RNWMP: Bride for Preston (Mail Order Mounties Book 6)

by Kay P. Dawson

  "I'm telling the truth, Preston. I don't have anything inside this cabin. How could I possibly hide something in this tiny room?"

  Maryanne's eyes were large as they stared back at him. She'd been making a pie, and he hated to interrupt, especially as he'd had the chance to taste how good they were since she'd been here.

  In fact, everything she'd cooked for him over the past week was delicious. At this rate, he was sure he'd need to get her to take out some of the seams on his jacket so it would still fit.

  He was finding himself looking forward to coming home every evening, knowing she'd be there to spend the time with. He was enjoying getting to know his new wife, and was surprised at how content he was feeling.

  Although since the night outside, he'd been suspicious of how she'd acted when he joined her, but he hadn't wanted to mention anything.

  Today, Laurel had come into the station again saying that the women were bringing danger to the village by holding onto the wild cat. Preston wasn't sure what to make of it. He couldn't believe that Maryanne or Lisa would have a cougar tucked away in the house without them knowing about it.

  "So you don't mind if I look around?"

  She squinted her eyes slightly, and he almost thought he saw a flicker of anger. He knew he should trust his wife, but Laurel wasn't one to make false accusations. If he didn't find anything, he'd find a way to make it up to Maryanne.

  "You go right ahead. You don't mind if I go over to Lisa's while you investigate, do you? Or do you need to keep me here with my hands tied together in case I try to clobber you over the head while I sneak the beast out of the cabin?"

  "That's a bit dramatic, wouldn't you say? No, Maryanne, you are free to go to Lisa's while I search." He avoided rolling his eyes in her direction as she spoke.

  He suspected she was planning to go to her friend's anyway, since she was already pulling her shabby sweater over her shoulders. He made a note to himself to remember to order her a new jacket before the cold settled in for the winter. That ratty old sweater wouldn't do a thing to keep the cold out.

  As soon as the door shut behind her, he shook his head and started searching. He looked under the bed and in any cupboards that might work as a hiding place. The only place he hadn't looked was Maryanne's old bag that sat tucked near the head of the bed. She'd taken her few items of clothing out to hang up, which he'd been surprised to see were much less elegant than the outfit she'd been wearing when she arrived.

  But the case still sat there, the only item that she'd brought with her. It wasn't right for him to look in there, was it?

  Even as his feet moved toward the bed, guilt gnawed at his insides. He had to make sure he checked everywhere, so surely she would understand. When he opened the lid, a small photograph lay inside. In the picture, were two young girls, smiling back at him.

  He knew immediately which one was Maryanne, but the sadness he'd often seen in her eyes wasn't there. Instead, he saw the eyes of a child who shone with happiness, her arms around her younger sister.

  Eliza sat in front of Maryanne, and he understood how she'd have been considered beautiful. Even though the picture wasn't in color, and she couldn't have been more than ten years old, Preston could see the beauty she would become.

  But it was Maryanne who kept drawing his eyes. Seeing the woman he'd spent the past week getting to know, as a child, opened his eyes to the pain she'd endured after her sister's accident. He didn't know how anyone couldn't have told her she was beautiful too.

  The girl he was looking at was even prettier in his eyes.

  Even if she didn't believe it.

  "Lisa, he's over there right now looking through the cabin. I feel horrible lying to him like this."

  Lisa took Clara from her arms, and Maryanne flung herself into a chair. As soon as she'd gone outside, she'd grabbed Clara from the wood box and ran as fast as her skirts would allow.

  "I know, Maryanne. I feel terrible too. It's just for one more night. Isabelle has already agreed to take her back with her tomorrow when she comes, so you just need to keep her hidden until then. I'm sure she'll be ready to go back to her mama soon. She just needs a bit more time."

  Maryanne rested her head in her hands on the table. "It would be easier to lie if he was a horrible man. But he isn't, and it's not fair to hide something like this from him."

  Lisa passed the tiny bundle back to her while she grabbed a cloth and milk. Clara had been getting her strength back and was starting to eat a lot more. But even as she held her, Maryanne could see the kitten's leg was still too weak and injured to support it in the wild if it's mother didn't find it.

  Taking the cloth from Lisa, she started to feed Clara as they continued to sit at the table. Thankfully, Wesley had been called out to settle a dispute outside the village, so they were alone at the moment. But she also knew that could change at any time, so she knew better than to let herself relax.

  "It was nice of Preston to help Wesley yesterday to build my new wagon. I love it. He finished the tray after church today before he was called away. I feel so lucky to have a husband who already seems willing to do anything he can to make things easier for me."

  Maryanne smiled over at her friend while the sound of Clara sucking on the milk soaked cloth filled the quiet room. "Yes, Wesley seems like a good man. I'm glad you have him. You deserve to be happy."

  "What about you, Maryanne? Are you happy?"

  Raising her eyes, she gave a soft laugh. "Of course I am. Preston is nice, and he seems to be content enough with me."

  "But what are you worrying about?" Lisa was watching her closely.

  Maryanne rolled her eyes and shook her head at her friend who already seemed able to read her thoughts. "It just seems so strange that a man like Preston would need to send away for a bride. And for Miss Hazel to believe I'd be suitable for him."

  Lisa started to laugh quietly. "This sounds like exactly the same conversation we had just a few days ago when I'd mentioned my own worries. And I seem to remember you telling me that you wished I wouldn't talk like that, and that Wesley was lucky to have me. Yet you seem willing to let yourself think the very same way. Don't you realize how lucky Preston is to have you?"

  Clara was done feeding, and she started to squirm in her arms. Maryanne looked down and smiled at the animal who was trying to stretch up to touch her front paws to her face. "You sure are a sweetheart, Clara. Even though you've given me extra worry this past week, I can honestly say I'm going to miss you."

  Clara gave a weak meow in reply. Maryanne put her face closer to kiss the animal on the nose, and laughed as Clara reached out with her tongue to lick her.

  When she looked up, Lisa was smiling at her. "I'm so glad I met you, Maryanne. You truly have the biggest heart of anyone I've ever known. And I have no doubt that Preston will see that too."

  "I just hope that's all he sees. Because I have no doubt if he catches me putting Clara back, I'll be on the first train back to Ottawa."

  Chapter 8

  Now that Clara had been safely handed off to Isabelle, Maryanne felt like she could breathe a little easier. However, she'd found herself with tears in her eyes as she'd said goodbye to the companion she'd grown to love over the past week.

  But she knew Isabelle would take good care of her. Maybe now that she was able to focus more on her new husband, she might be able to see how he felt about her. The fact that he still hadn't even so much as kissed her hadn't escaped her.

  She was determined today to make him a good dinner and have the cabin spotless when he got home. Most evenings, she would crochet while they talked, but tonight she planned to give him her full attention.

  Even if he did end up rejecting her.

  The door opened with a gust of wind, and she smiled as the large figure of her husband come through the door.

  "It's really cooling off out there. I hope you know what you're in for up here over the winter. It can be many weeks of cold, snow, and isolation from the rest of the world sometimes.
"

  "I'll be fine. I've got Lisa, and we've been busy crocheting blankets for the women in the tribes, so I'll have plenty to do." She turned back to the stove and gave her stew a stir.

  He came up behind her and sniffed the air. "It smells wonderful in here."

  Her pulse quickened at his closeness as he leaned over her shoulder. "I notice you didn't mention my name. Do I not count as someone you can look forward to spending the winter with? Or are you still angry with me for insisting on searching the cabin yesterday?"

  Her cheeks burned as she remembered. Why was he still standing so close? It was difficult to concentrate with him right behind her like this.

  "I wasn't angry. I just find it odd that you would believe that I had an animal in the cabin." He'd apologized as soon as she'd returned yesterday, and said he would have a talk with Laurel to tell her there was no sign of any animals that would bring danger to their village.

  But the guilt had continued to eat at her, so she'd pretended to have a headache and gone to bed early. She wasn't good at lying.

  He finally stepped away and she heard him chuckle to himself. "After seeing you and Lisa together, honestly I'm not sure it wouldn't be entirely possible."

  She shot him a look, but he didn't notice as he reached into the basin and washed his hands. He dried them, then shrugged his coat off. He wore an undershirt with suspenders holding his trousers up. As he moved, she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from him.

  "Maryanne, I'm not sure if you're trying to burn the stew, but I'd say it's just about ready to boil over."

  She jumped as she realized she'd been caught staring. Quickly, she turned back to give it another stir, then moved to pull it off the stove, forgetting to grab a towel to protect her hand from the heat.

  Letting out a cry, she dropped the pot with a loud crash. Before she knew what had happened, Preston was over and turning her to face him, taking her hand in his to look at the burn.

  His eyebrows came together as he surveyed the damage. She wasn't sure if it was the heat from the pot that was causing her skin to burn or if it was from where he was holding her hand.

  She pulled her hand back and tried to tuck it into the front of her apron. "It's fine. Just a little burn."

  She ignored the throbbing that was now pulsing through her entire hand.

  He tipped his head slightly and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "It’s already blistering. Are you going to honestly stand there and tell me it doesn't hurt right now?"

  She swallowed and nodded her head.

  But even as she did, she could feel the blisters growing, sending pain shooting through her hand.

  He put his hand back out and waited without saying another word.

  "I promise, I won't bite. Just let me see the burn so I can put something on it."

  Hesitantly she pulled it back out, afraid to even look at the damage. Keeping her eyes averted, she let Preston look at it.

  "Come over here so I can put some balm on it." He pulled her over to the cupboard beside the stove and bent down to reach inside one of the drawers. He pulled a jar out and opened the lid, then took her hand again. He met her eyes and smiled. "It might sting a bit, but it's a lavender balm that the local Indians swear fixes everything."

  Gently, he started to rub the ointment on her blisters and she was mesmerized by how carefully he was watching what he was doing. His head was bent over her hand, and as his fingers moved along her skin, everywhere he touched started to tingle.

  It had to be the lavender balm that was sending shivers all the way up her arm.

  When he lifted her head and met her eyes, she was sure every inch of her was now tingling. How could a man make her lose her senses by simply looking at her?

  As she stood lost in his gaze, he gave a gentle tug and pulled her toward him. She was sure her heart was beating so loud he'd be able to hear it in the silence of the room. Still holding her wounded hand in his, he brought his other hand up and tenderly pushed a piece of her hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear.

  His eyes watched everywhere his hand moved, and before she could say a word, he was bringing his lips down to hers. He'd kissed her the day they'd gotten married, but it had been a brief touch.

  This time, his lips covered hers completely as his hand went behind her head to pull her into him. He moved them slowly, softly caressing the skin on the back of her neck. She struggled to stay upright, and was sure her legs were about to buckle beneath her.

  Suddenly, a banging at the door broke the spell that had woven its way between them.

  Preston cursed loudly, and heat quickly rose to fill her cheeks as she realized what had just happened. He went to answer the door, leaving her to lean against the cupboard to hold herself up. Her injured hand came up to gently touch the lips that were now swollen from his kiss.

  She vaguely heard Wesley telling Preston he needed to go out and check on the situation with the traplines. Some of the Indians had been dealt a bad trade with alcohol for their furs, and he was afraid there would be some disturbances.

  By the time Preston came back over, she'd almost regained her senses. He reached out and took her uninjured hand in both of his. "I'm sorry, but I have to leave. I'm not sure what time I'll be back, but it will likely be late. You don't need to wait up for me."

  His thumbs were making slow circles on her skin and his eyes were even darker than normal.

  She could only nod. His gaze was making her uncomfortable so she tried to move past him. "I will put some stew into a container so you can take it with you. You still need to eat."

  As she tried to get past, he reached out and wrapped his fingers around her arm. "I'll be sure to check your burn when I get home."

  The way he said the words sent shivers down her spine. Somehow, she knew without a doubt, he planned to do more than tend to her burns.

  Chapter 9

  Trust Wesley to have the worst possible timing. Preston had been shocked at how just touching Maryanne's hand had opened a whole array of emotions he'd thought he would never feel again. And truthfully, it scared him.

  He'd sworn he would never fall in love again—risking the pain of a woman ever having the chance to make him feel like he wasn't worthy of her affection. Once was enough in any man's lifetime to go through that.

  Yet somehow, Maryanne's subtle beauty and kind heart had managed to start working its way through to him. She was his wife, and he would do everything he could to protect and cherish her, but he had to keep himself from loving her. Even as he said the words to himself, he had doubts. Maryanne was different from Lizzy. She didn't seem the type to ever judge another person based on the blood that flowed through his veins.

  Maybe he could learn to trust her enough someday.

  But for now, he'd desperately wanted to continue kissing her. Even now as he walked toward the small cabin, his pulse raced. Would she still be awake? Would she be willing to continue from where they'd left off?

  When he opened the door, he immediately knew she was sleeping. The light from the lantern on the table was turned down low, and he smiled as he realized how nice it was to come home to someone else who'd cared enough to leave a light on. Such a simple act, yet something he found comforting.

  He quietly took off his jacket and walked over to look down at her sleeping face. There was no doubt about it. Every time he looked at her, she seemed to become even more beautiful. In sleep, she didn't have the lines of worry marking her skin. Her face was relaxed and he didn't see any hints of the pain he sometimes would see in her eyes before she hid it away. He eyed up her injured hand and was glad to see the balm already working its magic.

  His fingers moved to touch her soft skin, but he pulled them back, not wanting to wake her. She'd been through a lot, coming to a strange place to marry a man she didn't know, and since she'd arrived, she'd been working to take care of his every need. He'd had the best meals he'd ever enjoyed in his life, and his clothes were always clean and pressed perfectly f
or him. She did all of this while caring for her friend too.

  Wesley had told him how much he appreciated Maryanne coming and helping out around there. Preston hadn't even realized just how much she was doing for everyone.

  He went to the small chest in the corner where he kept his pencils and paper. Not many people knew how much he enjoyed drawing. It was something he kept hidden from others. Drawing was something he'd always done to relax, but he didn't think most men would appreciate knowing a big, strong Mountie liked to sit and draw. So, he kept the chest locked up with all of his private items that weren't for the world to see.

  He quietly set a chair beside the bed and moved his pencils over the paper as he studied the woman in his bed. Her hair rested on the pillow, framing her head like a halo. In the stillness of her sleep, her lips turned up slightly in a smile. He could see the subtle hints of freckles that he knew spattered across her nose.

  His chest felt tight as he sat in the silence of the room, bringing her face to life on the page in front of him. He was sure he'd never drawn anything that seemed to tug at his heart like this picture. This was one that he would be able to fold and carry with him to remind him of what he had waiting when he came home.

  Carefully, he pressed the paper together and went to tuck it into his jacket. He'd have to remember to take it out when Maryanne was going to wash it.

  After he put the pencils and paper back into the chest, he went to turn the lantern out. But first, he wanted to get one last look at the sleeping woman in the glow of the flickering light. How could he not have noticed just how incredibly beautiful she truly was?

  Smiling to himself, he crossed back over to his bedroll on the floor. Shaking his head as he crouched down, he vowed to himself that this would be the last time he slept on this floor. He'd given Maryanne enough time to get to know him, and after their kiss earlier, he was sure she was ready to make their marriage more than name only.