Mail-Order Bride

by Debbie Macomber

  “You promised before. Now get up.”

  “But, Paul, I won’t—”

  “I don’t have time to argue with you. Either you do as I say or I’ll take you with me dressed as you are.”

  Caroline didn’t doubt him for a second. “Aye-aye, Commander,” she said and gave him a mocking salute. Furious, she threw back the sheets and reached for her clothes.

  —

  Caroline had never spent a more boring morning in her life. Paul sat her down in a chair and left her to twiddle her thumbs for what seemed like hours. After the first thirty minutes, she toyed with the idea of walking back to the cabin, which she found preferable to sitting in a chair, a punishment more befitting a badly behaved child. However, she quickly discarded that idea. All she needed was to have Paul return to find her gone. If he was furious with her after yesterday, it would be nothing compared to his anger if she pulled the same trick twice. So, although she was bored senseless, Caroline stayed exactly where she was.

  Paul returned and she brightened, pleased to have some human contact. But to her dismay, he walked directly past her to another desk and took out a huge ledger, proceeding to record data.

  “Paul?”

  “Shh.”

  She pressed her lips together so hard they hurt.

  He lifted his head when he’d finished and looked at her expectantly. “You wanted something?”

  “I want to go back to the cabin.”

  “No.”

  “After what happened yesterday, you can’t believe I’ll try to get away again.” He returned to his work and refused to look at her, ostensibly studying his ledger. Caroline’s blood was close to the boiling point. “What are you going to do? Keep me with you twenty-four hours a day?”

  “You gave me no option.”

  “You can’t be serious. I’m not going to run away.” She pointed to the front door. “There are crazy people out there.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “Paul, please, I’ll go out of my mind with nothing to do.”

  “Get a book and read.” His response was as uncaring as the arctic wind that howled outside the door.

  “Oh I see,” she said in a high-pitched, emotional voice. “This is to be my punishment. Not only are you going to keep me as your prisoner, but I have to suffer your company as well. How long?”

  “How long what?” With deliberate care, he set his pen aside.

  “How long before you learn to trust me? A week? Ten days? A month?”

  “I can’t answer that. It depends on you.”

  She flew to her feet, her fists clenched. “Well, then you’d be wise never to leave me alone, because the minute I get a chance, I’m hightailing it out of here. Somehow or other, I’ll find a way to escape. You can’t keep a person against his or her will. This is the United States of America and kidnapping is against the law.”

  “I didn’t kidnap you, I married you.”

  “Well, then, you’re the worst possible husband a woman could have. I refuse to be your wife, no matter what some piece of paper says.” She waited for him to argue with her, and when he didn’t, she continued her tirade. “Not only that…you’ve got to be the most stubborn man I’ve ever met. Stubborn and unreasonable and…and…chauvinistic to boot!”

  Paul nodded. “I know. But given time, you’ll learn to love me.”

  “Never,” Caroline vowed. “Not while I live and breathe.”

  “We’ll see.”

  He sounded so sure of himself, so confident, that she wanted to throttle him. Drained, she sank back into her chair. To her horror, tears filled her eyes and fell hot against her cheeks. She wiped them aside and sniffled loudly to hold back the flood. “Paul,” she cried softly. “I just want to go home. Please.”

  His mouth grew hard and inflexible. “You are home. The sooner you accept that, the better for both of us.”

  With that, Caroline buried her face in her hands and wept until there were no tears left. Her eyes burned and her throat ached.

  Paul felt the weight of Denali pressing against his back and prayed he was doing the right thing. He could deal with her harangues, even her feisty anger, but her tears were another matter. They brought all his doubts to the surface. A month—he’d promised himself a month. If things hadn’t improved by the end of October, he’d send her back to Seattle. Looking at her now, bent over, weeping as though she hadn’t a friend in the world, he felt guilt—and an overwhelming compassion. It would be so easy to love her. She had spunk and character and was more woman than he’d ever dreamed he’d find. He knew in his heart that this really could work, that this marriage could be genuine and happy. He knew because—except for one occasion—his instincts hadn’t steered him wrong yet, and where there was such intense attraction between a man and a woman, there was a chance for lasting love.

  By mid-afternoon, Caroline had read one adventure novel, written her two maiden aunts a scathing letter, destroyed that, and had drawn several pictures of a distorted Paul with a knife through his heart. She couldn’t help it; after eight hours of complete monotony, she felt murderous.

  Toward evening, Paul handed Caroline her parka. “Are you ready to go back to the cabin?”

  Was she ever! But she had no intention of letting him know that. With a regal tilt of her chin, she reached for her jacket and slipped her arms inside the thick sleeves. She hadn’t spoken a word to Paul in hours, and he hadn’t had the decency to reveal the least bit of concern. Well, she could hold out longer than he could. By the time she returned to Seattle, he’d be so glad to be rid of her, he’d give her the divorce without even arguing.

  More snow had fallen during the day, and although the cabin was only a short distance from the pumping station, they needed snowshoes to trek their way back. It was the first time that Caroline had ever worn them, and she was forced to squelch her natural delight.

  Again, dinner had been left on the stove. Tonight it was a roast with onions, potatoes, and carrots simmered in the gravy. Caroline wondered who did the cooking, but she refused to ask Paul such a thing. And she was hungry; lunch had consisted of a peanut-butter sandwich many hours before.

  As he had the previous night, Paul placed the silverware on the table and brought their meal from the stove. More than once, Caroline felt his gaze on her, but she was determined not to utter a word.

  “I must admit,” Paul said halfway through their dinner, “that I prefer the silence to your constant badgering.”

  “Badgering!” Caroline shrieked. “I do not badger. All I want is an end to this despicable marriage.”

  Paul grinned boyishly. “Has anyone told you how beautiful your eyes are?”

  Caroline pressed her lips together and stabbed her meat with unnecessary force. “I wish that was your heart. Oops, my mistake. You don’t have one.”

  Paul laughed outright at that. “But I do, love,” he said a few minutes later. “And it belongs to you.”

  “I don’t want it.” She struggled to hold back tears of frustration. “Didn’t you say you’d received lots of letters in response to your ad? Those women all wanted to be your wife. Let me go, Paul. Please let me go. I’ll repay you the money you’ve already spent. I swear I will.”

  He shook his head. “I refuse to discuss the matter again.” Until the end of the month, he added to himself, hoping that by then there’d be nothing to discuss.

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Caroline returned, just barely managing to regain her composure.

  Neither one of them ate much after that. Caroline toyed with the food on her plate, but her appetite had vanished, and with it her will to fight.

  Standing, she carried her plate to the sink and scraped it clean. Paul brought over his dishes and they worked silently together, cleaning away the dinner mess.

  “Paul,” she said, after he’d wiped the last dish dry, “do you play Scrabble?” She knew he must; she’d seen the game on his shelf.

  “A bit. Why?”

  “Could you and I play?
To help pass the evening?”

  “I suppose.”

  For the first time in two days, Caroline’s smile was natural and real. Her aunts loved Scrabble and had taught it to her as a child. With such expert tutoring, she was practically unbeatable. Her whole world became brighter. “It would be far more interesting, though,” she said with a feigned thoughtful look, “if we played for something, don’t you think?”

  “How do you mean?”

  She brought the game down from the shelf and unfolded the board. “Simple. If I win you’d grant me one request, and vice versa.”

  “And of course you’d ask for a divorce. No way.”

  “No, not a divorce.” She’d work up to that.

  “If not a divorce, what would you request?”

  “Privacy.”

  “Privacy?”

  “Yes. I want to sleep alone.”

  Skeptical, he eyed the recliner. “For how long?”

  She’d go easy on him. “One night.”

  “Agreed.” He pulled up a chair, twisted it around, and straddled it. “And on the off chance I win?” He could see the mischief in her brilliant blue eyes. She clearly expected to beat him.

  “Yes?” She regarded him expectantly. “What would you want?”

  “A kiss.”

  “A kiss?”

  “And not a peck on the cheek, either. I want you to kiss me so well it’ll turn me inside out.” Not that it would take much, he mused.

  Caroline hesitated. “But no more than a kiss, right?”

  “No more. Agreed?”

  With a saucy grin, she stuck out her hand. “Agreed.” They shook on it and Caroline laughed. It felt so good to laugh again; she hated the constant bickering. Besides, this was going to be like taking candy from a baby.

  “Let the games begin,” Paul said, grinning back at her.

  For a moment, it was hard to take her gaze off him. His eyes were smiling, and although she couldn’t see the rest of his face through the beard, she felt he must be a handsome man. His eyes certainly were appealing. Playfully, she held up her hand and flexed all her fingers.

  “You draw first.” In gentlemanly fashion, Paul handed her the small velvet bag with the letters of the alphabet.

  Caroline inserted her hand and drew out an A. She gave him a triumphant look and set it on her letter holder. “I go first.”

  “Right.”

  It wasn’t until they were a couple plays into the game that Caroline recognized Paul’s skill. He was going to provide some stiff competition. In fact, their scores remained close throughout the match. Caroline was down to her last five letters when Paul gained a triple word slot, added up his score, and beamed her a proud look.

  “Paul!” Caroline glanced at the board and gasped, unable to hold back her shock. “That’s a four-letter word! A dirty four-letter word!”

  “I’m well aware of that, love.”

  “You can’t use that. It…it’s indecent.”

  “It’s also in the dictionary. Would you care to challenge me?”

  She knew if she did, she’d immediately forfeit the game. “No,” she grumbled. “But I consider that word in poor taste.”

  Paul’s response was a soft chuckle. “You can challenge me if you wish.”

  “What’s the score?” Five letters left…If she could use them all, she might be able to pull into the lead.

  “Three hundred and twenty to two eighty-eight,” Paul informed her gleefully. “Do you concede?”

  “Never!”

  “I’m afraid you have to. I’m out of letters.”

  “You won,” Caroline said, almost in a daze. She’d lost only one game of Scrabble since her junior year in high school. She’d played brilliantly, yet Paul had outdone her.

  “Yes, love, I won.”

  For a minute all she could do was stare at the board in shocked disbelief.

  “Love? I believe you owe me a kiss.”

  She should object to his calling her “love,” but she was too bemused. “You beat me at Scrabble,” she said. “And I’m a good player. Very good.”

  “I’m fairly well versed in the game myself,” Paul said. “There’s not much else for Walter and me to do on those long winter nights.”

  Caroline’s eyes narrowed. He’d known all along that he had an excellent chance of winning.

  “I believe you owe me a kiss,” he said again.

  “You cheated,” Caroline cried. “You used a four-letter word and—”

  “Don’t tell me you’re a poor sport, too.”

  As fast as she could, Caroline removed the wooden pieces from the playing board. “You mean in addition to being a liar and a thief.”

  “I didn’t say that,” Paul told her soberly.

  “Well, you needn’t worry, I’ll give you what I promised, but I still think it’s unfair of you to use that word.”

  “You’d use it, too, if you had to,” Paul said, folding up the game and placing it back on the bookcase.

  “I wouldn’t!”

  “If you were down to four letters and that word placed you on a triple word score and would guarantee you a win, then I don’t doubt you’d use it!”

  “Well,” Caroline hedged, a smile lifting the edges of her mouth, “I’d be tempted, but I don’t think I’d stoop that low.”

  “Yes, you would. Now pay up, love.”

  Reluctantly, Caroline stood and rounded the table to his side.

  “A kiss that’ll turn me inside out,” he reminded her.

  “I remember,” she said ruefully. She stood in front of him and Paul’s arm circled her waist, pulling her onto his lap. She offered him a weak smile and set her hands on his shoulders. His palms slid around her back, directing her actions.

  She twisted her head to the right, then changed her mind and moved it to the left. Slowly, she bent forward and placed her parted mouth on his. Paul’s lips were moist and warm and brushed hers in a slow, sensuous way. Then his kiss grew wilder, and she responded with equal intensity.

  They broke apart, panting and drained.

  “Oh Caroline,” he breathed against her neck. Their mouths fused again. Although she’d initially had no intention of giving him more than the one kiss, she felt as eager for the second as he was.

  Again his mouth nuzzled her neck. “Another game, Caroline, love? Only this time the stakes will be slightly higher.”

  Chapter 5

  “Another game of Scrabble?” Caroline repeated, feeling content.

  Dream or not, her memory served her well; Paul Trevor was one fantastic kisser. Suddenly her eyes flew open and she jerked herself free from Paul’s arms. Mere hours before, she’d vowed to freeze him out and here she was, sitting on his lap with her arms around his neck, kissing him with all the fervor in her heart.

  “Our Scrabble days are over, Paul Trevor,” she said coldly, placing her hand on the table to help maintain her balance. She felt a heated flush in her cheeks.

  “You mean you’re quitting because I’m a better player than you?” Paul returned with a laugh.

  “Better player, my foot!”

  The whole situation appeared to amuse him, which only angered Caroline more. She stormed into the bedroom and sat on the end of the bed, sulking. Until she’d met Paul, she’d considered herself an easygoing, fun-loving person. In two days’ time, he’d managed to change all that. With her arms crossed, she fumed, contemplating a hundred means of making him suffer.

  It wasn’t until they were in bed, Paul asleep at her side, that Caroline acknowledged the truth—she was more furious with herself than she was with Paul. He’d played an honorable Scrabble game, except for that four-letter word, and had won their wager fair and square. What infuriated her most was her overwhelming response to his kiss. She didn’t want to feel this way; it was far too difficult to hate him when he was so loving, so gentle, so…exciting.

  In the morning, Paul woke her. “Time to get up, sleepyhead,” he whispered in her ear.

  Caroline�
�s eyes fluttered open. Paul sat on the edge of the bed, smiling down at her. “Coffee’s ready,” he said.

  “Paul,” she pleaded, trying to appeal to his better nature. “Do I have to go to the pumping station with you again? It’s so boring. I hate it.”

  “I’m sorry, love.”

  “I promise I won’t pull any tricks.”

  He stood, shaking his head. “No, Caroline, you’re coming with me.”

  Arguing would do no good, she realized with a frown, and she tossed aside the heavy quilts to climb out of bed, grumbling as she did. Paul left her to dress in privacy, for which she was grateful.

  Caroline prepared herself for the long, tedious hours. She took a deck of cards, some reading material, and a pen and paper.

  As he had the day before, Paul joined her at the desk beside hers a couple hours into the morning. He smiled as he pulled out the ledger.

  She waited to be sure she wasn’t disturbing him before speaking. “Paul, who does the cooking for you?”

  He didn’t look up from the ledger as he spoke. “Tanana Eagleclaw. You met her the day you got here.”

  “There were so many people,” she explained feebly.

  He grinned, but he didn’t tease her about her memory lapse.

  “Paul.” She tried again. “I’m a good cook.” That might have been a bit of an exaggeration, she added silently, but anything was better than sitting around this infernal pumping station ten hours a day.

  “Hmm.” He barely acknowledged her, apparently finding his ledgers more compelling.

  “Really, I’m an excellent cook.” She was getting desperate now. “I could prepare our meals. In fact, I’d like to do it.”

  “Tanana does an admirable job.”

  “Yes, but I want to do it!”

  “You can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re here with me, that’s why not.”

  “Do you mean to tell me you’re going to drag me here for the rest of my life?”

  Paul sighed expressively. “We’re going over the same territory as yesterday. You’ll stay with me until I feel I can trust you again.”

  “Wonderful,” she said in a sour voice. She couldn’t begin to guess when that might be.