Page 17 of Wyoming Cowboy Undercover

She was... Wow.

Her eyes—a fierce electric blue that rivaled the color of a summer sky—found his for a moment that didn’t last nearly long enough before she looked away.

She stopped at a table filled with children and briefly said something that made them giggle. Others rose, who’d been seated nearby, and flocked to her. They congregated around Mercy, speaking hurriedly as they touched her shoulder or arm with warm, sympathetic smiles. They all seemed captivated by her, which was no surprise to Rocco.

Finally given a break, Mercy approached their table with a plate of food. Rocco stood, shifting his plate down one seat, and pulled out the chair for her next to her father.

“Thank you,” she said and then lowered her voice so only he could hear. “But please don’t do that again.”

He followed her gaze around the room. Everyone was staring at them.

Was being a gentleman frowned on, too?

After she sat, Marshall raised his palms.

As a collective, they said, “Thank you for the gift of this meal to sustain us. May it nourish our bodies and fuel our ability to make this a better world, so we may grow in the Light. We are grateful to embrace the movement in the pursuit of truth.”

Once their prayer was done, the community began eating and conversations resumed.

Marshall stood. “I have a glorious announcement. One I have long hoped to make. The Light has finally spoken to me on the matter, and the time has come for Mercy and Alex to open their hearts to one another and begin a courtship.”

Mercy’s expression fell, like a building razed to the ground by an implosion. She stared at her father, jaw unhinged, and then looked at Alex, who gave her a smile that was quite charming. If one was partial to rats.

Based on her grimace, she wasn’t.

This was the onesmallthing her father wanted in return for allowing Rocco to stay. He had to bite his tongue against a sudden surge of fury. He hated that he was being used as a tool to coerce her.

“This is not my will,” Marshall said. “But that of the Light. What say you, Alex?”

The rat’s grin spread wider, his eyes glittering. “So shall it be.”

“What say you, Mercy?” When she hesitated, her father added, “We do not get to pick and choose. All is done for the greater good. What say you?”

Somehow Mercy appeared furious and torn at the same time. Straightening her shoulders, she glanced around the dining hall, at all the members of her commune waiting for her answer. The tension in the room was thick as smog, but far more toxic.

The tight hold this community had on her was evident.

“So shall it be,” she said, lowering her head.

Raucous applause broke out in the hall along with cheers.

Marshall sat and clamped a hand on her forearm. “Have faith in the process. Many happy, successful unions have been made this way.”

“You mean by forcing people together,” Rocco said.

Marshall pulled on a pleasant expression that looked practiced. “In the US, the divorce rate is 50 percent. While over half the marriages worldwide are arranged and have a divorce rate of only four percent. In thirty years, out of all the unions I’ve put together, ninety-nine percent have thrived.”

Regardless of his statistics, her father neglected to mention that sometimes “arranged” was merely a veneer, hiding abuse in the name of tradition. Oftentimes in developing countries access to divorce was limited and many women found themselves trapped.

The truth behind the impressive percentages didn’t discourage Marshall from giving his daughter a gentle smile. “Sometimes the heart requires a nudge of encouragement to open to the right person. It’s easy to be tempted by the devil.” He threw a furtive glance at Rocco. “But we are stewards of a higher power.”

“Yes,” she said, nodding. “I understand.”

A litany of questions flew through Rocco’s mind about how this courtship process worked and whether it implied there’d be an engagement, but he’d have to wait until he could speak with Mercy alone. Not that she was anything more to him than an asset. Still, no one deserved to be ramrodded into dating someone, much less marrying them, especially if it was with slimy-looking Alex.

“After dinner, Rocco,” Marshall said, “Shawn will take you to one of the bunkhouses for novices to get you settled in.” He gestured to a security guard at the table he’d been introduced to earlier.

Mercy stiffened. “I’d like to show him around the compound and take him over.”

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