Edwina: Bride of Connecticut (American Mail-Order Brides 5)

by Margaret Tanner

  The road was wide enough for two vehicles to pass. A couple of family groups passed them, maybe heading into town for supplies. Everyone waved enthusiastically so Joshua was well known and popular, which added to her feeling of safety. He was obviously a gentleman even though he pretended not to be.

  She had taken a huge risk by becoming a Mail Order Bride. No point deluding herself on that point. It would be worth it if she could persuade him to let her stay.

  The road suddenly forked. He took a rutted narrow track heading toward a distant mountain range. They exchanged no words as the horse clip-clopped along. His face was set into grim lines and he stared straight ahead.

  Eddy had never been so exhausted. Her eyes felt as if they were full of grit and her head ached. She slumped against his arm and by sheer willpower forced herself to sit up straight on the seat.

  “You must be tired,” he said kindly.

  “I am.”

  “Here.” He put an arm around her and pulled her close so she could rest against him.

  “Thank you.” He was warm and smelt of leather and soap.

  “I never object to a pretty woman snuggling up to me.” He chuckled at her startled gasp. “Close your eyes, it will ease the grittiness.”

  Edwina awoke with a start. She hadn’t even realized she had been asleep, but she was slumped against him, and they were not moving. A fenced in paddock contained several oxen.

  “We change here,” he said.

  “Change!” She almost shrieked the word out.

  “Yes, the last few miles to my cabin are too steep and rough for a horse to pull any type of cart. I have to use oxen.”

  “Oxen!”

  He grinned. “It’s halfway up the mountain. I warned you it was isolated.”

  He helped her down. “You can wait in the barn out of the cold. There are bales of hay you can sit on.”

  Meekly, Eddy did as he instructed. She got the distinct impression he was deliberately trying to frighten her. Was actually enjoying himself? Unprincipled beast. His features were impassive, but his eyes glowed with triumph.

  The interior of the barn was large, part of it had been fenced off with logs, obviously to keep the animals away from the neatly stacked bales of hay and bags, of what she presumed would be chaff. The other section held a water trough. Attached to one wall were leather harnesses, stirrups and two saddles.

  The floor was cobblestoned. A small pile of dung had been deposited on the floor, and the combined aroma of this and fresh hay, brought a lump to her throat in recollection. Her father had trained horses for the army. She loved the horsey scent, sweeter than any French perfume. She inhaled deeply as she sat on a hay bale watching Joshua harness two oxen to a long, narrow wagon. He rubbed the horse down and released him into the paddock.

  He tossed her luggage into the wagon, causing her to fume at his disregard for her property. Several bales of hay and four large barrels were roped together and covered by a piece of canvas. As well as shelter for his animals, the barn was used to store supplies.

  Strangely, the oxen were yoked one behind the other, not side by side as she would have supposed. Joshua helped her up on to the wagon, to sit next to the bags and barrels.

  He walked along whistling tunelessly. If she could have got hold of a rock she would have thrown it at him. She wondered whether to continue acting like the pampered Boston rich girl. Why bother? Once she reached his cabin and settled in she would be Eddy, not Edwina.

  She had packed the buckskin trousers and coat she had worn in Tennessee. Amazingly, they still fitted her. In six years, her body had not increased in size except for her breasts.

  The oxen and Joshua plodded along as the terrain grew rougher, the track narrow and rutted. The wind gusting down from the higher peaks would have frozen her had she not been so warmly dressed.

  Dusk was falling by the time they passed through a small canyon and arrived at a flat, cleared area of ground. There was a tree covered hill to the front and mountains on three sides. The perfume of damp pine needles permeated the sharp, crystal clear air.

  A log cabin reposed serene against this rugged grandeur. It was quite large, and there were glass panes on the front two windows although she could also see wooden shutters. A stone chimney, thank goodness. She wouldn’t be expected to cook out in the open.

  “Here we are. Welcome to my humble abode.” He helped her down and she felt stiff and sore, barely able to walk.

  “I’ll see to the oxen and stash these stores. Can you get a fire started?” He cocked one eyebrow.

  “I’ll try.” She hid a smile behind her hand. She must have overdone the fragile, simpering Bostonian bit if he thought she couldn’t perform such a mundane task. Of course, to save her life Charlotte could not have lit a fire. About all she was capable of was fluttering her eyelashes.

  “I’ll bring your luggage in when I come back. Brr, it’s cold. Probably snowing on the higher peaks. Go straight into the cabin, the door isn’t locked.”

  He strode off without a backward glance.

  Three wooden steps led down to another levelled out area where the cabin stood. Hunched over, she stumbled toward it with tears burning at the back of her eyes. She dared not let them fall. Once they started she wouldn’t be able to stop them.

  Joshua was acting like a pig, not even trying to mask his annoyance at being placed in this position. She had felt sorry for him in the beginning because he had no reason to lie; to a man who valued his freedom as he obviously did, the thought of marriage must have really spooked him.

  She pushed the door open and stepped over the threshold. The one large room had an enormous fireplace at one end. It was sparsely furnished with a masculine looking two-seater couch that had seen better days. A Dutch oven and several pots and pans were laid out neatly on the hearth. Shelves were positioned on either side of the fireplace. Above the mantel was a stag’s head, with a pair of enormous antlers.

  Of its own volition, her gaze became riveted on the double bed at the far end of the room. Her mouth dried up, butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Was she expected to share a bed with him, even though they hadn’t made their wedding vows? She forced herself to look away and take in the rest of her surroundings.

  The fire - mustn’t keep Joshua waiting. That would be playing into his hands and confirming her as a useless Boston socialite. She removed her cloak and bonnet, placing them on an intricately carved oak dresser. The bed was covered with a colorful patchwork quilt. At this very moment, she would have given up several years of her life to be able to snuggle into it. Several dyed fur mats covered the wooden floor.

  She was glad she had worn her plainest clothes, a tan colored gown with lace trim around the collar. Pin-tucks ran along either side of the tiny buttons, which started at throat level and finished at her waist.

  A pile of logs formed a neat pyramid on the hearth; a wooden box held neatly cut kindling and several scrunched up newspapers.

  Even though she was exhausted, it didn’t take her long to have a fire going and the coffee pot on. She discovered a loaf of stale bread, eggs and beans. Not much of a meal but it was about the best she could manage.

  The door opened with a loud bang and Joshua strode in, followed by a gust of freezing air. “Ah, I see you managed to get a fire going?” He kicked the door shut, and shrugged out of his coat.

  “It’s cold outside.” He thrust a wrapped package at her. “Bacon.”

  “Bacon!”

  “Yes I got it from my…um, a friend. A welcome to my humble abode gift. Can you cook?” Plonking himself down on the couch, he pulled a stick of beef jerky from his pocket and chewed it.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact I can.” Her culinary skills were limited, but he didn’t need to know that.

  “Well, well, I didn’t know Boston society allowed their little hothouse flowers to cook.” There was a bitter twist to his mouth. “I thought they spent all day preening themselves and plotting how to trap a man into matrimony.”


  “Not all Boston women are like that.”

  He gave an angry snort. “All the ones I knew were.”

  “What shall I cook?”

  “What can you cook? He quirked an eyebrow.

  Anything, Mister, was on the tip of her tongue, but she stopped herself from saying it out loud. After her mother died when she was about ten, she had cooked for her father, mostly basic fare suitable for an outdoors man, so she carried dozens of meal ideas in her head.

  “I can fry eggs and bacon. If you have butter, I could cook toast.”

  His stare was hard, intent. “It will have to do.”

  “What’s wrong with it?” She bristled at his tone.

  Grinning, he stood up. “I was joking. I’ll do it, you must be exhausted.”

  “I am.” She blinked her watery, sleep deprived eyes. “Thank you.”

  “Once we’ve eaten, you’d better head off to bed. There’s a privy out back. You’ll need to take a light with you.” He looked at the lamp she had already lit. “There might be a few creepy crawlies out there too.”

  He was trying to scare her, but she had never been afraid of creepy crawlies. “D…Do they bite?” She wondered why she was playing this stupid game with him. Why not admit she had spent the first fifteen years of her life in the Tennessee wilderness in a cabin even smaller than this one.

  He jumped to his feet and stepped over to the fire. She flopped on to the couch, not trying to hide her relief.

  “You can have the bed, I’ll bunk down near the fire,” he threw the words casually over one shoulder, as if he did not want to address her directly.

  Since there was nowhere else to sit, she had to share the couch with him, where they ate eggs and bacon accompanied by toast slathered in butter. Though tired, Eddy ate hungrily. “You’re a good cook.”

  “I’m good at everything I do,” he said without conceit. “I wouldn’t waste my time doing something if I couldn’t do it well.”

  “This cabin.” She glanced around. “It’s very clean and neat.”

  He didn’t answer, just collected her now empty tin plate and placed it on top of his. “Do you need to go outside?”

  “Yes.” She picked up the lamp.

  “Through the back door and keep going straight, you can’t miss it. I’ll leave water in the dish if you want to have a wash.”

  Dashing outside into the freezing night, the air desperately cold in contrast to the warmth of the cabin, she berated herself for not grabbing her cloak. Thank goodness she had the lamp; without it the surrounding area would have been pitch black. It was years since she had seen such total darkness, without even a single star. Distant thunder grumbled through the mountains.

  The privy was a wooden affair surrounded by large bushes or perhaps they were small trees, she couldn’t be sure in the dark. If there were crawlies she didn’t find any. After relieving herself, she sprinted back to the cabin.

  She became aware of Joshua watching her as she washed her hands and sloshed icy water over her face. Why couldn’t he have boiled the kettle?

  He shrugged into his coat. “I’m off outside for a while. There are a couple of things I need to do.”

  “In the dark?”

  “Yes. I want to do one final check on my livestock. I’ve been having trouble with wild dogs.”

  “Wolves?”

  “No, feral dogs. Old Newgate Prison used to be near here. You can still see the ruins. Apparently they had guard dogs there, and when the prison closed down the dogs were let loose or escaped. They have bred over the years, now they’re larger and more vicious than any farm dog or wolf I know.” His cool gaze ranged over her face. “You look exhausted, be best if you head off to bed. I’ll sleep in my bedroll by the fire.”

  He strode outside, probably to give her the privacy in which to change out of her gown.

  Opening her trunk she took out what she needed. She stepped over to the fire, the crackling red flames somehow soothed her ragged nerves. What a predicament. Here she was alone in an isolated cabin with a man she barely knew. What if he tried to ravish her?

  She slipped into a lace-trimmed nightgown. Moving to one side of the fireplace, but making sure she still felt the heat, she freed her hair from its restraint. It tumbled down her waist, and she brushed it with long, slow strokes, as she did every night.

  The cabin’s isolation and Joshua’s story of the wild dogs didn’t frighten her. Hopefully, he would show her around his domain in the morning. Old Newgate Prison sounded especially interesting. She used to like exploring ruins with her father. Ghost towns particularly held appeal for them, interesting but sad, lonely places with all the residents gone. The small overgrown cemeteries told of the hardships endured by early settlers, and their gallant sacrifices as they sought to forge a nation out of the wilderness.

  She jumped as the door banged open. A gust of wind caused the burning wood to spit out a shower of sparks.

  Joshua kicked the door shut, and stepped toward the fire rubbing his hands together. He came to a sudden a halt a couple of feet away from her, he expelled a shocked breath. His eyes darkened as they swept her from head to foot, his gaze lingering longest on her breasts. A pulse convulsed in his jaw.

  She dropped the brush to the floor, and her hands fluttered at her chest trying to hide the swell of her breasts from his intense scrutiny.

  “I was brushing my hair.” She backed away from him.

  He grabbed her by one arm. “Careful, your nightgown will catch fire.” His fingers bit into her arm, and he did not loosen his grip until she tried to wriggle free. Stepping back, he dragged his fingers through his hair. “Go to bed, Edwina.”

  She edged across the small room to the bed. Fortunately, she had already rolled down the quilt, so she only had to dive under it and pull it over her trembling body. She was surprised to find a comfortable cotton-sheet covered mattress. With a sigh she snuggled into its softness.

  She lay there listening to Joshua moving around. The lamp was doused, and the only sound now was the crackle of flames mingled with the beating of her heart.

  Chapter Three

  Eddy woke up. It was still dark. Drowsily she stretched her legs and recoiled when they came in contact with… Joshua. He was in bed with her. He still wore his trousers, thank goodness.

  She gnawed her lower lip. She could hardly shake him awake and tell him to get out of his own bed. What could she do? If anyone ever found them together like this, with the way he felt about marriage, she would be ruined.

  What’s wrong with you, Eddy Pearson? You’re his Mail Order Bride, aren’t you? You forced yourself on him didn’t you?

  He slept peacefully, his breathing soft and even. Tentatively, she raised her hand, touched his shoulder and felt cloth under her fingertips. He was still wearing a shirt. He muttered something and rolled over. Now he faced her. Her heart skipped a beat and she had a strange yearning for him to move even closer. His warm, moist breath caressed her cheeks.

  Instead of edging to the far side of the bed, she stayed where she was. What would Aunt Victoria say if she saw her now? Probably call her a harlot. Her eyes grew heavy. Feeling safe, warm, and comfortable, she drifted back to sleep.

  ***

  When Eddy awoke the next morning, the other side of the bed was empty, the sheet cold, but crumpled. She had not dreamed it. Joshua really did sleep here.

  The fire burned cheerfully, and the aroma of coffee permeated the room. No sign of Joshua. She climbed out of bed and hurriedly dressed in the gown she had worn yesterday.

  After making the bed, she worked her hair into a thick plait. A tin bowl stood on a small table, beside it a piece of soap and a neatly folded towel, which she availed herself of. A kettle hung on a hook over the fire. For a man, Joshua was surprisingly capable and tidy in the cabin. Had he ever been in the army?

  The door banged and he stepped inside. “Oh, you’re up. I thought you would sleep for a few more hours.”

  “And good morning to you,
too.” Sarcasm edged her voice

  He grunted something and reached for the coffee pot. His face looked drawn, weary, the lines grooving his mouth deeper and more pronounced than she’d noticed yesterday. Black stubble covered his jaw and chin.

  “You didn’t sleep well?”

  “No,” he snapped. “I did not.”

  “I slept like a baby. You have a very comfortable bed.” An imp of mischief caused her to add, “You didn’t like sleeping with me?”

  He took a long swallow of his coffee. “Like sleeping with you?” His tone took on a husky quality. “Hell yes. But, I wanted to do more than sleep beside you.”

  That stilled her wayward tongue. “H…have you had breakfast?”

  “Yes, I cooked bacon and beans. There are fresh eggs in there, too. He pointed to a saucepan with a large dent in it. “I have a few chickens.”

  She cracked two eggs into the frypan. Once the eggs were cooked she poured herself a mug of coffee, and perched on the edge of the couch, keeping as far away from him as she could.

  He picked at a loose thread on the couch. “Need more furniture. I’m halfway through making a chair,” he said.

  “Really?” She forked egg into her mouth.

  “Yes. I like carving wood. I’ve rigged up a work room here.”

  “Is that exquisite chest of drawers your handiwork?”

  He hesitated, as if deciding whether to tell her something or not. “I don’t do much furniture, I mainly carve replica sailing ships, sometimes one-off special items for New York clients.”

  “Really! I thought you were a farmer.”

  “That, too.”

  He got up and prowled the room like a restless panther. “I don’t know why I told you that.”

  “Will you show me around?”

  He nodded. “Don’t bother with your bonnet, you’ll need a cloak though. The sun is shining, but it hasn’t got much warmth.”

  Even though it was cold, she was eager to explore. Outside the cabin, trees dripped with moisture. The smell of the fresh pine needles invigorated her. At the back of the cabin was a chicken run.

  A stable was built of roughly hewn logs. “My work room is a partitioned off section down the back.”