Their Willful Minx
By Leslie Ayla
After losing everything in the Boer War, Elisabet Kruger answers a mail-order bride advertisement in search of security and escape.
What she finds in Cape Town is far more than she was promised.
Captain Leighton Smythe is charming, kind, and hiding more than his letters ever revealed. His estate is vast, his manor imposing… and his closest companion, the controlling and dominant Magnus Trent, is far too interested in Elisabet to be merely a friend.
As desire deepens and boundaries blur, the men offer her an unthinkable proposition: a future shared between three hearts. They insist it can work. That they can make her happy.
But secrets still linger in the shadows—and in a world governed by reputation and silence, the truth may cost them everything.
Prologue
South Africa 1903
How did a woman know her life was truly coming undone?
For me, it was the moment I found myself staring down at a mail-order advertisement by candlelight.
I wasn't even sure how we got here.
Well, that was a bald-faced lie, wasn't it? I knew exactly how it had happened.
The British invaded. Pa went off to fight even though both Ma and I had begged him to stay at home on the farm with us. Then, just as we got into the swing of things, got a handle on the farm, the animals and the planting, Ma had gotten the wasting disease, and I was forced to watch her wither away to nothing while we waited for news from Pa.
News that never came. Not from him anyway. We were informed, with a very stoic letter in the post, that he'd been shot and killed in the Battle of Rooiwal. Not long after I had to say goodbye to Ma, too. It was like she'd been holding on in hope that he'd return, and when those hopes were dashed, she'd given up.
Now I was faced with the harsh truth that I either had to take a husband from town, or pack up my life and roll the dice on some stranger who promised stability, and perhaps—ifheaven smiled kindly on me—something a bit more special than survival.
There was no way I was taking a husband from the pathetic boy-men that were still left in town. They didn't know their asshole from their elbows and were so full of spit and vinegar from losing the Boer War. So many of them were bitter and could focus on nothing other than their rebellions.
And as previously mentioned, they were nothing more than children. We'd lost so many good men.
The candle sputtered, filling the kitchen with a faint stink of smoke. I pressed my forehead against the table, the old wood scarred from years of use, Ma's bread-kneading, and my own restless doodles when I should have been doing sums. Now the house was too quiet.
I'd never hear Ma humming my favorite tunes, or Pa's boots scuffing along the floor when he came in for his lunch.
All that was left was me, a few pitiful animals, and crops that already looked like they were failing in the harsh summer sun.
Emotion bubbled inside my chest, the tears threatening to fall, even though I willed them away. There was no point in letting emotion get the best of me. Not now.
I stayed there, my head against the table for a moment, deep breathing as I made peace with my choice, before pulling closer a paper and pencil to write my reply to the advertisement that would shape my future. The pencil trembled in my fingers as I started crafting my response.
Each word was a gamble, a ticket out of despair or a step into a life I could not yet imagine. My heart thudded with fear, but beneath it, a small spark of hope stirred. For the first time since I had to bury Ma, I let myself imagine a future beyond this empty farm.
With that thought, I pressed the pencil harder against the paper, committing myself to a path I could never take back.
Chapter One
The carriage groaned as it rattled over the stones, every jolt driving through my spine after three endless days on the train and nearly another spent in this wretched seat. My body felt bruised from sitting still so long, my dress clinging with dust and sweat that no amount of fanning could keep at bay. The horses plodded on with steady, merciless rhythm, their hooves beating time to the ache in my temples.
Ilongedfor a wash, for clean sheets, fresh clothes... or really just anything familiar.
But I'd left all the familiar things behind me, on our small family farm. All I'd brought with me were my clothes, books, and the few letters I'd exchanged with my would-be husband. My fingers tightened in my skirts as the wheels jolted into a fresh rut. No matter the worries and anxieties coursing through me, there was little point in wasting any energy on it. It was too late to turn back now.
The carriage lurched to a halt so suddenly I caught myself on the worn leather seat, my stomach flipping as if I'd left part of myself behind on the road. For a moment, silence pressed in, broken only by the horses' heavy breaths and the faint jingle oftheir harness. The world seemed unnaturally still after so many days of motion.
