Mail-Order Christmas Brides Boxed Set. Jillian Hart

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СКАЧАТЬ hope on the darkest winter night, like starlight in a cold Christmas sky. She took another sip of tea, swallowing the hot liquid blindly, ignoring the scald. How could she not love the man who loved her son?

      “Well, I’d better go.” Cole stood, lost in the shadows again. He moved in the darkness, a shadowed line of his shoulder, a curve of his capable hand. “Like I said, be sure and take what you need from the store, for you, the boy or the house. I expect you to make the place your home, any way you want. Amelia made an appointment for you at Cora’s dress shop tomorrow.”

      “Oh, for the wedding dress.” She thought of the slate, of the girl’s hopes written out in a tidy, organized list. Quite extravagant, but now she understood. As George had longed for a father, as Cole had longed for a son, so Amelia had yearned for a mother and a wedding to celebrate it. “Of course. Anything Amelia wants.”

      “Within reason.” Cole’s firm tone held warmth, too. “No sledding in town. No horse riding. No Stetson. She keeps threatening to trade in her sunbonnet for one.”

      “I’ll do my best.” Mercy set the cup aside and rose, too, trailing after him to the door. The affection she felt for him seemed to keep expanding, growing beyond all bounds. She prayed she could keep it secret from him, to be the wife he wanted and deserved. “I’m worried about what Amelia wants for my wedding dress versus what you can afford.”

      “I’ve already spoken to Cora about that.” The door whispered open and he stood in the darkness before it, towering over her, close.

      So close.

      Her skin tingled sweetly, as if a mellow summer breeze had blown over her. She lifted her chin and swallowed, praying her feelings didn’t show in her voice. “Good. I’ve never been dress shopping in a store before. Growing up, Ma always made our clothes and so I’ve always made mine.”

      “How old is that dress you’re wearing?” he asked, his tone firm and caring at the same time.

      “I sewed it when Timothy was alive.” The last time she’d been able to afford fabric for a new dress.

      “That’s been a long while,” he commented. “At least four years.”

      “Five, but it’s quite serviceable. It still has another good year left. Maybe more.”

      “Sorry, that’s not going to happen.” He gave a soft bark of surprised laughter. He couldn’t believe this woman. She thought of the children before herself. She really didn’t realize that he’d wanted to better her life, too, not only Amelia’s and George’s, when he’d written his proposal. Something about her had hooked him. Now he knew what. “I told Cora you need more than a wedding dress. You need a new wardrobe.”

      “Oh, no. Absolutely not.” She sounded scandalized, horrified. “That would be a terrible expense.”

      “It’s mine to pay,” he reminded her. “Remember my second rule?”

      “Oh, yes, the budget. How is this living on a budget? It’s too extravagant.” She truly sounded distressed. The reaches of the lamplight strained to find her, to highlight the golden glints in her hair, to caress the curve of her face. Crinkles dug into her forehead as she gazed up at him. “No, that makes no sense. I told you in our correspondence. I don’t need anything. I’m not the one in need.”

      He begged to differ. He looked at her and saw all kinds of need. The need for her son, for a home, for family and for love. That was the one that stabbed at him, that cut like a blade. It was the one thing he could not give her. The one thing he did not have to give.

      It saddened him greatly, because he wanted so much for her, for this woman who’d given him a son and who’d made his daughter happy. He still could hold on to the hope that she’d help mold Amelia into an acceptably behaved daughter. After all, a man had to hold on to something.

      “It doesn’t matter,” he told her, his chest hurting so stridently it was as if he’d been kicked in the ribs by seven wild horses. “I’m the head of the household. I’m the man. What I say goes. You’ll get new dresses. End of story.”

      “I thought we agreed not to boss each other around?” Amusement tugged her pretty mouth upward, and there was a hint of challenge in her eyes.

      He liked this woman. Very much. “Sure, we agreed to that, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m in charge. On this matter, you need to do what I say.”

      “Buy myself dresses I don’t need?” Her amusement faded; the challenge remained. Her delicately carved chin hiked up another notch. “I’m not in need.”

      “Yes, you are.” She’d been struggling in poverty for too long and that was over. The overwhelming need to take care of her, too, rushed through him like a flash flood, knocking down some of the barriers he’d had up for years. Thankfully some of his defenses stayed standing, the iron-strong ones, the ones closest to his heart. “You will be a store owner’s wife, and how you dress reflects on me. You need to look the part.”

      “You’re just saying that. I don’t believe you mean it.” Her chin dipped, as if she, too, could look inside him and see the truth.

      His fingers reached out on their own accord to curl around her delicate chin. Her skin felt warm and silken-soft as he nudged her chin up so their eyes could meet. She was a woman of pride. He saw that, and he saw, too, what his gesture meant to her. No more patched dresses, faded from years of washing. No more quiet desperation struggling to make basic ends meet. They were a team, meant to help each other.

      “I mean it,” he told her, pretending to be tough when he was crumbling. His ribs felt broken, his internal organs ripped and bleeding. How could feelings hurt so much? “I won’t go around town overhearing folks talking about how ragged my wife’s clothes are. I deserve better than that.”

      “So, buying new things is a wifely duty?”

      “Yes. Glad you understand me.” His throat closed up, overcome by the cracking pain inside him. He hated the emptiness he felt within, the void of his lost heart, the one that Alice and their son had taken with them when they’d passed. With no hope of getting it back, he felt like a failure, feared the disappointment to come. But did that stop him from leaning forward? No, not one bit. His lips brushed her forehead with the faintest touch. He breathed in her rose and soap scent, and the emptiness inside him throbbed like an open wound.

      That kiss was a mistake. Reaching out to her at all was a mistake. Ashamed of himself, of what he’d done, he turned away and strode out the door. What was she expecting now? That there might be more kisses in their future, more closeness, even love? He winced, knowing he would fail her. He had nothing to give to her.

      “Good night, Cole.” She broke the silence, sounding practical, like the woman from the letters he’d come to trust. As if she knew his heart, her voice consoled. “I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to spending your money tomorrow.”

      A joke. That helped, he thought, feeling the pain within him ease. He managed a grin as he caught hold of the doorknob, crossing over the threshold. “Now I’m actually feeling like a married man.”

      “Excellent practice for the real thing,” she teased back.

      “Wait, I’m thinking about changing my mind.” He winked, but it was too dark for her to see or to realize he was telling the truth. Like a wounded man, he headed СКАЧАТЬ