come to live with them, shortly after his mother's death, and he'd grown up thinking of her as more of a mother than a housekeeper.

She hesitated, then nodded gratefully. "Thank you, sir. I am running a bit behind this morning. She looked around, as if checking to make sure they were alone, then whispered, Your father's been cheating on his diet again, I'm afraid."

Edward groaned. How bad is he?

She shook her head, making soft clicking noises with her tongue. I can't say, sir. He moans a lot and stays in his room when he can, but then you know how he sometimes likes to make a fuss. She licked her lips. I've tried to stop him from his indulgences, sir, so has the cook, but I can't watch him when he's at the factory, after all. When he's home, I only serve him according to Dr. Shannon's prescribed diet.

It's all right, Myra. I don't blame you. I know my father can be hard to manage, especially when it comes to food.

He does have a deeper desire for fatty meats and creams than others I've known, Myra said.

Edward sighed. If only he'd developed something other than a gastric ulcer, he might not have to be so limited in his diet. I'm sure he would much rather have problems with his liver or spleen. I'm certain those things could be fixed without amending his diet so very much.

Is Dr. Shannon certain nothing more can be done?

Yes. My father has his pills, but Dr. Shannon has told him time and again that it is his diet that causes the problems. Pills can only do so much.

Just then a moan came from an upstairs bedroom. Edward and Myra looked toward it.

Myra asked, Shall I bring him something, sir? I've offered tea, but he insists only on coffee and whiskey, and those I've refused.

Edward fought a smile. He was certain only Myra could get away with refusing his father anything. No, go on with your housework. I'll tend to him.

Myra nodded, and Edward went upstairs. His father's bedroom was dark. He drew back a curtain, and Charles Saunders reacted by holding his hand over his eyes and crying out.

Are you trying to end me? Charles shouted, his voice strained. The sunlight does more harm than good at times like these.

That's nonsense and you know it, Edward said, unsympathetic. He was tired of dealing with his father's gastric ulcer.  This was the third time he'd returned home from inspecting one of their factories to find his father ill, and it was all his own doing. Knowing that only stirred Edward's frustrations that much more.

I'm not well, his father said.

Of that, there is no doubt. For no man who was with sufficient sense would stuff his face with fats and creams and then blame everyone and everything other than himself for his illness.

Charles Saunders sat up in his bed and brought his hand away from his eyes, which had narrowed considerably. Are you saying I'm ill in the head? he demanded.

I'm not saying anything other than that you and your foolishness are beyond my comprehension. Whether that makes you ill in the head, I cannot say, as I am not a doctor, though I suspect Dr. Shannon might prove quite knowledgeable on the subject should you choose to appeal to him.

His father huffed and pulled the sheets up to his shoulders. I have a chill, he declared.

Edward said nothing. He went to the bed, pulled the sheets back, and when he saw his father still in his bedclothes, he let out an obvious sigh.

It is already eight in the morning and you have not even dressed for the day. What of the factory? We have several meetings coming up, including the one with Mr. Waterson. You know how much money we stand to gain from that if all goes well. Is this how you wish to present yourself to him when he arrives?

The meeting with Waterson is not for another week or two. If we need to postpone it, we can. Just send him one of those telegraphs you enjoy so much.

I would rather keep the meeting.

And so we shall. I'll be fine in another few days. Besides, I went into the office yesterday despite my gastric ulcer burning my insides.

And today?

His father paused and looked at him. You go.

Edward's shoulders tensed. I've just gotten back. I've been traveling for fifteen days and inspected no less than six factories in that time. I thought I would take a rest. He did not mention that his throat felt scratchy and his head ached. Admitting that meant admitting he was becoming ill himself, and he had no time for illness.

Certainly, you may, but first do me this favor. Go down to Saunders Factory and check in with the girls. It does them well to see someone of authority there, especially after that fiasco with Silas Tucker.

Edward's nerves rattled at the mention of the man who'd stolen from them and harassed their female workers for months, all under their noses. He thanked God the man was now in prison, where he belonged.

I'll go, Edward said, but when I return, we shall go over your diet.

I know my diet very well, his father retorted.

Not well enough, clearly. Anytime I leave, you stray from it. It seems I must hire someone to watch you twenty-four hours a day. I'll be glad when I install the company's first telephone next month. Then I'll be able to check in with you more easily on my trips.

Oh, nonsense, his father said. I'm a grown man and can care for myself. Anyway, I don't see the point in spending perfectly good money on this telephone contraption you keep talking about when telegraphs work just as well, if not better. I don't know anyone else in town who has one. He rolled over on his side and let out a huff.

You may be a grown man, Father, but sometimes you act like a child. With that, Edward left rather huffily himself.

Saunders Factory, located on the outskirts of Blisspeak, Missouri, a dull town without much going for it other than the fact it was the site of the first factory his father had ever built, loomed ahead of him like a wart on a fingertip. He was tired and wished for nothing more than a soft bed and some sleep.

Good morning, Mr. Saunders, Della Garrison called as he walked in.

Della had become his father's right-hand man, so to speak, after Caroline Shannon retired from the place to raise her child. Edward knew his father still harbored hopes Caroline might return after the child was old enough, but such fanciful ideas did no good for anyone. It was absurd to think of a woman leaving her home and child to work in a factory, even if the position did pay well. Dr. Shannon made more than enough money to cover the necessities of his household, plus quite a bit extra.

Edward was pleased with Della and felt she had done well in the role, though he still thought a man might fare better. After all, men were simply better inclined toward business than women, though he would never tell Della that. She had a tone that could scare the feathers off a bird, and he was certain any hint of disparagement against women would earn him a good lecture using the very tone he wished to avoid.

Still, at some point, he intended to find a man to take over for Della. She could continue to assist his father, but only a man would ever be able to make the truly tough decisions required of a general manager. Despite the confidence he knew his father placed in Della, her title remained that of a secretary. That was the role he intended for her to maintain.

He had nothing against women in business, per se, it was only that he could not name one woman in all of Missouri, indeed in the whole country, who owned a factory. There was the occasional dress shop, which was always run by women, but that was a different sort of business altogether. Women understood dresses. Men understood work.

Good morning, Della, he replied after a minute when he realized he'd said nothing by way of response.

Didn't expect to see you in here this morning, she said. Did you have a nice trip?

He