The Wrong Brother's Bride

by Allison Merritt

  “I’ve always thought you are.”

  He looked away as though lost in thought. Was he revisiting their kiss the previous afternoon?

  “Oh? Then why did you tell me I was skinny as a scarecrow when we were children?”

  He looked chagrined. “I did say that once, didn’t I?”

  “I remember hearing it a few times. Along with other things such as my hair is the color of carrots, I had freckles like a bird dog, only howling dogs sound prettier than my singing. How my toes looked like minnows and turtles were going to bite them off. I was as flat-chested as a boy, and slow as a lame duck. Should I go on?” She folded her arms over her chest as his expression grew more dismal.

  “You had legs like a stork,” he muttered.

  Loyal couldn’t help laughing. “You were a rotten boy, August.”

  “I’ll tell you a secret.” He finally raised his gaze to hers. “Boys always torture little girls they think are pretty.”

  She thought about what Maud had told her. “If that’s the truth, then you must have been deeply in love with me.”

  His face took on an ashy color. “I—”

  Thunder rumbled and three flashes of lightning illuminated the yard. The house shook as though gripped by an invisible hand. Sorry barked, the sharp sound cutting through Loyal like shards of glass.

  “I thought he was in the barn.” August rose from the bed. “I’d better dress and see what he’s making such a fuss about.”

  She strained to hear him over the thunder, the barking, and wind howling over the house. “Maybe he’ll go beneath the porch.”

  Sorry didn’t stop. He scratched at the front door, nails raking on the wood.

  August gripped the towel around his waist to keep it from falling. “He’ll tear the door to pieces. It can’t hurt to let him in for a while, can it?”

  She wrinkled her nose, imagining how disgusting the wet dog would smell, but she nodded. “If it keeps him quiet. He can lay by the door.”

  The raindrops on the roof pounded louder. August fished a pair of denim trousers from the drawer and put them on, dropping the bath sheet when he finished. The noise on the roof increased. It sounded as though someone was pummeling their house with stones.

  “It’s hailing. Does Sorry always act this way when it storms?” He grabbed a shirt and slipped his arms through it, leaving it unbuttoned.

  She shook her head. “No, never. I don’t know what’s gotten into him. I’ll let him inside.”

  “I’ll do it. I’m going to step out on the porch and see if there’s something out there bothering him. In this weather, it seems unlikely.”

  Hail tapped against the windows. Loyal squinted into the darkness. “You don’t think the glass will break?”

  “Stay away from them, just in case. Be right back.”

  He slipped from the room, leaving her to gather his wet clothes and the bath sheet. She wondered how he’d kept from drowning in a sea of clothes as a bachelor. Another lightning bolt flared outside. Leaves plastered against the panes and hail bounced away.

  “Loyal.”

  She carried the laundry at arms’ length as she emerged from August’s room. Sorry huddled at her husband’s feet, his ears flat against his head. A low whine let the dog’s throat.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “I think he’s just scared of the hail. The wind is stronger and the trees are whipping all over the place. I think we ought to stay in the kitchen in case.” He cleared his throat. “There might be a tornado.”

  Jeremiah had insisted on digging an underground room before the house was constructed. It lay beneath the kitchen floor. Loyal hated it down there. It smelled of dampness and stale air. She’d only been inside it once, right after she moved in with Jeremiah.

  “I’m sure it won’t come to that.” She wasn’t afraid of the dark, although the idea of spiders or other crawling creatures made her skin tingle unpleasantly.

  “Gather a few things as a precaution. Something we can eat that doesn’t need to be cooked. I’ll pump water for drinking.”

  August’s drawn face made Loyal worry. She packed a small basket with food and set it by the rug over the trapdoor while August got the water. Sorry crawled beneath the table, flattened against the floor. His wet coat smelled as she’d guessed, but the look on his face was so pitiful, she couldn’t be angry.

  “How big was the hail?” she asked.

  “Half dollar sized.” He sounded calm, belying the hint of anxiety on his face. “It was mixed with some smaller, pea-sized pieces as well.”

  “Thank goodness you got the corn in before this weather. The wind and hail would have destroyed it.” She tried not to think about how it might flatten the hay crop, which was already ankle high.

  “We need the rain, but we could do without the rest,” he agreed. August stood near the door, gazing through the window. “This should blow over soon.”

  A sharp crack filled the air and the window imploded. Loyal screamed and covered her face as water and debris flew around her. August shouted her name. Before she could respond, his arms were around her, pushing her toward a corner. As lightning brightened the room, she looked over her shoulder, stunned to see a tree limb sticking through the jagged remainder of the window. Water, leaves, and hailstones came through where the glass had been. Wind wailed around the house.

  August kicked the rug back and lifted the door, pushing it against the wall. “Are you alright? Not cut?”

  She nodded dumbly while he looked her over. Loyal wrapped her hands around her stomach, giving silent thanks the baby was safe. She lifted her eyes to August’s ashen face. A few leaves and bits of dirt clung to his shirt.

  “It nearly hit you. If you’d been standing any closer…” Her stomach clenched. She touched his face with a trembling hand. It was a miracle the limb hadn’t crushed him.

  “Let’s get into the cellar. Be careful going down the stairs.” He held out his hand, letting her grasp it. Loyal clutched his fingers hard, afraid of slipping on the narrow stairs and equally afraid to stay aboveground.

  He handed her a lamp and the shadows receded in the cellar. She set it in the center of the six by six foot space and went back to the steps where he waited to pass her the food basket. Her legs shook as she took it. She wondered if there were other things they should bring down. Important papers, or the money jar she kept in the larder. If the storm took the house, all their possessions might be lost.

  August gave her a tight smile. “Sorry’s coming down next. I’m not leaving him up here by himself. He’s about scared to death.”

  Another burst of thunder heightened her fear. She was nervous enough not to mind the dog’s company. It was more important that August join her down here. “Hurry.”

  He pushed the collie toward the opening. Sorry panted loudly. His tongue lolled and big brown eyes bulged from his sockets. His tail was tucked between his legs and he looked at August as though his master had betrayed him by forcing him down the hole.

  “Come on, Sorry. It’s safe down here. Good boy,” Loyal coaxed. The dog whimpered while he scrambled down the steps, then hunkered in the far corner. “Aren’t you coming now?”

  “In a few minutes. I need to look at the window.” His voice sounded as though he was across the kitchen.

  “You should wait until the storm is over. Please, August, wait.” She looked up, unable to see anything except the ceiling. “Hurry.”

  “Dammit.”

  She hugged herself as she waited for him. Glass crunched as he moved around upstairs. Thunder rolled again, rattling the dishes on the shelves hard enough she heard them clattered against each other. Sorry whimpered.

  “August?”

  Wind whistled through the hole in the wall and she heard him swear again. He appeared at the cellar opening then scrambled down the stairs, pulling the door shut behind him. The bolt slid into the brackets, locking the door into place.

  Loyal swallowed to dampen her dry throat. “Wha
t is it?”

  “Twister. I saw it in the lightning. You can hear it coming.” His eyes were wide, face glistening with sweat. “We’re safe down here.”

  She tried not to think about how small the room was, or the combination of damp scents clogging her nose. Easy to block those thoughts out when she feared the house would be torn from its foundation.

  “Is it coming this way?” She fervently hoped it would go around them.

  “Yes.” He flexed his hands. August sat on a bench pushed up to the far wall. “The water overturned when the dog came down.”

  She knew what it meant. If they were trapped down here, they might die of thirst before anyone found them. Loyal closed her eyes, holding herself tighter.

  “We’ll be alright. Come here, sit next to me.”

  When she opened her eyes, August had his hand out, beckoning her. She looked overhead, half expecting to hear the roof cave in, but took several quick steps in his direction until she was next to him on the bench.

  A warm arm wrapped around her. She leaned her head on his shoulder, hoping he couldn’t feel the tremor running through her body. She snuggled closer.

  “I hate it down here. This is why he built the room. Not for extra storage, but as a safe place in case of storms.” She took a breath, inhaling another whiff of wet dog.

  “Smart man, my brother. We can’t sit upstairs while rain’s pouring through the broken window.” He rubbed his hand along her arm. “You didn’t get cut when the glass came in?”

  “No, just frightened. You?” She looked him over, searching for nicks or scrapes on his skin.

  “Fit and fine.” His smile was tight. “I think Sorry got the worst scare. Poor dog will never stay outside again in the rain. I honestly thought he’d gone to the barn.”

  Loyal lifted her head and raised her gaze to the ceiling. “Do you hear that?”

  Once August had shut the door, it muffled the sound of the wind. Now a steady roar filled the silence. He pulled her closer. “Just the wind, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”

  She turned to him, pressing her face against his neck. His scent masked the dog and dank earth. His hair was still damp, accenting the woodsy and slightly salty smell of his skin. August’s other arm wrapped around her. His breath stirred her hair and he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

  “It’ll be over soon,” he murmured.

  “How do you know?”

  “They never last too long. They’re big, they’re noisy, and they tear things up, but it’ll pass by us. I promise. We’re safe down here.”

  She believed him. His heartbeat pounded beneath her ear, a little fast. His voice soothed her frayed nerves. The noise above their heads intensified. Loyal clung to August, barely noticing when Sorry curled around their feet.

  “Hold on, Loyal. As tight as you need to. It’s almost over.” His mouth was next to her ear, lips brushing her lobe. Cold fear was replaced by gentle warmth. He tipped her face up and pressed his lips to hers. His tongue traced her lower lip, scorching hot compared to the chill gripping her. Upstairs, something crashed against the floor. August held her when she tried to pull away.

  “We’ll fix it when it’s safer. It’s you and me here now, Loyal. Just…stay.” His eyes were dark, reflecting desire that surprised her.

  She tried to ignore the growing pressure in the thin air and the noise above them that sounded like a train running full speed. “When you said I was beautiful, did you mean it?”

  August pulled on the ribbon at the end of her braid. He brushed the woven strands apart with his fingers, letting the waves tumble around her shoulders. “I did. I’ve wanted to touch your hair since the first day I arrived. Watching you brush it every night, I’ve wondered what running my fingers through it would feel like.”

  Did he know she watched him in the mirror when he sat at the kitchen table pretending to read? That she’d imagined him brushing it for her? “Is it what you hoped?”

  “Mmm. Better.” He kissed the corner of her mouth, twisting hair around his fingers. “Smells like lilacs. Are they your favorites?”

  A delightful shiver rolled down her back. “I bought the soap from a mail-order company. It was costly, and I worried it wouldn’t make my hair as shiny as the advertisement boasted.”

  “Worth every penny.” He parted her lips with his tongue, brushing it along hers. The deep kiss made her heart race. August’s shirt was still open and she slid her palms inside, touching his rigid abdomen. He pulled her onto his lap.

  The world had gone to hell above them. The room they were in was cramped, damp, and nearly airless. A cowardly dog hugged their feet. She was having his brother’s baby. Yet, Loyal wanted him.

  As long as she’d known August, he’d been the wrong brother. It didn’t explain why his touch, his kisses and his arms around her felt right. He cupped one breast as though it was delicate like a baby rabbit. She’d given up wearing a corset because her waist was too thick. His fingers were gentle through the fabric of her dress and shimmy. The tender skin was fuller and more sensitive since her pregnancy, but his touch created a different ache. Desire knifed through her, a lightning bolt that might have brought down walls if it hadn’t been contained inside her.

  Under her bottom, his arousal strained through his trousers. She remembered he hadn’t bothered with undergarments in his haste to dress. So little clothing separated them. August kissed her neck, making her tilt her head back. Somehow he’d worked her dress buttons loose and his fingers traced her collarbone, light as bird feathers.

  His mouth dipped lower, tongue at the top of her cleavage. Loyal wanted to give in and let him claim her as his wife in every way, except she couldn’t imagine how they’d make love on a narrow bench. She smoothed hair away from his forehead, pressing tiny kisses on his stubble-covered face.

  “August.”

  “Hmm?” Too occupied with her breasts, he didn’t look up. His mouth was an unfair distraction. Sorry to spoil his attention, she put her hand along his cheek, drawing his face away from her chest.

  “This isn’t where I imagined consummating our marriage.”

  “You imagined it?” He smiled. “Where does madame prefer?”

  “Perhaps,” she said regretfully, “we should wait until the tornado is over and we’re certain we still have a house.”

  August’s eyes cleared. “You’re right.” He raised his gaze to the wooden ceiling.

  The only sounds Loyal heard were her heartbeat and Sorry’s panting. “Do you think it’s safe now?”

  “I’ll see.” He carefully shifted her to the bench. “You’re alright? I didn’t hurt you?”

  She smiled, touched by his concern and still heated from his wandering mouth. “Of course not. I wasn’t going to faint because you kissed me.”

  “Good, because I’d like to do more.” He retrieved the lantern, mounted the steps, pushed the bolt back and raised the trap door. His chestnut head disappeared, but he made a displeased sound.

  “Is it bad?” She thought the china hutch had fallen and broken the dishes. At least those could be replaced, unlike their lives if they hadn’t ventured into the cellar.

  “I’ll have to put off the crib for a while. We may need a new wall.” He looked down. “I hope Adam Stiles needs a little more work.”

  “What about the rest of the house?” The tremble returned to her voice. “I’m coming up, August.”

  “It seems safe enough. Just raining now and the thunder is distant. Give me your hand.” He faced her, offering his, and she took it.

  The kitchen was a disaster. The hutch lay face down. All the dishes were broken and spread out around it. The limb that had come through the window was bigger than she remembered. How he’d managed to avoid injury was a mystery. Leaves and water were everywhere. Her curtains were on the floor, dirty, torn, and limp. The crocheted tablecloth hung off the table, puddled on the floor, and two chairs were on their sides. Tears sprang to her eyes. So much damage.

  August wra
pped his arm around her. “Seems like a lot of work, but I’ll do it. Don’t fret. Let’s check on the other parts of the house.”

  She let him guide her around, relief growing as everything else seemed just as it had been before the bad weather. The front porch was littered with leaves, which could easily be swept away in the morning when things began to dry.

  “Could have been much worse,” he reminded her when they went back to the kitchen. “Sweep up all the glass you can—don’t worry about disposing of it right now. I’ll straighten the hutch out when I come back from the barn. I’ll hitch a horse and drag the branch away.”

  Loyal nodded. She peeled a wet leaf off the sideboard and held it up for inspection. The silver maple, just as she’d feared. Gnawing guilt clenched her stomach. The leaf fell from her numb fingers.

  “I should have let him cut the tree down last year. It’s so pretty and shady. Or, it was.”

  “It’s not your fault. Accidents happen. Neither of us was hurt. That’s the important thing.” He put his hand to her stomach. “You and the baby are what matter.”

  The marrow-warming lust was absent from his eyes, but she saw the truth in them. It was so startlingly similar to the look in Jeremiah’s eyes, she felt stunned. Love. Had it always been there and she’d missed it somehow? With her mouth cotton dry, Loyal couldn’t respond. She stepped back, managing a nod.

  “I’ll get this tree out of here and hang some wood over the hole. Then we can do a little more tidying up and head to bed.” August’s voice was rougher than it had been a moment ago.

  She retrieved the broom from behind the door, old thoughts circling her head. What if Maud was right and August had left the township because he’d loved her all along? She’d never guessed, never entertained the thought of August as a husband before the day he returned. Surely it wasn’t possible for him to carry a torch this long?

  It made her guilty of tearing the O’Dell brothers apart. The notion gave her the same sick feeling that looking at the tree limb did. Damage to the house could be fixed. She could never mend the tear she’d caused between August and Jeremiah.