Alice_Bride of Rhode Island

by Kristy McCaffrey

  “I thought you might purchase some gowns for yourself.”

  “I will. But Mrs. Irwin was able to give me several of her daughter’s hand-me-downs and I’m a quite capable seamstress.” She indicated her attire. “These will do.”

  Like a schoolboy, his gaze locked onto her attributes as if he’d never before seen a woman. Mrs. Irwin’s daughter must be much smaller because Alice’s dress was distractingly snug. “How long have I been asleep?” he asked in an effort to break the spell his wife so easily cast over him.

  “For a day.” She picked up a bowl and spoon and moved to the bedside. “Can you eat some broth? You really need to keep your strength up.”

  He pushed himself to sit upright. Pain shot through his right ankle. “What the hell happened?”

  She set the bowl on the nightstand, beside the flowers, and grabbed his arm to help him. Her touch on his bare skin startled him, and that’s when he noticed he wore no shirt. She adjusted the pillows so that he could lean back. Her lemony scent filled his senses, and despite his predicament, he became acutely aware of the two of them alone in his bedroom—correction, her bedroom. It didn’t matter one whit that it was bright daylight outside.

  “Doc Sanford says your ankle is broken. The Misty Seas had a fire, and then there was an explosion—“

  “Freddy!”

  “He’s fine.” Her hands gently pushed back at this shoulders as he tried to rise from the bed again. “Well, not completely fine, but he’s recovering.”

  Her touch ignited a new kind of panic in his belly. He reached for the bowl of broth and began to eat to distract himself.

  “How bad is your pain?” she asked. “Can I give you something for it?”

  “No. I’ll be fine.”

  “Once you keep the broth down, I can make you a more substantial meal.”

  He nodded.

  She retrieved the wooden desk chair from the corner and moved it closer to the bed, then sat.

  “Will Mrs. Irwin tend to me?” he asked, knowing the question was rude.

  Alice furrowed her brows. He stared a moment longer than he should at her flushed cheeks, enticing rose-tinged lips, and blue eyes that reminded him of the sky on days he was on the wide open sea.

  “I’m your wife, James.” Her back became straighter. “I can tend to you.”

  Lord have mercy.

  He didn’t have the strength to argue at the moment as fatigue crept upon him. He put the edge of the bowl to his mouth and swallowed the remainder of the broth in one gulp.

  “Slow down,” she admonished, standing. “You’ll make yourself sick.” She took the bowl and spoon from him. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

  “No. I think I might like to rest for a while.” And not imagine what lies beneath that cotton gown you’re wearing.

  “Of course.” She poured a glass of water from a pitcher and set it on the nightstand. Without warning, she placed the back of her hand to his forehead.

  His body jerked in response.

  “Easy now,” she said, placing her other hand on his bare shoulder. “You don’t feel feverish. That’s good.”

  There was more than one way to run a fever. She may as well have just touched him with a hot iron, so easily did his skin react to hers.

  She gathered the dishes on the tray, lifted it and left the bedroom, closing the door without looking at him.

  James let out a frustrated breath. He could still feel where her hand had all but imprinted onto his forehead and branded his shoulder. What would it be like to hold her, to kiss her, to...

  He pushed back the covers to examine his ankle. It was wrapped, so movement was restricted. He tried to shift it, but pain sliced through his lower leg. He was definitely bed-bound for several days.

  He lay back and stared at the ceiling.

  He would ask Frank to bring the books from the office.

  With luck, it would keep his mind off his wife.

  Chapter Eight

  James ran a fever during the night, and Alice checked on him frequently, finally remaining in the bedroom instead of returning to the servant’s quarters where she’d been living. She’d insisted that James be brought to his former bedroom. With more sunlight, it was more conducive to healing, and there was an inspiring view of the Sakonnet as an added bonus.

  The servant’s quarters were small, cramped, and a bit dingy. When she had more time, she would set to work freshening the room, although she hoped to convince James to remain in the upstairs bedroom with her.

  The thought made her stomach turn somersaults, as it always did.

  It didn’t help that the bed she’d slept in—his bed—smelled of him, a sharp musky scent tinged with the sun-warmed salt of the sea.

  It drew her like a moth to a flame.

  I like the way James smells.

  She liked most everything about him, except the way he held her at arm’s length.

  Keeping the lamplight low, she sat in the chair, reading a collection of poems by Longfellow, estimating it was still an hour before sunrise. James had finally settled into a deep slumber after she’d administered a tonic, and he seemed the better for it.

  Truth be told, she didn’t want to leave him. Being near gave her purpose. It also gave her comfort.

  She wondered if it would ever be possible for them to have a real marriage.

  “You’re always reading.”

  She started at James’ voice. “My apologies. Is the light bothering you?”

  “No. I’ve slept more in the last few days than my entire childhood.”

  She smiled, deposited the book onto the nightstand, and rose to check his forehead, but his large hand closed around her wrist to stop her.

  “You need to stop doing that.”

  “But how will I know if you’re still feverish?”

  “I will recover, Alice. I’m no weakling.”

  She hesitated, but silently agreed and stepped back, and he released his hold on her. In the faint glow of the yellow light, his muscular build filled the bed and beckoned her in a way she’d never before experienced with any man. The way he carried himself, the look of intelligence in his eyes, the strong set of his jaw all enticed her. Sometimes she caught him looking at her, and for the briefest of moments something passed between them. She couldn’t fathom why he’d married her only to deny any possible feelings he might have for her.

  She sat back onto the chair, frustration welling up inside. “No, you’re no weakling.” She crossed her arms across her chest, tucking them below her bosom. “Perhaps it’s time you shared your history with me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Where are you from?”

  He pushed himself against the simple plank headboard, his shoulders flexing from the exertion. With great effort she had to stop herself from staring at the sinewy muscle. It was quite possible she would start drooling at any moment.

  “I was born in Quebec.”

  Latching onto the distraction, she asked, “You’re French-Canadian?”

  “Oui.”

  One simple French word let the starch out of her. If she’d had one of those fancy fans, she’d be cooling herself off as she pretended to sit sedately before him.

  He ran a hand through his hair. “My maman and papa came here when I was still a babe, settling in Providence. Papa was a fisherman. When I was thirteen, he moved to Tiverton to start his own business. When Frank and I were old enough, we began working with him. Theo didn’t really get involved until after they were gone.”

  “You must miss them terribly.”

  His countenance softened. “I do.”

  “From the sound of it, you’ve done a wonderful job with the company.”

  “I’ve been very focused on it for the past five years. I was only twenty-one when my folks passed, but I feel as if I’ve aged a quarter century since.”

  Alice sensed the weight he carried and wanted to reach out, to touch him, to reassure him that he was no longer alone. But
she kept her hands clasped in her lap.

  “How is it that you became Daniel Endicott’s step-daughter?” he asked.

  The edge in James’ voice snagged her attention. “Do you know him?”

  “A bit. Our businesses overlap.”

  Apprehension washed over her. Would her path cross her stepfather’s despite every effort she’d made to distance herself from him? She sought to steady her nerves. She was married now. Daniel Endicott could no longer force her hand.

  James raised an eyebrow. “So, what happened?”

  She took a deep breath. “Daniel Endicott and my father were friends—Daniel was his attorney. When my father died, Daniel began to manage all my father’s business affairs. I never did quite understand how or why he did this. A year later, he convinced my mother to marry him. Then, he adopted me, and to my surprise, my mother agreed. Neither of us was very happy, though. I misbehaved and was soon shipped off to boarding school.”

  “I had no idea you harbor such a rebellious spirit.”

  “There’s much you don’t know about me.”

  James flashed a grin at her, and her heart skipped a beat.

  “I was eleven years old when my father was lost at sea,” she continued. “It’s rather ironic, actually, because the sea was his life. Gavin Harrington was most at home on a ship.”

  “Gavin Harrington was your father?”

  She nodded.

  “His exploits during the Civil War were well known,” he said, his voice filled with reverence.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Do you not know?”

  She shook her head.

  “He was one of the most successful privateers who serviced the Union in blockading the South. My papa knew him and spoke of him with admiration. In fact, they were to go into business together before your father died.”

  “Truly? What happened?”

  James narrowed his gaze. “Daniel Endicott didn’t honor the deal.” The flash of steely resolve unsettled Alice.

  “I’m not surprised,” she answered quietly. She had little love for her stepfather.

  “I take it you don’t have much knowledge of what your father left behind at his death.”

  “No. I was young. Mama handled everything. And now...” She stared out the window.

  “Is your mother still living?”

  She brought her attention back to James. “No. Five years ago she died from consumption. I was away at school at the time and never had the opportunity to say goodbye.”

  James went silent for a time, then finally said, “Did you run away from Daniel Endicott? Is that why you were working in that factory? Is that why you agreed to become a mail-order bride?”

  Alice hesitated. “I don’t want Daniel Endicott to run my life. I want to be the master of my own journey.”

  “Agreeing to become a stranger’s wife is hardly a way to forge your independence.”

  “Maybe not.” A sudden flare of composure overtook her. “Are you a good man, James? Will you mistreat me?”

  “No, Alice, I won’t mistreat you. Daniel Endicott can’t touch you while you’re my wife.”

  His emphatic answer calmed her, but something about it also troubled her. ‘...while you’re my wife.’ She didn’t like the implication.

  Early-morning light filtered into the room, ending the intimacy of their conversation.

  She stood. “Let me make you breakfast. Would you like a poached egg and a piece of toast?”

  “That would be nice.”

  “Frank brought home a bag of oranges. I’ll squeeze fresh juice for you.”

  “You’re going to spoil me.”

  If I do, will you want me as a true wife?

  The longing for something real and lasting pierced her. She fled to the hall before James could see the look of despair on her face.

  Chapter Nine

  “No.” James set his jaw.

  “Why?” Frank argued.

  “Alice left Daniel Endicott on purpose. I won’t force her back into his life.”

  Frank leaned forward in the chair that Alice normally occupied. “How will you get your hands on her inheritance if Endicott doesn’t know you’re her husband?”

  “We’re not entirely certain there is an inheritance.” James still lay in bed. It had been three days and he was restless. “I’ve been making discreet inquiries, but so far nothing.”

  “All the more reason to stir the pot. It’s just a social gathering. At his house, no less. It’s perfect. I’ve already secured an invitation for you. You simply bring your wife along. You don’t even have to tell her.”

  “Do you really think Endicott would let a Martel through his front door?”

  Frank smiled, a wicked gleam in his eye. “You’ll be going as Mr. and Mrs. Marsh from Boston.”

  “And what do you expect will happen?” James countered, irritated. He really needed to get up and move about. While being cooped up with Alice had its benefits, it had also created a tension between them—a longing that was fast proving to be a damn frustration. He knew she felt it. And God knew, the more time he spent with her, the more agitated he became.

  He’d married her to gain an advantage over Daniel Endicott, to right the many wrongs that had befallen the Martel family because of him. He had no qualms pursuing this course of action. But compromising Alice was untenable to him. She deserved better. Gavin Harrington’s daughter merited a man who would love and cherish her, not one who would marry her to gain access to her stepfather. As soon as the business with the inheritance could be handled, James would let her go.

  Frank reclined in the chair, stretching his legs and crossing his arms. Having come straight from a day on one of their steamships, the Three Brothers, his sweat-soaked shirt, suspenders, and stained wool trousers smelled of fish. It amused James to imagine Alice’s reaction when she came across Frank’s stench. Her vase of flowers on the nightstand did little to mask it.

  “Endicott will know you’ve got his daughter,” Frank answered. “It’ll give you leverage. And it’ll scare him too, which he more than deserves. It’s high time he knows that messing with a Martel was a bad idea.”

  Frank was right. Jean and Ada Martel had died in a carriage accident, the cause lurking like a fishing net dredging the sea floor. The official conclusion had been that Jean Martel had been drunk, a state in which he’d frequently been found in the years after his ruin by Endicott. But both James and Frank suspected that Endicott may have had a hand in it. Unfortunately, nothing could be proven.

  Frank sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. “You don’t love Alice, so why do you care if she’s upset? As soon as this is done, you can divorce her and get on with your life. It’s what I’d planned to do when I initially sent for her anyway. You can still live your dream of sailing into the beyond on one of your ships.”

  James brooded. “I’d never abandon the family or the business.” Did that include Alice?

  “Will you at least consider attending the party?”

  “I’ll think about it,” he finally conceded.

  “Don’t think too long. It’s a Christmas party, set for December 12. You’ll need to depart soon if you want to make the journey to Newport without too much hassle. You could tell Alice it’s a belated honeymoon.”

  James swore under his breath as Frank left the room. A honeymoon implied marital relations. That was exactly what James had been trying to avoid these past few weeks. And he wasn’t keen about lying to Alice.

  You’re already misleading her.

  He needed to stop the sentiment seeping into him. He hadn’t desired to get married. He’d simply saved Frank’s hide and Alice’s difficult predicament. He didn’t owe her anything, except that she leave the marriage as unscathed as when she entered it. In return, he’d take back Menhaden Fishing, his papa’s heart and soul. Perhaps Frank was right. The sooner this business with Endicott could be addressed, the sooner he and Alice could get on with their lives.

&nbs
p; * * * *

  Alice entered James’ room, carrying clean linens, and tried to ignore his stewing temperament.

  “I want to get out of bed,” he said.

  “I agree. It’s time I freshened the coverings.” She set down her bundle and came to the bedside.

  James pushed the blanket away and swung his legs to the floor. Alice pretended that his near state of nakedness didn’t affect her at all. Since he seemed determined to stand, she wedged herself in the crook of his shoulder to allow him to lean on her.

  “I’m not an invalid,” he huffed.

  She stood her ground. “No, but you certainly are stubborn. Where is it you’re planning to go?”

  “Downstairs.”

  “Frank did procure crutches for you. They’re in the parlor.”

  His arm came around her and she wrapped hers around his waist, enjoying the feel of his bare skin.

  “But perhaps you should dress before you make your way back into the world,” she added. She’d never been this close to him before, and the contact brought a flush of heat to her face.

  “Fine.”

  “Do you need assistance?”

  “No.”

  “I’ve placed items in the dresser for you. If you can stand, I’ll leave you to it.”

  He nodded.

  Reluctantly she separated herself from him, continuing to grasp his arm until she was forced to release the contact.

  “I’ve decided that we’ll go to Newport for our honeymoon.”

  Alice’s gaze snapped to his, but his eyes were elsewhere as he braced a hand on the wall at the head of the bed. His lithe frame and muscled torso briefly distracted her.

  “Truly?” she asked.

  “Yes. In ten days’ time. My ankle should be better by then. You should acquire more gowns, at least two fancy ones. We may attend a Christmas party or two.”

  Elation and apprehension settled in her chest. Did a honeymoon mean that James sought to spend more time with her? In the same instance, she dreaded such a journey. She had grown up in Newport—it was her home—but when she’d fled her stepfather she’d accepted that she would never return.