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The Suspect Groom
Cassie Miles
His Letters Promised Everything…After a month-long correspondence, Trina Martin agreed to the unthinkable and became a mail-order bride. Leaving for Alaska, she felt fully prepared to live with a romantic stranger in a secluded hunting lodge–right up until her groom-to-be was murdered during the wedding.With a blizzard raging outside and all the wedding guests trapped inside, there was no escape. But Trina found a strange comfort in the soothing gaze of the lodge's cowboy foreman. Unfortunately, ruggedly handsome David St. John was the prime suspect in the sudden death of Trina's almost-husband….



The Suspect Groom
Cassie Miles


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dear Reader,
One of the greatest rewards for writing for Harlequin Intrigue is the chance to travel in your mind to places you would never dream of going. Like Alaska. Since I live a quiet life in Denver, where we usually get plenty of snow, a trip to glacier land wasn’t my number-one priority. However, after working on The Suspect Groom, a MAIL ORDER BRIDE book, my priorities have changed. I envy the two main characters in this story, Trina Martin and David St. John.
The country near Juneau is remarkable and beautiful, a wonderland filled with incredible wildlife. Just think of being caught in a blizzard with a gorgeous, rugged male, like David St. John. Think of snuggling in front of the fire with nothing to do but share bodily warmth. Of course, Trina Martin has to worry about solving a couple of murders and surviving when the killer comes after her. But David and Alaska make her struggle worth it.
I wouldn’t mind being Trina. I’m tempted to respond to one of those ads for MAIL ORDER BRIDES!
Sincerely,
Cassie Miles



CAST OF CHARACTERS
Trina Martin—She came to Alaska as a mail-order bride, but the marriage license included more than she bargained for.
David St. John—He didn’t own the Stoddard Hunting Lodge or the vast acreage that came with it, but he kept everything running. Until murder intervened.
Ivan Stoddard—This cruel and wealthy man thought he could buy anything, even a wife.
Maybelle Ballou—The housekeeper’s main responsibility was to keep Ivan happy. How far would she go to please him?
Jacob Poynter—An Olympic champion in the shoot-and-ski event, the biathlon, he was the consummate hunter, dangerous to his prey.
Sheriff Reuben Kittridge—His job was to solve the crimes, but he had an unfortunate tendency toward poaching.
Bradley Winkle—This jealous newlywed came to Alaska to investigate environmental violations. Did his accusations lead to murder?
Phyllis Winkle—She loved horses, almost more than her new husband, and she wasn’t very good at dealing with people.
Victor Stoddard—As Ivan’s only living relative, he stood to inherit a magnificent estate, if only his uncle Ivan were dead.

Contents
Prologue (#ub9d0a24d-f2ef-5c86-bfe8-55968cef93f3)
Chapter One (#uaa1b5b7a-f1f9-573e-b983-988993788a7b)
Chapter Two (#u1ca04192-3a80-5e6b-926f-0a6d30146d07)
Chapter Three (#u6a7dc4aa-eb8d-536e-af52-d52c25fdad2d)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Prologue
A bitter wind from the Alaskan coast mountains tore through the night. Black velvet skies, studded with crystal stars, loomed over the stark snow-covered horizon, but Darien Greenlee saw only the glare of headlights in his rearview mirror. Like the glowing eyes of a predatory beast, the lights had tailed him for the past eight miles on this desolate road that led to Ivan Stoddard’s hunting lodge.
From a distance, Darien heard a timber wolf howl at the waning February moon, and he shivered. His grip tightened on the steering wheel of his rental car. This idiot behind him was following too closely, tailgating as if they were in a traffic jam instead of being the only two vehicles for miles and miles. Darien hadn’t seen another car since he passed through the main street of Osprey and circled the edge of Crowberry Lake. What was wrong with this guy?
Darien lessened his speed by five miles per hour, so that the other car could pass him. But the driver stayed tight on his tail. Swinging wide on a curve that was rimmed by ice-covered berry thickets, Darien slowed even more. The vehicle behind him did the same. They were creeping along the dark road. Was the driver Ivan himself? Was this his idea of a joke?
Suddenly, without warning, the headlights behind Darien came close. The other car nudged his bumper, and the studded snow tires of Darien’s rental car skidded on the icy road.
“Hey!” The exclamation burst through his lips. What was going on? This wasn’t funny! Darien stomped hard on the accelerator and shot forward. He’d driven this route often enough to be familiar with the twists and turns in the narrow road that led through an old-growth spruce and hemlock forest. Beyond the trees, a two-lane road shot straight as a harpoon. The lodge was only a few miles farther away.
With satisfaction, Darien saw the headlights fall behind.
He chuckled. Try to keep up with me. Just try it.
His rental car burst past the trees. Far away, Darien saw the glow of lights from the lodge. Up close, too close, there was an obstacle in the road. A log. A fallen tree. He pumped frantically on the brakes and came to a stop only inches from the jagged pine boughs.
The car behind him halted.
Outraged, Darien flung open his car door. He charged toward the other vehicle, a Jeep, ready to confront the person who was stepping out. “What the hell were you doing? I could have been killed. I have a good mind to—”
His words stopped when he saw the shimmer of starlight on the gunmetal gray barrel of a Winchester rifle. The raw wind, the Taku wind from the mountains, sliced through his parka and chilled his heart.
The driver of the other car raised the night sight and aimed at Darien’s chest. The voice was a whisper. “Seems that you’ve fallen into a trap.”
Though the shape was well-padded in winter gear, Darien recognized the person. “You!”
“I’ll give you a sporting chance, my friend. I’ll count to one hundred before I come after you.”
“Don’t be absurd. I won’t play games with you. It’s freezing out here.”
“Twenty-eight below zero.”
“Come on, now. Enough is enough.” Darien fought the terror that rose in his chest. “Let’s get this road cleared,” he continued reasonably. “We can use the winch on your Jeep.”
“I’ll make it even easier for you. I won’t use the rifle with the night sight.” The rifle disappeared into the Jeep. “I’m only armed with this handgun. A Colt .45. That’s fair.”
“You’re insane!”
“One. Two.” The whisper was firm. The cadence of the count was steady. “Three. Four.”
“You’ll never get away with this.” Searching for a way out, Darien stared at his rental car, neatly hemmed in by the log and the Jeep. There was no way he could escape, but his own rifle and hunting gear were in the trunk.
“Don’t even think it” came the low whisper. “Touch your car and the game’s over. You die right now.” The count resumed. “Five. Six.”
“It would be more fair if I was armed.” Darien tried another tactic. “You said you wanted to be sporting, didn’t you?”
“Seven. Eight. You’re talking yourself to death, my friend. Nine. Ten.”
Darien started running. He had two choices—into the trees or toward the lodge. The trees would provide shelter and make him a more difficult target, but he couldn’t hide there long. It was too cold. Still running, he zipped his Gore-Tex parka and pulled up the hood. There were bears in the forest. And wolves. Night hunters.
Still, he chose that direction.
The lodge was nearly two miles away, and the landscape was flat white with nowhere to hide.
He heard the echo of the first shot ring out. The stillness of the Alaskan night shattered like glass.

Chapter One
He was exactly the way she’d imagined. Trina Martin peered through the window of the single-engine Cessna at the tall, long-legged man in a shearling coat who stood beside the Osprey airstrip. Behind him, the glacial landscape of Alaska, north of Juneau, glistened in the midday sunlight. The sparkle of crusted snow matched the two-carat diamond in the ring she wore on her fourth finger, left hand.
Trina couldn’t believe she was actually here, couldn’t believe that she was finally going to meet him. Though the brim of his black Stetson obscured his features, she had the impression of a strong jawline. What would he look like? Was his hair blond or brown or red? Was it streaked with silver? She knew he was in his mid-forties. She knew he was healthy and fit. But, in all their correspondence, she hadn’t seen a photograph, hadn’t been brave enough to ask. Was he handsome?
The plane taxied forward and she could no longer see him. She leaned back in her seat, trying to catch her breath and to calm the tremulous quiver of anticipation in her stomach. Finally, she thought. Finally, she would be face-to-face with her future husband, Ivan Stoddard.
“We’re here,” the pilot announced from the cockpit.
Trina was the only passenger in the small plane, and she was struck with a sudden reluctance to disembark. What if Ivan didn’t like her? What if he thought she was plain or clumsy or boring? Worst of all, she thought, he might take one look at her and discover the lie she’d perpetrated since the very beginning of their correspondence.
“I got to tell you,” the bush pilot said as the plane slowly glided to a stop. “I’ve transported a lot of weird stuff to people out here. A pair of matched apricot poodles. A frozen cheesecake from New York City. And the skull of a prehistoric man to some archeologist. But this is the first time my cargo has been a mail-order bride.”
“I’m nowhere near as interesting as those other things.”
“Beg to differ, ma’am. You’re plenty more exciting than a poodle or a prehistoric head.”
“Thanks, I think.”
“Oh, that was a compliment, ma’am. You mind if I ask you one thing?”
“Go ahead.”
“Why? Why would a pretty woman like yourself agree to come up here and marry a man she’s never even met?”
The answer wasn’t easy. When Trina first replied to the advertisement for a mail-order bride, she might have been undergoing the first prickles of an uncomfortable mid-life crisis. She was thirty-five, unmarried and stuck in a dead-end job. Taking off for Alaska appealed to her, and she’d started a correspondence with Ivan Stoddard.
Over the course of a month, he wrote to her almost daily, and she fell in love with his letters. Maybe not in love, she thought now, but deeply in like. He was witty, honest and sensitive. His occasional attempts at poetry, though perhaps not brilliant, were charmingly sincere. Most of all, his letters showed that he loved his life-style, without reservation and fear. Trina wanted to share that excitement. She was tired of petty whining and complaining. She longed to embrace her future, and Ivan seemed to be the man who could show her how to live. When she received the engagement ring by special courier, she slipped it on her finger, quit her job and made her travel arrangements.
“Well?” the pilot prodded.
“Adventure,” she said.
“You’re surely going to have that wish come true. If there’s one thing we’ve got more of than snow in Alaska, it’s adventure.”
While he jostled the switches and shut down the engines of the Cessna, Trina lifted her large canvas purse onto her lap. Digging through her makeup, she found a small compact and checked her appearance. Her cheeks were flushed, which deepened the blue color of her eyes. Her minimal makeup was okay, but her long brown hair, pulled back in a single braid, was something of a mess. She tried to tidy the straggles that had come unfastened, then gave up, pulled out the rubber band at the end of the braid and shook her head. The untamed thickness cascaded halfway down her back. Her long hair was her best feature, but right now it seemed too wild. Should have had a trim, she thought. Should have had a hairdresser add russet highlights to the dull brown color. It was too late now, and Trina didn’t expect to find stylists in attendance at the secluded game preserve where they were headed.
She took off her gold-framed glasses and stashed them in their case. Perhaps her vision of Ivan would be an unfocused blur, but she didn’t want his first impression of her to be of a bespectacled former secretary. Besides, she needed to look younger, and the glasses added years.
The pilot flipped down the exit hatch. “Here you go, ma’am. Best of luck to you. Many happy returns.”
Too excited to speak, she nodded her thanks and stepped from the Cessna. The ridged rubber sole of her boot crunched on the hard-packed snow beside the tarmac runway. An icy wind coiled around her and nipped the tip of her nose. She shivered. This would be her home now. Alaska.
The man who stood waiting held his hat in his gloved hands. His eyes were a deep, moody brown. Sunlight sparked golden reflections in his dark blond hair.
She tried not to stare, not to squint myopically to bring his features into clear focus. Truly, she didn’t need to look too hard to see that he was wonderfully masculine, as strong and rugged as the land he called his domain. It was nearly impossible to believe that this virile man had written the twenty-eight thoughtful letters she’d received.
“Afternoon, ma’am. I’m David St. John.”
“You’re not Ivan?”
“He sends his regrets. There was a crisis this afternoon, and he couldn’t get away.” David stuck out his hand. “I’m the foreman at the hunting preserve.”
Her red mitten disappeared into his thick leather glove, and she gave a firm handshake, suppressing her disappointment. Throughout this long journey, she’d been anxious to see Ivan, to finally meet him. It didn’t seem like she could hold off for one more minute. But there was no choice. “I guess an occasional crisis can’t be avoided.”
“Afraid not.”
She forced the smile onto her face. Trina needed to be strong, to be prepared for anything. In his letters, Ivan had explained, several times, that life in Alaska didn’t follow the predictable rules of politeness.
“I’m sorry,” David said, and she detected a note of sympathy in his voice. “I’m sure if Ivan was here, he’d tell you that you were some sight when you were coming off that plane. You looked like Alice, taking her first gander at Wonderland.”
“That’s how I feel. This land is so beautiful. Last night, when my plane landed in Juneau, it was too dark to really see anything. But this morning we flew over the Mendenhall Glacier. It’s so amazing and it looks blue. There’s so much water, too! And the Cathedral Peaks. And the forests. I can’t wait to see the green fjords in the springtime. I’ve read all the books on Alaska that I could get my hands on, but this is...well, it is like Wonderland.”
“And Ivan would probably tell you...” He cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind me saying it, Trina, you’re prettier than your photograph.”
Her eyebrows arched in disbelief. The picture she’d sent was from ten years ago when she was twenty-five, and that little white lie had prevailed throughout her correspondence with Ivan. In his advertisement for a mail-order bride, he’d said he wanted a young, healthy, strong woman to be his wife. Trina fulfilled the requirements, except for the youthful part. “That was a posed photo,” she said, hoping that explanation would cover the ten extra years. “With makeup and special lighting.”
“I like you better this way. You look real.”
With the pilot’s help, he loaded her two suitcases and steamer trunk into the back of a four-wheel-drive Jeep Cherokee. Then he turned to her. “Is this all of it?”
“Yes.” Those few cases held all her earthly belongings. Trina had been ruthless in discarding everything that wasn’t absolutely essential. She’d sold all her furniture, had given away her trinkets and mementos.
In Alaska, she wanted a completely fresh start. A brand-new life, full of promise and adventure. And maybe she’d even find love.
David held open the door on the passenger side. “Let’s roll.”
She fastened her seat belt and settled back for the ride, noticing that he peeled off his heavy leather gloves and wore only a light thermal pair for the drive. “How far are we from the lodge?”
“Not far.”
“In terms of miles?”
“Time and distance don’t mean much out here. In a blizzard, it can take an hour to go a mile. In clear weather, like today, we’ll be at the lodge before your eyes get accustomed to the glare off the snow. Have you got sunglasses?”
“Yes.” Prescription sunglasses! These would be the perfect thing to wear. Not only would she be able to see clearly, but the dark lenses would disguise the faint traces of laugh lines around her eyes. She fished them out of her canvas bag and put them on.
The snowy panorama, though muted by the sunglasses, was spectacular. She scanned in all directions, absorbing the view, then turned her gaze to the man who was driving. She’d been right about the strong jawline. His profile appeared to have been chiseled from granite. He was remarkably good-looking. “Have you lived up here long, David?”
“I was born near Skagway at the foot of the Yukon Trail. I left for a while, but I came back home. It’s funny how that happens, how the place where you have roots calls you back. No matter how far you roam, there’s one place on earth where you really belong.” He smiled. “What about you, Trina? I know you’re from Colorado, but is that where you were born?”
“I was born in Los Angeles, but I don’t consider that home.” Her father had been in the military, and they had lived in dozens of places. She wasn’t fond of her personal history and preferred not to remember her family’s unsettled life-style, ruled by a dictatorial father. She changed the subject. “So, David, what does a foreman on a game preserve do?”
“It depends. Mostly I take care of the livestock.”
“The moose and the bear?”
He laughed. “They take care of themselves. We have domestic animals. Horses, a couple of beef cattle. We tried sheep and chickens, but the wolves found them too appealing.”
“Appealing?”
“Succulent,” he said.
Aware that she was in a different land with different rules, Trina swallowed the automatic exclamation of disgust that rose in her throat. Succulent? Yuck! Though she knew the food chain was a part of nature, she’d never been a farm girl, and she hated to acknowledge the natural fact that meat came from a living creature. Rather, she liked to believe that it grew on trees in prepackaged cartons, which were then available in the butcher’s section of her local supermarket.
“Also,” David said, “I maintain the property. Do some carpentry, some building, some repairs. Mostly, at this time of year, I run the snowplow. And I handle the hiring and firing when we need help. During slow times, I do a lot of the paperwork for Ivan, setting the appointments for the hunters who stay at the lodge.”
“The hunters.” There was another source of possible conflict. Trina had tried not to dwell on that part of her future husband’s business. His land wasn’t a pristine game preserve where the Alaskan version of Bambi and Thumper scampered free. The lodge was a hunting operation.
She had reread the letter several times wherein Ivan told how he had stalked and killed a bull elk. Though he described the skinning and processing of the venison in detail, she had sensed an obvious admiration for the magnificent animal that provided its meat. He’d mentioned another hunter who’d accompanied him on that expedition—David St. John. Though Ivan didn’t say much about him, it made Trina feel more familiar with the foreman. “Ivan mentioned you,” she said. “In his letters.”
“Did he?’ David pointed to a fence post. “That’s the beginning of Stoddard land.”
She peered along the fenceline that stretched farther than the eye could see. “All this?”
“It’s a big place. Over two thousand acres.”
“Why is it fenced?”
“Mostly to keep the poachers out.”
“Well, of course.” She tried to make sense of this vast, bizarre land. “I don’t suppose a scrawny little bit of barbed wire would hold something as big as a moose.”
“You’d be surprised. There are two things you need to remember about moose, Trina. They’re a whole lot more dangerous than Bullwinkle. However, they are just exactly as dumb as they look.”
He turned and they drove through a gateway that stood open. “Not much farther,” David said. “The lodge is over this ridge, just through the forest and straight on from there.”
They entered a corridor between tall spruce trees, so thick that the forest blocked the sunlight. The branches started high on the trees, and the dark trunks seemed to surround David and Trina in an ominous, impenetrable fortress. Amid the trees, there was silence and so much less snow that patches of the narrow road’s surface were visible. “Taming this land is quite an accomplishment,” she said.
“Alaska is never tame. At best, we puny humans have momentary control. But the environment is king. The Haida Indians understood that. They always made peace with the local spirits of trees and wind and water. But nobody ever really expects to conquer the land. No more than they can change the weather.”
“If it was that bad, no one would live here.”
“There are rewards. The sight of the first snow. Ever held a snowflake on your glove and watched it melt?”
She shook her head. “Never have.”
He continued, “There’s a special smell in a winter camp fire. No sparkle of a diamond mined in Africa is as beautiful as sunlight on a waterfall or the northern lights. And the springtime? It’s heaven. You can taste spring in the air. In the melting snows, the fjords are lush and inviting. You want to run across the remaining ice floes and roll around in the green. But then, crack! The ce breaks. And you’re stranded. Trapped.”
He glanced over at the woman who sat so primly beside him. Her full lips were slightly parted. Her head was cocked slightly to one side, like a curious fawn. “Stop me, Trina. I’m beginning to sound like a damn poet.”
“Like Ivan,” she said.
“Oh, yeah.” David couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice. “Ivan’s real poetic. A regular bard.”
“In his letters, he is.”
He didn’t want to argue with her. It wasn’t right for him to be thinking about her at all. She was Ivan’s woman. Not his. “Just remember, Trina. Southeastern Alaska can be very beautiful, but it’s dangerous, too.”
When they came out of the trees, their way was blocked by several four-wheel-drive vehicles and pickup trucks. David pulled to the side of the road and parked. “Let’s check it out. This must be the big crisis.”
“Is that a police car?” She gestured toward a beat-up truck with police lights on top and a sheriff’s star painted on the side.
“Belongs to the sheriff from Osprey.”
“Fascinating,” she said. Though he started around the Jeep to open the door for her, Trina opened her own door. She needed to assert her independence.
David escorted her toward a burly man with a dark walrus mustache. He was huge, as tall as David and half again as wide. Was everybody extralarge up here? Or was it just the padding of parkas and snow gear? Though she was above average height at five feet, eight inches, she felt positively petite as David introduced her to Reuben Kittridge. “Reuben’s the sheriff.”
The big man shook her hand. Beneath eyebrows that were nearly as bushy as his mustache, he studied her with penetrating eyes. “You’re the mail-order bride,” he said, “and I’ll be doggoned if you aren’t a pretty little thing.”
“And you’re a pretty big thing.”
“You’re right about that.” He glanced at David. “She’s a beauty. Ain’t Ivan got all the luck?”
“Just so. What’s the problem here, Reuben?”
“Early this morning, at first light, a couple of kids came through here. Cross-country skiing, they said, but I expect they had their rifles with them. No way to prove it, though. So, you tell Ivan not to press charges for poaching. They were good boys to come forward even though they might get in trouble.”
“I hope nothing happened to them,” David said.
“They found a body. A man’s body. Or what was left of it...after the wolves.”
“Anybody we know?”
“I don’t think so. If he was carrying a wallet, it’s gone now. His face and hands are pretty well torn up.”
Trina shuddered. The cold wind swept around her, but the icy feeling came from deep within her heart. What a horrible way to die! Being eaten by wolves. The trembling froze her blood, and she folded her arms across her waist, holding tight to keep the bones from rattling against each other. She tried to be braver. This was beautiful Alaska!
And yet, she was frightened. This sort of thing never happened in urban Denver where she’d worked as a secretary. Her voice squeaked like a rusty hinge on a door that she was trying with all her might to keep closed. “Wolves, you say?”
Reuben nodded. “It was wolves, all right.”
She felt David’s presence nearby. Though he didn’t touch her, he was close, shielding her from the fearful chill.
The sheriff continued. “He had some high-class snow gear. His parka was shredded, but it was one of those fine Gore-Tex things. Good boots. Thermal everything. Not that all the padding in the world could save him from hungry wolves.”
“He was careless,” David said. “Really, Trina, this sort of thing doesn’t happen every day.”
“Every other day?” she said, trying to be rough and ready despite the tremor in her voice.
“Seldom,” David said. “Most people know better than to go wandering off at night and get themselves lost. That must have been what happened. Right, Sheriff?”
“Don’t know. My guess is that he died at least a couple of days ago. Maybe even a week. Hard to say. We’ve had some light snowfalls at night.”
They stood and watched. About two hundred yards from the road, Trina saw a group of men trudging through ankle-deep snow. Two of them glided a litter across the rolling field. Though the body on the coffin-size sled was completely covered, she too easily imagined the dead man.
Her stomach lurched. Trina closed her eyes rather than turning away. She didn’t want to betray any weakness. This was her new home. If she wanted to stake her claim, she needed to be strong.
“But it wasn’t just the wolves that got him,” Reuben said. “Nope, this good old boy was dead before he hit the ground. Three bullet holes right in the back.”
* * *
DAVID HAD BEEN looking forward to meeting Trina and showing her the wonders of Alaska, a little piece of heaven. Instead, he had introduced her to a hellish murder.
Though she had exclaimed enthusiastically when they first beheld the buildings of the Stoddard Lodge and Hunting Preserve, her voice held a high note, a tremble like the sound of a startled thrush. She’d been tense, stiff. When he’d showed her the bedroom in the big house beside the lodge, the bedroom that was to be her own, she asked for a moment alone.
David left her, went downstairs and through the front room to the study. He rapped on the door. “Ivan!”
“What the hell is it?”
Pushing open the door, David entered. “I’ve got her.”
“Her?”
“Trina Martin. The woman you’re going to marry.”
“Oh. Her.” Ivan peered through hooded eyelids that always reminded David of a hawk or a falcon. A predator. That was Ivan. Though he could be vicious and demanding, he never apologized for his attitude. And David respected that. Ivan was what he was—no worse and no better. “What’s she look like, David?”
“If you cared, you could have come to the airfield.”
“I was busy. I had a crisis to attend.”
David glanced around the quiet office. The fax machine was still. The copier, untouched. The screen of the computer, equipped with up-to-date software, stood dark and blank. On the desk top in front of Ivan, a game of solitaire was spread but unfinished. “Light seven to dark eight,” David said. “I can see how busy you are.”
Ivan moved the cards and flipped through the deck again. There were no more moves.
“Looks like you’ve lost,” David said.
“By now, you know me better than that.” Ivan manipulated the layout of the solitaire game and won by cheating. “There. That’s better.”
“By the way,” David said, “about the crisis... Reuben says the dead man isn’t easily recognizable and has no identification.”
“So they don’t know who it was.”
“Not a clue. And he was shot.”
“Murdered?” There was a singular lack of surprise in Ivan’s question. He scooped up his deck of cards. “When?”
“They can’t tell. Reuben said they’d probably go all the way to Juneau for forensics.”
“A forensics team? My, my, a real homicide. That must be a big deal for Sheriff Reuben Kittridge.”
David settled himself into the chair opposite the desk. Over the past five years, he’d sat here so often that the leather was worn to the shape of his rump. The distance was exactly right for David to stretch out his long legs and prop his boot heels on the edge of the desk. Usually, he was content, even pleased, by Ivan’s lack of attention to business because it left more for David to work on. But this was different. Trina was different. David couldn’t allow Ivan to run roughshod over her life.
“Reuben probably thinks he can give me a hard time about this,” Ivan said. A slow, evil smile curled his lips. “I’ll look forward to his feeble attempts.”
“This is murder, Ivan. Take it seriously.”
“One more dead trespasser. Who cares?” He looked up. “Tell me about the girl.”
“She’s okay.”
“Only okay? I wanted somebody who’d make the rest of you backwoods yahoos sit up and notice. Is she going to do that?”
David cleared his throat, paused. He wanted to say that Trina was more than a trophy. One look had told him that. She was warm and bright with an inner beauty that outshone her lovely exterior. But David couldn’t admit his feelings. Ivan would laugh and tell him to forget it. He’d marry Trina just to spite David.
Damn it, there wasn’t time to come up with the right words to express the effect Trina had had on him. And that was a great irony in Alaska where—during the dark cold winter—time stretched into a slow infinity. Since Trina arrived, every moment seemed to speed as quickly as sand in an hourglass. Every moment was sparkling.
“So where’s my bride?”
“Upstairs in her room, making herself pretty,” David said.
“For me.” Ivan grinned. “I’m going to like having some sweet young thing fluttering round, catering to my every whim. I don’t know why I didn’t do this years ago.”
David’s jaw tightened. Ivan didn’t deserve a woman who was as sweet and sensitive as Trina. He wouldn’t appreciate her. He’d ordered up a bride with the casual disregard he might use in placing a catalog order. As long as she was approximately the right size and shape, he didn’t care about what was inside. If it weren’t for those letters, those damn letters...
Trina stepped lightly into the room. She’d changed from her travel clothes into a long, purple and white sweater and matching purple leggings. She wore a large silver locket at her throat. On her feet were beige suede boots that were very stylish, but unsuitable for going out in the snow. Her long mane of brown hair rippled past her shoulders, and her eyes danced with the same happy excitement David had seen when she left the airplane.
David rose to his feet and so did Ivan.
She moved toward them with a fetching shyness, so eager to please, and David hoped with all his heart that Ivan would be gentle with her.
“Trina Martin,” he said. “At last we meet.”
“At last.”
He took her hand, raised it to his lips and lightly kissed her fingertips. “What did you think of your bedroom, Trina?”
“It’s very...pink,” she said.
“Women like pink.”
“Well, yes. And I don’t mean to criticize. But I’m not a Barbie doll.”
“It’s Maybelle’s fault. She’s the housekeeper, and she ordered the bedspreads and curtains. Made David work overtime putting up that rosebud wallpaper.”
“The housekeeper?” Trina brightened. “This place comes with a housekeeper?”
“Maybelle Ballou,” he said. “But she’s leaving at the end of the month. Going south.” He regarded Trina with that hooded stare. “That won’t happen with you.”
“Why wouldn’t it?” she asked.
“You’ll be my wife. You can’t just up and quit because the winter’s too cold. Or you’re lonely.” He sneered. “A wife needs a home, and that’s what I’m giving you. A home and a lodge and a barn and several outbuildings. Not to mention the two thousand acres of land. That’s a pretty damn good bargain, Trina.”
“Yes, I suppose it is.” But she wasn’t sure if she believed that she’d just made the deal of the century. Ivan Stoddard wasn’t at all what she had expected. Though he was an attractive man, tall and lean, with sharp features, there was a harsh, intimidating light that emanated from his dark eyes. His short-cropped hair was iron gray. He was most definitely older than his letters suggested. Though Trina had subtracted ten years from her own résumé, she suspected Ivan was closer to sixty-five than forty-five.
“How many employees do you have?” she asked.
“Up to twelve when the lodge is full. Which isn’t often. In the wintertime, it’s usually just me and David and the housekeeper. When Maybelle leaves, that would be David, me and you.”
“Me? Then, am I expected to act as housekeeper?”
“Well, you wouldn’t want some other woman messing with your house.”
“I didn’t sign on to be an employee, Ivan. There’s more to being a wife than—”
“Sure, sure,” he interrupted as he returned to the chair behind his desk. He stared at her. “Turn around, Trina.”
“What?”
“I want to inspect you. I’m making an investment here.”
“To inspect me?” She felt her cheeks grow red with embarrassment and anger. This man was nothing like his letters. Ivan was crass and rude and...
“You heard me, honey. Turn around.”
Finally David spoke, “Come on, Ivan. Knock it off.”
“I have the right.”
“Well, why don’t you ask her to open her mouth so you can check out her teeth like a horse you might buy.” David stepped up beside her and squeezed her shoulders protectively. “He’s joking.”
“I’m not,” Ivan said. “Little Trina here claims to be twenty-five, but she looks a damn sight older.”
She cringed inside. Her lie! She’d already been caught in her lie!
“Does it matter?” David asked.
“Hell, yes. I want my wife to give me some legal heirs. Sons, of course.”
“I see,” Trina snapped. “And do we drown the daughters?”
“What?” A perplexed frown crossed Ivan’s face, then he said, “Don’t take me wrong, Trina. I’ve got nothing against women. I like women. Living up here, I’ve learned that a strong woman can do almost anything a man can do. But I’d prefer little boys. I’m an older man. I’d like a kid to play with, and I don’t much care for dollies and dress up.”
“Talk about your mixed messages,” she said under her breath. In one quick statement, Ivan had credited women and discredited them at the same time.
The telephone on Ivan’s desk rang and he snatched it up. As soon as he recognized the caller, his voice softened like butter in the sun. “And I’m real pleased to hear from you, too. You hold on for just a second, okay?”
He turned his gaze on Trina. His gaze scoped from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. “I guess you’ll do just fine. I’ll see you tomorrow at the wedding.”
“But—”
“That’s all, Trina.” Ivan nodded to David. “Get her some dinner and put her to bed.”
A dozen protests sputtered behind her lips, but she was too confused to speak, and David was turning her gently toward the door. She gazed up at him and saw a wellspring of sensitivity in his dark eyes. If only he had been the man she’d come to marry, everything would be wonderful. She could have forgotten the dead man in the field, could have been truly happy.
Had she expected too much? She touched the silver locket at her throat. Inside, folded tight, was a scrap of paper from one of his letters. One word was written upon it—love.
When she reached the door, Ivan called out. “Hey! Your backside looks just fine to me.”
What had she gotten herself into?

Chapter Two
Trina marched along beside David, not speaking. She kept her chin high. Her encounter with Ivan reminded her, more than anything, of those years in her childhood when her military father barked out orders and it was her job to obey without question. During that time, she’d learned self-control. Trina knew, from experience, that she could grit her teeth and stand anything—anything!—for a brief period of time. But this was marriage, and marriage should be for a long time. A lifetime.
David directed her through the entry and down a hallway. They passed an arch that led to the kitchen where they could hear the housekeeper, Maybelle, at work. From there, David took Trina down a few steps to another, narrower corridor.
She tripped on another small stair, recovered her poise and said, “This floor plan doesn’t make sense. Up a half flight, down a hall, up another. It’s like a house put together with children’s building blocks.”
“Makes sense when you consider the weather,” he said. “In the summer, it’s possible to build and add on. So the houses up here tend to expand in spurts. This addition was my special project three years ago.”
He opened a door to a spacious room, paneled entirely in faintly redolent cedar. The most striking features were a large moss rock fireplace and wide windows that showed a view of the barn. David opened a door on the right side of the fireplace. “In here is my office. The other closed door leads to my bedroom.”
She watched him warily as he added another log to the blaze in the fireplace. “Why did you bring me here, David?”
“I thought you might need a friend. I know you’re disappointed. Your first meeting with Ivan didn’t go exactly as you wanted.”
An understatement if she’d ever heard one. “It could have gone worse. I mean, he didn’t bite the head off a live chicken or anything.”
“I might have a solution.”
“Murder Ivan?” she suggested.
“The thought has crossed my mind—a number of times. But I don’t think we need to try anything so drastic.”
“Okay, David, what do you think I should do?”
She glanced at him. Even though she couldn’t see him clearly without her glasses, he appeared to be uncomfortable, and he spoke with hesitation,. “Sometimes, Trina, things aren’t as they seem.”
She nodded. What was he trying to tell her?
“Sometimes, a person can make an honest mistake. It occurs to me that things might not work out with you and Ivan. Now, if that happens to be the case—”
“I don’t want to think about that.” She perched on the wide stone ledge beside the fireplace and sighed. “It’s true that Ivan isn’t all that I had hoped for, but I really haven’t given him much of a chance. I felt much the same way about him after our brief phone conversations, but then I’d read his letters again. I know the man has a kind, gentle heart.”
Maybe Ivan just needed a good woman to bring his shining qualities to the forefront. Maybe he just had a gruff exterior. Or maybe she was kidding herself and Ivan was an irreparable jerk. If he really intended to marry her tomorrow, she didn’t have much time to figure out which was which.
“He seems to be a generous man,” Trina finally ventured.
“When it suits him.”
“I mean, you heard all the things he offered me. The house. The lodge. The land.” She lifted her hand, turned it toward the fire. “Look at this ring, this diamond. It had to be expensive.” But the ring felt heavy on her finger. And the diamond glittered with a cold, harsh light.
“Ivan’s a wealthy man,” David conceded. “I don’t know his liquid value, but his assets make him a millionaire. He made his money in oil thirty years ago. He’s owned this lodge and all the acreage for twenty years. He’s rich, all right.”
Comforting, she thought, but money didn’t really matter. Character was more important in a husband than wealth. She stuck to her initial, hopeful assessment. “He’s generous.”
“And rich. I guess that’s enough to make you go ahead with the wedding.”
“What are you suggesting? That I’d marry a man because of his assets?”
“I’ve been told that it’s just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as a poor one.”
“It doesn’t matter to me.”
“Right. Sure.” He sounded disbelieving. “If not money, what do you want?”
“A home.”
“You had a home. In Denver.”
“A place to live isn’t a home. In any case, it’s not there anymore. I quit my job, gave up my apartment and sold my car.”
“Why?”
“Because...” Her voice trailed off. She couldn’t tell David that she’d been foolish enough to fall in love with a man based on a stack of letters, but that was the truth. With his written words, Ivan had captured her heart.
“Is it because you knew you’d be coming into money?”
“Why do you keep harping on that?”
“I’m looking at the facts, Trina. You’re a mail-order bride. Why? Money. Why else would you come here and offer yourself to a man you’d never met?”
How dare he insinuate that she could be bought! She bounded to her feet and strode toward the door.
“Trina, wait!”
“I won’t sit here and be insulted. Not by you.”
“But by him? By Ivan?” David caught up with her at the door. “You heard what he wants from you. A live-in housekeeper who will bear his sons.”
“Leave me alone, David.”
He grasped her arm and she pivoted quickly. In reflex, her hand rose to slap his face. He caught her wrist, stopping the blow before it landed.
When she looked into his blazing eyes, sparks ignited between them. She staggered backward a step, shocked by the unwarranted passion she felt. What was going on in her head? She was furious with David, so mad she’d almost slapped him. And yet, she wanted nothing more than to fling herself into his arms, to taste his lips, to feel his strong, lean body against hers.
This couldn’t be! Though David was undeniably handsome, she couldn’t succumb to this terrible, inappropriate attraction. This was the eve of her wedding day. She shouldn’t even be looking at another man.
“I’ll be in my room, David. I don’t want dinner. I’m not hungry.”
She wrenched away from his grasp and fled through the mazes of stairs and corridors to find her ridiculous second-floor room that was all flounces, fluff and pink, pink, pink.
She’d never been so confused. Pacing back and forth on creaking floorboards, she felt trapped by her irrational emotions. She fought to calm the thumping of her heart against her rib cage when she thought of...David. Not Ivan, but David St. John. From the moment she’d seen him through the window of the Cessna, he’d been everything she wanted in a man. But it wasn’t right! She needed to ground herself, to make sense of this.
She grasped the silver locket, unfastened the catch and opened it. Carefully, she unfolded the tiny piece of paper. When Ivan had been writing to her, the body of his letters was typed on a computer, but the signature was written. At first, he’d signed his letters with “sincerely,” then he progressed to “cordially.” On the letter he wrote on Valentine’s Day, he signed with the single word she treasured in her locket. “Love, Ivan.”
No matter how horrible he’d seemed when they met, he had written to her of love.
Trina dug through her suitcase until she found his letters. She threw herself across the pink satin bedspread and read the promise he’d written on Valentine’s Day. “The nights in Alaska are the worst. Long, cold and dark. I lie in my solitary bed, wishing for the warmth of someone beside me. Wishing for you. Wishing I could touch your long, silken hair. Wishing I could hear your gentle heart, beating in rhythm with mine. If you marry me, Trina, I vow that your nights will never be lonely....”
In other letters, he had talked about seeing the reflection of a waterfall in her eyes, sitting together on the porch, holding hands and watching the migration of Canadian geese. He wanted to show her the snow foxes and river otters at play. But she couldn’t reconcile his prose with the man who had callously asked her to turn around for inspection.
And what about the phone call he’d received before he dismissed her? His sweetened voice and furtive manner made her think that the caller was a woman. Was he in love with someone else? Was he planning his own special bachelor party in the arms of another woman?
Exhaustion descended upon her like a heavy cloud. Trina kicked off her boots and crept under the covers, sleeping fitfully throughout the night.
The next morning, the skies were still blue, but the snow clouds were rising. Gazing from her window, she marveled at this magnificent land and wished she could be happy. Today, after all, might be her wedding day. But her emotions crashed around her. Her wedding day? “What have I done?”
Her father would have told her to buck up and get on with it, and—for once—Trina figured that was good advice. She needed to meet with Ivan, to assess his attitude and make her decision.
But first, she needed to dress. She stripped, grabbed her terry cloth bathrobe and headed across the wide landing toward the bathroom. She knocked on the door and waited for a response. When none came, she twisted the knob.
A man stood just inside. It was almost as if he were waiting for her.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Trina stepped back, averting her gaze from his bared chest. All he wore was a robe.
“You must be the blushing bride,” he said.
“Blushing is correct.” With one hand, she shielded her eyes. With the other, she clutched her bathroom supplies and tried to hold her robe closed. “I didn’t know I was barging in on you.”
“I don’t mind. After all, you’re practically family. I’m Victor Stoddard, Ivan’s nephew from Juneau.”
She hadn’t even thought of Ivan’s family arriving for the wedding. To call it off would be dreadfully embarrassing.
“Aren’t you going to shake my hand, Trina?”
“Of course, I don’t mean to be rude.” If he wasn’t embarrassed, why should she be? She stuck out her hand and looked directly into his eyes. The family resemblance was unattractive on Victor. Where Ivan’s sharp features gave definition to his face, Victor’s were exaggerated. His cheekbones jutted outward, creating sunken cheeks. His nose was too large and pointed for his weak chin. She shook his hand quickly. “Pleased to meet you, Victor. I’m Trina Martin.”
“Soon to be Trina Martin Stoddard. My Auntie Trina.”
His weak grasp clung to her. His skin was still damp and clammy from the shower. She suppressed a sense of revulsion. “Are there other family members here?”
“There are no other family members. Both of my parents and my brother were killed in a small plane crash. About two years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That makes me Ivan’s only living relative.” He made no move to allow her into the bathroom. “Except for you, of course.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go back to my room and wait until you’re finished in the bathroom. Again, I’m sorry.”
“I’m finished.” When he stepped into the hall and brushed past her, he came a little too close for comfort. Trina dodged around him and slipped into the bathroom. She didn’t breathe comfortably until she’d locked the door.
Victor Stoddard was a strange and unpleasant man, but he was the least of her problems. Trina pushed him from her mind and concentrated on showering, washing and blow-drying her hair. Though she had already decided to wear her hair down for the wedding—if there was a wedding—she quickly wove a single braid down her back. This morning, she needed to get outside, to breathe the fresh air while she made her decision. If only she could spend some time with Ivan....
Trina dressed quickly and hurried downstairs to the kitchen where she met the housekeeper, Maybelle Ballou. She was a buxom, boisterous woman who immediately plied Trina with fresh-baked, chocolate chip muffins and coffee.
“You don’t look twenty-five,” Maybelle announced.
“I’ve had a rough life,” Trina countered.
“That’s a good thing, honey, because it’s about to get rougher. Alaska is no place for wimps.” Maybelle’s full mouth rolled down in a frown. “I hate to leave. Feels like I’m chickening out. But my kids are grown and gone and I want to spend some time seeing the rest of the world.”
“How many children do you have?”
“Six,” she said proudly. “And three different husbands. That’s another thing I’ll miss about Alaska. There aren’t many women up here, so even an old biddy like myself has her pick.”
Trina smiled into her coffee.
“Brace yourself, sweetie. Even when you’re married, they come sniffing around like tomcats.” She picked up a muffin and munched absently while she talked. “Now, let me tell you about the plans for today. The weather says we’re going to have a big storm, but we ought to be okay until late afternoon. Your guests are going to start arriving at about noontime.”
“Guests?”
“People from the town.”
“Juneau?”
“Lordy, no. Juneau’s nearly a hundred miles away. These are people from Osprey, which is only about twenty miles from here.” She winked. “It’s going to be fun. We’ll have a regular potlatch.”
“A what?”
“Potlatch. That’s what the Haida and Tlingit call it when everybody gets together to celebrate. In the old days, a good potlatch would go on for days, but I expect this is going to be a short party with the weather turning grim.”
“This seems like a lot of work for you,” Trina said. Perhaps futile work if she called off the wedding. “Can I help?”
“Certainly not. It’s your job today to be pretty and sweet.”
There was no point in arguing with Maybelle. This was a formidable woman who charged straight ahead, come hell or high water, like those rough-and-ready gold rush women from Alaskan legends. She was the type of woman who would thrive in Alaska. But what about Trina? Though she didn’t consider herself to be wimpish in the least, she wasn’t exactly rugged. Was she too citified to live in the backwoods? She’d definitely been frightened when she’d heard there’d been a murder. Ivan’s crude behavior affronted her. “I hope I’ll fit in.”
“Don’t worry, honey. You’ll do just fine.” Maybelle clapped her on the shoulder with bearlike strength. “Okay, so we got a crew from town coming and the people who are staying at the lodge. Only three of them. There’s that cute young couple, the Winkles. And Jacob Poynter.”
Maybelle dropped a pause. It was as if Trina should be impressed by Jacob Poynter, but she didn’t recognize the name.
“Jake Poynter,” Maybelle repeated. “He won a bronze medal in the Winter Olympics about ten years ago.”
“What event?”
“Biathlon. That’s the one where they cross-country ski and then shoot. Jake is quite the celebrity. And a great buddy of Ivan’s.” Her lips pursed. “That Ivan! Sometimes he annoys the heck out of me. He hasn’t even told me if he’s going to have a ceremony or what kind of ceremony. But if there’s a need for a best man, you can bet your bottom dollar that Jake’s got the job.”
“That’s reassuring.”
“And if you’re needing a matron of honor,” Maybelle said, “I’m free.”
“Thanks.” In spite of all her doubts, Trina brightened. She might actually be married today. There might be a ceremony where she would be the bride instead of the bridesmaid. “I have a dress,” she said. “Do you think I should wear it?”
“You betcha! A woman only gets married once for the first time.” Maybelle polished off her muffin. “This is your first time, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Smart girl! First time I got hitched, I was only eighteen. And I’ll tell you this, I never was a little slip of a girl, but I wasn’t big enough to carry all that responsibility. No, ma’am. Now the second one, well, he was my true love. Every woman should be married to a true love. At least once in her life. And he was mine....”
Maybelle’s words rolled on as she continued with her kitchen chores, and Trina allowed the woman’s voice to lull her into a sense of warm complacency while she forgot, for a moment, about the pressing decision she needed to make. To wed or not to wed.
During a pause, while Maybelle checked in the industrial-size oven, Trina made her excuse. “I wanted to take a look around outside before it snows.”
“Bundle up, honey. It’s colder than it looks.”
Trina ran up to her room to grab her jacket, mittens and a red knitted cap, then she went outside. Overhead, the clouds began to mass, but the sky was still blue, and the glare off the snow was brilliant.
Reaching into her parka pocket, she took out the case for her eyeglasses and stuck the prescription sunglasses on her nose. About a hundred yards down the road, she closed her eyes, then whipped around. Her eyelids lifted. With corrected vision, she took in the sharp details of the crazy-quilt house that had been built one room at a time. The building stood amid several tall spruce at the foot of a rising slope. The porch was up five steps from the snow-covered ground. The exterior of the first floor was of stripped, polished logs. The second was clapboard siding. Just below the high, peaked roof was an Alaskan decoration, carved and painted in red, black and greenish blue. The design showed two huge, unblinking eyes, elaborately outlined. In the corners of the eaves were smaller ravens, wolves and bears, peering down like Alaskan gargoyles. The cheerful trim around the windows glistened with bright red paint.
Trina felt herself smiling. It was a strange, exotic-looking house, but she liked it. Would this be her home?
She turned to her left and walked past the other large structure. The two-story lodge had obviously been constructed in a more planned, professional manner. The siding was all log, and the trim was also red. An eight-foot-tall totem pole, depicting a squatting bear, beavers and a soaring eagle, stood in front.
Back toward the house, past the garage and several mysterious outbuildings, she saw the barn. And David. He sat astride a chestnut mare, looking every inch the cowboy with his Levi’s and his down vest, his broad shoulders and his black Stetson hat.
The moment Trina recognized him, her heart leapt up in her throat. Immediately, she gulped hard. This response was not a good sign! She needed to think of Ivan—his letters, his sensitivity, his generosity. Instead, she felt like singing, like laughing and running toward David with her arms outstretched. Too easily, she imagined him pulling her onto the saddle and galloping off over the snow-covered fields into the primeval forests.
“Oh, damn.” This was all wrong. With her little red mittens, she covered the lower half of her face. What was she going to do? Go back to the kitchen. Forget you ever saw him. These outrageous yearnings couldn’t lead to anything but trouble. If she had an ounce of sense, she would run away while she still could.
Instead, she stepped forward and waved. “David!”
His chiseled features relaxed in a smile when he recognized her, and he eased his mount forward. “Do you like to ride, Trina?”
“I haven’t done much riding.”
“Today’s a good day to learn. Before the snowfall.” He swung off his horse and stood beside her. “Let’s go to the barn.”
He hitched his horse outside, and they entered a large structure with a high flat ceiling, several empty stalls and a tack room. The floor was wood, scattered with hay and very clean. The whole barn smelled pleasantly of leather and hay. “Six horses and two cows,” David said, “as I mentioned before, no more pigs or chickens.”
“Too succulent,” she remembered.
She followed him to the rear door that opened onto a large corralled area where the horses were kept. David whistled two low notes, and a dappled gray horse plodded toward them. In moments, the mare was saddled and David helped Trina swing her leg astride. He adjusted her stirrups. “How’s that?”
“Feels tall,” she said. She inhaled deeply, struggling to stifle the heart-pounding excitement that arose unbidden at David’s proximity.
He mounted his own horse. “Just stick with me.”
“What do I do with the reins? How do I make her turn?”
“Basically, you do nothing. This is Myrtle, the original old gray mare. She’ll follow the lead horse. But if you want to turn, pull in the direction you want to go. Pull back, like on a hand brake, to stop. We’ll just take a short jog.”
As they rode slowly away from the barn, the whole day took on a new, beautiful aspect. Despite her sunglasses, the world seemed rose-colored, soft and beautiful.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“I love it.” Why was the snow prettier here than in Denver? Only a week ago, she’d been dragging herself to work in an office in downtown Denver. Today, she was riding on horseback into the Alaskan landscape. She wanted this to be her life-style. How could she ever go back?
When they had gone a ways from the barn, David picked up the pace to a canter. Trina’s horse followed suit.
Bouncing up and down in the saddle, Trina said, “What are you doing?”
“Giving the horses some exercise. If we have a blizzard, they’ll be inside for a couple of days.”
David glanced over his shoulder at her and grinned. He almost laughed out loud. Trina was pretty damn cute, he thought. She was hanging on tight, jostling up and down in the saddle like a yo-yo. Her little red cap bobbled wildly.
“We’re going faster,” he warned. “You’ll like this better. Not so much bouncing.”
“G-g-good.”
He guided his chestnut mare in a slow gallop across the snowfields. There was another set of tracks in front of them, from that couple who were staying at the lodge, the Winkles, and David purposely turned in another direction. At the edge of the forest, he halted so Trina could catch her breath. Trina’s mount pulled up beside him.
“Isn’t this where they found the body?” she asked.
“No, it’s farther toward the road. North of here.” The new pace he set was slow and comfortable.
“David? When we were talking by the fireplace, you said you had a solution to my problems.”
“Did I?”
“I’d like to hear it. I’m really confused and maybe you have an idea I haven’t considered.”
He scrunched down his eyebrows, made a pretense of thinking, then shook his head. “Mustn’t have been very useful,” he said, “because I already forgot what it was.”
But he hadn’t. Yesterday, he had almost proposed to her himself. Almost asked her to make Alaska her home, and to make him her husband. But that moment had passed, and David was damn glad he’d not mentioned that idea. He’d been married once already and hadn’t been too good at it.
Besides, he thought, he couldn’t give Trina all she deserved. David wasn’t a rich man. Sure, he had a little nest egg. But no land. Ivan had seen to that.
In spite of his precautions in turning the opposite direction, he spied the Winkles, Phyllis and Bradley, threading through the forest and coming right toward them.
“Hold it right there,” Bradley called. He raised the lens of his .35 millimeter camera to his eye, aimed and shot their picture. “Wow! Great shot! This is incredible country.”
David performed the introductions. He wasn’t impressed with these two environmentalists from Boulder, Colorado, who worked for some kind of weirdo magazine. Bradley was the photographer, and Phyllis was the writer. They’d supposedly come to do a piece on the hunting preserve, but David suspected they were looking for violations of hunting restrictions regarding endangered species.
“That’s so Gothic,” Phyllis said to Trina. “You’re a mail-order bride? How could you give up everything for a man?”
“There wasn’t much to give up,” Trina murmured.
“But how did you know it was right? Did you have a special feeling? Maybe you knew him in another life....”
“Another life?”
“You know, like karma.”
“Don’t tell her anything,” David warned. “She’s a writer.”
“Stop it, David! I’m also a human being, and I’m totally sympathetic to Trina.” While she spoke, she stroked her horse’s neck. “Bradley and I have only been married for six months, so I’m familiar with the problems of newlyweds.”
“What problems?” Bradley said.
“You know.”
“No, Phyllis, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Phyllis leaned toward Trina. “Sometimes, Bradley is a regular green-eyed monster. Jealous, you know.”
“Really,” Trina said, glancing at Phyllis who was blond and extremely thin. “Maybe he had a reason to be jealous. In another life.”
“We did know each other in past lives,” Phyllis said with a completely straight face. “In Atlantis.”
“Did you?” Trina nodded. What a wacko! “How did you two happen to come way up here from Boulder?”
“A friend told us about this place. He lives in Juneau.”
“A very dear friend of Phyllis’s,” Bradley said. “A former lover, in fact. You see, I can say that kind of thing because I’m not at all jealous. I’m secure in our relationship of mutual respect and—”
“Nobody wants to hear it,” Phyllis interrupted. “Come on, I’ll race you back to the barn. And don’t worry, David, we’ll put the saddles away and curry the horses.”
She took off in a graceful canter, riding as if she were part of the horse, and Bradley followed. He was far less competent in his riding and his camera banged against his chest.
As Trina watched them ride away, she couldn’t help but comment, “There go a couple of new-age neurotics.”
“Radical envirionmentalists,” he said. “We call them greenies.”
“Now, David. Their goals are for the good.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m all in favor of conservation and nonpollution and saving the rain forests, but if those greenies had their way, we’d all be wearing loincloths and eating berries. Meat is what people live on up here. It’s always been that way. The natural way.” He nudged his heels against his mare. “We should be getting back.”
“I guess so.” The ride hadn’t brought Trina any closer to making her decision. All she knew was that she didn’t want to leave this place. She intended to make every effort to understand Ivan, to find the sensitive man who had written those letters within the gruff old bear.
* * *
STILL EXHILIARATED from her ride, Trina peeled off her parka, hat and mittens and left them in the mudroom behind the kitchen. Though it was only eleven o’clock and Maybelle had said that the guests wouldn’t arrive until noon, there were several voices coming from the kitchen.
Feeling like an outsider, Trina could hear them laughing, talking, sharing gossip. She caught a couple of phrases about the dead man who had been found on Ivan’s property, then Maybelle’s voice drowned out the others. “None of that. I won’t have my potlatch ruined by a murder.”
“But it’s so exciting” came a high-pitched rejoinder. “They say he was shot in the back. In cold blood.”
“And I say, no more.” Maybelle was firm. “Now, who brought these pickled mushrooms?”
Trina slipped through the kitchen as unobtrusively as possible and went down the hall to Ivan’s office. She raised her hand to knock, though the study door was slightly ajar. Hearing an angry voice from within, she hesitated.
“What kind of a sheriff are you, Reuben?” That was Ivan. “The kids who found the dead man were on my land, and I call that trespassing. If you won’t prosecute, I’ll take the law into my own hands and sue their parents.”
“Take the law into your hands?” She could hear Sheriff Rueben Kittridge sputtering. “Listen here, Ivan. We’re not talking about the kids. We’re talking about the dead man. We haven’t even identified this guy.”
“I don’t know him.” In contrast with Reuben, Ivan sounded smooth and in control.
“How do you know? Dammit, Ivan, are you going to let me see your guest book for people who are booked at the lodge?”
“No, sir, I am not. None of your business.”
“Were you expecting anybody?”
“Maybe I was, and maybe I wasn’t.”
“We’re not playing games, Ivan. This is murder.”
“Are you accusing me of doing it? Just because the guy got himself killed on my property? Probably a damn poacher.” Ivan’s voice lowered dangerously. “Like you, Reuben.”
“What are you saying?”
Trina knocked. She didn’t want to hear any more of these angry accusations.
“What?” Ivan shouted.
Trying not to appear timid, she peeked inside. Without her glasses, she couldn’t discern the details of their expressions, but both men appeared dark and glowering.
Reuben nodded. “Good morning, ma’am.” Beneath his bushy eyebrows and mustache, his face was bright scarlet. Even the whites of his eyes were bloodshot. “I was just leaving.”
“Thanks, Reuben, don’t go far.” Ivan rose from behind his desk and watched the sheriff lumber out the door. Then he looked at her. His expression was arch and slightly disapproving. “You’re not dressed to be married, Trina.”
“I’m not sure that a wedding is in order.” She studied his face, trying to discern his response, but it was like trying to read a wall of ice. “It might be best if we wait, you know, to find out if we’re compatible.”
“Perhaps you’re right.” He came toward her and held out his hand, waiting until she reached out. Then he captured her hand and held it. “You’ve deceived me.”
The flick of her eyes betrayed her guilt. He must be talking about David, about her uncontrollable attraction to him. How did Ivan know? Had he seen them riding? Was her attraction so obvious? Ashamed, she looked down at her boots. “I’m sorry, Ivan. I’ve been so unfair to you.”
“You’re not twenty-five,” he said.
Startled, she looked up. He was talking about her age! That was nothing compared to her inappropriate feelings for David. Quickly, she said, “I meant to tell you, but then you started writing to me, and I—”
“My heart was in those letters, Trina. My heart and soul. And, all that time, you were lying. I’m hurt.”
“Oh, come on, Ivan. We’re not living in the eighteen hundreds. I’m healthy and strong enough to bear children, if that’s what you’re worried about. Is it really so important that I be in my twenties?”
“It’s the lying,” he said, releasing her hand. “And now, this refusal to go through with the wedding. Still, I can forgive you. I still want you to be my bride. But can I trust you?”
“Give me a chance. We’ll get to know each other.” What was she saying? How had the conversation turned in this direction? “But, Ivan, I need some time to think about this.”
“No, Trina. It would be too humiliating to postpone the wedding. Today, my friends and family have gathered to meet my new bride. It must be today. Or never.”
“But I don’t know...”
“I meant every word I wrote to you in those letters. Every syllable. When you are my bride, you will be taken care of. Well taken care of, financially.”
“And emotionally?”
“Of course. I’ll do everything I can to make you happy.”
His voice was as smooth as velvet. His eyes shone with the sincerity she’d come to respect in his letters. How could she say no?
“Please,” he said. “If it doesn’t work out, you can have the marriage annulled. And I guarantee I’ll be fair with you.”
Her emotions forbade her agreement. It wasn’t right. She couldn’t marry one man when she was attracted to another. She shook her head.
Before she could speak, he said, “Don’t answer too quickly. This will work out between us, Trina. I promise.” His voice was gentle and as seductive as his letters. “I promise your long nights in Alaska will never be lonely.”
She remembered his letters, the sensations she had when she read them. The feelings came from deep in her heart. The man who had written those letters was a man she could love.
“All right, Ivan, I will marry you. Today.”

Chapter Three
The ceremony took less than three minutes. Ivan stepped outside his office and called to Reuben who, in addition to being sheriff, was also a justice of the peace. Apparently, the guests would only be present at the party.
Before Trina had time to reconsider, she’d signed the marriage license and said, “I do.”
“And now,” Reuben said, “following the time-honored tradition, Ivan, you may kiss the bride.”
Ivan caught her in his arms. He pulled her hard against his chest, crushing her breasts. He barely looked at her, then his mouth pressed down so hard that her lip was pinched against her teeth. His physical strength overwhelmed her for a moment. Then, instinctively, she fought him, twisting her head to one side. The more she struggled, the tighter his grasp. Where was the tenderness he’d spoken of? Where was the love? She wrenched away from him, staring in shock. All his lovely promises were erased by the rough brutality of his kiss. “What are you doing?”
“Taking what’s mine. You’re mine now, Trina.”
“No!” She was breathing hard. Her lips were bruised. What had she done? “Don’t you remember, Ivan, in your letters. You talked about a partnership.”
“Partners?” He considered. “In a way, that’s true. You be sure to tell Jake Poynter about that.”
“Who? About what?”
“Run upstairs and get changed.” He turned away from her dismissively. “I don’t want my bride wearing blue jeans.”
“In your letters,” she insisted. “You talked about the lifetime partnership of a man and a woman.”
“Did I? Well, get that notion out of your pretty little head, my bride. You’ll take what I give you and be glad for it. But the only way you’ll ever own anything around here is when I’m dead and gone.”
“Why? Why did you marry me?”
“The usual reasons, I suppose. Plus, my bride, I’ll call you my special little insurance policy.”
“What does that mean?”
“Change your clothes, Trina. You look like hell, and I don’t want you to embarrass me in front of my friends.”
Appalled at his coarseness, she ran from the room, fled upstairs into her pink chamber where her simple wedding gown lay spread across the bed. The dress was a mockery. This marriage was a sham. She’d been manipulated into a hateful, loveless relationship. Why? Why would Ivan Stoddard want that? Why did he mention Jake Poynter? What did he mean when he said she was an insurance policy?
There was a knock at the door, and Maybelle entered uninvited. “Trina, honey, it’s eleven-thirty and you’re still not ready. Let’s get you into that pretty little frock of yours.”
“Did he send you? Did Ivan send you?”
“Yes, he did. Said you might need some help. And, honey, I’ve never seen him looking so happy. He announced to that whole room of women in the kitchen that he was now a married man.”
“Happy?” If his kiss was a display of happiness, Trina would hate to see him in a vindictive mood.
“I’m sure you’re nervous,” Maybelle said. “Perfectly natural for a new bride. Now, let’s get you changed into your wedding gown. Relax, Trina. Enjoy yourself. Everybody’s dying to meet you.”
Numbly, she allowed Maybelle to cajole her into the plain white dress with a touch of lace at the neck and wrists. But Trina felt like she was dressing for an execution instead of a wedding reception. There was only one hope she could cling to. David. She needed to talk with him, to have him soothe her fears. She’d made the wrong decision, she was sure of that. And she needed to get away. She wanted David to take her away from here, to ride off beside her into the magnificent Alaskan snow vistas.
“Come on, now,” Maybelle said. “Let’s see a smile.”
Trina didn’t dare smile. If she did, her face would crack. She’d burst into hysterics. The last thing she wanted to do was attend a party and listen to people say, “Many happy returns.” Quickly, she finished buttoning her dress. “I’ll be right down, Maybelle. As soon as I fix my hair.”
“You hurry up. Put a hustle in your bustle. The party’s going to start, and I’m afraid it’s going to be a short one. A couple of snowflakes have already fallen.”
The door closed behind the housekeeper, and Trina yanked out her braid and pulled a brush through her thick, unruly hair. Outside her window, crystals of snow drifted lazily down. Have you ever caught a snowflake and held it in your hand? She remembered David saying that. Oh, David, I need to talk with you. You’re my only friend.
She hurried through hallways and corridors, avoiding everyone until she was downstairs in the large room outside David’s office and bedroom. Orange flames crackled in the moss rock fireplace.
Taking a deep breath, she flung open the door to his office. He wasn’t there. Nor was he in his bedroom. Where was he? She needed him.
Heartsick, Trina sank down on the ledge beside the fireplace, not caring if the soot marked her wedding gown. It was only a dress. She hadn’t even worn it during the three-minute civil ceremony. Like everything else, the dress was a fraud. She wasn’t a bride. Ivan had made that quite clear. Trina belonged to him. She was a...a possession.
Oh, David, where are you?
It wasn’t too late, she told herself. She could still annul the marriage. And that was exactly what she intended to do. There was no way in hell that she would go to bed with Ivan Stoddard.
The door from outside shoved open and David stomped inside. He pulled off his vest and Stetson, then turned and saw her. “Trina? What are you doing here?”
“I need a friend.”
“Looks to me like you’ve got a whole house full of people who want that job. Out front, it looks like a parking lot. And they’re all here to meet you.”
David’s hesitant smile broke her heart. He was being polite, being happy for her when she had no reason for joy.
Trina wished she was confident enough to wear her eyeglasses so she could clearly see every detail of David’s features. She was glad when he came closer, within her field of clear vision. He sat beside her on the wide stone ledge beside the hearth. His voice was gentle and his words were sweet. “You’re a beautiful bride. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a sight so pretty as you, sitting here, straight and proud, with firelight dancing in your hair.”
Not thinking, she reached out and touched his cheek, still cold from being outside. He wore a cowboy’s version of dress-up clothing, a navy blue shirt with fancy buttons and black trousers. She realized with a shock that she wished he could have been her groom.
“Ivan’s a lucky man,” he said. “So, when’s the ceremony?”
“It’s over.”
The stillness in the room became thick and palpable, filled with the weight of her regret. She saw the question in David’s eyes as he took her hand and held it. He whispered, “Why, Trina?”
“It happened so fast. Reuben was right there, pronouncing us man and wife before I had a chance to think.” She turned toward the fire. “No, that’s not true. I agreed to marry him of my own free will. Nobody forced me to sign the marriage license. I did it because Ivan and I were alone for a moment, and he reminded me of the man who wrote those letters. Those damn letters. I was fool enough to believe every word he’d written.” She turned to him. “David, I fell in love before I even came to Alaska. I fell in love with words on a page. I know that’s crazy.”
“Not crazy at all.”
“But the words were lies.” She had wanted so badly to be in love that she’d fallen for a con job, a crude scam. “I was blind. I was so gullible.”
“If it was a mistake, Trina, it can be fixed.”
“But I can never trust my feelings again. Never.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“I was a fool. Ivan used those letters to make me think he was someone else, someone sensitive and caring. He’s not the same man as the one who wrote to me about waterfalls and migrating birds and lonely Alaskan nights. I can’t explain it. Do you understand what I mean?”
“Yes.”
David understood only too well. For David had written those letters.
He gazed into her eyes, regretting her pain and wishing there were some easy cure for her aching heart. He had never meant to hurt her. His stumble into deception had begun innocently enough.
When Ivan placed his advertisement for a mail-order bride in a nationally distributed magazine, the response was astounding. Over a hundred women replied, sending along photos and brief letters. Since it was David’s job to hire and fire new employees, the letters ended up on his desk. He composed a standard response for the eighty or so that Ivan rejected based solely on their photographs. To the others, David wrote a discouraging letter about the hardships of living in Alaska. Only five responded a second time. Among them was Trina.
He still remembered her letter, which was intelligent, witty and full of hope. She’d spoken of companionship, not passion. And her yearning for adventure rang true. He rejected the other four and started their month-long correspondence. Every night, before going to bed, he composed a letter on his word processor and signed it with Ivan’s name. As he grew more fond of her, his letters took an intimate turn. Writing to her and reading her responses became his favorite time of day.
In the back of his mind, he knew that he was signing Ivan’s name, but he avoided thinking ahead to the time when she would actually be here. She would never be his. She belonged to Ivan, a wealthy and powerful man. Desperately, he had tried not to care too much.
When he met her at the airport, he should have told her. Yesterday, when they sat in this room, he should have explained. He cursed his cowardice, damn every word and phrase he had written. Right this moment, as he gazed into her pure blue eyes, he should tell her.
“David? Have you ever been in love?”
“I was married once.”
“So was I,” she said wryly. “I am now. But that’s not what I asked.”
“I loved my wife when I met her. I was going to school in northern California, and we settled there. I don’t know what happened. Maybe we were too young. Anyway, we grew apart.” He winced at the memory. “We had two small children, a boy and a girl. Not a day passes when I don’t think of them.”
“Are they still in California?”
He nodded. “I couldn’t stand to be in the same state and not be with them. I came back here, home to Alaska, and buried myself in work for Ivan. Needless to say, he was only too glad to have a foreman who wanted to put in twenty-four-hour workdays and have no other life.”
“Seems like a lot of people come to Alaska for that reason...to run away from something.” She paused, twisted the engagement ring on her finger. “I thought I was running toward something. But it’s not here.” She rose to her feet. “I can’t stay here. I’m going upstairs to change clothes. Will you drive me to town, David? I’ll find my way from there.”
“You’re leaving?” A shock went through him as he stood beside her. He didn’t want her to go. Even if she was married to Ivan, he wanted to be near her.
“I can’t stay. I don’t love Ivan, and I doubt that I ever will.” She bit her lower lip. “I mean, look at me, dressed like a bride when I have no love in my heart. I dislike Ivan. In time, I might learn to despise him.”
“But, Trina—”
“No. If I stay, I’m as big a liar as he is. Maybe I already am. I didn’t tell the truth in my letters, you know. I’m not twenty-five, I’m ten years older. Old enough to know better than to make plans based on promises and dreams.”
“Never give up on your dreams, Trina.”
She looked into his eyes. “But they’ll have to be dreams, deferred. Maybe someday I’ll be able to do this right.”
“Don’t go.” He held her chin in his hand. “I’d miss you too much.”
“That’s kind for you to say. But you hardly know me.”
“I know you better than you think. Don’t leave. Not yet.”
“But I can’t stay. I can’t....”
She watched as he gently came closer. At the last second, her eyelids closed, and she tasted his lips in a firm but gentle kiss. A tremor went through her. She felt lighter than air, ephemeral as a snowflake.
Of their own volition, her arms reached for him. Without opening her eyes, she clung to him. His second kiss wakened the sweetest sensations. Sheer pleasure blossomed within her. This was the way a kiss should be, a prelude to desire.
The door to the room pitched open. “Hey, David. Get on out here, the party’s going and—”
David turned, tried to shield her from the intruder’s view. “I’ll be right there.”
“Oh, dang.” It was the voice of Sheriff Reuben Kittridge. “I’m real sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.... Is that you, Trina? Oh, dang.”
She heard the door bang shut. She probably should have been embarrassed, but Trina was beyond humiliation. “Now I’m really in trouble, huh? I feel like I’m in grade school, and I just got caught by the principal.”
“Are you going to be all right, Trina?”
“I’ll survive. But I’m not much in the mood for a party. I guess I need to talk to Ivan before I leave the lodge.” She plucked the diamond from her finger. “And I need to return this.”
“I’ll come with you,” David said.
“That’s all right. All I need is for you to drive me into town after I talk to Ivan.”
“Trina.” David stilled her protests by placing his finger crosswise on her lips. “I will be with you when you talk to Ivan.”
A sudden warmth coursed through her veins. She felt safer and stronger than any other time during this Alaska sojourn. “Thank you, David. I would appreciate that.”
“Ivan’s a smooth talker. I know from experience.”
They made their way to the kitchen. David advised her to hold back while he called Maybelle to one side. “Where’s Ivan?”
“Well, it’s the silliest thing I’ve ever seen. He comes in here, blabs to the world that he’s a married man, says I should check on Trina, then tells me he’ll be in his study and is not to be disturbed. I’ve knocked a couple of times, but he doesn’t answer.”
“How long has he been in there?”
“Well, gosh, it was about eleven-thirty when he came into the kitchen. And now it’s almost twelve-thirty. Everybody’s here. They all want to meet Trina and offer their congratulations before this little confetti snow turns into a blizzard.”
David grabbed Trina’s hand and whisked her past the clusters of guests down the hallway and to the office door. He tried to turn the knob. It was locked. He tapped, then called Ivan’s name. Under his breath, he muttered, “I don’t know what kind of game he’s playing. Wait here, I’ll get a key.”
Trina stood uncomfortably, trying to look inconspicuous in her wedding gown. It didn’t help when Maybelle grabbed her by the arm and pulled her through the living room to the dining room to show her the two long tables on which gifts and flowers were displayed. Near the gifts was a three-tiered, fancy white cake with a tiny statue of a bride and groom on top. Maybelle continued toward the guests.
“Please, Maybelle. Not now.”
“Okay, honey. You say when.”
Trina returned to the entryway outside the office door. After a moment, the guests began to appear nearby. It seemed to Trina that they were closing in like wolves for the kill.
One man separated from the others. Like her, he was dressed all in white. His snowy turtleneck was tucked into white flannel slacks. His belt and boots were a pale leather. In contrast, his hair was coal black and his complexion was darkly tanned. Though he dressed like a dandy, he exuded an aggressive, masculine strength. “I’m Jacob Poynter.”
She remembered Maybelle’s description. “You’re the Olympic champion.”
“That was a long time ago.” He gave a practiced, self-deprecating grin. “And you must be the bride-to-be. It’s Trina, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” She shifted her weight uncomfortably from foot to foot, wishing she could fade into the wainscoting. Where was David?
“Will we be treated to a wedding ceremony?” Jake asked. “I didn’t know that Ivan was religious.”
“No ceremony, actually. It’s already taken place.” She bit her tongue. Why had she said anything? The last thing she wanted was a string of phony congratulations. “Please don’t mention this to anyone.”
“Are you saying that you and Ivan are already married?”
“We signed a license and said ‘I do.’ He kissed me.” She shuddered. “I don’t know if that means anything.”
He downed his drink in one gulp. It was white wine, of course, to match his outfit. “Congratulations, Trina. You’re a wealthy woman now.”
“Thanks.” She might be wealthy now, but not for long. Whatever had occurred between herself and Ivan—and Trina didn’t consider that brief civil ceremony to be anything like a true marriage—was over and done with. She might be throwing away a fortune, but she felt free. Leaving was the right thing to do.
David returned with the key. Maybelle was right behind him. “When?” Maybelle demanded. As soon as she spotted Trina, she said, “When do we make the announcement?”
David opened the door to the study and flicked on the overhead light. The room looked like an avalanche had rolled through it. File drawers were yanked open and the contents strewn. The fax machine had been torn open and gutted. The computer and modem were similarly disabled. Ivan was nowhere in sight.

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