The Substitute Bride. Janet DeanЧитать онлайн книгу.
would be totally alone?
Ted had made no move to touch her, other than to help her from the wagon and a polite offer of his arm. Still, they’d signed a marriage license. And surely he’d noticed that baffling attraction between them at the café.
She wrung her hands in her lap while the pie and noodles waged war in her stomach. He’d better keep his distance. They’d only scarcely met.
Desperate to end the silence between them, she said, “I don’t mean to criticize, but Mr. Sorenson’s ledger could use some organizing.”
“Sorenson has a heart of gold, not a head for bookkeeping. He asks me for advice, but can’t seem to implement it. Sometimes I think the store is too much for him.”
Elizabeth’s heart skipped a beat. Could this be the solution for earning the money to bring Robby to New Harmony?
“We’re not far from my place.” In the gloom, Ted’s deep voice made her jump. “Sorry, did I scare you?”
“I don’t frighten that easily.”
“Me, either,” he promised.
She stiffened. “You should be scared, at least of me.”
“Oh, I thought you only had a teeny temper. I’m not afraid of that.” He chuckled. “Appears my wife’s the timid one.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.” He tipped a finger under her chin for a brief, heart-stopping moment and then went back to the reins. “I don’t see any other wives around, do you?”
“Well, maybe I am, a little.”
He laughed. “Thank goodness, because I’m terrified of you.”
Laughter burst out of her into the clear night air. For the first time in ages she felt more in control of her situation.
She cocked her head at her new husband. “You’re a handsome man, Ted Logan. And from what I’ve seen of New Harmony, probably the most eligible male in town.”
Eligible for Chicago, too. Anywhere. But she wouldn’t tell him that.
He looked mildly uncomfortable with her appraisal. “I’m a married man, remember?”
As if she could forget.
“Why would you advertise for a wife when I suspect you could’ve had Agnes, probably a number of other women, too, by simply saying the word?”
He cleared his throat. “I thought it better to marry for convenience rather than marry someone who’d expect love.”
Obviously Ted held no illusions that this marriage would lead to love. Good. Love wasn’t her goal, either. She only wanted a happy home for Robby.
“Would you be marrying anyone if you didn’t have two children to care for?”
The reins hung limp in his hands. “No.”
“That makes you as desperate as I am.”
He flashed some teeth, pearly white in his tan face. “Reckon so. So why did you decide to take Sally’s place?”
That quickly Ted gained the upper hand. Unaccustomed to feeling out of control with beaux, too young, too old or too self-absorbed to be taken seriously, Elizabeth’s brow puckered.
“I came to Iowa to…” She took in a deep breath. “To get away from a marriage my father arranged…to a much older man, a man I couldn’t stomach marrying.”
“Why would your father insist you marry someone like that?”
“Money. The man’s rich.” She sighed. “So I ran.”
“Into marriage with me. Guess I should be flattered you consider me the lesser of two evils.”
“To be honest, I’d planned to find a job here, not a husband. But one look at the town destroyed that strategy.”
He chuckled. “No danger of getting a swelled head with you around. Not sure I’ve ever met a female like you.”
Ted’s tone held a hint of awe. Did he understand the tedium of propriety, the yearning for something she couldn’t name? “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
He reached across the space between them and brushed a tendril of hair off her neck. “You know, Mrs. Logan, this marriage might just be fun.”
His wife scooted about as far from Ted as she could get without tumbling from the wagon. Not a typical bride. But then not a typical wedding, either.
He stood over six foot tall. Hard work had broadened his shoulders and strengthened the muscles in his arms, an ox of a man, some people said. Was she afraid of him?
Well, if so, she needn’t worry. He was far more afraid of this slip of a woman from Chicago. If she smelled any sweeter, he’d need to sleep in the barn instead of the children’s room, his plan for tonight.
The decision made, he felt an odd sense of relief. Elizabeth might be his wife, but she was a stranger. A charming stranger at that. She made him laugh, something he hadn’t done in far too long. And as now, he could barely tear his gaze away from the curve of her neck, her tiny waist—
“What happened to your wife?”
Her question doused his interest like a glass of cold water in his face. “Rose died of nephritis.” He tightened his hold on the reins. “Her kidneys began shutting down after Henry’s birth.”
“I’m sorry.”
Nodding an acknowledgment, he turned the horses into the lane leading up to the house, relieved to reach his farm. And avoid the topic of his deceased wife.
As they bounced over the ruts, he remembered his citified wife’s complaints about the condition of New Harmony’s streets. He made a mental note to haul rocks from the creek to level the surface after he’d finished planting.
The road curved around to the back of his house. They passed the garden plot. In the barnyard, he stopped the horses and set the brake. Tippy bounced into view, barking. Ted climbed down and gave the dog a pat.
Night was falling, putting the farm in shadow, but Ted knew every building, fence and pasture. He’d earned all this off others’ pain. A straight flush had paid for the house, a full house repaired his barn and a four of a kind had bought his livestock.
Yep, the best poker player on the Mississippi, that had been him. Not that he’d planned on being “Hold ’Em” Logan when he’d joined the crew of that riverboat.
He’d seen men die over a game of cards, women toss their hearts after gamblers who loved their whiskey and the hand they held more than any female. He’d watched men and women lose everything they owned. Not a decent life. A life he now detested.
He’d started over here. Put his mark on this land. Everywhere he looked he saw evidence of his hard work, his daily penance for his past.
Shaking off his dreary thoughts, Ted walked to Elizabeth’s side. Even in the dim light she looked tired, worn to a frazzle, as his mother would’ve said. He encircled her waist with his hands and she laid a gentle hand on his shoulder for balance. Light in his arms, she surely needed fattening up if she hoped to handle the chores. Her hand fell away and he quickly released her. A strange sense of emptiness left him unsteady on his feet. Must be the strain of this eventful day.
Elizabeth bent and ran a hand along his dog’s shaggy back. His white-tipped tail wagged a greeting.
“Tippy is gentle as a lamb,” Ted said, “and the best sheepdog in these parts.”
While Elizabeth got acquainted with Tippy, Ted retrieved their purchases from the back of the wagon. When he returned to her side, she gave the dog one final pat, like she’d met a good friend and didn’t want to say goodbye.
“Go on in. The door’s