Love at Harvest Moon (Holiday Mail Order Brides, Book Seven)

by Kit Morgan

  Eva smiled at him. “Do you want to invite some of your friends and neighbors? Perhaps they would like to see your wedding.”

  “Aye, I do. But if she had her way, half the town would be there – and ye’d have no one you knew in attendance. Seems rather one-sided to me. I think a smaller affair would be better.” He rested an arm on the table, and studied her. “And are ye sure ye don't want to wait? Would your parents or friends from Independence like to come?”

  Eva’s eyes widened. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

  Finn chuckled. “Oh, aye – yer maither might not be too agreeable.”

  “Yes, unfortunately, dear sweet Mother would likely clobber you over the head, whisk me away and lock me in some high tower.”

  Finn grimaced at her words. “That doesn't sound pleasant.”

  “Me locked in the tower, or you getting clobbered over the head?”

  “Both.”

  “Well,” she began with a sigh. “The simple answer to that is to not invite my mother.”

  “What about your father? What's he like?”

  “He's everything my mother isn't.”

  “Doesn't he stand up to her?”

  “Sometimes, but mostly he just… avoids her.”

  Finn shook his head. “That's no way to live.” He reached over and held out his hand. She looked at it, then tentatively placed her hand in his. “I'll not be that kind of a husband, Eva. Nor, I expect, will you be that kind of a wife.”

  “How do you know? Maybe we’ll both turn into our parents.”

  “I can't see ye as some controlling, screaming, overbearing banshee.”

  She laughed at that. “Nor can I picture you as a meek, quiet little man who hides in his office all day to avoid his wife.”

  “Aye.” He smiled at her and squeezed her hand. “I think ye'll be … an attentive wife.”

  “Are you guessing?” she teased.

  “Aye.”

  She blushed. “I hope to be an attentive wife, but don't count on me spoiling you.”

  He watched her in silence. It was a still moment, peaceful, and both took the time to drink each other in.

  Eventually Eva broke the silence. “And what kind of husband will you be?”

  “What, ye aren't going to guess?”

  “No,” she told him. “I want to hear it from you.”

  “Do ye, now? Well then, let me think.” He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand, his face locked in concentration. It was all she could do to sit still. “Protective,” he finally said.

  “That's it?”

  “It's a start,” he told her with a wink.

  She blushed again. “What else?”

  “I can provide for ye, but know right now I'm not a rich man.”

  “I already know that, and it doesn't bother me.”

  “That's good to hear. There are a lot of women who marry for money and position alone. I don't want a wife like that.”

  Now she leaned toward him. “What kind of wife do you want?”

  He studied her over the table. “Tell me what kind of wife ye'll be.”

  She let loose a little laugh. “Well, I shall strive to be kind, generous. A good cook – I'm not the best, but I'm getting better – and a good mother.” She stopped and thought a moment. “And I will always be there for you.”

  Finn's eyes flashed at her words but she couldn't recognize the emotion. “Will ye, now? Funny, those are the same things I was looking for in a wife … most of them, anyway.”

  Eva smiled and put her hand over his. “And you'll be a protective husband?”

  Finn gazed at her, got up from his chair and pulled her up from hers. “Aye, lass. I'll protect ye with everything I have, be it in name or in body. But … if that means having to delay our wedding for a time, would ye understand?”

  She looked into his eyes. He was serious. “What's wrong? Do you have to go out of town?”

  “I might. I'm not sure.”

  “Does this have anything to do with the envelope that man delivered?”

  Finn closed his eyes swallowed. “A good wife doesn't ask so many questions.”

  “A good wife does what she must to protect her husband,” she retorted.

  Finn raised an eyebrow at that. “Feisty, aren't ye?”

  “Your mother’s a good teacher.”

  “That's what I'm afraid of,” he said with a smile. He gazed into her eyes and slowly lowered his face to hers. “Did my maither teach ye this?” The kiss was gentle, slow and tender, and Eva couldn't help but melt against him. When he broke the kiss, he gently stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “Eva Brock, I will marry ye. But it may not be at harvest moon like my maither wants. I’ve business to attend to, and it could be dangerous.”

  “Dangerous?”

  “Aye, and I’ll ask that ye not tell my folks. In fact, mayhaps I shouldn't have told you.” He let go of her, turned and headed for the door.

  “Finn, what's going on?”

  “I can't tell ye,” he said as he stopped and turned back to her. “Just know that I’ll take care of it, and then we’ll marry, all right?”

  She nodded, not knowing what to say. If they were going to be married, she was going to have to learn to trust him, wasn't she? “All right.”

  He came back and took her in his arms. “I'll know more tomorrow, but for now…”

  “For now?” she breathed.

  He smiled at her. “I’d like to steal a kiss before my parents come back upstairs.”

  “Shouldn't they have been here all this time as chaperones?”

  “Aye,” he said with a smile. “But Maither is making sure I kiss ye at least once.”

  Eva giggled. “I really like your mother – she’s so different from mine.”

  “I don't know about that,” he said. “Mine is still controlling, overbearing, and orders my da and I around like some black-and-tan. She just goes about it differently.”

  “My mother would have you hung, drawn and quartered for kissing me in her parlor.”

  “Well, then,” said Finn with a grin. “Let's both be glad that we’re not in yer parlor.”

  * * *

  It wasn't long before Finn’s parents returned to the house … yet they were gone long enough for Finn to steal a few good kisses. And what kisses they were!

  Eva lay on her bed and stared dreamily at the ceiling. She'd never been kissed before, and Finn had her completely charmed. She should be shocked at his behavior – or at hers, for that matter. But she wasn't. Instead, she already looked on him as her husband and couldn't wait for them to marry. Love would indeed blossom between them; whether in a short time or longer, it didn't matter.

  She knew that she knew that she knew she could love this man! There was a spark in his eyes when he spoke with sincerity, and she swore they changed color when he was telling her a story. She even thought he might be able to charm her mother; wouldn't that be a feat? Of course, her father would adore Finn, as would Betsy, and Eva’s other friends. Should she invite them? Would she regret it if her parents weren’t in attendance for her vows? But then, what mail-order bride had any family at her wedding? But her family was so near…

  “Eva? Are you still up?” Mrs. Mullaney called through her door.

  “Yes, come in.”

  Mrs. Mullaney came into the bedroom with a folded quilt in her hands. “There’s a nip in the air tonight, to be sure. Yer da and I felt it when we were sitting on the porch, watching the stars.”

  “Thank you, it does feel colder tonight ...” Wait a minute, what did she say? “… Mrs. Mullaney, did you just …?”

  “Refer to Mr. Mullaney as your da? I did, and from now on ye can call me maither.”

  Eva took a deep breath. “I … I don't know what to say.”

  “Say ye'll do it. I plan on calling ye my daughter.”

  “Mrs. Mullaney … I mean … Mother … it's an honor, I assure you.”

  “No, it’s being a family. Now le
t's spread this out. I'm sure it’ll keep ye warm – until Finn can do the same,” she added with a waggle of eyebrows.

  Eva felt herself blush, and was glad the room was dark. “Thank you. I'm sure he'll do a fine job when the time comes.”

  “Now ye see, that's why I like ye, dearie. Yer not afraid to speak yer mind about such things, nor are ye ashamed of it.”

  Not ashamed? It was a good thing the woman couldn't see her red face. “Sharing the same bed with your husband is a part of married life, isn't it?”

  “Indeed, lass, and don't ye forget it. No matter how mad he makes ye, or how badly ye'd like to throttle him, always make sure ye share yer bed at night.”

  Eva sobered as she thought of her own parents, who had separate bedrooms. She'd never known them to show any affection in front of her, not even a hug. “Why?”

  “Because it lets ye both know that, though ye might be mad as a rattler with each other, deep down yer still husband and wife, and ye still love each other no matter what. He's got to know that yer the one person he can count on when he can't count on anyone else. And he’s to do the same for you.”

  “Do?”

  “Protection, lass. We women need to protect our men from foolish thoughts that can get them into trouble, protect their hearts from thinking they've been wronged when really the matter’s nothing to speak of. I could go on, but it's late and ye need yer rest. If yer ankle’s up to it, ye can come downstairs tomorrow and I'll show ye how to keep the books.”

  Eva hesitated, still trying to absorb everything she’d just said. “You're putting me to work already?”

  “Dearie, yer going to be learning the business eventually – we might as well start now.”

  Eva giggled. “Wait until my mother finds out where I’m working.”

  “Well, if it gives her a heart attack, at least you're in the right place for it!”

  Eva knew she shouldn't laugh, but she was unable to help it. Her new mother joined her, gave her another hug, and bid her good night.

  Thirteen

  Finn tossed and turned without hope of sleeping, even though it was past midnight. He’d heard his mother and his future bride laughing together hours before, and couldn't get the sound out of his mind. Eva’s laughter was delightful, a tiny symphony, and it made him smile. His parents adored her, and he knew they were already fiercely protective of her. As am I, he thought.

  Which meant he had to clear up this business with the Scotsman as soon as possible, and set things right again.

  Only he and the Brodys knew where Lorcan was. Finn’s own parents thought he and Ada had gone south, looking to settle near San Francisco. Mr. Brody smartly thought it would keep the young couple safe if people didn’t know where they really were, so he’d thought up that misdirection. Their experience with Philip Brennan had left them all shaken, and he didn't want to take any chances. San Francisco was plausible, as there were more doctors there able to treat Lorcan’s blindness.

  The upshot was that no one suspected he'd gone to the little town of Clear Creek in eastern Oregon to see a supposed miracle worker. And it was Finn’s responsibility to see to it that they kept right on not suspecting.

  He got out of bed, went to the window and stared up at the starry sky. If his maither had her way, he and Eva would be married in a few days. “Harvest Moon,” he whispered. He wondered what Rev. Franklin would think if he asked him to marry them in the family pumpkin patch. He chuckled to himself – the Reverend was a hard man to shock, so he’d probably do it. It would be rather fitting besides – after all, it was where they’d met ...

  He smiled, and decided to ask Rev. Franklin about it in the morning. That is, if he didn't find the Scot and confront him first. That was the more urgent matter, in his mind. He returned to bed and after another restless hour, he finally fell asleep.

  The next morning, Finn awoke to the sound of women chatting in the kitchen, and discovered he liked it. He entered, dressed and ready for breakfast, only for his breath to be taken away by the sight of Eva in front of the stove. She was wearing a lovely red calico with white lace trim, and his mother’s white apron. He could tell by her expression that she'd been laughing, and wondered why. He looked at his mother, who had the same expression, and raised one eyebrow. “What are ye two conspiring in here?”

  Eva turned to him. “Conspiring? What makes you think that?”

  Because she's in the room with ye,” he said, pointing at his mother.

  “It just so happens that your mother suggested she and I go to the mercantile today to get a few things.”

  “Mercantile? Is your ankle better, then?”

  She looked at her foot. “It does feel better, though I’ll still need some help.”

  “I thought we might hitch up the wagon, ye see,” explained his mother, “and take the lass to lunch, then fetch a few things for the wedding.”

  “If that's what ye want, I can accompany ye,” he told them. “But are ye sure yer up to it?”

  “If you'll help me downstairs and into the wagon, then yes. I’ll manage all right.”

  He looked her up and down as if he didn't believe a word she’d just said. “I'll have to think on it.”

  Eva looked taken aback. “Think on it?”

  “Aye, lass. If I'm to be yer husband, then I have to do whatever necessary to protect ye, don’t I?”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Well, I … yes, but …”

  Finn watched her struggle, then realized what she might be thinking. “Don't worry, lass, I'm not trying to tell you what to do. I'm just looking out for you. I don't want ye to re-injure yer ankle.”

  Her face softened. “Thank you for telling me that. For a moment, you were starting to remind me of my mother.”

  “Aye, I could see that.”

  “You don't mind if I go out, then?”

  “Not if I'm there to help ye.”

  Eva smiled and glanced at his mother. “We could go after you show me what's to be done downstairs.”

  Finn looked at them both. “Downstairs?”

  “Well if yer gonna marry the girl,” his mother huffed, “she needs to learn the family business, doesn't she?”

  “Oh well, aye, I suppose so. It doesn't bother ye, does it, lass?”

  “Finn Mullaney,” Eva said with a hand on her hip and a spoon in the other. “If it bothered me, I wouldn't be here.”

  He smiled, and fought the urge to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless. “True enough.” He turned to the pot behind her. “What's for breakfast?”

  “Your mother is showing me how she makes her oatmeal.”

  “Is she now? Well then, tell her to hurry up and show ye how to make her apple pie.”

  “I thought you liked pumpkin best,” said Eva.

  “Aye, lass, I do. But yer pumpkin pie is already perfect. Now I want to try yer apple.” He closed the distance between them and kissed her on the cheek.

  His mother giggled.

  “Ye think it's funny, do ye? Well, how about this?” He took Eva in his arms, bent her backward over his knee and kissed her with a will. She dropped the spoon, and it fell to the floor with a clatter.

  “Finn Mullaney!” his mother cried. “Yer going to make her scorch the oatmeal!”

  Finn broke the kiss, set Eva back on her feet and gazed at the deep look of adoration pooling in her eyes. It rocked him to the core. “Oh, Eva …,” he sighed.

  “Yes?” she whispered back.

  He smiled, not sure what to say. It felt like someone had just dropped a heavy object into his heart. He wasn't quite sure what it was; he’d never felt anything like it. “Yer a beautiful sight in the morning, did ye know that?”

  Eva blushed a furious red. “Are you trying to make me scorch the oatmeal?”

  “No, but would ye like to see me do that?”

  “Finn, sit down!” his mother scolded.

  Eva laughed and turned back to stir the pot. “You better do as you're told,” she warned. “Your mother has
been sharing how she handles the men of this house.”

  “Don't believe a word of it,” Finn grumbled as he sat.

  Eva turned to him. “I’m afraid it's too late for that. I already do.”

  Finn marveled at the beauty standing across the table from him. If he wanted, in a few days he could have her as his bride. Of course, at this point it wasn't so much a matter of “if” as of “when.” For the moment, he had to keep her – and his parents – out of harm’s way. For the first time, he began to seriously consider if he should send them away for a while. Perhaps they too should travel to Clear Creek, where they could hide from the rest of the world until he got this business settled.

  He closed his eyes a moment as Eva filled his bowl with oatmeal. He would find the Scot today, if it was the last thing he did.

  * * *

  Sometimes the best laid plans go awry. No sooner had they finished breakfast than his mother had him help Eva downstairs and teach her their bookkeeping. He knew Eva was good with numbers, so hopefully she’d pick it all up quickly, but he was restless to begin his search for the Scot and wanted a few hours to nose around before he had to take the women out that afternoon. “Have ye worked with ledgers before, lass?”

  “Yes. I helped with the church’s books, until the pastor married – then his wife took over.”

  “Good – then ye should know how everything works.”

  “Who keeps the books now?”

  “My da, but his eyes are getting weaker. I figured I'd be the one to do it, but now that you're here …”

  “Don't worry; I'll take good care of them. Where is your father this morning? He wasn’t at breakfast.”

  “He's gone down to Jake Colfield’s office to see if anyone's died.”

  “Died? Who is Jake Colfield?”

  “He runs the local newspaper. Lots of times he knows things before anybody else.”

  “He knows who’s dead before the town undertaker does?” Eva asked in disbelief.

  “Not all the time – Da sometimes beats him to it. He checks the saloon first, in case there's been a fight or a shootout the night before, then he goes and sees Jake.”