Almost a Bride (The Bride Ships Book 4)

by Jody Hedlund

  He wished he could get down on his knee and propose properly. But if he did that, with his luck, he’d end up stuck on the floor. Now, with her by his side holding him up, she was but a breath away, and he liked having her near.

  “I’ve got you,” she said gently.

  “Aye,” he whispered, sliding her around so she stood in front of him. “You’ve got me—heart, soul, and body.”

  At his declaration, she drew in a breath, one that emphasized her womanly curves and made him keenly aware of her body. She was exquisite, every beautiful inch, from her head to her toes.

  “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  She caught her lower lip with her teeth and hesitated long enough to reveal insecurity. But just as quickly, she smiled and nodded. “I will.”

  Surprise and relief weakened him. “You will?”

  Her arms tightened about him, lending him her support. “I want to marry you, Zeke,” she whispered almost shyly.

  Happiness spilled through him. He couldn’t contain a grin. By the door, Mr. Peabody released a sigh.

  Kate lifted her pretty face up to Zeke’s, her smile tender and her eyes shining with wonder.

  Desire welled, along with a host of emotions he couldn’t begin to name. He lowered his mouth to hers, needing to kiss her more than he needed to breathe. She responded the way she had the first time—meeting him and pressing into him with passion that made everything else around him fade to nothing.

  As their lips meshed and as he tasted her, his hunger for her only increased. He sensed he’d never be satisfied with a few simple kisses and that he needed to be careful. And yet, she was intoxicating and took away his reasoning, until at last a voice broke through.

  “We should set the wedding date.” Mr. Peabody had remained as Zeke had asked him to do, to ensure that he didn’t get carried away again.

  Kate was the first to break the kiss, her breathing uneven, her cheeks flushed, her expression both shy and embarrassed. She buried her face into his chest as though to hide.

  For several seconds, Zeke clung to her and tried to compose himself.

  “The wedding date?” Mr. Peabody prompted.

  “The day the minister arrives,” Zeke replied.

  “So soon?” Kate squirmed to loosen herself.

  “The minister can’t get here soon enough for me.” He wobbled, unsteady on his crutch, enough that she grabbed him again. He held on to her more than he needed to, but he wasn’t ready to lose his grasp of her just yet.

  “With their circuit riding, it could take weeks, couldn’t it?” Her voice was too hopeful.

  “I’m gonna send out word that I’ll reward the first minister to arrive.”

  “Good idea.” Mr. Peabody clapped.

  “Surely there’s no need to rush,” Kate said in the same breath.

  Zeke leaned back enough to read her expression and caught a glimpse of the same uncertainty as earlier. Was she still thinking about his lack of faith? He’d hoped his willingness to build the church would reassure her. He wanted her to know he was trying to get past the hurts and difficulties that had once weighed him down. But he couldn’t change everything overnight. This was a start, and she could accept that, couldn’t she?

  “I see no reason for the two of you to put off your wedding,” Mr. Peabody said, coming to Zeke’s rescue. “It was clear from the moment Zeke came home talking about you that you captured his heart in a way no other woman ever has.”

  “You talked about me?” The sunshine returned to her eyes, dispelling the shadows.

  “Just a little.”

  “All the time.” Mr. Peabody bestowed an endearing glance upon Kate. “And now I know why. You’re exactly what he needs to make him a better man.”

  “Do I make you a better man?” she asked playfully.

  He drew her closer. “Absolutely.”

  She rested her head against his shoulder. Had he convinced her? Something warned him he was falling short, and that if he didn’t hurry up and marry her, he’d lose her. His mind raced to find any other reasons that would convince her.

  “Our marriage will put an end to the danger and threats.” He blurted the first thing that came to mind.

  She lifted her face, her eyes filling with concern. “Do you think so?”

  “Aye. If we’re married, then you’re no longer available. Whoever else wants you, will have to concede his loss and move on.”

  She studied his face as though testing his words.

  He shoved aside the nagging voice telling him that playing upon her sympathetic nature wasn’t the way to gain her cooperation. All that mattered was being together, and she simply needed a little extra nudging.

  “You’re right,” she said. “If we’re married, then your attacker won’t have any reason to hurt you.”

  Except that with as rich as he was, and with as much gold as his mine was producing, he’d likely always have enemies. But he refrained from telling her the truth. After all, she was the real treasure and far more valuable than all the gold he’d found in his mine.

  A fist closed about his chest and squeezed, reminding him he wasn’t worthy and that he didn’t deserve someone as sweet and kind and loving as Kate. But he was too selfish to let her go. He brushed his lips across her forehead and silently vowed to spend his life cherishing her, so she’d never have a reason to regret marrying him.

  EIGHTEEN

  KATE CARRIED HER painting as if it were a Rembrandt, carefully dodging men as she made her way down the boardwalk toward the general store.

  She’d draped a shawl over the canvas in an attempt to hide it from Becca, and now as she walked, the lacey covering was falling off. It had started dragging on the planks coated in mud from the afternoon thunderstorms that had turned the street into a bog.

  Kate tossed a glance over her shoulder toward the laundry and released a short breath. Even at the late hour, Becca was still too busy in the laundry to see Kate’s departure. If her dear friend happened to look out the window and notice Kate leaving by herself, she would barge out, hands on her hips, and demand that Kate get back inside.

  Kate lengthened her stride. She’d spent the past two days painting the landscape of Williamsville, including the laundry shop. She’d shown the painting to Zeke the previous evening when he’d come calling on her. When she explained it was her way of thanking Becca for their friendship, Zeke suggested she bring it to the store so Wendell could take measurements for a local carpenter to craft a frame.

  Zeke wanted Wendell to measure several other sketches and paintings so they could hang them in their home, as Zeke now called it. “I want to fill each room with your pictures,” he’d said earnestly. Ever since, she’d been mentally planning where to hang various paintings and drawings.

  She hefted Becca’s gift higher, trying to lift the shawl off the ground. Hopefully, Becca would be thrilled and surprised. It was the least she could do for her dear friend, especially after the past week of rising to Kate’s defense against the rumors.

  Of course, Zeke had done his best to curb the lewd comments and coarse joking, too. Though he hadn’t admitted to his tactics, she’d heard from Becca that he’d threatened to cut off supplies for any man he discovered speaking ill of Kate. Even so, Becca had insisted that Kate remain out of the public eye for the week.

  Mr. Chung had shooed Kate out of the laundry every time she attempted to help. Finally, Becca told her to take the week off and use the time to prepare for her wedding. Since Zeke had posted word of a substantial reward for the first reverend to arrive in Williamsville, Kate suspected she had only a few days left.

  Every night while lying on her pallet in the shack, she wondered if it would be her final night sleeping on the ground alone, if the next night she’d lie on Zeke’s bed next to him. She pictured him pulling her down onto his lap and kissing her again, only this time he wouldn’t stop.

  Yet every morning when she awoke and realized it might be the day the minister arrived
, fear paralyzed her. She would remain unmoving, wondering what she was doing and questioning whether she’d made the right decision in agreeing to marry Zeke.

  Her thoughts would waver all day and only calmed when Zeke came to call on her at the laundry, which he’d taken to doing every evening. After the fancy meal at his house the morning he’d proposed marriage, Mr. Peabody had insisted that the next time Kate stepped foot into the house, she’d do so as Zeke’s wife.

  Until then, Mr. Peabody had warned Zeke not to visit Kate unless they were strictly chaperoned. He also embarrassed Kate by ordering Zeke to keep his hands to himself and not to touch her again, not even to kiss her, until they were married.

  Zeke had obeyed Mr. Peabody during his visits, making sure to stay a proper distance away from her while they sat on a blanket in the grassy knoll at the back of the laundry. They’d also had Becca’s unwavering eye upon them as she watched through the open rear door of the building.

  During the time together, talking and resting in the shade of the evening, Kate’s worries had diminished, had almost seemed insignificant. Every time Zeke’s beautiful green eyes caught hers or she glimpsed his dimples, her heart would tumble over itself, causing warmth to follow in its trail, convincing her she’d done the right thing in agreeing to marry him.

  When dusk fell and she walked him to the street, the air between them would spark. From the way his gaze strayed to her mouth and the heat flaring in his eyes, she’d been able to tell he wanted to kiss her. And she couldn’t deny she wanted to kiss him in return.

  Long after he left, she dreamed about him and convinced herself that everything would be just fine.

  “It will be fine,” she whispered, even as her pulse pattered with the disquiet that had lingered from the moment she’d forced herself up that morning.

  Her steps halted. The shawl dropped to the boardwalk, but she made no move to retrieve it. She had nothing to worry about today. Now that Zeke was gaining strength and learning how to use the crutch, he’d decided to spend the afternoon up at his mine, overseeing the excavations on the newly discovered vein. He warned her he’d be at the mine late tonight and likely wouldn’t be able to visit until after dark.

  He was busy, and there was no chance of them getting married tonight even if the minister arrived.

  As soon as the relief sifted through her, guilt rushed in on its heels.

  “Miss Millington,” a voice beside her pulled her from her anxious thoughts. “May I be of assistance?”

  A man bent down and picked up her shawl. When he stood, she took a rapid step back. Herbert Frank. Attired in a dusty hat and shirt along with muddy trousers and boots, she guessed he’d just finished working at his mine for the day.

  While Wendell had never been able to link any of the attacks on Zeke back to Herbert, Kate hadn’t been able to shake the feeling he was responsible.

  “Looks like you dropped this.” He held out the shawl, now streaked with mud. With slumped shoulders, he waited and watched her.

  “Thank you, Mr. Frank.” She hefted the painting with one arm and tried to free her other hand but couldn’t manage it. “If you wouldn’t mind draping it over my arm?”

  “I’d be happy to carry it and assist you wherever you’re going.” He watched her hopefully.

  “Thank you for your kind offer, Mr. Frank,” she said as gently as she could. “But after all the attempts on Mr. Hart’s life, I can’t give you any more reason to think there could be anything between us.”

  “Please believe me when I tell you I had nothing to do with the explosion at Hart’s mine.” He glanced at some of the passersby who’d stopped to watch their interaction. “Ask any of these men, and they’ll tell you the same thing.”

  “No one else has any motivation.”

  “I’ve been trying to figure out who’s behind everything, too.” Herbert placed the shawl over her arm. “I want to clear my name and prove I’m the same God-fearing man you met in Victoria.”

  She wanted to believe the best about him. Yet, how could she? “I’m sorry, Mr. Frank. There can never be anything more between us, and you really must put me out of your mind. Please.”

  The strength of her declaration surprised her. Before he could talk her out of her resolution, she started forward, her heart quavering but her footsteps loud against the planks. In the ensuing silence, she thought maybe she’d finally convinced Herbert to let her go. But the next instant, he called after her. “The reverend arrived this afternoon.”

  She stumbled to a stop. The reverend was in town? That meant she’d have to marry Zeke tonight or tomorrow. Her stomach twisted into a knot. She most certainly couldn’t get married tonight.

  “You won’t go through with it. You never marry any of the men you’re engaged to.”

  She spun to face him. “You can’t say that—”

  “I feel partly sorry for Hart because I know the heartache you’re about to cause him.”

  “Zeke’s different,” she said but couldn’t keep the quaver from her voice.

  Herbert laughed, but it was bitter and harsh. “You get close, are almost a bride, but then you are always too afraid to go through with it.”

  “I’m perfectly fine.” But even as she said the words, the truth of Herbert’s statement reverberated through her down to her bones. Almost a bride. Too afraid to go through with it.

  “Miss Millington,” said a man from behind. “Is Herb bothering you?”

  Kate turned to see the redheaded, red-bearded man from the mining board—one of the men who’d witnessed her passionate kiss with Zeke on his bed. Heat rose into her cheeks. She could only imagine what he must think of her.

  “I’m William Blake.” He stepped closer, shifting his hardened gaze to Herbert. “Herb, haven’t you done enough damage?”

  “Stay out of this, Blake,” Herbert said. “This isn’t any of your business.”

  “I was just heading up to my mine but couldn’t keep from noticing you bothering Miss Millington.” Mr. Blake waved a hand to the men loitering nearby. “None of us want to see Hart come to any more harm. He’s a good man trying to do a lot for this community.”

  “I’m well aware of that.” Herbert scowled. “I was just offering to help Miss Millington since she was having trouble carrying everything.”

  “Why don’t you go on your way and leave Miss Millington alone.” Mr. Blake crossed his arms, and his coat stretched back far enough to reveal a revolver tucked into his belt.

  Herbert glared at Mr. Blake before muttering something, spinning, and heading for the open doorway of the nearest pub. When he disappeared inside, Kate expelled a tight breath, but it did nothing to relieve the tension pulling her nerves taut.

  Herbert’s words had settled inside her and were inflating with each breath she took until she felt as though her chest might explode with the pressure. “You get close, are almost a bride, but then you are always too afraid to go through with it.”

  “Are you alright, Miss Millington?”

  Her hands shook. “I’m not sure.”

  “Here, now. Let me carry this for you.” Mr. Blake reached for her painting, and Kate relinquished it before she dropped it into the mud.

  Was Herbert right? She hadn’t gone through with any of her previous engagements. What if she did the same thing with Zeke and broke his heart?

  “Miss Millington?” Mr. Blake’s voice broke through her mounting panic. “You look pale. Maybe we should find a place for you to sit down and rest.”

  “No.” The word came out forcefully. “I need to see Zeke.”

  Mr. Blake glanced toward the end of the street. “He’s still up at his mine—”

  “I need to see him now.” She followed Mr. Blake’s gaze to the edge of town where the road narrowed into a wagon path through a smattering of pines. Although she’d never gone that direction, she knew the trail followed the river and led out to the hills where dozens of miners had claims.

  If she walked out to the mine and talke
d with Zeke, she’d surely push her fears aside. Being with him and seeing him would remind her everything would work out fine. And she could tell him that even though the minister had arrived, she needed a little more time.

  “Mr. Blake, would you please deposit the painting at Hart General Store? I must be on my way.” Heedless of the men who’d stopped to watch her, she started down the boardwalk.

  “You can’t go out to the mines by yourself, Miss Millington.” Mr. Blake matched his stride to hers, his footfalls heavy against the planks. “It’s too dangerous out there for a lady like yourself.”

  “I’ll be fine. Zeke will be there.”

  “Do you even know where his mine is?”

  She faltered, and Mr. Blake grabbed her elbow to keep her from tripping. “Will you take me to him?” Surely, her request wasn’t too demanding, not if he was already going to his mine.

  He was silent against the clattering of horses and wagons and the calls of the men coming and going. His attention was riveted on the foothills beyond town. Finally, he nodded. “I have to gather up a few things, and then I’ll meet you outside of town in the gulch that leads to the north. Wait for me there.”

  “Oh, thank you, Mr. Blake.” Relief whispered through her. Once she saw Zeke, her worries would go away. This relationship wasn’t like any of the others, no matter what Herbert had said.

  After seeing the painting to the store, she headed down the street. Most of the men averted their eyes, as if they were afraid to look at her the wrong way. Zeke’s influence in town was clearly felt far and wide. His wealth had made him into a powerful man.

  If Herbert was innocent as he claimed, perhaps Zeke had other enemies who resented him for his influence. Anyone she passed by might be his attacker, biding his time to strike again.

  With a shake of her head, she dismissed the thought. She’d never been one to assume the worst about people, and she wouldn’t start now. Nevertheless, she picked up her pace until Main Street tapered into a trail. Grooved wagon ruts filled with muddy rainwater formed a well-worn path. She followed the road toward the foothills as it gradually wound higher, until the town disappeared and the mountain peaks loomed taller above her.