His Substitute Wife. Dorothy Clark

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ

      He fingered the ring, forced out words. “That’s where Pastor Karl lives. He’s waiting to perform the ceremony that would have made your sister and me man and wife.” Bitterness swelled, drove him on. He pulled his hand from his pocket and looked down at her. “There is no place you can stay in Whisper Creek but upstairs in the living quarters with me, so be absolutely certain you want to do this, Audrey. We will have to marry immediately. There will be no opportunity for you to change your mind.” Like your sister. He waited for her answer, his jaw set, the vein at his temple drumming.

      “I’ve had days to think about this plan, Blake. I’ve thought of nothing else since I read your letter and boarded the train in New York. I’ll not change my mind.”

      Her voice was soft and steady. There was determination in the lift of her chin. He dipped his head in curt acceptance. “There’s one thing more. We will have to play the part of loving newlyweds in front of others. If Mr. Ferndale were to discover that the marriage is a pretense it might void the contract and your...kindness will have been in vain.” Her eyes widened, her posture stiffened. Clearly, she had not realized what her offer entailed. But he understood. He reached for her satchel to walk her back to the station.

      “I understand. I shall do my best.”

      He straightened, looked at her. It should have been Linda standing there—rushing into his arms... “Look, Audrey—”

      “I’m not going home, Blake.” Her hazel eyes bored straight into his. “Not until you have solved the problem Linda has caused you with the store.”

      The resolve in her eyes, her stiff posture—everything said she meant it. Well, he’d given her every chance to stop this foolish plan and go home. And she was right—marrying her was the only way to save his investment and not walk away from the store penniless. At least he would salvage something from the ruins of his hopes and plans for the future. And what did the marriage matter? The farce would be over soon enough. He’d think of something. “Very well, then.” He ignored the sickening ache in his chest, pushed her satchel aside and opened the door. “Let’s go. I don’t want to keep Pastor Karl waiting. And, remember...we’re supposed to be in love.”

      * * *

      May the Lord bless your union with many years of health and happiness.

      The pastor’s parting words echoed in her mind with every step she took back to the store. Audrey stole a quick glance at Blake through her lowered lashes and wished she could say or do something that would ease his tension. But that was unlikely as she was the cause of that tension. She took a breath and glanced down at his hand holding her elbow, grateful for its support as she forced her shaky legs to climb the steps to the porch.

      Blake released her elbow, led her inside and picked up her satchel. “This way.”

      His voice sounded as if his throat had gravel in it. Her heart squeezed. How horrible for him to have had to endure that marriage ceremony with her when he’d just learned the woman he loved had wed another. She remembered the raw hurt when John had cast her aside to make an advantageous marriage. She bit back words of apology and commiseration and followed Blake into the dark interior. Sympathy would do no good. Words could not ease the pain of an aching heart.

      She stole another glance at Blake, but the store was too dark and shadowed to see clearly. He led her through a door at the back into another, smaller room, his footsteps and the rustle of her skirt loud in the silence. How much effort it must have cost him to pretend to be a happy bridegroom when he was suffering from her sister’s betrayal. What inner strength he had! Even she hadn’t detected his hidden emotions until the pastor pronounced them man and wife, and he’d kissed her.

      She raised her hand and touched her fingertips to her tender lips. Thankfully, the pastor had interpreted Blake’s vehemence as love, not anger. Tears stung the backs of her eyes. How he must have hated being forced to kiss her, to pretend—

      “Wait a moment until I light the lamp, Audrey. It’s not safe for you to climb the stairs in this dim light.”

      She blinked the tears away and squared her shoulders. A match flared. Blake lifted the globe of a hanging lamp and touched the match to its wick. Light spread over the area and highlighted the taut features of his face. She looked up the open stairs into a soft circle of light at the top. The home he’d meant to share with Linda was up there. Her breath shortened. Oh, Lord, what have I done? This is madness! I can’t—

      “Do you want me to go first?”

      Blake’s strained voice snapped her thoughts back to him. Her discomfort was nothing compared to the turmoil of emotions he had to be experiencing. She shook her head, gripped the railing and started to climb.

      The stairs led to a U-shaped interior hall lit by a pewter oil lamp sitting on a shelf centered between two doorways in the wall they faced. Blake gestured toward the door on the left. “That’s the sitting room. You’ll find it sparsely furnished. I thought—” He stopped, stood beside the door for her to precede him.

      He’s thinking about what was to have been. Talk about things! Distract him. She stepped into the dark room and swept her gaze over the furnishings: lamp stands, a chest, two armchairs with cushions facing a settee. Light from the hall lamp shone on the padded arm. Blue damask. Linda’s favorite color. She looked at Blake and forced out words. “It’s lovely. And more than sufficient.”

      He nodded, and she followed him back out into the hall, glanced toward a door he indicated on their right. “That’s my office.” He swept his hand toward a door at the end of the short hallway. “And a bedroom.”

      She drew a breath, found a bit of courage and spoke before it fled. “Is that where I—”

      “No. The room is empty but for a cot. I’ll sleep there.”

      She started to protest, noticed his taut face and kept quiet.

      Lamplight gleamed on Blake’s dark hair and broad shoulders as he walked past the stairwell and gestured toward that second open doorway now on their left. “That’s the kitchen.”

      She glanced into the dark room. The light from the hall gleamed on the polished wood of a dining table surrounded by Hitchcock chairs. It was all she could see in the quick glimpse. She stifled a wish to look around the kitchen and hurried after Blake, almost bumping into his back when he stopped at the door centered in the short hall at the right of the stairs that formed the second arm of the U.

      “This is the dressing room. You’ll find everything you need in it—piped-in water, a bathing tub...” That muscle along his jaw jumped. “Towels and other necessities—soaps and creams and such—are in a cupboard.”

      All bought for Linda. Her stomach flopped. She couldn’t—

      “I’ll light the lamp.” He did so quickly then stepped back out into the hall and opened the door across from the kitchen at the end of the short hall. “This is where you will sleep. You can hang your gowns in here.” He yanked open a door on a cavernous wardrobe, set her satchel down, strode to a nightstand beside a four-poster and lit the lamp. Golden light glittered on a small heart-shaped silver box, spilled onto a beautiful blue-and-white woven coverlet on the bed.

      Her gaze froze on the heart-shaped silver box and the thumb of her left hand turned inward, touched the ring on her finger—Linda’s ring. She lifted her gaze to Blake’s rigid back, remembered the tremor that had shook his hand when he’d СКАЧАТЬ