MILITARY ROMANCE: The War Within Himself (Alpha Bad Boy Marine Army Seal) (Contemporary Military Suspense & Thriller Romance)

by Claire Branson

  Every night that Elise didn’t work, Lars came to visit. After a while, Elise began to feel as though he didn’t want her to see anybody else. She couldn’t decide if it was because he loved her, although he never said the words, or because he just wanted a female companion. On the nights she held classes at the one-room school, Lars was there to walk her home, almost as though he was staking his claim on her.

  One night, there were only two young men at the class, Moya and another Swede. After a brief lesson, she dismissed class. With Lars not at the school, Moya asked if he could walk her home.

  “I’d like that,” Elise said in English.

  “I vould have asked you before, but Lars is alvays here.”

  “I’m glad that we ended early tonight. I’ve wanted to get to know other people. Lars is nice, and I did come out here because he asked me to, but I need other friends, too. It isn’t my fault that there are so few women here.”

  “I vant to get to know you better, too,” he said, “but Lars vould be mad.”

  “I don’t care,” she declared. “He can’t tell me who I can and can’t see.”

  They walked in silence for a full block before Elise asked, “Are you liking the English class?”

  “Very much. I learn a lot.”

  “I enjoy teaching it and meeting other residents of Forestville. The men here are all so nice. I just wish there were more women in town.”

  “Ve do, too,” Moya said with a laugh. “Dat is vy Lars asked you to come. Do you tink you could start a newspaper so ve could write and ask for brides? Ve don’t know how to write English.”

  “You know, Moya,” she said, gazing up at him suspiciously, “you speak enough English, so you don’t need my class.”

  He grinned. “I don’t. It vas de only way I could tink of to see you again.”

  Laying his hand on the small of her back, Moya steered her down a street that didn’t lead to her house. The explosion of feelings that raced through her caught her by surprise. How had his mere touch—over her lightweight coat and clothes, at that—cause such a strong reaction in her?

  To still this new excitement, she asked, “Where are we going? This isn’t the way home.”

  “It’s a different vay home, Elise,” Moya replied. “Lars alvays valks dat vay. I don’t vant to meet him on de street.”

  “Ah, that explains it. Wait! That has to mean that you know our normal route. How could you?”

  “I follow you,” he admitted as they reached the corner at the end of a street, where he steered her toward the left.

  “Every night?” she asked in shock.

  “Ja, every night.”

  “Why?”

  “Lars isn’t de man you tink he is. I don’t tink he vants you to know vat he is really like.”

  Stunned, Elise strolled next to him in a daze. Not the man she thinks he is? What did that mean? Why wouldn’t Lars want her to know what he’s really like? Would he hurt her? Would he do what Bridget’s fiancé did to Bridget? Elise wasn’t sure she wanted answers to her questions. She was happy in her own little naïve world, happy knowing that she had a suitor.

  Or was she happy. In Bishop Hill, she had felt no deep feelings for Lars. She’d always considered him nothing more than her friend. When he’d kissed her for the first time here in Forestville, she hadn’t felt anything—not excitement, not repulsion, nothing.

  “I’m sorry, Elise,” Moya said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “Actually, Moya, I’m not upset. I’m curious. I’m feeling terribly naïve. I don’t know how to react, but oddly enough, I do know I’m not upset. “

  “I’m glad.” Moya pulled her off the boardwalk and into an alley.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, more curious than in a panic at being diverted away from where people could see them.

  “I heard footsteps, and I vant to make sure it isn’t Lars.”

  Leaning back against a building, they stood silently in the dark until a man strode past them. Thank goodness, it wasn’t Lars. Elise didn’t want him to see them anymore than Moya did. Relieved, Elise inhaled, suddenly realizing that the needed air. She hadn’t even known that she’d held her breath during their wait.

  A man passed their location, and a gas street light showed someone Elise had never seen.

  Moya sighed near her ear and said, “I’m glad it vasn’t Lars. He vouldn’t have liked me valking you home.”

  “I’m glad, too,” Elise admitted.

  “Who’s out there?” a male voice demanded from a nearby window.”

  “We’re leaving,” Elise said as she pulled Moya toward the street by his wrist.

  Together, they raced along the boardwalk to escape being seen by the person at the window. With Elise leading the way, they ran to a different street and turned left. Then she slowed to a walk, and Moya fell into step beside her.

  Giggling, Elise asked, “Do you think he knew who we are?”

  Moya smiled down at her. “I hope not. He might tell Lars dat it vas us.”

  “You’re really worried about Lars finding out that you walked me home, aren’t you?” she asked, turning serious.

  “He vouldn’t like it if he knew.”

  “But you’re just walking me home. It’s not like we’re doing anything inappropriate.”

  “Inappropriate?” Moya asked curiously.

  “Something we shouldn’t.”

  Moya visibly stiffened as they strolled down the street that would take them the back way to Elise’s house. That concerned her, because she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. If he didn’t think they were doing something wrong, why did he react that way?

  When they reached the end of her street, Moya turned to face Elise and took both of her hands in his. “Tank. I had fun on our valk.”

  “I did, too,” she replied with a smile. Would he kiss her good night? She discovered that she desperately wanted him to, but she wasn’t sure it was wise if he was that worried about Lars.

  “Can I visit you sometime?” he asked.

  “I’d like that.”

  “I’ll see ven Lars works and I don’t. I’ll come see you then.”

  “All right.”

  After a quick kiss on her cheek, Moya hurried away in the opposite direction of her home. Elise wandered down the street toward her house. When she was close enough, she realized that Lars was on the porch talking with Stina. Wondering what they were saying, she carefully approached the house as she stayed in the shadows of the moonlit trees. Finally, she was close enough to hear them.

  “Why are you so concerned about Moya and Elise?” Stina asked.

  “I don’t like the way he looks at her,” Lars explained. “I get the feeling that he’s interested in courting her. I can’t have that. I brought her here for me, not another man. I’m going to marry her, and then she won’t have to work. She can stay home and care for the house.”

  Infuriated by his attitude, Elise stepped out of the shadows.

  Chapter 8

  “So I was right!” she exclaimed angrily. “You had only one reason to bring me here. You only want a wife to take care of you. You don’t want a wife you love.”

  “Elise!” Stina and Lars chorused.

  “Stina, if you don’t mind, I need to speak with Lars alone.”

  Without a word, Stina scurried into the house. Elise mounted the steps and sat down on the rocking chair she’d bought, while Lars leaned against a railing across from her.

  “I thought you came because you loved me,” he said. “I thought you wanted to marry me.”

  “I came,” Elise returned, “because I saw an opportunity to earn some money. I brought Stina and Karin with me because they wanted to come. If they hadn’t, I would have come alone. They’re the ones who came looking for husbands.”

  “But in Bishop Hill, we courted for years. I was sure you came to marry me.”

  Elise felt a tug at her heart, not because she felt guilty but because she felt bad that Lars had put so
much emotion into their life together. They had never even discussed marriage. How could he think that she would come to Forestville with that in mind? Other than because he had mentioned the men here wanted wives in one letter, that is.

  “I’m sorry if you got that impression, Lars. I certainly hadn’t meant to lead you to believe it would be that way.”

  “Are you looking for another man?”

  “Actually, Lars, I’m not looking for any man. Like I said, I came looking for opportunities, for financial independence. I suppose you could say I came for the suffragist movement. I’ve been alone for seven years now, Lars. I’m used to it. So far, I’ve lived in an orphanage, in a single room in a boarding house, with an Irish family who took me in for rent, and with the Bengtsons. It’s time for me to learn to fend for myself in case I never have a husband. I think I would like to do it at least a year before I make any decisions to marry.”

  “A year?”

  “Yes, Lars. I would like to be responsible for myself for at least that long. I believe I need to do it that way.”

  Lars pushed himself off the railing and stood before her. “Then I’ll give you that time. We can continue to court while you fend for yourself. When you feel you’re ready, we’ll marry.” He paused then said, “By the way, why are you home so early?”

  “Only two men came for lessons, so I made it quick.” Remembering what Moya said about his concern that Lars would see them, she decided to eliminate him from her explanation. “I decided to come home a different direction tonight to get an idea of how the city is laid out.”

  “That makes sense.” Leaning over, Lars turned her face upward with his fingers under her chin. “I’ll say good night now.” He bent over and gave her a peck on the lips. “Night.”

  “Good night, Lars,” she replied absently.

  During that entire conversation, Lars hadn’t mentioned love once. On one hand, she could understand what her father had meant by not marrying somebody who couldn’t tell her that he loved her. On the other hand, didn’t a man’s actions mean just as much? Anybody could say the words “I love you,” but if that person didn’t show her that was the case, how could it truly be love? Maybe this was something she needed to take into consideration.

  ***

  Two days later, Elise was home alone, sitting on the sofa and reading a book she’d bought on the trip from Illinois. A knock on the door startled her. Folding over the corner of the page so she didn’t lose her place, she set the book on the end table she’d purchased from a local woodworker.

  When she opened the front door, there stood Moya. Her heart again seemed to skip a beat. This was an entirely new feeling, one that she didn’t know how to categorize. She knew one thing, though. She was thrilled to see him.

  “Moya, what a pleasant surprise!” she exclaimed. “Please, come in.”

  “Are you alone?”

  “I am.”

  “Good,” he said with a grin as he entered the house. “I vouldn’t vant somebody to tink ve vere meeting behind Lars’ back.”

  “You don’t have to worry about him, Moya,” she replied, closing the door behind him. “I told him that I’m not interested in marriage for at least a year.”

  The smile dropped from Moya’s lips, and his eyes sagged at the outer corners. Elise motioned for him to have a seat on the sofa, and after he sank onto one end, she sat down on the opposite end. She moved so she could face him with her leg resting on the cushion between them.

  “Does it bother you that you don’t need to worry about Lars?”

  “I’m not sure I shouldn’t worry,” he admitted. “I don’t trust him.”

  “Why not?”

  “Tings I’ve heard. Let’s not talk about him.”

  When he also shifted on the couch, bending his let under him so he could face her directly, their knees bumped. Excitement raced through Elise again. Why did this keep happening? This time it was an innocent, unintentional contact, but it still sent flames raging through her.

  “Vat brings you to Forestville?” he asked, seemingly unaffected by their touch.

  “You already know. Lars asked me to come and bring some young women with me. He said that the men working on logging needed a translator and a teacher. It’s obvious that you speak English very well, though, so I’m not sure he was being honest with me. I’m just glad I was able to get a job. Do you mind if I ask how long you’ve been in America?”

  “I came over vit my fader and my five brothers ven I was sixteen. Dat vould be seven years ago.”

  So Moya was twenty-three years old, and he had a come to this country with his father and brothers. Why not his mother or sisters? Before she could ask, however, he answered her unvoiced question.

  “My mother died, and Pa vanted to start a new life here.”

  “I see,” she said. “Why are you here in Forestville? Is this where your father wanted to be?”

  “No, I came on my own. I vanted to see more of America. I liked it here, so I stayed.”

  “It is a beautiful place with all the trees and the river.”

  “Vat about you? Vy vere you villing to come here to earn a living? Could you not earn von in Bishop Hill?”

  Elise explained her life up until that point to him. They spent a long time talking about themselves and getting to know each other. Occasionally, he would touch her arm or twist a lock of her long, straight hair around his finger. Each time he touched her, she wanted to throw herself into his arms. She could hardly bare the sensations inside her.

  After a couple of hours, he announced that he should leave before her roommates returned for the night. With his hand behind her neck, he pulled her toward him. She steeled herself for what was to come as her face neared his.

  His lips met hers tenderly. When she didn’t resist, he embraced her, crushing her upper body against him. She felt as though she would float away, and she grabbed his upper arms. His muscles were so hard! She ran her hands lightly up and down them from his elbows to his shoulders.

  Oh, how she loved the feel of him! How she wanted him to lay her back on the sofa and …

  He broke the kiss and stared directly into her eyes, his own pale blue eyes capturing her complete attention.

  “I vill come again, min kära. I promise.”

  Unable to speak or move, she sat on the blue velvet sofa while he strode to the door. Min kära, she thought. My dear. Lars had never called her anything other than her name, never a single term of endearment like Moya. Was he falling in love with her? Was she falling in love with him? Is that what all these new feelings meant?

  Chapter 9

  Moya and Elise met secretly for several weeks before Stina walked in on them talking at the kitchen table one day.

  “What are you doing here, Moya?” Stina asked as she came in early from one of her jobs.

  “Yust visiting vit Elise.”

  “What would Lars say if he knew about this, Elise?”

  “He probably wouldn’t like it,” Elise replied flatly, “but I don’t care, because I’m my own woman. I don’t need his permission. Why would you even ask? You know how he is. He’s over-protective, and he certainly doesn’t own me. I can speak with whomever I want.”

  “Nuting in happening, Stina,” Moya told her. “Ve yust like to talk. I came from Småland yust like her parents, so ve have someting in common. I vas telling her vat it’s like dere.”

  “And look,” Elise said, spreading her arms wide, “we’re sitting at a table talking over coffee. It’s all very harmless.”

  Despite Stina’s suspicious expression, Elise hoped Stina believed her. Really, all she could do was hope because if it got out to Lars that she and Moya were visiting regularly, Elise wasn’t sure what he would do. She had a feeling that he could get very angry.

  Besides, it was only today, the first very cool day of autumn, they had enjoyed coffee while chatting. Otherwise, they sat on the couch, and before Moya left, he kissed her, each time getting a little more passionate.


  Elise looked forward to those kisses, too. Yes, Lars kissed her good night after his visits, but she felt nothing when he did. Moya made her want for more every time. She was starting to wonder if they would do more than kissing, too. Oh, how she longed to go further.

  Every time he kissed her, her body quivered with anticipation of something more. Her mind went to places she’d only heard about from other young women she’d known in Bishop Hill. Her friends who were married all said that sex was a wonderful thing, despite what their mothers had told them. They claimed that their mothers probably just told them it was terrible to keep them from wanting to have sex before marriage.

  Elise frowned. She hadn’t had a mother to tell her how bad it was, and her father had never even mentioned it to her. Of course, that was only natural. A father shouldn’t tell his daughter things like that. That was a conversation that only a mother should have with her daughter. She did wonder, though, what her mother would have told her if she had been alive when Elise reached puberty.

  “Are you okay?” Moya asked.

  Coming out of her daydream, Elise glanced around the room and saw that Stina was gone.

  “I’m fine,” she replied. “Where did Stina go?”

  “To her room. I should go now. Next veek, could ve go for a picnic by de river? Before it gets too cold.”

  “I would like that,” she agreed. “I’ll even make the food.”

  “I’ll bring de vine. I make my own.”

  Elise had only tasted wine a few times, but she wasn’t about to tell Moya that. If he wanted to bring wine, let him. She didn’t have to drink it if she didn’t want to.

  With Stina in the house, Moya rose, wandered to the door, and left without a backward glance. That day he hadn’t gifted Elise with a kiss like she’d come to love. She wondered if he was as upset about that as she was.

  When the front door closed behind him, Stina poked her head out the door of the bedroom she shared with her sister. “He didn’t leave because of me, did he?”