Almost a Bride (The Bride Ships Book 4)

by Jody Hedlund

  “Kate.”

  She grew motionless, her eyes widening. Only then did he glimpse her uncertainty.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  “You are?” she whispered back, her sights dropping to his lips for an instant. But it was long enough to glimpse her curiosity and even desire. Had she found pleasure in their kisses? Maybe he hadn’t been wrong after all. Nevertheless, he’d been reckless, hadn’t considered how his actions would hurt her.

  “Aye, I shouldn’t have done what I did.”

  Hurt flashed in her eyes, and she tugged to loosen her hand. “You wished you’d never kissed me?”

  “Nope.” He tightened his hold. “I loved kissing you.”

  “You did?” The hurt disappeared.

  He pulled her a step nearer. “I’m planning to kiss you again.”

  “You are?” Her voice turned breathless.

  “Aye.” His tone dropped as he studied her lips. The memory of them against his, so pliable and accepting and inviting, fanned to life the heat that had lain dormant all night. He wanted to drag her onto his lap as he had before, wrap his arms around her, and kiss her all day.

  At the clatter of dishes in the dining room, he forced his attention away from her mouth. He had to make himself do the right thing, tell her what had happened, even if it ruined everything.

  “Kate,” he said hesitantly, “I’m sorry because I didn’t protect your reputation better, and now everyone’s talking about us being together—together, ah, you know . . .”

  A flush moved up into her cheeks. She tugged her hand loose from his and started to step away.

  “Wait.” He took hold of her waist. “Please, don’t go. Let me apologize.”

  She didn’t meet his gaze, but at least she didn’t fight to break free.

  He took hope from that. “Can you forgive me for putting you in this position?”

  She was motionless for a moment before relaxing within his grasp. “I forgive you. But you’re not entirely to blame.”

  “Aye, I am.” He lowered his head. “I have a way of bringing trouble to the people I care about.”

  Before leaving Manchester, he’d brought trouble to his family, the mill workers, and his friends. Earlier in the summer, he’d even put Zoe in danger, though he hadn’t meant to. Now he was causing problems for Kate.

  Her hands tentatively closed over his shoulders. “Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

  She was standing near enough that his bent head brushed against her. He allowed himself to lean into her, the steadiness of her presence lending him peace as it always seemed to do.

  She released him, but he wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her closer, unwilling for the moment to end. For several heartbeats she held herself aloof, and he was afraid he’d overstepped himself again. But then she settled her hands upon his head.

  Closing his eyes, he breathed her in, a fresh scent as though she’d rolled in wildflowers.

  Tentatively, she smoothed down his hair.

  He could rest against her all day.

  Her hand brushed his hair again, this time roaming farther back toward his collar. She fiddled with a strand at his neck, her fingers brushing his skin and sending shivers down his backbone.

  This was where he wanted to be. Always. He sighed, relieved she’d forgiven him.

  She threaded both hands in his hair, moving with a possessiveness that sent a shudder of need through him. When her fingers slid to a halt and held him almost fiercely, something powerful and beautiful surged into his chest. He could only describe it as love. Had he fallen in love with Kate?

  Aye, the more time he’d spent with her, the more he’d grown to care about her. He appreciated so many things about her—her selflessness in helping him, her boundless optimism, and her genuine interest in others. Not only did he appreciate who she was, but he loved being in her company, even if he was doing nothing but watching her draw.

  Maybe he needed to get down on one knee, declare his love, and propose on the spot.

  He gave himself a mental shake. He couldn’t. He had to be patient and do things right if he had any hope of convincing her to go through with marrying him. She’d already told him they had no future together. And if she told him no again, he wasn’t sure he could survive another rejection.

  Kate held her breath and waited. For what, she didn’t know except that she’d felt Zeke’s body tense, his mood shift, and his need intensify.

  Maybe she’d gotten carried away by running her fingers through his hair. In the moment, doing so had seemed right and natural. But so had kissing him last night, and look where that had led.

  “Mademoiselle and monsieur?” Mr. Peabody spoke from behind them.

  Kate jumped away from Zeke, flames leaping into her face at having once again been caught in an intimate predicament.

  “Good morning, Mr. Peabody.” She smoothed down her blouse the same way she hoped to smooth over the awkward moment. “I’m sorry I’m late. I overslept, but I’m here now and can take over our patient’s care so you can attend to your other duties.”

  “You’ll have no duties this morning.” Mr. Peabody glanced at Zeke and smiled almost secretively.

  “It’s no trouble helping Zeke like I have been—”

  “I’m getting better,” Zeke interrupted. “And I’ve gotta learn to get around on my own.”

  Dismay sifted through her. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected to happen this morning, but she certainly hadn’t anticipated being told she wasn’t needed anymore.

  “In light of the rumors,” Zeke continued, “Mr. Peabody and I decided you shouldn’t be here as my caretaker any longer.”

  They were right. The doctor had been correct from the start that nursing was inappropriate for a single woman. “Well,” she forced some cheer to her voice, “if you don’t need me, then I’ll go back to the laundry and help there, especially since I’m sure Becca and Mr. Chung have been counting the days until I can return to work.”

  The truth was, Mr. Chung would be sorely disappointed to see her back, but he’d do anything for Becca, including putting up with Kate. She’d seen the way he watched Becca. And Kate suspected it wouldn’t be long before he asked Becca to marry him, at least she hoped so.

  “Not quite yet, mademoiselle.”

  “Nope, not quite yet.” Zeke situated his crutch under his arm and used it to push himself to his feet.

  Since he’d expressed an interest in doing more for himself, Kate resisted the urge to rush to his aid, though she was tempted to do so.

  As he straightened and braced himself with his crutch, she noticed for the first time that he’d taken more care with his appearance than he had since the explosion. He was attired in a crisp, clean shirt and dark-blue vest along with trousers, the material of one leg sliced open and loosely covering his cast. He’d even donned shoes.

  Zeke held out his free elbow as if to escort her. “Mr. Peabody has been working nonstop since dawn to prepare a breakfast feast for you.”

  “Petit dejeuner,” Mr. Peabody said.

  “Breakfast,” Zeke countered.

  Mr. Peabody’s long mustache dipped in displeasure even as Zeke’s lips curved up.

  Kate couldn’t find any humor in the exchange. Instead, her heart tumbled low in her chest. Was this a good-bye breakfast? Perhaps a way of saying thank you?

  Whatever the case, she couldn’t be ungrateful, not if Mr. Peabody had worked so hard to prepare it. “Petit dejeuner. That’s so sweet of you, Mr. Peabody. I’m sure I’ll enjoy every morsel of your cooking, just like I always do.”

  “I hope so too. I’ve made omelette Florentine, brioche, and croissants.”

  “It sounds very French.” She sniffed the air that was filled with the tantalizing aromas she’d come to expect whenever she arrived. “And it smells delicious.”

  “Now come along.” He bustled out of the room. “I’m afraid it’s not as fresh as it was two hours ago.”

  As she took Zek
e’s arm, she was reminded of their first dinner together—the loveliness of the meal and the camaraderie they’d shared. Was this now the end?

  She should feel relieved to be cutting ties with Zeke. After being with him so much, she’d grown to care about him far more than was safe. Maybe now, with some distance, she could extinguish the desire flaring between them and maintain a proper perspective.

  She forced a smile. “I guess we shouldn’t keep him any longer.”

  Zeke took a shaky step. “Especially since he’s been working all morning on a new pattern for the napkins.”

  “No more shoehorns posing as swans?”

  His grin worked its way up. “No, these are more like soup ladles posing as peacocks.”

  In spite of the conflicting emotion churning inside, she laughed. Zeke had a way of making heavy moments lighter. When they entered the dining room, she exclaimed over the efforts Mr. Peabody had taken to decorate the table just as beautifully as for the last meal, including the flower arrangement and the artfully folded napkins.

  Against her protests, Zeke helped her into her chair. As he lowered himself across from her, his forehead had broken out in perspiration, and his face was pale.

  “You’re overdoing it,” she chastised. “You should be abed.”

  “I’ve gotta get stronger.”

  “You will, if you’re patient.”

  “I’m not a patient man, Kate.” His jaw clenched. “You should know that by now.”

  She didn’t dare look at his lips. He’d told her he loved kissing her and that he planned to kiss her again. But they needed to stick to just being friends.

  “Well, you really must learn to have more patience,” she said, as Mr. Peabody entered the room carrying a coffeepot. “I’m sure Mr. Peabody will agree that patience is one of life’s most necessary skills.”

  Mr. Peabody exchanged another look with Zeke before pouring the dark brew into her cup. “Today, I pressed the coffee just the way the French do.”

  Kate had no idea how the French pressed their coffee—and imagined an iron like the one she’d used at the laundry. She lifted her cup, breathed in the rich roasted scent, and then tasted a sip. “It’s very intense and flavorful.”

  Mr. Peabody beamed at her compliment as he rounded the table and poured Zeke’s coffee.

  Zeke took a gulp before he set his cup aside. “I think I’m ready for the main course, Mr. Peabody.”

  Mr. Peabody’s smile widened. “Very well, monsieur.”

  Once again, Zeke’s face took on a pallor, and he shifted in his chair, wincing as he did so.

  “You don’t have to do this.” She waved at the table and the dishes in front of them. “We can wait until you feel better.”

  “Nope, I want to do this today. Now.” He glanced at the door and cleared his throat.

  She picked up her coffee but then paused, waiting for him to say more. But he only reached for his cup and took a quick gulp.

  Mr. Peabody reappeared, carrying a plate covered by a lid and grinning like a child with a secret.

  Zeke sat up straighter.

  She set her coffee down and waited as Mr. Peabody placed the covered plate in front of her. Apparently, he wanted to surprise her with one of his creations. “And what do you have for me first, Mr. Peabody?”

  He held the lid in place. “Wait to look until I’m out of the room.”

  She paused, her arm half raised. “Would you like me to wait until you bring Zeke’s plate?”

  “No,” he said, rushing into the hallway, his voice laced with excitement. “You go ahead.”

  Tentatively, she touched the lid, then she glanced toward the door. Mr. Peabody poked his head around the door frame, watching her.

  Zeke picked up his spoon, twisted it, and replaced it with a clatter against his plate.

  She smiled at Mr. Peabody’s eagerness and removed the lid, expecting an artfully decorated croissant or some other beautifully arranged item. Instead, a strange lump of rock sat on the plate. She stared at it, trying to make sense of why Mr. Peabody was serving her a rock for breakfast.

  She glanced up to find Zeke watching her expectantly, hopefully. And Mr. Peabody was still peeking in and waiting for her reaction.

  “I—” She dropped her gaze back to the lump, noting the gold tint showing through the dark gray. “Should I eat it?”

  Zeke burst out with a laugh.

  She joined him, relieved that the strange tension was gone.

  Mr. Peabody moved to stand in the doorway and leveled a stern look at Zeke, who cut off his laugh and attempted to smother his grin.

  “Tell her it’s gold,” Mr. Peabody hissed.

  SEVENTEEN

  GOLD? KATE’S ATTENTION snapped to the rock. She’d imagined that gold was shiny and pretty and, well, gold-colored. But this was dull, odd-shaped, and mostly gray.

  “Aye, it’s gold,” Zeke said with a note of pride. “Chipped out of the mother lode we recently discovered.”

  She picked it up, turned it over, and examined it. Thick bands of solid yellowish rock made up the entirety of the lump. “It’s nice.” Nice was an inadequate word to describe it, but she couldn’t think of what else to say.

  “It’s worth thousands of pounds.”

  “Oh, my.” She gingerly set it back on her plate.

  “And I’m planning to use it to build a church here in Williamsville.”

  “A church?” Her pulse slammed to a halt, leaving a strange stillness in its place.

  “Aye.” Zeke grabbed his spoon and began twisting it again. “And once the church is built, I’ll do everything I can to get a full-time minister here.” His expression was vulnerable and hopeful all at once.

  Her heartbeat stuttered. Did this mean he’d decided to make his peace with God?

  As if seeing the question in her eyes—or perhaps the excitement in her expression—he stopped fiddling with his spoon. “This might not be exactly what you want, Kate. But this is the best I can do for now.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I won’t be turning my back on the Almighty anymore, but I can’t make any promises beyond that.” His words, along with the frankness of his gaze, told her this was a continuation of the conversation they’d had outside the tavern when she turned down his offer of courtship.

  He was making an effort. She had to give him credit for that, didn’t she? That was better than nothing at all. And if he was turning back around, surely it wouldn’t take long for him to return to God all the way.

  “That’s good, Zeke.” She tried to infuse optimism into her tone. “You’re moving in the right direction.”

  “And that’s good enough for you?”

  She smiled. “Of course.”

  “Good enough to marry me if I ask you?”

  Her fingers flew to her lips even as she sucked in a breath.

  His attention didn’t waver from her face.

  Even though Becca had admonished her to get engaged to Zeke today, she hadn’t expected him to bring it up so soon. But maybe with all the awful rumors, he felt obligated to ask her.

  “You don’t have to rescue me from the rumors. They’ll go away eventually.” At least she hoped so.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. It doesn’t matter. Even if there weren’t any rumors, I’d still want to marry you.”

  Her pulse sped. “You would?”

  “Aye.” Earnestness lined his face. “You’re all I can think about, and all I want.”

  She tried to laugh. “That’s because I’m the only woman here—”

  “I’d still want you, even if I had the choice of a million others.” He wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t even smiling.

  Her racing thoughts slowed, and she tried to comprehend everything he’d just revealed. He hadn’t told her he loved her, but he’d come close. Was it close enough? And what about his faith? Was that close enough, too?

  “Please tell me you feel something for me too,” Zeke whispered hoarsely.

  “I do
.” She may as well be honest with him about her attraction.

  “Then you’ll marry me if I ask you?”

  Her mind flashed back to Mum on that day her father had walked out the door. Mum’s sobs echoed in their tiny apartment, until Kate curled up next to her on the bed and tried to comfort her.

  Kate stroked her mum’s hair, blond and long and pretty, so much like Kate’s. After a little while, Mum turned and buried her face against Kate, her tears dampening Kate’s bodice. “Don’t do it, Kate,” Mum said through wrenching sobs. “Don’t ever get married. It’s not worth the heartache.”

  Her mum had never gotten over her broken heart. Every day, she’d peered sadly down the street, waiting for Father to return. And every night, she’d crawled into her bed and cried silent sobs.

  Kate slammed the door on her memories, forcing them to remain where they belonged—in her past. She was stronger and smarter than Mum and wouldn’t make the same mistakes. She’d reminded herself of that the other times she’d gotten engaged, along with the admonishment not to let her mum’s heartache stop her from experiencing love and marriage.

  And Zeke—well, he wasn’t like her father. Zeke had already sought his adventure and found it here in British Columbia. He had everything he wanted and wouldn’t have any reason to leave.

  She fingered the lump of gold on her plate. Maybe he hadn’t made his peace yet with God, but he was getting closer, and that had to count.

  Zeke watched her, waiting. From the doorway, Mr. Peabody waited too, his eyes wide, his hands clasped tightly together.

  “Do you want to ask me?” she said, unable to keep the tremble from her voice.

  “Aye.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?” Zeke repeated, not sure he’d heard her correctly. Had Kate just agreed to marry him if he asked her?

  In the doorway, Mr. Peabody motioned at him. He jerked his head Kate’s direction, mouthing the words, Ask her.

  Zeke pushed to his feet with his crutch and grabbed the table to hold himself steady. Kate was up in an instant and at his side. “Careful.” She slipped an arm around him to keep him from falling.