A Bride of Convenience

by Jody Hedlund

  “I never meant for it to happen and am ashamed that it did.”

  “Have you wanted to kiss her again?”

  “I wouldn’t be honest if I told you I’ve never struggled with my thoughts.”

  Zoe frowned and crossed her arms. “Then you still think about her?”

  “Of course not. Not since I married you.”

  “Not even when she displays herself so wantonly?”

  “No. You’re the only one I think about.” At his admission, the flush returned to his face, and he had the urge to slink outside to hide and cool off.

  Zoe’s frown faded, but the uncertainty remained. “What kinds of thoughts do you have about me?”

  “All kinds.”

  “Good kinds or bad kinds?”

  “Definitely good.” Suddenly hot and near to perspiring, he shrugged out of his coat and tossed it over the chair. He was too embarrassed to admit even to himself some of the fantasies about her that filled his dreams.

  Her brow furrowed as she moved toward his coat, lifted it from the chair, and then stepped next to him to hang it on the peg on the back of the door.

  “Zoe, don’t worry.” He was tempted to reach for her but held himself at bay. “You’re a kind and loving woman. And I hold you in the highest esteem.”

  She pressed her hands against her hips. “Are you more attracted to me than Wanda?”

  Her hands emphasized her slender waist, which only served to draw his attention first there, then up to her gentle curves, her graceful neck, and her determined chin, and finally her deep rose–colored lips. Lips he wanted to feel again.

  When his eyes met hers, he hoped she could read the answer there. But just in case she couldn’t, he pushed past his bashfulness and swallowed his reservations. “She can’t compare to you, Zoe.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.” He couldn’t keep from admiring her features again.

  Her lips pulled into the beginning of a smile. “And my kiss? Was it better than Wanda’s?”

  “By far,” he whispered, his voice turning low and reflecting his desire.

  Her smile rose and gave way to dimples. “You should have said you think it was better but that you need to try it again just to be sure.”

  At her suggestion, his insides tumbled wildly together. Did she want to kiss again?

  She didn’t move or take the initiative as she’d done outside. Instead, she peered up at him expectantly.

  “You’re right.” He tried to make his voice light and teasing, when all he wanted to do was gather her up in his arms and kiss her the rest of the day. “I do think I need to try again. As long as you’re agreeable.”

  She took a step closer. “Aye, perhaps a little practice will help make it better?”

  He couldn’t contain himself a moment longer. He reached for her waist and drew her toward him.

  She didn’t resist, her attention drawn to his mouth. The desire that flared in her eyes set his blood afire.

  “Only a little practice?” He bent in and pressed his cheek to hers, relishing the softness of her skin, the warmth of her body, and the catch of her breath, which told him she was feeling every nuance of their encounter as much as he was.

  “Perhaps we do need a good deal of practice.” She brushed her lips along his jaw.

  The touch was enough to drive him to insanity. He angled down and found her mouth, covering her and fusing them together with such force that he lost himself. For an endless moment, he kissed her, driven forward by her answering kisses, kisses filled with as much fervor as his own.

  She didn’t protest when he finally drew her body against his. At the sweet pressure, he would have moaned except he was too consumed with meeting her passionate kisses with his own.

  All he could think about was heaven, that having Zoe in his arms and kissing her this way was as if he’d been given a piece of heaven on earth. He’d never imagined, not even in his dreams, that he’d experience such passion with his wife, such enjoyment, such pleasure. And this was only kissing. What would the rest be like?

  He had a sudden pulsing need to sweep her off her feet, carry her to their bed, and let this passion take them where it would. But another part of him hesitated, reminding him of all the reasons he needed to wait. It was too soon, and he couldn’t let himself be distracted by his physical desires. He couldn’t chance having a baby. He couldn’t compromise his ministry. He couldn’t get distracted by other things, not after vowing to the bishop nothing would change.

  He slid his hands up her arms to her neck, moving freely and boldly. Already he was locked away in the cabin kissing her when he should be out with his hockey team, ministering to them.

  A knocking at the door made him jump and release her at the same time. She let go of him too and backed away, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her face flushed, her lips swollen.

  He wanted to ignore whoever was on the other side of the door, reach out and draw her back into his embrace, and continue kissing her. If they were quiet for a minute, whoever had come would eventually go away and they’d be left alone, except for Violet, who was content at the moment with her bottle.

  He met Zoe’s gaze. As if having the same idea, she pressed a finger against her lips, cautioning him to be quiet and wait for the visitor to depart. The knock sounded again, louder.

  He shook his head, hoping Zoe would forgive him for this interruption. He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t home. What if someone was in dire need? What if he lost an opportunity to share the gospel?

  He quickly combed his fingers through his hair and then lifted the handle. As he swung the door wide, Zoe started toward the bed and Violet.

  “Mr. Merivale.” At the sight of Bishop Hills’s rotund figure and terse smile, Abe’s heart dropped. The bishop was the last person Abe wanted to see. With the imminent approach of spring and the plans to start the construction of the church, Abe had hoped to get the project well underway before the bishop made a visit.

  Apparently he was to have no such luck. The bishop must have been aboard one of the steamships that docked today.

  The bishop peered past him into the cabin, taking in Zoe, who’d picked up Violet and was helping her drink the last of the milk in her bottle.

  The bishop’s attention returned to Abe, his eyes narrowing on Abe’s shirt, which had somehow come untucked. Perhaps during the hockey game? Certainly not while he was kissing Zoe.

  Heat saturated Abe’s face, and he fumbled to stuff his shirttail back into his trousers.

  “I do hope I’m not disturbing you, Mr. Merivale. With the late afternoon hour, I was rather surprised to hear you’d been engaged in a game of hockey. And I was even more surprised to learn that after the shenanigans you went directly home rather than attending to your duties as minister.”

  A fresh wave of guilt buffeted Abe. “The hockey is simply a way to build relationships with the men. And, of course, the healthy activity keeps them out of the taverns and out of trouble.”

  “Yes, Mr. Merivale.” The bishop walked past Abe into the cabin. “So you’ve told me many times. But your methods are highly questionable as are the results.”

  Zoe cradled Violet. With her rosy cheeks and mussed hair, she looked as though she’d just been kissed. And Abe squirmed at the realization of how this all appeared to the bishop.

  “Your Grace, may I introduce you to my wife, Zoe?” His mind scrambled to find a reasonable way to explain what he and Zoe had been doing before the bishop’s arrival, but the more he thought about the passionate kissing, the more he squirmed.

  “Perhaps you could have introduced me sooner, before you ran out of town.”

  “I’m sorry, Your Grace. Under the circumstances, I thought it best to leave Victoria as quickly as possible.”

  “Under the circumstances indeed.” The bishop pursed his lips, letting Abe know he was well aware of his brawl with Dexter Dawson.

  “Pleased to meet you, sir
,” Zoe interjected. “Would you like some tea?”

  The bishop squinted at Zoe, scrutinizing her as though he was deciding whether she deserved the title of minister’s wife. “Very well, Mrs. Merivale. I do require a generous dollop of honey in my tea, if you would.”

  The bishop pulled out a chair and sat down, giving Abe no choice but to close the door and face whatever might come his way.

  twenty-five

  Zoe placed a steaming cup of tea on the table for the bishop and one in front of Abe before returning to the bed and picking up Violet.

  The bishop hadn’t been in their home for more than five minutes and already Zoe was ready for him to leave. She didn’t feel that way about too many other people who came to visit, not even some of the loud and brash miners who smelled as though they’d bathed in rum. At least those fellas accepted her.

  The bishop, on the other hand, was watching her like she was a bug on the wall that he’d like to either squash or toss outside. He probably didn’t think she was worthy of a man like Abe. Maybe Bishop Hills had known Lizzy and wished Abe had found someone more like her. Or maybe he was comparing her to his own wife and seeing nothing but shortcomings.

  As the bishop sipped his tea, he questioned Abe about his endeavors in Yale. For all the many things that Abe did every day to love the people in the community, the bishop only seemed to point out Abe’s faults.

  The longer the two conversed, the lower Abe’s shoulders sank, until Zoe wanted to step forward and speak her mind. Before she could formulate the words to defend Abe, the bishop changed the subject to the church construction plans. But as before, the bishop found fault with Abe’s ideas at every turn.

  Finally, Zoe couldn’t stand in the room’s shadows any longer.

  “Your Grace, pardon me for saying so”—she stepped up to the table and poured more tea in the bishop’s cup—“but Abe’s doing lots of good here in Yale. The people here love and respect him because of how much he cares for them.”

  Once the words were out, she realized she sounded unpolished and uneducated, much like the people who lived in the community. But she squared her shoulders and met the bishop’s gaze anyway.

  The older gentleman sat straighter, his cup poised halfway to his mouth.

  “If anyone needs something, Abe’s always there willing to lend a hand. Just yesterday he helped rebuild one of the homes damaged in the recent fire in—”

  “Thank you for the kind words, Zoe,” Abe said hurriedly. “But the bishop and I have different perspectives on how a minister should fill his spare time.”

  From the furrow in Abe’s brow, Zoe sensed she wasn’t helping matters. Even so, she felt as though she needed to defend him. “Abe fits right in with the people here, never putting on any airs, and they love him for it.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Merivale.” The bishop’s voice contained annoyance rather than gratitude. “However, as this concerns matters far above your reasoning and understanding, you should stick with the tasks to which you are suited—taking care of your home. And, of course, the infant.”

  Violet, who was in the midst of gnawing her fist on the bed, stopped and babbled, as if voicing her concerns too. If the bishop hadn’t been there, Zoe would have remarked on it to Abe, and they likely would have shared a laugh.

  “Speaking of the native infant.” Bishop Hills eyed the child with undisguised disdain. “Mr. Merivale, I hope you are making good efforts at locating a permanent home among the natives as I instructed you to do.”

  Zoe’s spine stiffened. “Violet lives with us. She’s our child now.”

  “This is only a temporary arrangement.” The bishop waved his hand at the cabin interior. “I was quite clear about that during my last meeting with Mr. Merivale.”

  “You’re mistaken, Your Grace. Abe and I are keeping Violet and raising her.” After the past weeks of living in Yale, Zoe had almost begun to forget Violet wasn’t her flesh and blood. She loved the little girl. And Abe had grown attached too. He couldn’t deny it. Surely he wasn’t planning to find a new home for Violet.

  “Bishop Hills, I realize you consider our arrangement with the baby unnatural.” Abe’s expression was grave, which only made Zoe’s heart pound harder. “However, as you can see, we’re having no trouble caring for Violet. She fits right into our family. Moreover, the people here in Yale have been very accepting of her.”

  “The people here may be accepting, as they are mostly of a baser nature. What about your parish in Yorkshire? I doubt your parishioners there will be so indulgent.”

  “Surely they will love Violet as one of God’s little children,” Abe said, but his voice lacked confidence.

  “You will not be able to take the child with you,” the bishop insisted. “She might fit in here in the colony, but she most certainly will be an anomaly in England. Most people wouldn’t be able to accept her as your child and would likely shun you as a result. The matter would most surely cause a great deal of scandal.”

  Zoe hugged Violet closer. “I don’t care what people think.”

  “You may not care, Mrs. Merivale. But Mr. Merivale could very well bring disgrace to himself and the church. And as a result would find himself without a parish and ruin his chances for any advancement. If your husband’s well-being isn’t enough, then think of the child having to grow up in such an environment. She would be ostracized and ridiculed and would never fit into society.”

  The bishop’s words cut off any further protest Zoe could offer. The bishop was right. Violet would be an oddity in England. Wherever she went, people would stop to stare or whisper. What kind of life would that be for Violet?

  Abe watched Zoe with somber eyes.

  “We’ll stay here,” Zoe stated. “We don’t have to leave and go back to England.” Even though Abe had informed her of his intentions, she’d secretly been hoping that when his assignment came to an end, he wouldn’t want to leave, that he’d stay. Now, with the difficulty in taking Violet with them, this would make their decision easier, wouldn’t it?

  “Mr. Merivale most certainly cannot remain here in the colonies if he wishes to be chosen as a bishop. He knows his service here is merely a stepping stone for greater work within the church.”

  A stepping stone for greater work? Zoe couldn’t contradict the bishop. Abe’s compassion and energy were boundless. He was already doing great things for the Lord, and she had no doubt he would do even more once he became a bishop.

  Abe bent his head and closed his eyes, and Zoe guessed he was either discouraged by the turn of the conversation or he was praying. Or perhaps both.

  “That is precisely the point I have been attempting to emphasize, Mr. Merivale,” the bishop continued sternly. “You must always consider future implications. Your hasty wedding and your poor choice of a marriage partner have already placed your chances at becoming a bishop in jeopardy. As such, you cannot afford to do anything else to stain your reputation, including keeping the native child.”

  “Pardon me, Your Grace. But Zoe is not a poor choice.” Abe stood and shoved his chair back, his arms and shoulders rigid. “Nor is she a stain on my reputation.”

  Even with Abe’s defense, the bishop’s words chopped into Zoe’s heart. Poor choice of marriage partner? Stain on Abe’s reputation? Although she’d known Bishop Hills wasn’t happy about the marriage, she hadn’t realized exactly how displeased he was or the repercussions Abe would face as a result of marrying her.

  The bishop pushed away from the table. “Let us be frank, Mr. Merivale. You know as well as I do that when you return to England, people will have a difficult time accepting a mill girl as your wife. You will already have enough obstacles to overcome, and bringing home a native infant will only make matters more difficult.”

  The muscles in Abe’s jaw flexed as though he wanted to reply but was holding himself back.

  “Since the two of you clearly have a great deal to discuss, I shall take my leave.” The bishop took a final sip of tea, placed his cup on the
table, and then rose from his chair.

  “Do take care, Mr. Merivale,” the bishop said as he crossed to the door. “It is rumored that Mr. Dawson is planning another altercation with you.”

  “Dexter Dawson?” Abe asked.

  “The man you fought with before leaving Victoria.” Bishop Hills’s eyes filled with censure. “If he seeks you out, you must absolutely refrain from any more fighting. You know as well as I do that such interactions are not befitting your holy station and are a detriment to your aspirations of becoming a bishop.”

  “I realize that. And I have no intention of quarreling.”

  “Good. See that you refrain from all appearance of evil.”

  A moment later, when the door closed behind the bishop, Zoe collapsed into the nearest chair. She hugged Violet to her chest as if that was the answer to all their problems, but the infant released a cry of protest, wiggling so that she could resume playing with the buttons on Zoe’s bodice.

  Abe remained unmoving, staring at the door.

  A mill girl. The bishop had spoken the words as if they were a curse.

  She appreciated Abe’s defense. He was a good man. But maybe she was no good for him. From the start of their marriage she’d realized she wasn’t the typical genteel, well-bred pastor’s wife. Now she understood even more starkly Abe’s need for a woman who was his equal so that when he returned to England he could enter into a new parish without the condemnation he was sure to receive with his marriage to her—a mill girl.

  Not only would their marriage make his work as a minister difficult, but it would diminish his opportunity of becoming a bishop. His dreams and future plans were in jeopardy because of her. Maybe he didn’t recognize the issues now. But someday he’d realize she was to blame for the censure and missed opportunities. And no doubt, he’d come to resent her for being a blight on his promising future.

  In addition to everything else, they also had to think about Violet’s future.

  Zoe pressed a kiss against the infant’s downy hair, fighting back an ache at the prospect of losing the babe. “Why didn’t you tell me the bishop wasn’t planning to let you keep Violet?”