Mail Order Bride and The Mix-up (A Western Romance Book)(COMPLETED)

Chapter 13

Belle looked at Ira again and realized he was sweating. They were standing in the hotel lobby, getting ready to head out for lunch after what, for her, had been a torturous morning saying goodbye to Gertrude. Her friend had been gone less than three hours, and she missed her already. She worried for her, too. She was riding back to Angel's Reach alone. Belle wished she'd thought of that when Cadence and Austin had gone. She'd have insisted Gertrude return with them rather than stay longer here.

Ira coughed, drawing her attention, and his sweat seemed to double. She thought it was particularly cool in the lobby today and began to worry.

"Are you ill?" she asked him.

He shook his head. "I'm fine."

But he didn't look fine. She watched him closely, and the longer she looked at him the more she began to think he didn't look ill so much as he did nervous. He tapped his fingers together and tapped his foot on the ground.

"Shall we go?" he asked her, offering her his arm, and a sudden thought occurred to her.

This is it! He's going to propose!

Her heart began to race, and she felt a smile creep up on her face. She took his arm. "I'm starved," she said.

"Actually, I wondered if we might walk a bit first. There's... there's a few things we need to talk about. Go over." The color in his face was a high pink.

"Whatever you like," she said, starting to sweat as well now.

One of the bellboys came up to them just then, stopping Ira in his tracks. "Mr. Sullivan, sir," he said. "I wondered if I might speak with you—"

Ira's eyes blazed anger, and the bellboy immediately realized he'd made an error. "I'm s-sorry," he stuttered. "I meant Mr. Burton. B-Barton." He stumbled backward, his feet tripping over themselves. "Excuse me," he said and hurried away from them.

Belle followed him with her eyes and then looked back at Ira. "Did he call you Sullivan? As in the Sullivan Hotel?"

Ira gulped and patted his brow with a handkerchief. "That's right," he said.

She pursed her lips. "I hadn't thought of it till now, but Anthony did the same thing several days ago, shortly after he and I first met. I dismissed it at the time, but..." She looked at him, her eyes narrowing. Her suspicions as to his nervousness suddenly began to shift.

"What did that bellboy mean by calling you Sullivan?" she said now, trying to control her voice.

"Will you come with me a moment?" he asked her.

She nodded slowly. "Where to?"

"I have an office in back we can talk in."

"You have an office?" she said. She started to ask why a clerk would have an office, but her throat ran suddenly dry. No. It can't be. His name is Ira Barton. Not Sullivan. He's a clerk, just a clerk.

He led her past the check-in counter and down a hall, towards a door with the name "Sullivan" etched in black on a nameplate. Inside, she found a mid-size office with a mahogany desk and a dark green carpet. Everything matched. Before she'd died, her mother used to say that matching furniture that was a sign of good taste, and she'd had no reason to argue with her.

"Would you like to sit?" he asked her.

"No, thank you, I think I'll stand." She folded her arms across her chest.

Ira cleared his throat and began pacing the room. "I stayed up all night going over what I would say to you today. Now that we're here though, I don't know where to begin."

"Just tell me," she said. Every ounce of joy she'd felt just five minutes ago had drained from her body.

He continued to stand there, irritating her with his nervousness.

Belle set her hands on her hips. "Is your last name Sullivan or Barton?" she barked at him.

He took in a breath and let it out. "Sullivan," he said.

She stared at him. "Your name is Ira Sullivan?"

"Yes. I'm not a clerk here... I own this hotel."

He paused briefly, and she felt her anger begin to bubble. It rose up her legs to her heart to her head, and when she blinked everything turned red. Ira must have caught something in her look, because he began to speak quickly, as if hoping to explain himself, to excuse himself... but there was no excuse for the lies he'd told her.

"I inherited the hotel from my father after his death; he'd taught me the business, and I spent the last few years of my life building it up even further. I own a series of hotels now, in Mellow Pass and other towns throughout Utah Territory."

Belle continued to stand staring at him. She was biting her lower lip now. If she bit much harder, she would taste blood.

"So, you're not a clerk," she said, double checking she had her facts straight. "And you're not poor."

"No, I'm not."

Now her cheeks began to color. "Why did you lie to me?" she said, her voice rising slightly.

"I didn't know you. I wanted you to like me for who I am, not how much wealth I'd accumulated."

"So why bother telling me now then?" she demanded. "Why not keep me ignorant forever so that you can laugh at me behind my back?" She threw her hands into the air. The arrogance of the man!

"Belle, I didn't know you when we first met. I... I wanted to know you, but that's hardly the same thing, is it?"

"So, why tell me now?" she asked again.

"Anthony said if I didn't, he would," he muttered. He must have realized how that sounded, because he could barely meet her eye.

She felt her lips curl. "So, you and my brother have been planning my life behind my back?"

"We weren't doing anything of the sort, we were only—"

"First you call me a gold digger—"

"I never said that," Ira shouted, but she ignored the desperation in his voice.

"—then you conspire against me with my own brother," she resumed as if he'd said nothing at all.

"Belle, please, listen to me. I love you. I want to marry you." From his pocket, he pulled out a black velveteen ring box. He opened the box and her voice momentarily quieted as she examined the square-cut diamond set in a yellow-gold band.

He dropped to one knee. "Belle, I love you. I know I've gone about things all wrong, but if you let me, I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you." He got the words out quickly, before she could start yelling again.

Her mouth was hanging open. Slowly, she took the box from him. She looked closely at the ring. It really was beautiful. It was too bad he'd turned out to be such a liar.

"I can't marry you," she said. "I can't even trust you. You played me the fool. I didn't even know your real name until a minute ago, and you expect me to marry you?"

She hurled the ring box across the room.

"Belle, I'm sorry."

He could shove his sorries right back down his throat for all she cared. She ran from the room. She didn't dare glance back at his face, afraid it would stop her in her tracks if she did. Love wasn't something you could turn on and off at will, and despite what he'd just told her, she still loved him. That was why what she had to do next hurt so much.

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