Page 63 of Mail-Order Bride Mommy
She heard nothing more but the storm. Inside her, raged a storm of another sort. She’d agreed to marriage in name only, but she was finding it difficult, if not impossible not to want more. He’d not once suggested he might be willing to change his mind. What if she proposed they adjust the terms of their agreement? But would it give Matt reason to reject her?
Pain slashed through her at the possibility. She’d come wanting nothing but a permanent home. And perhaps, appreciation for her abilities. But the yawning ache inside her caused her to wonder if that would be enough. She wouldn’t put her future at risk by confessing her feelings.
Determined to put her restless thoughts aside, she went to the window to watch and wait for the man she wanted to marry.
Lightning glazed the scene in silver for seconds. Not long enough to make out any details. And then darkness reigned. No flames leaped from Riley’s house. Was it even possible for anything to burn in this deluge?
She wandered from window to window, staring into the storm. She took the lamp to Lindy’s room and held it high to assure herself the little girl was asleep. Back in the sitting room, she picked up her sewing basket but the doll she’d begun no longer held her interest and she returned the container to her bedroom.
The minutes turned into hours. Were the men safe? She sank to the rocking chair and prayed for them.
A rattle at the door jerked her awake. Her hand pressed to her throat. She hadn’t meant to sleep while Matt was fighting the storm and she pushed to her feet and stumbled to the entryway.
He stood on the kitchen floor, dripping wet and shivering. “There was some damage to Riley’s house and one of the storage sheds, but we got both holes patched.” His teeth rattled from the cold.
“You’re freezing.” She pulled him toward the stove.
“I’m going to get the floor wet.”
“It will dry. Here, take off your coat.” She tugged at the sleeves. His hands were like blocks of ice. “Sit down and I’ll pull your boots off.” She dragged a chair closer, and he sank to it.
She tugged at the boots, but they stuck. She leaned into the task and pulled until they finally left his feet. “Do you have dry clothes in your bedroom?” She knew he did because she’d been in there to dust. “Go and change while I make something warm for you to drink.”
He went to his room. She could imagine the wet items puddling on the floor as she made tea and laced it with honey. Maybe more honey than she’d planned as her thoughts seemed stuck in his room.
He returned, his teeth chattering.
She touched his cheek, welcoming the excuse for physical contact. Chills raced down her spine at how cold he was. “You’re like ice. Sit by the fire.” She grabbed the quilt from his bed and brought it back to drape over him.
“Thank you.” His eyes caught hers, dark as the sky outside, but so alive and warm. Like embers of a fire burning away what little determination she had stored up. Tension filled the room, pushing into her lungs until she could only get in tiny bits of air.
She was drawn to him like a moth to lamp light. Ready for the flames. Welcoming them. She leaned closer.
He blinked. The fire died. It had only been her imagination. She pretended her only reason for being almost nose-to-nose with him was to draw the quilt around his shoulders. Her hands empty, her heart thudding heavily, she stepped back.
Remembering she’d prepared him a hot drink, she placed the cup in his hands and then forced her quivering legs to his room to retrieve the wet clothing from the floor. She hung it over the washtub where the water could drip all night. Cold drops rattled against the tin. A mocking sound that echoed inside her head. Splat. Love. Splat. Not. Splat. Part of the agreement. Sploosh. Each sound, each thought burned its memory into her head. She pressed her lips together, gathered her thoughts into a bundle, and tucked them into a dark corner of her mind willing them to stay out of sight. A marriage of convenience was better than nothing. It gave her almost all she wanted—security and permanency. No one needed to know that she loved Matt.
When she returned, she stood close to him as if she could spread her warmth to his body. As if he’d feel her emotions by osmosis and welcome them even as he welcomed physical warmth.
He pulled a chair closer. “You make me nervous with your hovering. Sit down and keep me company.”
She tried to smile but her lips refused to cooperate. “I’m worried about you. What if you get pneumonia?” Worry was but one of the feelings worming through her thoughts, but it was the only one she would confess.
“I won’t. I’ve been wetter and colder before.” His gaze blazed with warmth. “But never better taken care of.”
Somewhat mollified, she sank into the chair. Their knees almost touched, and she felt the cold wafting from him. She shivered. Not from cold but from the other things racing through her veins that upset her equilibrium. Fear of losing her home if he guessed how she felt. Uncertainty…would he find her acceptable as a wife? Futile wishes. She wanted it all. Marriage, home, and love.
Again, she dismissed the wayward thoughts. Again, she pushed them away wishing them out of her head. What she had promised, she would do. No one would accuse her of being fickle.
A knock sounded on the door. Gwen’s heart kicked against her ribs. Surely Matt wouldn’t need to go out in the rain again.
Andy stepped inside without waiting for an answer. He eyed the two of them. “Cozy.”
Gwen would have gotten to her feet but didn’t want to give Andy the idea she felt guilty when she didn’t and had no reason to. They were simply sitting by the stove.
Andy’s hard gaze rested on his brother. “I brought a slicker so you’d keep dry on the way back to my house.”
Back to the other house? His words vibrated through Gwen. “It’s still storming.”
