Whitney's Vow

By Susan M. Baganz

THIS IS NOT THE WEDDING DAY WHITNEY EXPECTED

Whitney Anderson is stunned by the news that her dashing husband is dead. She doesn't understand what's happened except that their ranch in the hills of Montana is at risk. On the verge of a marriage of convenience to save their home—Whitney's world tilts on its axis.

Blake Anderson returns home from service to his country to find his wife about to wed another. Uncovering the layers of lies and deceit that brought them to this place reveals a conspiracy to gain access to their land under which a vast reserve of oil is untapped.

Blake's not selling, and his return comes at a cost for them all as they fight family, former friends, and foreign enemies. Blake's out to save his land, his wife and his marriage.

Whitney was once content to remain in the dark when it came to the running of the ranch and Blake's military operations, but now she's vowed and determined to discover the truth and prove her devotion to her husband...Or die trying.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Prism Lux
• Release date: Jun 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9781522398950

Book preview

Whitney’s Vow

By

Susan M. Baganz

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Whitney’s Vow

COPYRIGHT 2021 by Susan M. Lodwick

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Pelican Ventures, LLC except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. eBook editions are licensed for your personal enjoyment only. eBooks may not be re-sold, copied or given to other people. If you would like to share an eBook edition, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Contact Information: [e-mail]

All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version(R), NIV(R), Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com

Scripture quotations, marked KJV are taken from the King James translation, public domain. Scripture quotations marked DR, are taken from the Douay Rheims translation, public domain.

Scripture texts marked NAB are taken from the New American Bible, revised edition Copyright 2010, 1991, 1986, 1970 Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Washington, D.C. and are used by permission of the copyright owner. All Rights Reserved. No part of the New American Bible may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Cover Art by Nicola Martinez

Prism is a division of Pelican Ventures, LLC

www.pelicanbookgroup.com PO Box 1738 *Aztec, NM * 87410

The Triangle Prism logo is a trademark of Pelican Ventures, LLC

Publishing History

Prism Edition, 2021

Electronic Edition ISBN 978-1-5223-9895-0

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

To Ben, whose love has saved me more than he’ll ever know.

OTHER BOOKS BY SUSAN M. BAGANZ

Black Diamond Regency Romantic Suspense

The Baron’s Blunder (Prequel) novella

The Virtuous Viscount (Book 1)

Lord Phillip’s Folly (Book 2)

Sir Michael’s Mayhem (Book 3)

Lord Harrow’s Heart (Book 4)

The Captain’s Conquest (Book 5)

Orchard Hill Contemporary Romances

Pesto & Potholes

Salsa & Speed Bumps

Feta & Freeways

Root Beer & Roadblocks

Bratwurst & Bridges

Christmas Novellas

Fragile Blessings

Gabriel’s Gift

The Doctor’s Daughter

Pixie’s Almost Perfect Christmas

Short Story Compilation

Little Bits O’ Love

Contemporary Romantic Suspense

Whitney’s Vow

Madi’s Secret

1

Brides often entertained second thoughts on their wedding day, didn’t they?

Whitney Anderson’s sleeveless gown stuck to her back from the perspiration dribbling down. She was certain her deodorant had stopped working. The machine of a wedding day had taken over and she was a cog in its well-oiled gears. The backyard of her parents’ home basked in the sunshine as the temperature was a comfortable seventy-two degrees. So why was her body on fire?

Her fingertips tingled and the small bouquet of daisies and roses pricked her palms. The aura of a migraine hovered around the recesses of her vision. She’d forgone her contacts and refused to wear glasses at her wedding. If she could only get through this day without passing out…Lord, please rescue me.

She longed for a different face standing under the arbor of flowers than that of her fiancé. The blond, blue-eyed man stood in a blur of pre-migraine and near-sightedness. He did not make her heart sing. It was a prudent match, and at this point her parents were all about avoiding scandal. In other words, they’d bought Peter for her, and he was eager to not only be her husband but to accept the nice paycheck her dad promised for working in the new division of the company. She was no longer a treasured possession, but chattel.

No one cared what Whitney thought about it all. Her hair was escaping the pins meant to secure it in place as if the tresses were holding their own unintentional protest against this day. Imaginary wasps buzzed in her chest, and her stomach growled as Pachelbel’s Canon was skillfully executed by the four-piece orchestra. Execution was what she personally desired as her head pounded when the sunlight pierced her brain. How soon could this torturous day end?

Standing up front, the grating voice of the New Agey female celebrant added to her agony. Finally, the words were spoken. If anyone knows why this man and this woman should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.

Whitney closed her eyes and wished for death as a form of rescue.

A shout came from the side of the yard, and a gasp rose up amongst the crowd.

Peter swore.

The whole thing made her want to giggle. Her soon-to-be oh-so-proper husband cursing on their wedding day. That could not bode well for the marriage, could it?

I object. The deep baritone voice bounced around her brain.

The voice was familiar…like Blake, her dead husband. Was she hearing voices now? She glanced to her left as a figure strode toward her in jeans, cowboy boots, a crisp black shirt, and a black cowboy hat. His dark hair complimented the monochromatic attire as his grey eyes bored into hers. Oh, my. Now she was seeing things too. Sign her up for the looney bin.

On what grounds? Peter stood tall but couldn’t match the stature of the intruder.

She’s married to me.

Whitney’s mouth dropped open as her heart did an Olympic floor routine. Blake Anderson clasped her shoulders and stared into her eyes. His woodsy scent reminded her of horse rides and talks by the river.

Did you think I wouldn’t return for you, Whitney? His light scruff of a beard scratched in delightful ways as his lips met hers for a soul-searing kiss. He bent her backward and she relaxed into the safety of his strong arms and the pressure of his broad chest against hers.

This must be a dream or the most bizarre and wonderful nightmare she’d ever experienced. She had never swooned before, but there was a first time for everything.

~*~

Whitney was burning hot in Blake’s arms. Anger warred with concern as her body went limp. What were her asinine parents up to in marrying off his woman? Her kiss stirred up buried memories. He’d been deployed overseas, something he’d not foreseen when he had to leave. He hated that he couldn’t tell Whitney what he did. When he’d gotten wind of rumors about his death, and this wedding date, he’d rushed home to Montana, barely making it in time.

The crowd murmured behind him, and Peter grabbed his arm. With a swift elbow to the guy’s ribcage the erstwhile groom backed off, cursing all the way. Blake scooped his wife into his arms. Whitney’s head lolled against him as he walked down the aisle, back to her parents’ mansion. No one else dared approach as Blake scanned the crowd with a gaze that told them he meant business.

He’d take care of Whitney before he got some answers. He had no doubts that Whitney loved him. But when rumors surfaced of her parents forcing her into a marriage due to some financial deal, he demanded a leave of absence and came home to find out how this entire fiasco had come about.

He took the steps to the upstairs room that had been Whitney’s as a young girl. He startled housemaids along the way. He entered, slammed the door behind him with his boot, and placed her gently on the bed. Seated next to her, he slowly smoothed out the long layers of her sunshine-colored hair, pins falling on the floor. His fingers located her pulse. It was rapid.

Her eyes flickered open, and she gazed up at him as his thumb traced her jaw.

Hey, darlin’.

She squinted at him and frowned.

He took her glasses off the nightstand and slid them on her face. They framed her lovely brown eyes in purple.

She blinked. Blake? I thought you were dead. She reached up to touch his stubbled jaw and then slid her palm around his neck to pull him down for a kiss.

After a few minutes of passion that threatened to melt the heels off his boots, he pulled back. Whitney, I want you somethin’ fierce, but not in a dress intended for someone else.

She groaned and the tears flowed.

He held her hands to comfort her and noticed her ringless finger. He gulped the pain down. I never expected you to get over me so quickly.

I didn’t get over you. I just didn’t care anymore what happened when I thought you’d died. She pulled her hand away from him and reached into the bodice of her dress. A white gold band encrusted with tiny diamonds surrounded one princess cut stone. She placed it in his palm and struck her left hand out for him.

Blake held the warm, lavender-scented ring. Clasping her hand, he positioned the band at the tip of her finger. He gazed into her tear-stained eyes as he slid the ring on. With this ring, I thee wed. He lifted her hand and kissed the diamond.

For the first time since he’d spied her under the rose arbor, she smiled. He leaned forward, placed her hand on his heart, and kissed her again, reveling in the sweetness of this lovely woman he’d been denied for too long.

~*~

The door to the room banged open. Heaven abandoned her as Blake stood to face the intruders. Whitney had little strength to do more than glance at the door, her migraine in full force.

What is the meaning of this? Whitney’s father burst through the door with fists clenched at his sides.

Peter was behind him, forehead wrinkled and a frown marring his rigid features.

Isn’t that the question I should be asking? I didn’t realize bigamy was now legal in Montana. I’ve only been gone a few months. I’m surprised the laws could change that fast, and that you, he stepped toward her father, poking him in the chest, as an upstanding businessman in this community, would ever condone such a thing for your daughter.

Her father stepped back as his face turned from red to purple.

Stars danced across her eyes, and she closed them as a moan escaped her lips.

Whit, do you have a migraine? Her husband’s softer tone comforted her as his thumb caressed her hand.

Yes, she exhaled. My medicine is on the desk.

The warmth disappeared as he got her pills and the bottled water sitting on the desk. The click of the bottle opening preceded his hand lifting her head off the pillow. She tossed the pill back and drank deeply. He released her to the comfort of the bed and removed her glasses. She grew cold as he turned away from her again.

I suggest you all leave now while I tend to my wife. The words were laced with steel and she rolled over to her side, comforted that he was there. A mumble of voices and the click of a door told her he succeeded. The bed sank under his weight and his boots hit the floor followed by her white satin heels. The window was open and a soft breath of air laced with lilacs wafted in. His warmth enveloped her as he stretched out alongside and drew her into his chest. As the medication lulled her to sleep, the last thing she remembered was his whisper tickling her ear. I’m here now, Whitney. I love you.

~*~

Blake held his wife close and she drifted to sleep. It would likely be hours before she’d awaken again. Groggy and thick-headed, she’d be in no shape to answer his questions. He willed his muscles to relax.

He fought the urge to whisk her away to their ranch and keep her safe from the snakes that overran the grounds here. Her last e-mails had been edged with pain but he’d been unable to respond. He despised the secrecy of his work for the military. She understood he needed to serve and respected the silence he was forced to keep. She’d always told him she was proud of him and never needed to know the truth.

That secrecy almost cost him his wife. He assumed that the rumors of his death were a ruse for gaining access to his estate. They would’ve found it difficult to get around the legalese he’d tied it up in to protect Whitney and any children they might have. Some of his acreage was rich in untapped oil, but he didn’t want to mar the beauty of the land by taking that step.

Those were worries for later. First, he needed to figure out why his wife had been about to speak vows to another man. She must have been forced, but how and why? He had suspicions, but the answers could wait. He tugged his bride closer and grinned as she sighed and threw a leg over his. Yup, home was in her arms and that was precisely where he planned to stay.

~*~

Whitney inhaled and smiled. These were her favorite dreams. Dreams of Blake. Of the strong muscles underneath her fingers, the tickle of his chest hair or beard when he had one, inhaling his scent, kissing him, making love…

She sat up and gazed down at the rugged face at rest. It really was him. The nightmare rushed in on her.

The wedding! Blake had crashed the ceremony.

Imaginary cotton balls still filled her head and nausea tickled her tummy. She hadn’t eaten in two days.

She slid off the bed, went the bathroom, and dealt with the aftermath of the migraine by emptying what little was in her stomach. A cool washcloth helped her to be more clear-headed, and toothpaste took the nasty taste out of her mouth. Finger-combing her hair, she deftly braided and secured it with a scrunchie. She went to the walk-in closet, slipped out of the abominable dress and put on too-loose jeans and a lavender plaid shirt which she left untucked.

The past two months were a roller-coaster of emotions. She slipped back into the bedroom, grabbed her glasses and went to the window that overlooked the yard. All the chairs and decorations were gone. Her father would be ticked. Even more so when she stood her ground about wanting to stay married to her maverick husband.

She took off her glasses again before she crawled across the bed and snuggled up next to Blake on the white coverlette dotted with yellow eyelet daisies. She smiled and bent down to place a kiss at the corner of his neck and shoulder.

He jerked and flipped her on her back in a split second. His eyes opened and cleared. Then he smiled. Oh, Whitney, how I missed you. Those piercing grey eyes scanned her face before he gave her a bone-melting kiss.

She wrapped her arms around him. She was home.

He pulled back. I have a lot of questions, but I want you to know I love you. And I won’t be leaving again anytime soon.

Whitney gulped as she traced his jaw with her fingers. How is it you’re here? Or are you a hallucination sent to comfort me? How can you be alive? I truly thought you’d died. She paused to release a shaky breath. I’ll try to answer what I can but when you died…I just wanted to die too. I didn’t know what to do, and I didn’t care anymore. It’s a long story…

I was never dead. Someone lied to you and as for your story? Well, I’m not going anywhere.

2

A light tap came at the door. Can I come in? her mother asked.

Blake rolled over to sit on the end of the bed. He reached for his boots.

Whitney scrambled to the edge of the bed, grabbed her glasses, and strode to the door. She pasted a smile on her face as she opened it. Hi, Mom.

Her mother wore a frown. I hope you hung that dress up. You still may want it, and it cost a fortune.

She doesn’t need that wedding dress. If you’re planning an anniversary celebration for us, she’ll buy a different dress. Seven years is not a normal time for doing a renewal of vows, but I’m game if that’s what Whitney wants.

Her mom, dressed in in a silver gown with diamond jewelry, pursed her lips together as she took in her son-in-law. Where’ve you been? We heard you’d been killed.

Blake walked to Whitney’s side. As you can tell, you were fed the wrong information. I’m alive and well.

It is inconvenient for you to be here. The older woman crossed her arms and considered them both. Silence hung in the air.

I think it would be best if Blake and I leave. Any discussion of today’s events would be unprofitable at this point. Whitney sat down and pulled on her pink cowboy boots. She grabbed her still packed suitcase and purse, shoving her contact case and pills inside. She turned back to the bed and handed Blake his cowboy hat.

He placed it on his head.

There will be consequences for today’s fiasco. Mrs. Mitchell almost growled as she spoke. Do not expect the welcome mat to be ready for you, this man, or any spawn of the two of you.

Whitney sucked in a breath at her mother’s harsh words. Her mother had once confessed she’d never wanted children, but she’d always made sure Whitney’s basic needs were met. While there wasn’t an outpouring of affection, Whitney always assumed her mother felt something for her deep down. Perhaps she’d been wrong.

Blake’s deep voice dripped with anger and protectiveness for Whitney. We wouldn’t dare stoop so low, Mrs. Mitchell. He grabbed the suitcase and escorted Whitney past her mother.

Her mother gasped, her face bright red, her eyes glittering.

Blake and Whitney made it out the front door where staff was conspicuously absent.

Once outside he led Whitney to their black truck. He helped her into the passenger seat and tossed her suitcase in the back. Entering on the driver’s side he started the engine. Before he put on his seatbelt he leaned over and whispered, Come, darling. Let’s not disappoint the gawkers. His lips met hers, and she tingled. It’d been so long. He pulled back and grinned. That was just the appetizer, Whitney-Lyn.

The car revved to life and Whitney kept her eyes forward, refusing to check for spies.

The miles sped by in silence.

Whitney closed her eyes as the remnants of her migraine sapped her energy. She sighed with relief. He had returned to her. She could never give her heart or body to another man again, and even with the marriage that almost-was, she never intended to do so. She hoped he trusted her enough to believe her when she revealed all that had transpired since she’d been informed of his death.

~*~

Blake drove along the mountain roads as his wife dozed next to him. Something was different with Whitney from a few months ago. There’d been no reports of any untoward activity until six weeks ago when a military intelligence friend alerted him to inquiries into how his estate had been set up with regards to his wife.

Whitney’s father was greedy for oil and property. Blake’s own investigations revealed that his father-in-law’s business, Mitchell Industries, was in deep debt and barely holding on. Acquiring Blake and Whitney’s land as a potential drilling location could’ve brought millions in capital to keep the company, and the Mitchell’s lavish lifestyle, afloat. Blake lacked patience for games. He hated the politics of the oil industries in the United States and abroad.

Whitney was content to love him, putter in her garden, and care for the horses. She was a wonderful wife for the secluded life of a rancher. She despised the higher society her parents stayed connected to for the sake of appearances. His wife was more about heart and relationships. He glanced over at her as she dozed, missing the breathtaking scenery as they wound around the mountain highways, heading north to home.

Rebel Falls Ranch. There was no place in Montana or the earth quite like it. He would be content anywhere with Whitney by his side, but living here with her was a slice of paradise. But what led her to jeopardize it all with a marriage to that idiotic Peter? He ground his teeth together. It’d been a good thing he’d left his guns at Rebel Falls for this trip.

The drive from the outskirts of Helena to their home in Glacier County, took under three hours with the twists and turns. He didn’t mind that he needed to slow down on the winding roads. It was part of the reason why Whitney’s parents never came north. They couldn’t appreciate the beauty enough to undergo the journey of getting there.

Blake turned into the long, tree-lined driveway as he climbed one ridge to get to the valley where their home was nestled. A spacious meadow surrounded it and horses dotted the pastures along with a few buffalo he raised. Other meadows were planted with crops to sustain their animals with food year-round. Even further away was the oil-rich land where more of their herds roamed. And mountains rose all around. Guardians of their slice of heaven-on-earth.

He pulled up to the side of their spacious ranch home. Clean, tidy and two stories, it was nowhere near a mansion, but it suited him and Whitney. He dropped the suitcase on the porch and came back for her. Eyes flickered open as she took in the scenery around her. A soft smile curled on her lips.

Hey, sweetheart, we’re home. He held the door open and clasped her hand as she got out of the truck. She walked into his arms and rested her head on his chest. I’m sorry I messed everything up, Blake. I’m not sure I can really explain all that happened. It was a blur.

He kissed her forehead. There’s plenty of time to discuss it. Let’s see if Daniel has any supper left for us. I’m famished. For such a big wedding I didn’t get a bite to eat, not even a slice of cake.

Her stricken expression told him his joke had failed. He looked away and grimaced. He placed a hand on her back, followed her up the stairs to the wrap-around porch, and into the cool recesses of the house.

Daniel? Her soft melodic voice broke the dark silence of the house. There was no response.

They entered the kitchen.

Whitney opened the fridge and pulled out containers of food. She put some on a plate, heated it up in the microwave, and put on the tea kettle. The microwave dinged, and she transferred the plate to the table.

Blake sat. You’re not going to eat with me? He picked up his fork and started in on his plate keeping an eye on his wife.

She poured hot water