Chapter 5

5

"Then you're in agreement to the union?" Bellamy leaned against the wall nonchalantly, but Sullivan was learning that underneath the surface, the matchmaker was anything but nonchalant. He was calculated, shrewd, and incredibly perceptive.

Sullivan held himself stiffly and tried not to fidget. Already he was perspiring, and he'd only been talking to James and Kiernan Shanahan for less than ten minutes.

Yes, he'd been keeping track of the time. With twenty minutes left of Shrove Tuesday, he had to move the proceedings along. "I'm in agreement, Mr. Shanahan, sir, if you are."

In fact, Sullivan was more than agreeable. He couldn't believe his luck. Or maybe it was God intervening and smiling down on him. Either way, he hadn't expected one of St. Louis's most prominent and wealthy men to show up at the cathedral tonight and offer his daughter in marriage.

Sullivan had seen the broad-shouldered, thick-boned man on occasion over the years during his short visits to St. Louis. With his head of bright red hair, he was hard to miss, even when he was wearing a hat.

Not only was James Shanahan prosperous from all his business dealings in St. Louis as well as his iron foundry, but he was also well-known for his generosity to immigrants, his forward-thinking ideas for the city's development, and his influence over governmental matters.

Who could say no to a union with a family like that? In fact, during their brief discussion, both James and Kiernan had mentioned the possibility of partnering on a railroad that would connect St. Louis to the east.

Kiernan stuck out his hand first. Of similar build to his father but with a red-brown color hair, Kiernan was imposing too. "We're in agreement, Captain O'Brien."

Sullivan clasped the fellow's hand.

James held out a hand for a shake as well, but something in the man's eyes made Sullivan hesitate as he shook hands, almost as if the man was hiding information. Critical information.

What was it?

Was something wrong with his daughter that he had to resort to a clandestine, late-night marriage on Shrove Tuesday?

Sullivan tossed out the only objection he could think she might have. "Will she be in agreement to traveling back to New Orleans with me? I must introduce her to my father. It's part of his stipulations."

"Oh aye." James exchanged a knowing look with Kiernan. "She'll go, so she will."

The matchmaker pushed away from the wall. "Time to let Enya have a chance to meet Sullivan."

In other words, time for Sullivan to see for himself what was wrong with the young lady he was agreeing to marry. Was she feebleminded? Impaired in some manner? Suffering from an ongoing affliction?

Or maybe she was unattractive? So much so that no man in St. Louis wanted her?

Blast. What in the name of the holy mother was he doing thinking about a woman in terms of her appearance? He knew what it was like to be judged for his blemishes, and he wouldn't do the same to someone else. In fact, maybe that's why Bellamy had chosen Enya Shanahan for him. After all, he had asked Bellamy to find a wife who didn't put stock in physical appearances.

Bellamy was guiding James and Kiernan from the chapel. "We'll write down all the conditions of the agreement and sign papers tomorrow."

When the three exited, Sullivan released a taut breath. What was he doing here? Did he really think any woman would want him? Even before his war scars, he'd been big and bumbling and brash.

Imogen, the one woman he'd ever allowed himself to care about and consider a future with, had seemed to like him when they'd first started to court in those years before he'd left for the war. But as time had gone on, she'd grown more distant, until she'd pulled away altogether. In the end, when she'd told him that she didn't want to court any longer, she'd said it was because she wasn't attracted to him. Her parting words were, "You're too sullen and serious for me."

What if Enya wasn't attracted to him either? And what if his scars made it even worse?

He crossed to the altar with several lit candles and bowed his head. He hadn't been a praying man over recent years. He supposed the day Imogen had rejected him, he'd taken that as a rejection from God too. At the very least, he hadn't believed God cared all that much about him.

Why would God start caring now?

A soft throat cleared behind him. A woman's throat.

Yes. It was for the best if she was plain or had a blemish. That's the kind of wife he wanted and would be satisfied with.

Holding his breath, he pivoted.

She stood just inside the door. He didn't let himself look at her fully. Instead, he focused on her dainty boots peeking out from the hem of a dark green gown. He let his gaze travel slowly up the length of her. When he reached her slender waist and perfectly sculpted hips, his mouth went dry. As his eyes rose to her ribs and curvaceous bosom, his pulse started to race. When he took in the creamy skin of her chest that the bodice didn't conceal and then her long, slender neck, heat prickled along his spine.

His sights lifted only a tad to land upon her dimpled chin that was delicately rounded and above that, perfectly rosy lips. Her cheekbones and nose were as delicate as her chin.

As he surveyed her eyes and hair in the same sweeping gaze, his every bodily function seemed to cease, and all he could do was watch her in silent, reverent awe. Her eyes were wide and rimmed with long lashes. And the green was as bright as a bayou, made even more vibrant by the long red hair that was arranged in ringlets to frame her face.

Chill bumps rolled down his arms and then his legs.

Everything about this woman was beyond exquisite. In fact, she was quite honestly the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes upon. If there were a contest to find the prettiest woman in the states that bordered the Mississippi River, she would win. In fact, no one would even come close. Not in all of North America. Maybe not even in the world.

He let himself look at her again, this time all at once. But doing so was a little bit like staring directly at the sun—too intense, too blinding, too overwhelming.

"Captain O'Brien?" Her question was clear and direct.

He gave a curt nod.

Her pretty lips seemed about ready to say something, but then she stalled, and confusion flitted through those luscious green eyes.

He almost smacked a hand to his forehead at his boorishness. He should have been the one to introduce himself first and make her feel comfortable. Instead, he was gawking like an awkward idiot.

"I'm he." His voice came out an octave too high. He cleared his throat. "I'm Captain—Captain Sullivan—Captain O'Brien—that is, Sullivan." He had to stop. He was making a mess of the introduction.

He needed to cross to her and properly kiss her hand like a gentleman would do. But if he took even the tiniest of steps, he'd trip and fall flat on his face. Because one moment with this woman was turning him into a toddler.

This wasn't going to work. He couldn't marry a woman this beautiful. It would only make him think about his inadequacies at every turn. Besides, he'd told Bellamy he wanted a woman who didn't put any consideration into appearances. And this woman clearly paid great attention to her looks. She was stylish and attired in the very best of everything, from her velvet hat down to her fancy boots.

She was taking in his appearance too. No doubt she was thinking about all the ways he was lacking.

A scowl creased his forehead.

As she lifted her gaze to study his face, she didn't back away at the sight of his frown. Instead, she jutted her chin. "I can see that you find me displeasing. What exactly about me don't you like?"

Could he tell her she was too beautiful? Or was that rude?

Before he could think of a half-intelligent response, Bellamy stepped into the chapel, his gaze bouncing between them. Had he been waiting outside the door, listening, ready to jump in and intervene if things didn't go well?

"He doesn't like me, Bellamy." Enya didn't take her eyes from Sullivan as she spoke the words, almost as if she wanted to see his reaction.

Bellamy leaned against the arched doorway, a grin creeping out. "Oh, Sullivan will adore you, so he will. Don't you be worrying about that."

Adore her? A low scoffing sound slipped past Sullivan's lips.

Her delicate brows narrowed, and she straightened to her full height of not more than five-feet-four inches. "This won't work."

"She's not the one for me," Sullivan said at the same moment.

Bellamy crossed his feet at his ankles as if getting more comfortable.

"I told you my qualifications," Sullivan persisted, "and she's none of those things."

"What qualifications?" Her tone turned brittle.

Bellamy answered first. "Sullivan thinks he wants a woman who is quiet, boring, and plain."

One of Enya's brows rose, and she seemed to be asking him to deny Bellamy's statement.

Maybe Bellamy hadn't exactly spoken the list of requirements in the most flattering of terms, but Sullivan couldn't deny that he wanted a simple wife. Not an outspoken, sociable, and completely ravishing woman.

His sights dropped again to her figure, to the perfection of every curve and the smoothness of her skin. Even if she was everything most men would dream of having, he wasn't like most men. He wasn't meant to have a woman like Enya.

"I know what I need, and she's not it." He tore his gaze from Enya's curves.

Bellamy was watching him with a smirk. "She's perfect for you, Captain O'Brien, and one day you'll realize it too."

Enya started to turn back to the door, but Bellamy straightened and blocked her exit.

"He's perfect for you too, Enya. It's about time you have a man who doesn't fall down and worship the ground you walk on."

She huffed. "No man has ever done that."

"Oh aye." Bellamy's eyes twinkled. "They do. Everywhere you go."

Sullivan had the image of Enya walking along a busy St. Louis street, her parasol in hand, and the men throwing themselves at her, laying their cloaks on the ground for her to walk on, asking to escort her, and paying her lavish compliments.

The reason he could picture others doing it was because he could see himself falling under her spell and doing the very same thing. Which meant he'd end up worshiping the ground she walked on too.

Enya pinched her lips together. Even pressed firmly, her lips were much too pretty. "I can't—"

"He's intending to take you to New Orleans to meet his family, so he is. That means you'll get to travel for a wee bit the way you wanted."

Bellamy's declaration brought Enya's argument to a standstill. Her hands were fisted, and she slowly began to unfurl her fingers.

Sullivan's heart thudded a strangely hard, erratic rhythm. What would she say? Would she agree to marry him?

Did he want her to agree?

She cast him a sideways glance, one that was decidedly cold. What did she think of him? From what he could tell so far, she hadn't seemed to concern herself over his appearance, hadn't bothered with more than a cursory look.

She certainly wouldn't be quiet, boring, or plain. What would she be like instead? Demanding? Flighty? Arrogant?

She clutched at her cloak. "What is your stance on using physical force on a woman or on a child?"

He nearly recoiled at the question.

She was watching him expectantly, her gaze serious.

Had a man once hurt her? "Rest assured, I believe it is abhorrent to harm a woman or a child in any way at all."

She examined his face as if testing the sincerity of his words. "Very well," she said. "I'll marry Captain O'Brien." Before he could question her further, she sidled past Bellamy out of the chapel and disappeared into the dimly lit nave.

Bellamy pinned Sullivan with questioning eyes.

"No." Sullivan shook his head at the matchmaker. "No. I refuse to consider her."

Bellamy tugged his watch from his pocket and glanced at it. "Ten minutes left until midnight. Ten minutes left to say your vows on Shrove Tuesday."

Sullivan took out his own watch. The matchmaker was right. He only had ten minutes to decide his fate.

The dark eyes of the runaway slave hidden in his cabin bore into Sullivan as if the lad were present. The dark eyes of the many slaves he saw on other steamboats. The dark eyes of slaves who labored hard on the docks. The dark eyes of the slaves who lived and worked on the plantations all along the river.

If he didn't marry Enya Shanahan right now, then his hands would be tied for as long as his father decided to keep him in the company office. He supposed he could get involved in helping runaway slaves some other way until he could get back on the river. But the Ol' Man River was the best road to freedom, and he was loath to be gone from it for any extended time.

Besides, how could he turn down what James and Kiernan Shanahan were offering him? They were interested in helping him invest in railroads. As much as he loved the river and the life of a steamboat captain, railroads were the way of the future. He could see it, and he'd be a fool to ignore the potential.

"Nine minutes." Bellamy was staring at his watch.

The muscles in Sullivan's chest tightened. This was too important of a decision to make on a whim. He shouldn't have waited until the evening of Shrove Tuesday to approach the matchmaker. He should have done it during his last visit a few weeks ago.

But here he was, with only minutes to spare, and his lone option was the stunning Enya Shanahan, who was everything he didn't want in a woman.

He heaved a sigh. "Fine. Let's do it."

"Good choice." Bellamy started to turn, then stopped. "Mind you, one last wee thing you need to be knowing about Enya."

Crossing toward the door, Sullivan raised his brow.

"Her previous husband ran off and left her pregnant."

The words halted Sullivan so hastily that he tripped over his own feet. When he caught his balance, he somehow managed to close his mouth, which was likely dragging on the floor.

Enya had been married? And she was with child? She didn't appear to be, not with the way her bodice had hugged her hips and stomach. "How long ago?"

"It's her story to tell, but she was married in January and got the annulment today."

Everything fell into place in Sullivan's mind. This was why James Shanahan wanted his daughter to get married. This was why the most beautiful woman in the world was agreeing to wed a stranger. This was why they were in a hurry for a wedding.

Because they needed to avoid the disgrace that would come from Enya being pregnant and without a husband. In fact, the disgrace was probably already well entrenched from all that had happened, and perhaps they hoped to prevent more shame when word of the pregnancy began to spread.

A small part of his heart bottomed out. Poor woman. How devastated and hurt she must have been to be abandoned by her husband. And after so short a time. Then to find out she was carrying the man's child?

A low burn of anger fanned to life in Sullivan's gut. What kind of man would do such a thing, especially to a woman like Enya? Had he also been guilty of using the physical force Enya had asked about? Sullivan didn't know the fellow but wanted to give him a thrashing he wouldn't soon forget.

Bellamy was studying his face, likely reading every one of his emotions. "She needs someone who will cherish her, so she does. And I have the feeling you can be that man."

Could he?

"Now, let's go"—Bellamy waved toward the nave—"before we're too late."

This time Sullivan didn't protest. Not a single muscle offered even the slightest resistance. He exited the chapel and started down the aisle toward the chancel. James and Kiernan were standing at the prayer rail beside Enya, and the priest was present with his prayer book open.

As Sullivan approached, all eyes fixed upon him, even Enya's. Though the shadows of the night shrouded the cathedral, he glimpsed vulnerability in her expression and the slight slump of her shoulders.

"Everything in order?" James Shanahan directed his question to Bellamy, who was striding beside Sullivan.

"Aye, so."

"You've appraised Captain O'Brien of ... all matters?" James persisted.

Sullivan answered before Bellamy could. "Yes, Bellamy told me. And no need to worry, Mr. Shanahan. I'll marry your daughter."

James and Kiernan both nodded their gratitude. But somehow the relief on their faces frustrated Sullivan. He wasn't sure exactly why, except that part of his heart ached again for Enya. He supposed her family only wanted to pro tect her reputation as well as theirs. But he could only guess how this rushed wedding must be making her feel. Rejected? Unsupported? Maybe even unloved?

As he neared her, he caught her eyes. Though he could see no sign of tears, sadness darkened the green, a sadness that tugged at him and made him want to fix everything for her.

Bellamy's admonition from just moments ago echoed in his mind: "She needs someone who will cherish her , so she does. And I have the feeling you can be that man."

He hadn't wanted a wife with Enya's qualities—and he was still hesitant about a union with her. But he'd never been able to stand back and do nothing when someone needed help. His burned back was testament to that.

Even if he was throwing himself into a proverbial fire this time, he would jump in with both feet and do his best to save her. Maybe he'd even learn how to cherish her in a way that she clearly hadn't experienced from anyone recently, if ever.

"Six minutes." Bellamy tugged Sullivan into place beside Enya.

Sullivan let his gaze stay connected to Enya's, hoping to reassure her that he wasn't like everyone else.

But she shifted her focus to the priest and straightened her spine, her expression hardening. Everything about her stiff posture declared her resistance. She was only here because she had no other options. She was only marrying him because her family was forcing her into it. And she only intended to be married to him as part of a business arrangement and nothing more.

Her reasons mirrored his almost exactly. Except now that he knew the truth about her predicament, his reasons no longer seemed important. In fact, they seemed childish.

Could he eventually break past all her barriers and win her over? Did he even want to?

He lifted himself to his full height. Yes, he wanted to try. Even though winning Enya might be one of the most difficult tasks he'd ever attempt, he liked challenges.

Bellamy lifted a questioning brow at him.

Sullivan nodded. Yes, he was accepting the matchmaker's challenge. If it was the last thing he did, he intended to be the man who cherished Enya Shanahan.