Sadi Mercer had been married for less than eight hours when she realized her husband intended to sleep on the floor.
The discovery should have relieved her.
Instead, standing barefoot beside the single bed in Lucien Holt’s isolated mountain cabin while snow hammered the shutters, she found herself staring at the enormous pile of bearskins he was arranging beside the hearth and feeling something disturbingly close to anger. Lucien had carried her three days into the mountains, fed her, wrapped her feet when the climb left them blistered, given her the warmest side of every campfire, and spoken to her only when necessary.
Now he was behaving as though touching her would be some unforgivable crime.
Sadi folded her arms.
The pale-blue nightdress she had unpacked from her trunk was the nicest thing she owned that had actually belonged to her before the wedding. Even that was generous wording. Mrs. Finch from the Oak Haven boarding house had given it to her two Christmases earlier after deciding the garment no longer fit her daughter.
Sadi had shortened it herself.
She had replaced two missing buttons.
She had spent half an hour before stepping from behind the canvas divider wondering whether Lucien would laugh when he saw her in it.
Instead, the mountain man had looked once and nearly dropped the knife in his hand.
Then he had become extremely interested in sharpening it.
For twenty minutes.
Sadi finally said, “That blade is going to disappear if you sharpen it any longer.”
Lucien looked down at the knife.
“It needed work.”
“It could split a hair in the next county.”
He set it aside.
Sadi waited.
Lucien adjusted one of the bearskins.
She narrowed her eyes.
“Are you really sleeping there?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
His huge shoulders lifted once.
“Because the bed is yours.”
“We are married.”
“I remember.”
“The reverend was difficult to forget.”
Lucien almost smiled.
Almost.
That irritated her more.
Sadi stepped closer.
“Do you find me ugly?”
His head snapped up.
The speed of it surprised her.
“No.”
“Too thin?”
Lucien’s expression became confused.
Sadi was not thin.
Years of hard labor had kept her strong, but she had soft hips, a full chest, and the kind of curves women in Oak Haven alternated between criticizing and pretending not to envy.
“No.”
“Too young?”
“You’re twenty-one.”
“Yes.”
“I know.”
“Too poor?”
Lucien stared.
“No.”
“Then why are you looking at that floor like it’s your beloved?”
His ears reddened beneath his dark hair.
Sadi noticed.
That was astonishing.
The man called the Bitterroot Beast was blushing.
She stepped closer.
Lucien stood.
That was a mistake.
He was enormous sitting down.
Standing, he transformed the cabin.
He had to duck slightly beneath one of the crossbeams. His dark-brown shirt stretched across shoulders shaped by years of chopping wood, hauling carcasses, climbing mountains, and doing whatever else a man did when he lived beyond the reach of ordinary roads. A heavy beard covered his jaw, though not the pale scar that cut down one side of his face.
Oak Haven children had invented stories about that scar.
Bear.
Knife fight.
Wolf.
A dead man’s last revenge.
Lucien had never explained it.
Sadi suddenly became aware that she had asked a mountain giant why he would not share a bed with her.
Her courage faltered slightly.
Lucien noticed.
He immediately stepped back.
That tiny action steadied her.
Sadi tilted her chin.
“You traded six wagons of meat for a wife.”
Lucien’s expression hardened.
“No.”
“That is exactly what happened.”
“I traded meat for an agreement.”
“An agreement that gave you me.”
“No.”
His voice changed.
Low.
Hard.
Certain.
Sadi stared.
Lucien continued.
“I gave Cobb the meat because Oak Haven was starving.”
“And you asked for a wife.”
“Yes.”
“So?”
“So those are not the same purchase.”
Sadi laughed bitterly.
“The entire town watched them load the wagons while I stood in a borrowed dress beside you.”
“I know.”
“They called me the price.”
Lucien’s hands curled.
“I heard.”
“Then what exactly do you think happened?”
Lucien looked away.
For the first time since she met him, he seemed uncertain.
“I was told you agreed.”
Sadi went still.
“What?”
He looked back.
“I was told Cobb spoke to you before he answered my proposal.”
Sadi felt the cabin contract around her.
“Answered what proposal?”
Lucien stared at her.
Then crossed to a wooden chest beneath the window.
He opened it.
Removed a folded document.
Placed it on the table.
Sadi walked toward him.
The page bore Lucien’s rough signature at the bottom.
Mayor Silas Cobb’s above it.
She read.
The handwriting was formal enough that Cobb clearly had written most of it.
In exchange for six wagonloads of cured elk, dried venison, salt pork, and winter provisions sufficient for the immediate relief of Oak Haven, Mr. Lucien Holt requests lawful introduction to an unmarried woman willing of her own decision to enter matrimony and relocate to his Bitterroot property.
Sadi’s eyes stopped.
She read the sentence again.
Willing of her own decision.
Her fingers tightened around the paper.
Farther down:
No woman shall be compelled, indebted, assigned, transferred, or otherwise obligated by the relief arrangement.
Sadi stopped breathing.
Lucien watched her.
“I made Cobb add that.”
She looked up.
“Why?”
“Because I knew what desperate towns do.”
Her throat tightened.
“What did he tell you about me?”
“That you had been asked.”
“And?”
“That you wanted to leave Oak Haven.”
Sadi laughed once.
A broken sound.
Lucien’s face changed.
“He lied.”
It was not a question.
Sadi looked back at the paper.
“When Cobb came into the washroom, he said the town council had found me a husband.”
Lucien said nothing.
“He said you demanded a woman before you would give them food.”
Lucien’s eyes became colder.
Sadi continued.
“He told me the children in Oak Haven would go hungry if I refused.”
Lucien’s jaw tightened visibly.
“He said everyone had already agreed.”
The cabin became silent except for the fire.
“He never asked whether I wanted you.”
Lucien looked as though someone had driven something straight through his chest.
Sadi whispered, “He told you I volunteered?”
“Yes.”
Lucien took the paper from her carefully.
He folded it once.
Then again.
His movements were controlled.
Too controlled.
“What are you doing?”
“Going back.”
Sadi stared.
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
“There is a storm.”
“I’ve traveled in worse.”
“You’ll freeze.”
“No.”
“What are you going to do?”
Lucien picked up his coat.
“Ask Cobb why he lied.”
Something in his voice made the word ask sound dangerous.
Sadi stepped between him and the door.
Lucien stopped immediately.
“You cannot go down there and kill the mayor.”
“I didn’t say kill.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“I won’t kill him.”
“Comforting.”
Lucien looked at her.
“He traded you.”
“Yes.”
“After I told him specifically not to.”
“Yes.”
“He made you believe you were responsible for feeding the town.”
“Yes.”
His hands shook.
For the first time, Sadi understood the restraint required for a man like Lucien to remain still when angry.
She put one hand against the front of his coat.
“Stay.”
His eyes dropped to her hand.
Then lifted.
“Why?”
“Because if you storm into Oak Haven tonight, I’ll spend the next three days wondering whether I married a husband or a murderer.”
Lucien exhaled slowly.
Sadi continued.
“And because…”
She stopped.
He waited.
She hated how difficult the next words were.
“Because I don’t want to be alone here tonight.”
Something changed in Lucien’s face.
The anger remained.
But it moved aside for her.
He removed his coat.
Placed it back on the peg.
Then stepped away from the door.
Sadi breathed again.
Lucien looked toward the bearskins.
“You take the bed.”
She almost laughed.
“After all that, we are back to the floor?”
His brow furrowed.
“What?”
Sadi walked toward him.
She stopped inches away.
Lucien’s body became still.
“You didn’t buy me.”
“No.”
“You believed I chose this.”
“Yes.”
“And now you know I didn’t.”
His face tightened.
“Yes.”
Sadi swallowed.
She could leave eventually.
The realization entered her slowly.
The marriage might still be legal, but morally, something had broken beneath it. Lucien knew it too. She could demand he return her to town when the weather cleared.
He would do it.
She suddenly knew that with absolute certainty.
That made everything different.
Sadi whispered, “If I tell you I want to sleep alone, what happens?”
“You sleep alone.”
“And if I tell you to sleep beside me?”
Lucien’s eyes sharpened.