I Chose the Rugged Colonel

Holding the recommendation letter that would secure a return to the city, my fiance, Wesley Dalton, came to find me. Right behind him stood the fake heiress, Madelyn Hart, quietly wiping away her tears. Without hesitation, he ordered me to give up Willowville's only spot at Ashford Textiles. Madelyn was too fragile, he said. There was no way she could endure being sent to work in the countryside. Every elder in Willowville urged me to be sensible. Certain I'd do anything to save this engagement, they waited for me to break down in tears and give in. Instead, I smiled and tore our marriage contract to pieces right in front of both families. "She can have the position. And I won't be marrying you either." Everyone laughed, convinced I'd gone mad. They bet I wouldn't last three days before begging Wesley to take me back. Defying them all, I went to register my marriage with Logan Cross, a rugged retired veteran whom everyone else looked down upon. Three months later, Wesley kicked open my front door, his eyes red. He dropped to his knees and choked out that he regretted everything. But when he looked up and saw Logan kneeling on one knee, washing my feet, he instantly snapped to attention. "Sir!" Chapter 1 The recommendation letter to send someone back to Pine Ridge hit the wooden table with a heavy smack. The force made the chipped enamel mug at the corner tremble. I looked up, my gaze sliding past Wesley Dalton to the young woman standing behind him. It was Madelyn Hart, the fake daughter, who had stolen my place for fifteen years. Wesley looked down at me and spoke in a commanding tone, "Savannah Hart, give your position at Ashford Textiles to Madelyn. She's always been frail. She's never done hard labor. She won't survive being sent to the countryside." I looked at the recommendation letter I'd earned after spending three nights repairing irrigation canals in Pine Ridge, working until all ten fingers were rubbed raw and bleeding. Suddenly, I found it almost laughable. "And I can?" I laid my hands flat on the table. My palms were covered in calluses, crisscrossed with bleeding cracks. Wesley's eyes flickered away for a moment before he quickly regained his self-righteous expression. "You've already lived in Pine Ridge for over ten years. You're used to it. What's another two years? Madelyn's different. If she goes, she'll die." Right on cue, Madelyn let out a soft sob. Swaying unsteadily, she slumped against the doorframe. "Savannah, I'm sorry. This is all my fault. I never should've cried to Wesley. "Please don't blame him. I don't want the position anymore. If I have to die in Pine Ridge, then so be it. I'll just give Mom, Dad, and Wesley back to you." The moment she finished speaking, my biological parents could no longer stay seated. My mother, Judith Hart, hurried over and pulled Madelyn into her arms, calling her sweetheart over and over. When she turned to me, though, every trace of warmth vanished. "Savannah, how can you be so selfish? Madelyn has called us Mom and Dad for fifteen years. Blood isn't everything. "You're just a country girl who grew up in Pine Ridge. You barely know how to read. Even if you got into the factory, you'd only embarrass yourself." I raised my bleeding hand and looked steadily at my mother. She didn't spare me so much as a glance. All her attention was on wiping away Madelyn's tears. In that moment, the family I'd longed for over the past fifteen years and this engagement both died. My father, Walter Hart, knocked the ash from his pipe and scowled. "Wesley's the most promising college student in Willowville. You're the one who's marrying above your station. "If you know what's good for you, give the position to Madelyn. Wesley will remember your sacrifice. Once you're married, do you think he'll treat you poorly?" By then, the neighbors had gathered outside the doorway, craning their necks to watch. One after another, they urged me to be reasonable. They were certain I'd burst into tears and accept my fate just to hold on to a marriage that could lift me out of my life as a farmer. Instead, I got to my feet. Without a word, I walked over to the camphor chest where I kept my few treasured belongings. I unlocked it and took out the marriage contract. It was the written engagement agreement our families had made when we were children. Wesley frowned even more deeply. "Savannah, what's that for? Trying to threaten me with it? I'm telling you right now, you're giving up that factory position whether you like it or not." I ignored him. Quietly, I looked at the four words across the contract: "Bound Together for Life" Then I gripped the edges with both hands. The harsh tearing sound shattered the silence in the room. Two pieces. Then four. Then eight. Smiling, I tore the marriage contract to shreds in front of both families. Chapter 2 The scraps of paper drifted through the air before settling at Wesley's polished shoes. Everyone froze. I brushed the paper scraps from my hands. "Madelyn can have the position. And I'm not marrying him either." Wesley's face turned ashen, the veins in his forehead bulging. "Savannah! Have you lost your mind? If you break off our engagement, who in Willowville would ever marry you?" My mother was trembling with rage. Pointing toward the door, she shouted, "Get out! Just get out! From this day on, I'll pretend I never gave birth to you!" Outside, the neighbors pointed and whispered among themselves. They bet I wouldn't last three days before hunger drove me back to Wesley, begging him to take me in. I never looked back. I walked out of that house and headed for the farthest corner of Willowville, the place everyone avoided. The air there always carried the mixed scent of motor oil and herbal medicine. I pushed open the rickety wooden gate. The yard was piled high with old bicycle parts. Logan Cross was crouched on the ground, shirtless, repairing a heavy roadster bicycle. Long, crisscrossing scars stretched across his back. Everyone in Willowville said Logan was a rough ex-soldier who'd been kicked out of the military for disciplinary violations—a violent criminal who'd been sent away for reform. Hearing me enter, he turned around. A long, faded scar ran from the corner of his right eye across his fierce-looking face. He looked at me, his voice hoarse and grating. "Regular Willowville folks don't come back here. Don't you know the rules?" I didn't back away. Stepping onto a pile of scrap metal, I took a step closer. "Logan, do you need a wife?" The wrench slipped from his hand and clattered onto the ground. For the first time, something flickered in his eyes. Logan rose to his feet. His tall frame swallowed me in shadow as his gaze locked onto my hands. Hands covered in chilblains, split open and bleeding. Everyone in Willowville saw nothing but a crude country girl. Only he remembered. Last month, when torrential rain flooded the neighborhood, and everyone hid indoors trying to save themselves, I was the only one digging out the drainage ditch with my bare hands. I'd saved the crumbling houses behind Willowville. I'd saved his pile of parts from being ruined as well. Something dark churned in his eyes. "Savannah, do you even know what you're saying? I've got nothing to my name. I left the military in disgrace. My reputation's ruined. If you marry me, you'll ruin the rest of your life." I met his eyes without flinching. "I'm not afraid of a ruined reputation. I'm afraid of being blind to what's right in front of me. So, do you dare to marry me?" Logan stared at me for a long ten seconds. Then he bent down, picked up the coarse work shirt draped over a bench, and pulled it on. "Did you bring your ID?" I pulled my identification from my pocket. "I did." He strode toward the gate. As he passed me, he merely said, "Come." The moment we signed our marriage license, I became Logan Cross's wife. When we walked back into Willowville together, we ran straight into Wesley and Madelyn as they were heading out. The moment Wesley spotted Logan beside me, he let out a scornful laugh. "Savannah, if you're trying to make me jealous, you didn't have to stoop so low and end up with this ex-con. Within three days, you'll be on your knees begging me to take you back." Hiding behind Wesley, Madelyn covered her mouth in mock alarm. "Savannah, being with someone this dangerous... Mom and Dad are going to be worried." Before I could respond, a large hand settled firmly around my shoulders. Chapter 3 Logan pulled me into his arms, his gaze raking across Wesley's face. "Point at my wife one more time. I dare you." The murderous edge in Logan's voice made Wesley stumble backward, nearly tripping over the doorstep. He immediately shut his mouth. I took Logan's hand and walked toward the back of Willowville without looking back. The moment the rickety wooden gate closed behind us, the mocking voices from outside were completely shut out. Logan lowered his eyes to me, his voice deep. "From now on, my life belongs to you." His gaze drifted toward the direction Wesley had left. His rough thumb gently brushed across the wounds on my palm. "As for everyone out there, they'll repay everything they owe you—with interest." Life after our marriage was nothing like the people in Willowville had predicted. In fact, they were the happiest three months I'd had in fifteen years. Logan was up before dawn every morning, filling the water barrels and stacking the chopped firewood into neat piles. When most families were surviving on beans and cornbread, my meals included fresh bread and pot roast. One day, he handed me a metal cash box stuffed with money and ration coupons, telling me to take charge of the household. A few days later, he reached into the bottom of that same box, pulled out a brand-new wristwatch, and fastened it around my wrist before I could protest. Madelyn had begged Wesley for three months to buy her the very same watch. He'd always refused, saying it was too expensive. Meanwhile, life at the front of Willowville had descended into chaos. Madelyn got exactly what she wanted—the position at Ashford Textile Mill. However, after less than two weeks, she'd wandered away from her station and damaged the mill's only jacquard loom. The plant manager flew into a rage. Not only did he dock six months' wages, but he also reassigned her to the boiler room to shovel coal. Every evening, she came home covered in soot, her dresses burned full of holes from flying cinders. Soon she was smashing things around the house and fighting with my parents. Wesley's life wasn't any easier. Madelyn couldn't even fry an egg, yet she constantly demanded he buy her one thing after another to make up for everything she'd suffered. His meager intern's salary couldn't keep up with her demands. A few times while I was washing clothes by the well, I'd see Wesley returning home in a wrinkled shirt, looking utterly exhausted. Whenever he caught sight of my new clothes and the watch on my wrist, his face twisted with resentment. He began lingering outside the gate to the back of Willowville, convinced Logan must have been abusing me. He refused to believe my happiness was real. In his mind, a woman like me could never be happy with a rough man like Logan. Surely I was only pretending and was waiting for him to rescue me. One drizzly evening in late autumn, I got caught in the rain. The old injury in my ankle flared up so badly that I couldn't walk. Without a word, Logan heated a basin of water and carried it to the bedside. His callused hands carefully cradled my foot as he tested the water's temperature. Just then, hurried footsteps echoed outside. Mixed with them came Wesley's heavy breathing. He'd finally convinced himself he'd found the perfect chance to swoop in and pity me from his lofty perch. Bang! With one violent kick, Wesley sent the wooden gate flying open at the back of Willowville. Chapter 4 A cold wind swept in with the autumn rain, making the oil lamp on the table flicker wildly. Wesley stood in the doorway, drenched from head to toe. His bloodshot eyes burned with obsession. His chest heaved as he stared into the room. "Savannah! Haven't you made enough of a scene?" His voice was hoarse, choked with emotion yet still dripping with arrogance. "It's been three months. This little game of playing hard to get has gone on long enough. I know you've been miserable. I know you've been waiting every day for me to come get you." He strode over the threshold, shot Logan a look of disgust as he knelt on the floor washing my feet, then kicked the edge of the battered wooden washbasin. Water splashed across the floor. "Savannah, are you really going to waste your life in this dump that can't even afford electricity, living with some ex-con? "Madelyn's immature. She doesn't know how to take care of anyone. She isn't fit to shine your shoes. I was wrong, Savannah. I really regret it." With a thud, Wesley dropped to his knees in the mud. Rainwater and tears streamed down his face. "If you just nod your head, I'll take you back right now! This place reeks. I can't stand being here another second. "I don't even care if you've slept with this man and aren't pure anymore. I'll accept it. Tomorrow I'll take you to Ashford, we'll get married, and we'll start over." The more he spoke, the more worked up he became. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I watched his pathetic display. All I felt was disgust and amusement. Just as I was about to tell him to get out, Logan, whose back was still to him, suddenly stopped what he was doing. He picked up a towel and carefully dried the water from my feet, taking his time, as though afraid of hurting me. Only after he finished did he rise to his feet. His broad frame completely blocked Wesley's view of me. The dim light from the oil lamp fell across Logan's back. He'd taken off his work shirt and was wearing only a tank top. The insults pouring from Wesley's mouth died instantly the moment Logan turned around. His jaw worked soundlessly, but not a single complete word came out. His eyes were fixed on Logan's exposed right arm. A bullet scar ran clean through his forearm. Above it was the tattoo of a dagger piercing a skull. That was the exclusive insignia of the Special Operations Command. Wesley's father had once served in military logistics. Growing up, he'd heard the stories about the commanding officer they called the Living Reaper. The Living Reaper had single-handedly destroyed a border drug cartel's stronghold, only to be forced out of the military after defying orders to save his men. Logan looked down at Wesley, who was still kneeling in the mud. There was a crushing authority in his eyes. "What did you just call this house?" His voice wasn't loud, but the weight behind it made Wesley flinch. The color drained from Wesley's face, and his entire body began trembling uncontrollably. In an instant, every rumor he'd believed about Logan being an ex-con was shattered. What replaced it was pure fear and absolute respect for overwhelming power. He stared at the rugged man he'd mocked as some nobody while the man knelt to wash his wife's feet. His legs gave out, and he lurched upright from the ground. His dress shoes slipped in the mud, but he forced himself to stand at rigid attention. His heels snapped together, and his back went straight. His trembling right hand shot to his temple in salute. At the top of his lungs, Wesley shouted, "Sir!"