Three days later and despite Mrs. Creed’s angry phone call, Clint insisted he meet his new bride in Wyoming, on what he’d been told was her home turf. He’d flown into Cheyenne the day before to get a feel for the area she was from. The wide-open spaces reminded him of Texas. But, the air itself was different. The wind whipped across the plains as it slammed down the mountains. It wasn’t something he’d get used to quickly, practically blowing the door off his car as he got out. Though, it was a nice enough place to visit her family, if she had any in the area.

He glanced at his phone, he’d done it so often the battery was almost dead, and clicked the screen black once again. At least he’d been able to set aside the suits and ties he had to wear every day for some jeans, a comfortable flannel, and a pair of boots he hadn’t had a chance to wear in years. But even the most relaxed clothes didn’t make waiting any easier, especially not for a bride.

He’d been sitting there for an hour and still no sign of Margaret. He pulled her profile sheet from his back pocket and unfolded it. It listed a short bio with a brief history for Margaret, where she was from in Wyoming, her likes…but it was all far too perfect, as if someone had made it up just to match what he’d said, and that’s what he suspected.

A light-weight jet finally touched down and taxied toward the private hanger where he’d been waiting. He’d met foreign dignitaries, and they hadn’t bothered him as much as meeting this woman. If any of his internal warnings went off when she stepped off that plane, he would report the Diamond Bridal Agency. He wouldn’t be an accessory to trafficking women, not with his career on the line.

It seemed to take forever for the hatch door to open, providing stairs for the passenger to descend. Margaret tentatively stepped out of the plane. That bent up picture hadn’t done her justice. At all. As she descended the three stairs, he came out of the hanger and strode toward her. She wore a light-colored sun dress with a little pink sweater over it that hugged every curve. She was dressed perfectly to complement him, and he wondered how the agency had managed to pull that off. Since he never dressed this way.

“Margaret Hawk?” He held out his hand to her, though it seemed odd to greet her that way, considering why she’d come.

She stared at his hand for a moment then slid her palm into his and their eyes met. Hers were a deep brown, like her hair. She was…exotic, at least to his eye.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Sage. I’m sorry my plane was delayed.” She smiled slightly.

When she spoke, he almost dropped her hand, but managed to cover up his reaction quickly. She had an accent, not much, but she spoke slowly, like she was trying to hide it. His worst fear screamed in his ear to be heard.

“Where was it you said you were from?” He glanced at the paper, still in his hand.

Her eyes widened so briefly he’d almost missed it. Another mark against her.

“I’m from Wyoming, but not anywhere near here.” She brushed her long dark hair behind her ear and glanced over his right shoulder. She was lying, and he wanted to know why. What purpose would it serve, unless the agency was covering something.

“My car is waiting. My driver will take care of your luggage, if you want to follow me?” He waited for her to take the first step, so they could walk side by side. She didn’t seem in any hurry to speak to him as they made their way to his car. While she kept in step with him, she watched her feet, with little interest in him at all. He wasn’t used to being ignored, and especially not by women.

“Did you need anything before we go back to the hotel?”

She stopped, and her dark eyes raked him with what he could label as pure apprehension, then contempt. “Back to the hotel?”

“Yes, I assumed you’d want to come with me. Did you have other plans?” He chuckled, but wanted to get back to his car instead of the hot asphalt of the runway as soon as possible. There were far too many questions to be asked out in the baking sun.

“No… I just assumed we’d be married before you took me to some hotel,” she said stiffly, standing still, like she was rooted to the tarmac.

“It isn’t like I’m going to toss you into my bed the moment we get there. I did get you your own room. The agency arranged a wedding for us tomorrow, in the Grand Teton National Forest. At…” he searched the paper once more, glad he hadn’t thrown it away as Mrs. Creed had bade him, “the Blacktail Ponds Overlook. My driver and a man that the officiant will provide will be our witnesses. They have all the paperwork taken care of.”

“So I have a room of my own tonight?” She raised her eyebrows and seemed to be firmly against moving until he answered.

“That is correct.” At least for the first night. He held out his hand to see if that would get her moving. If he decided to pull the plug on this whole thing, he’d have his driver take her to the police station that night to make some sort of statement. He wasn’t in the mood to bust a sex trafficking ring, but the more he found out, the more he didn’t like the Diamond Bridal Agency, and his bride’s accent only worried him more.

“Can we please continue to the car now?” He reached a little closer to her and she finally started moving again, though much less sure of herself and avoided his hand completely.

“Is your real name Margaret?” He slid his glance over to her.

“It is now.”

That wasn’t what he’d wanted to hear.