The Borrowed Bride. Elizabeth Lane

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      She squirmed on the wooden stool, her thoughts flying even faster than her mother’s hands. How would Mary know Judd was coming unless she’d spoken with him? And what could he want, if his visit wasn’t about buying land?

      Her heart dropped. What if something had happened to Quint? What if the family had gotten word, and Judd was coming to break the news?

      She was working up the courage to ask when three light raps on the door galvanized everyone’s attention. The brush stilled in Hannah’s hair. Soren started from his nap.

      It was Annie who flew across the floor to answer the knock. She flung the door open. Lamplight spilled onto the porch to reveal Judd standing on the threshold. He was dressed in a clean chambray shirt and a light woolen vest. His face was freshly shaved, his hair still wet from combing.

      He had the look and manner of a prisoner facing execution.

      “Good evening, Judd.” Annie spoke politely but with a hint of flirtation in her voice. “Have you come to see my parents? They’re both here, and they’re expecting you.”

      Judd shifted his feet. His riding boots gleamed with fresh polish. “Good evening, Mr. Gustavson, Mrs. Gustavson. Actually it’s not you I’ve come to see. I’d like your permission to speak with Hannah—alone.”

       Chapter Three

      “Go on, Hannah. You and Judd can talk on the porch.” Mary Gustavson prodded her daughter with the end of the hairbrush. Hannah came forward as if she were being dragged by invisible chains. Her blue eyes were wide and frightened. How much had her mother told her? Judd wondered. Did she know what he’d come for?

      Maybe he was making a ghastly mistake.

      Judd felt his mouth go dry as he watched her. He’d always thought of Quint’s girl as pretty, in a wholesome, apple-cheeked sort of way. But he’d never seen her like this, with lamplight falling on her glorious hair, framing her face in a halo of gold. Even in her faded gingham dress, Hannah was beautiful.

      Lord, what was he thinking? Even poor and pregnant, this girl could have suitors fighting to marry her. Why should she accept a man like him, even to give her child the Seavers name?

      “Good evening, Judd.” Her voice barely rose above a whisper.

      Judd swallowed the knot in his throat. “Let’s go outside, Hannah,” he murmured, offering his arm.

      She hesitated, then laid her hand on his sleeve. Her touch was as weightless as dandelion fluff, but he could feel the warmth of her flesh through the thin fabric. The contact sent an unexpected—and unwelcome—jab of heat to his loins. Judd swore silently. This was going to be awkward as hell.

      They crossed the moonlit porch. As they reached the steps, she cleared her throat and spoke.

      “What is it, Judd? Has something happened to Quint? Is that what you’ve come to tell me?”

      “No.” He shook his head, thinking how much his arrival must have worried her. “Nothing’s happened. Not that we know of, at least. We haven’t heard from Quint since he left.”

      “Neither have I.” She moved down the steps and into the yard. Her mother had suggested they talk on the porch, but Hannah appeared too restless to settle in one spot. Judd was restless, too.

      “Do you think he’s all right?” she asked.

      “We have to hope he is. Alaska’s a big, wild place. If Quint’s out in the goldfields, there’d be no way for him to mail a letter, or to get one.”

      “I’ve written to him every week.” Her voice quivered as if she were on the verge of tears.

      “So has our mother. And I’ve written a few times myself. He’ll have a heap of letters waiting for him when he gets back to Skagway.”

      They walked a few steps in silence, wandering out toward the corral where the two poor-looking cows drowsed under the eave of the milk shed. Hannah had taken her hand away from his sleeve. She walked with her arms clasped around her ribs, as if protecting herself.

      “You said you wanted to talk to me, Judd.”

      “Yes.” Lord, this would be one of the hardest things he’d ever done. “I want to make you an offer, Hannah. You may not think much of it, but hear me out.”

      She turned to face him. “I’m listening. Just tell me.”

      “All right.” Judd sucked in his breath, forcing himself to meet her questioning gaze. “Your mother paid us a visit today. She told us about your baby.”

      Hannah reeled as if she’d been kicked in the stomach. She caught the corral fence with one hand, feeling slightly ill. She’d wanted to keep the baby a secret for as long as possible. But her mother had shared that secret with the last two people she’d have chosen to tell.

      “You don’t have to convince me the baby’s Quint’s,” Judd said. “Seeing the two of you together for so long, I’ve no doubt of that. The question is, what do we do now?”

      “We?” Hannah gulped. “Since when did this become your problem, Judd?”

      “Since I found out you were carrying my brother’s child—my own flesh and blood.”

      Oh, blast, he was going to make her cry. Hannah steeled her emotions. “I’ve written to Quint about the baby,” she said. “I’ve written again and again. Surely, once he gets word, he’ll catch the next boat home.”

      “But when will he get word? And how soon will he be able to get back? If he’s still in the Klondike when winter comes, he might not make it out till spring.”

      Hannah’s heart sank. “The baby could be born before Quint comes home.”

      “Without a proper father and without a legal name.”

      A nighthawk swooped through the darkness, moonlight flashing on its white-barred wings. The horse Judd had tied to the fence shifted in the darkness. Hannah gazed up at Quint’s taciturn brother, a man ten years her senior. She’d known him all her life, yet scarcely knew him at all. Surely he hadn’t meant what had just popped into her head.

      No, of course not.

      “I’m offering to marry you, Hannah,” Judd was talking fast now, pouring out more words than Hannah had ever heard from him at one time. “It wouldn’t be a real marriage, of course. Not in the physical sense. But it would be legal. It would give your child the Seavers name and the right to inherit Quint’s share of the estate one day. And it would hush up the gossip that’s bound to start before long.

      “Not entirely. People can count.” Hannah responded from a well of stunned silence.

      “They can and they will. But you’d be a Seavers. A married woman. And you’d have me to defend your honor.”

      A married woman.

      Judd’s wife.

      Hannah’s legs had gone СКАЧАТЬ