The Bachelor’s Christmas Bride Read Free

bad, his was the exception. Not only were those eyes remarkable, but so was the rest of his face.
    Roller-coaster-shaped lips. A slightly long, not-too-thin, not-too-thick nose that suited him. The shadow of a beard even though he was clean shaven, accentuating a sharp jawline and a squarish chin that dented upward in the center ever so alluringly.
    And his hair—like the full eyebrows she could see for herself—was the color of espresso. It was so dark a brown it was just one shade shy of black, and he wore it short on the sides, a little long on top and disheveled to perfection.
    And yes, the name on the license was, indeed, Daegal Pierson McKendrick.
    â€œDaegal?” Shannon said as she read the unusual name.
    â€œMy mother had visions of glory. She thought it sounded European and sophisticated. My sisters are Isadora, Theodora and Zeli. But you can see that I am who I say I am. And in an hour and a half we’ll be sitting across a table at the bank for the closing on your grandmother’s property. Plus, tonight we’re having a family dinner together, and we’ll actually be livingwithin spitting distance of each other even when we aren’t together. I think you can risk a five-minute ride in my car.”
    Shannon had no idea why, but she couldn’t resist giving him a hard time despite the abundance of reasons why she could trust him.
    â€œHow do I know that the person behind that beard is the person on this driver’s license?”
    He looked to his right, to his left, over his shoulder, making sure none of the children he’d been teaching to skate were around to see. Then he eased the beard down just enough for her to realize that in reality he was even better looking than in the photograph.
    It was only a split-second glimpse, however, before he released the fluffy white disguise that must have been held on by elastic because it snapped back into place.
    Then he waved a finger between the driver’s license in her hand and himself and said, “Him, me, same guy. Not somebody who’s gonna drive you out into the woods and ravage you.” Why did that make her smile? And maybe sound a little tantalizing?
    She again had no answer to her own question but she did finally concede. “Okay. Let’s call the mechanic and then I guess I’ll have to trust you.”
    Dag McKendrick took a turn at smiling at her—a great smile that flashed flawlessly white teeth. “You don’t have to trust me. You can walk—it’s about four miles straight down South Street—five minutes by car, maybe an hour or more on foot, your choice…”
    â€œI’ll take the ride. But remember, the mechanic will know who I left with.”
    â€œAnd the possible future-Governor of Montana willtrack me down and have me shot if anything happens to his soon-to-be wife.”
    So the news had even reached Northbridge. Shannon had been hoping that somehow the media coverage might have bypassed the small, secluded town during the two weeks since Wes’s on-camera proposal.
    But while she wasn’t Wes Rumson’s soon-to-be anything, she’d agreed not to refute it in public. She’d agreed to let Wes’s press people handle it in a way that saved face for him, that didn’t harm his bid for governor. And she couldn’t blurt out the truth now, on the street, to someone she didn’t know.
    Even if she suddenly wanted to more than she had at any moment in the last two weeks.
    Because, as she looked into Dag McKendrick’s coal-black eyes, she hated the idea that he thought she was engaged when she wasn’t.
    And she didn’t understand that any more than she’d understood any of the rest of her response to this man.
    But that was what she’d agreed to and she had to stick to it.
    She had to.
    So she bit her tongue on the subject and merely said, “I’ll get my suitcase out of the trunk while you call the mechanic. If