by Jillian Hart
His heart was thankful, his hands careful against her flesh as he held her, and she obligingly curved her lush body against him, much to his delight, her soft murmurs making no sense as she whispered to him, but his name seeming to be on her lips frequently.
He loved her, this woman who had filled his heart and life with her presence in so short a time. And his mouth spoke words of thanksgiving as he offered his mind and body, his very being, into her keeping
Epilogue
The farm had never known such a joyous time, with such an enormous amount of company in the house. The bedrooms upstairs overflowed, with the arrival of Elizabeth’s parents and the two little girls from Boston. The parents were buzzing with news of Amos Rogers’s trial for murder. His wife was found to have been shot before the house was set afire. He had left her there while he carried off his children to the elder Collinses’ household, there to leave them while he went westward, chasing down Elizabeth.
His brother, Dr. Evan Rogers, had appeared at his trial, and testified that Amos had invaded his office, which was in one wing of his Boston home, and made away with several doses of laudanum, complete with syringes, one of which he’d used to dose Elizabeth. With the murder charge and kidnapping and assault charges due to his encounter with Elizabeth, he was sentenced to life in prison with no opportunity for parole, probably wishing Lucas’s bullet had killed him.
Now the house was simply wreathed with joy, for the boys were thrilled at having acquired new grandparents and Elizabeth was overjoyed to have her parents so close. She took her father on a grand tour of the barn and the animals in the pastures. Josh proudly showed his new horse to his new grandpa and was given an immediate lesson on training the animal.
Elizabeth carried her nieces around the house, with happiness almost causing her heart to burst, for her mother had confided that they were willing to leave the young girls with their aunt, should she so desire. And she indeed did so desire, for they were small bundles of joy, and she was delighted to accept the responsibility.
Lucas was all for the idea, saying that it was an ideal way to increase his family, and announcing that he’d always wanted a houseful of girls. He took to them in great style, carrying them hither and yon, Josh and Toby showing them the puppies and announcing the arrival within a week or so of a new pair of kittens from the neighboring farm where a litter was too much for the farmer there to contain in his barn.
Elizabeth was happy beyond words to have her parents for a long visit, even with the overshadowing events of Sissy’s death casting a pall on them when it was least expected, for their hearts ached with the loss they felt.
Luckily the two small girls were not feeling that particular strain, for they both were delighted to be at the farm, happy to be with their auntie and new uncle, who paid them so much attention. It was a joy to watch them, to see the happiness they exuded and the relief on the elder Collinses’ faces when they recognized that they would not be called upon to be parents to two children so small.
As for Lucas, he was overjoyed by the series of events. He could not grieve for Sissy’s death, for he hadn’t known her, but supporting Elizabeth in her own grieving was a task he took on without hesitation, for his love for her had grown by leaps and bounds over the weeks.
And so when it was finally time for the grandparents to take their leave, having endeared themselves to the two boys and having to leave behind two little girls who promised to bring joy to everyone they encountered, it was a difficult few moments. They’d all gone to town aboard the wagon. The afternoon stagecoach arrived in good order, and when the bags and baggage had been loaded aboard, and the grandparents had taken their seats, it was a bittersweet occasion, for four children waved farewell, urging the travelers to hurry back.
Lucas and Elizabeth each held one of the small girls, heads of golden curls bobbing beneath the afternoon sunshine as the toddlers waved and then were held closely to the new parents, who had vowed their love to them without hesitation. And so although Elizabeth shed a few tears as the stage pulled away, the joy of the small bundle she held in her arms overshadowed the loss of her parents in her home.
They drove in the wagon back to the farm, Lucas silent as he handled the reins, Elizabeth holding two small girls on her lap—one of them already asleep, the other not far behind—and two boys rattling on about their grandpa’s knowledge of horses and riding.
In no time at all they’d put away the wagon and team of horses, carried the girls into the house and then sat around the kitchen table together, the space filled to capacity, with two new chairs added. Lucas said he would build a higher chair for the youngest girl, Adelaine, for the eldest, three-year-old Alice, could kneel on a full-sized chair and thus eat more readily.
Their lives were full, as Lucas said later that night when the small girls had been settled in the fourth bedroom upstairs, pillows beside the big bed, lest one or the other of them fall to the floor in their sleep.
Elizabeth crawled beneath the top sheet, thinking of the day to come, of the week ahead, for she would be busy with sewing dresses for her nieces, the wardrobe her mother had brought along not sufficient for their needs. But for now, Lucas bent over her and bid her to put all her thoughts aside, and to concentrate for just a while on her husband. An order she was happy to obey, for hadn’t Lucas given her every wish she could have asked for?
Not only did she have a home and family, but now she had two more children to love and care for, and a husband who in turn bestowed upon her the love in his heart he’d been saving just for such a time.
“I’m so happy it was you, Lizzie,” he said softly, his kisses abundant across her face, his hands busy with the curves beneath the sheet. “I needed a wife, but more than that, I needed a woman to love who would answer my needs, and just look what I got.” He leaned back a bit and smiled at her in the candle glow, his face a picture of happiness.
“I was worried, Lucas. For I’d been the big one, the heavy sister, the tall girl in the family for all my life. And I doubted I’d ever find a man to love me as I am.”
“Well, here I am, pleased as punch to hold you in my arms. You’re just the right size for me, Lizzie. Just the right shape and just the right woman to answer all my needs and make me the happiest man in the world.”
And with that he kissed her soundly and Lizzie was silent, for she knew in her heart of hearts that Lucas Harrison was about to spend on her ample curves the benefit of all his loving tenderness, and there was nothing else she could possibly ask for. Not in this life, anyway.
HER ALASKAN GROOM
Kate Bridges
Dear Reader,
Have you ever wondered what kind of woman would be motivated to be a mail-order bride? It must have taken a lot of courage for her to pack her belongings, say goodbye to family or friends—if she had any—and board a train or ship to an unfamiliar destination and the arms of an unknown man.
John and Sophie’s love story starts with a problem in their paperwork. In those times, communication abilities were limited since they had no computers or telephones, and so I wondered what would happen if a man sent for one mail-order bride but mistakenly got two.
The humor of the situation is soon lost on both John and Sophie, as neither is what the other expected. Poor Sophie has to learn the hard way—perhaps the better way—what this man is made of and what he stands for.
Her Alaskan Groom adds to my collection of several stories I’ve set in Alaska and the Klondike. I hope you enjoy the adventure as it unfolds, with Sophie stepping off the ship onto the beautiful banks of Skagway, and the sun warming your cheeks….
Bon voyage,
Kate
Look for Alaska Bride on the Run, coming July 2010 in Harlequin Historical!
This story is dedicated to my mother, who was never a mail-order bride. However, like many women of her generation in post-WWII Europe, she dreamed of a better life for her future children. So she packed one suitcase, sewed a hundred dollars into the hem
of her skirt, and boarded a ship for North America. Thanks, Mom.
Chapter One
Skagway, District of Alaska
May 1899
“Your bride has changed her mind, sir.” Sophie Mead Grant practiced saying it aloud, but the words still choked in her throat. How would he accept the news? With an anxious look at the crowds ahead, she hopped off the platform of the swaying ship onto the busy banks of Skagway, Alaska.
Sophie set down her bags in the hot May sun. Clutching the torn advertisement for Seattle Mail-Order Brides, she peered at the scrawled name she’d stared at for the past twenty-two days at sea.
John Colburne.
Swarms of passengers bumped her shoulders as they passed her on the docks. When she looked up again, a man the size of a statue was staring at her from twenty yards away. Fringed suede jacket, cowboy hat, shoulders the breadth of a doorway.
It was him. Heat seeped up her neck.
“I’ve got shocking news,” she whispered under her breath. “Sorry, Mr. Colburne.” Her lips moved incoherently as his eyes held hers.
How disheartened would he be? Or…maybe this course of events would turn out in his best interests.
And hers. At one time, Sophie had let her father make her decisions for her. But no longer. Stepping onto Alaskan soil was her new breath of freedom. She’d be living her life for herself from now on.
Your weakness is— The harsh words of her father rushed through her ears. You’re much too sympathetic. You must pull up your spine and do what needs to be done. Clearly you’re not suited to being a midwife.
Yes, she was. She straightened her posture in the blazing sunshine. She’d prove it to her father. She’d prove it to all the doubters. That she was stronger and braver than he ever gave her credit for.
She had to muster her nerve and simply tell John Colburne the truth. With a fresh wave of resolve, Sophie picked up her satchel in one hand, her obstetrical bag in the other, and pressed toward him through the sea of bodies.
Her long skirts swirled about her ankles. The sun’s rays singed her face. The ocean mist lashed at her tucked-up hair. Flies no bigger than flecks darted up her nose. With a yelp, she tossed her bags to the ground and shooed the bugs.
“First thing,” he said, stepping to her side, “we’ve got to get you a proper hat. Bonnets aren’t enough to shield you from the flies and sun.”
Sophie lifted her face to get a good look at him. Sand-colored blond hair, blue eyes and the rippling of muscles beneath his white shirt. My, he was a lot of man to handle. She flushed just thinking about a night alone with him.
Surprising her, he lowered his face, pressed his warm lips to her cheek, pulled away, then kissed her other cheek.
The lump in her throat solidified. Paulette Trundle didn’t know what she was missing.
“Pleased to meet you, Paulette,” he said incorrectly. “I’m John.” The fringes on his jacket swayed as he moved forward and crushed Sophie in a hug. When he stepped back again, he gave her a handsome smile. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
He believed her to be his bride, Paulette, but she was an impostor. She fought for something coherent to say. “You’re much taller than I expected.”
He let out a soft laugh, and she rolled her eyes at her silly comment about his physical traits. Taller? Why not say more powerful and primal and brawny?
He had an easy way about him, a rhythm of speaking. She averted her gaze, pretended to swat at the flies and opened her lips to confess.
“Colburne,” shouted a deckhand from a lower gangplank. He was leading a horse from the bow of the ship. “John Colburne!”
Mr. Colburne wheeled around, like a tornado gathering thunder, and whistled in pleasure. “My mare!”
Hoisting both of Sophie’s bags with one hand, he leaped down the docks and motioned for her to follow. The deckhand with the horse nabbed him, while she was stopped on the docks by other disembarking passengers.
“So wonderful to have traveled with you, my dear.” Mrs. Rutledge, a woman Sophie had gotten to know on the ship, patted her face. Her husband nodded. Carrying a small barrel of rum, he eagerly looked over to his other kegs to ensure they were being properly unloaded, next to the livestock.
Behind them, an old sailor also waited to say goodbye to her, followed by the two middle-aged sisters who were here as seam-stresses. Then the bearded Captain Waycott himself.
“Skagway Arms Hotel.” The captain pointed to her right, reminding her of the hotel he’d recommended earlier, which she’d asked about in case her secret plans with Mr. Colburne didn’t turn out. “Straight down the main street.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said, then hustled to catch up to Mr. Colburne, who was admiring his new mare by the lower banks.
She gulped a breath of fresh air, unable to get enough. She was finally here. The icy mountains and the power of the ocean were much more magical than she’d anticipated.
The high peaks bore ice halfway down their slopes. Ocean waters swirled in a dozen hues of blue and green. The town itself looked charming—docks lined with sailors, fishermen, rich gold miners, shacks, shops and arriving throngs of European immigrants who spoke languages she didn’t understand.
She hadn’t told anyone on board the ship the private message she had to deliver to Mr. Colburne. Or why she had come to Alaska. Some things were confidential. Some things were easier to bear alone. Her whole life so far had been a testament to that philosophy.
Two more paces and she reached his side. Thankfully, they had a bit of privacy, with the ship behind them and the horse in front that blocked the view of passersby.
“Isn’t she a beaut?” He patted the mare’s flanks as the deckhand spoke with a passenger on the other side of the animal. The mare was a little lean from the rough voyage, but her coat was a glossy reddish-brown.
“A Thoroughbred,” he announced with pride.
“For your line of work?”
He frowned. “Well, yes…I mentioned it in my letter.”
Perhaps he’d mentioned it in his letters to Paulette, but not to her. Sophie crossed her arms over her jacket front and opened her mouth to finally, finally spill all.
“You’re more lovely than I expected.” He stepped closer, surprising the sweet Moses out of her. She swallowed hard at the daring look in his eyes. Her stomach contracted. Before she could resist, he swooped down and kissed her.
His kiss was magic. She hadn’t been kissed like this in…she’d never been kissed like this. The kind of kiss where a man didn’t give a damn who was watching, just rolled her up in his arms and kissed her with all the longing he’d been building for months. Untamed. Wild. Free. Like Alaska itself.
Lord, it had been so long since she’d been kissed at all.
But this kiss wasn’t meant for her. Her conscience flared.
When they parted, she had a feeling her eyes had been closed longer than his had. When she opened them, he was looking at her with the side of his lips turned up in good humor, and his head tilted as if trying to read what was going through her mind.
The brim of his hat put his eyes in shadow. “Now, what’ve you got to say for yourself?”
“I’m not Paulette.” Her lips were dry. “My name is Sophie Grant.”
His smile receded as her stomach turned inside out and sideways.
“Damn. I am sorry for that kiss.” Stunned by the news, John swung around to scour the docks, looking for the right woman. “Where’s Paulette?”
He peered down into Miss Grant’s enticing green eyes, over the sprinkling of blond hair scattered about her forehead and a damp residue of ocean mist on her cheeks. Her lips were rosy from the sun, tinted from the voyage.
His embarrassment mingled with a sense of confusion. This was not Paulette, and Paulette Trundle was the young woman he’d promised to marry.
“I do apologize,” he repeated.
“No need. I won’t tell anyone.” Miss Grant blinked up at him. She was dressed in a pretty b
lue wool suit that molded to her shapely curves. He cleared his throat and stepped behind the mare to get a closer look at the faces in the crowd. Lots of men in all shapes, sizes and financial status, but no single women.
“When I saw you step off the ship, I assumed…” He looked down at her gloved fingers and saw that she was clutching an ad for Mail-Order Brides. “I don’t understand. Do you know Paulette?”
“A little. We stayed in the same hotel three days before the ship left Seattle.”
“Please. If you’d be so kind, point her out to me.”
Miss Grant touched his sleeve. “She’s not coming.”
His full attention riveted to the smooth curves of her face. “What’s that?”
“It’s weighed heavily on my heart the entire voyage.”
He watched her lashes fall, her mouth struggle for words as his heart thudded. “What has?”
The young woman yanked at her bonnet, then surged ahead with her words. “Paulette never boarded the ship. She decided she couldn’t go through with it, I’m afraid. Marry you.”
John blinked. He looked away and rubbed his jaw. What? He peered down again at Miss Grant, but there was no smile to belie her comment, no mistaking what she’d said. The news rippled up his spine and made his mouth go dry.
Alone again.
Seeking a moment to gather his thoughts and hide his embarrassment, he spun away from her and the mare. He found a spot next to the gangplank, where it overlooked the docks and the swarm of workers.
The gold rush and influx of settlers had brought him to a place he loved, Alaska, but he didn’t wish to spend the rest of his days surrounded by nothing but men.
He took a good look around. Men who worked the sea were pulling on ropes and nets and unloading crates. Farther out on the docks, old fishermen snoozed in chairs, adolescent boys raced along the pier, men in their thirties and forties bartered with each other for incoming supplies. John spotted only five or six bonnets in roughly a hundred cowboy hats and sailor’s caps.
