The further away from the cabin they climbed, the steeper the terrain became. The ground was strewn with pebbles. Thankfully she had thought to put on a pair of leather walking shoes.
The mountains stretched for as far as the eye could see. What an awe inspiring vista. Joshua walked a little ahead of her, her head turned from side to side as she tried hard not to miss anything. Birds chirped although she could not see them, and a stream babbled from somewhere close by, adding to the harmony.
When he stopped suddenly she crashed into him. She felt the muscles of his hard back rippling before his body became rigid, and he quickly stepped away.
“If you look down over that ridge to our left.” He pointed. “You can see part of the prison.”
“Oh yes, there it is. I can see the brick chimneys.”
I would like to live here with you, Joshua. She was starting to have feelings for him, much to her surprise and consternation. It was obvious her feelings were not returned by this man who looked as cold and remote as the surrounding mountains.
The distant howl of a wild dog bounced off the mountains. Was it one of the feral animals he had spoken of? A shiver of apprehension raced through her body.
“You’re cold,” he said. “I’ll escort you back to the cabin. It’s a good thing you won’t be staying here long.” He shortened his stride as she stumbled along over the rough ground. “A little hothouse flower would freeze to death when winter really sets in.”
“I’ll buy appropriate clothing,” she said haughtily, wondering why she felt so hurt. He had made his position clear. He did not want to marry her.
Back inside the cabin he said, “I’ll be gone all day. I want to check a few of my traps to see what I caught, as I sell furs.” He touched a finger to his forehead and sauntered out the door.
Left to her own devices, Eddy checked the supplies in the kitchen, finding it adequately stocked. He could live here for a couple of weeks without replenishing his store. Wrapping her cloak around her, she ventured outside once more.
Hurrying toward the stable area, she noticed a fenced-in paddock where a horse and the oxen grazed. Without a qualm she entered the stable, and hurried down to the enclosed section; inside his work room, she looked around in amazement.
Numerous tools, presumably those of a carpenter, were all neatly laid out on a long bench. There was also a miniature, fully rigged sailing ship, so intricately carved it brought a lump to her throat. A man who could do such exquisite work was a man who felt deeply.
Had he been hurt by a woman in the past? A Boston society Miss maybe? He continually sneered and made derogative remarks about them. What a fool that woman must have been. Eddy hated this unknown woman with a passion, illogical since she didn’t even know her. Though she did know her type.
Several knotted ropes dangled from wall hooks. A sailor! That would explain his neatness. The painstaking carving on his work, the minute detail, had to be performed by a man with intimate knowledge of sailing ships.
He was a good farmer, too, caring of his animals, which she had noticed straight away. Such an unusual combination only added to his aura. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to play the upright society Miss. It certainly hadn’t endeared her to him.
What would it feel like to have those well-shaped lips pressed against hers? Heat coiled in her stomach and spiraled downward to that place, forbidden to all men except her husband. It wasn’t decent to have such sinful fantasies, but she couldn’t stop them.
Back inside the cabin, she decided to bake biscuits. Once they were cooked she picked out a couple of the largest ones, slathered them with butter and poured a mug of coffee.
On the spur of the moment, after finishing her food, she decided to explore further afield, perhaps locate the prison ruins. Slipping out of her gown and petticoat, she changed into buckskin trousers and a matching fringed coat. She was now ready to leave. With a hand gun stuck in her belt, she felt secure. Shoving her plait up inside her hat, she set off.
It was cold, but the weak sun kept the chill at bay. Patches of cloud smudged the blue sky.
After an hour or so of brisk walking she found the prison ruins. A few buildings were relatively intact. Like twisted skeletons, bare branched trees stretched skyward.
She wandered around the derelict buildings, picking her way over bricks and stones. One of the cell blocks was intact. Peering through a door, propped open by rubble, she shivered. Green slime covered the walls. It smelt foul. With only a small grate on the solid steel door, little light would enter once the prisoner was locked in. Shivering, she backed away. A spooky aura prevailed. Deathly silence reigned here, not even a bird chirped. It was as if the whole area was dead. Why had she been foolish enough to come here alone? Anything could happen to her here, and no-one would ever know.
She hurried away, hunching deeper into her coat. After a time she saw a ribbon of smoke drifting skyward from the cabin. A good thing I built the fire up before I left. There was no chance it would die out before she returned.
Approaching the cabin, she stopped at the babbling stream she had heard when walking with Joshua. Willow trees lined the steep banks, and an area had been dug out to form a pool of crystal clear water. A large wooden barrel was positioned a few feet away. This was obviously where Joshua collected his water. The stream was so clear she could see the pebble strewn bottom. Numerous flashes of silver caught her eye. The pool teemed with fish. Surely he would have a fishing line somewhere. If she could find it or even some rope and a hook, they could have fish for dinner. She hurried toward the cabin.
Searching around in Joshua’s work room, she reached under the bench, and there, neatly laid out were three fishing poles. She chose the smallest then traipsed back to the cabin to get a few pieces of left over bacon for bait.
Gathering up a bucket for all the fish she hoped to catch, she headed back to the stream. It was so easy, the way the fish took the bait. Within minutes she had reeled in two medium sized fish, one for each of them. No point being greedy and taking more than they needed. Fried fish and potatoes would be delicious.
***
Josh scowled as he pushed his wheel-barrow packed with neatly cut pieces of timber he had carefully selected for his carving. Hell’s bells, all his plans for scaring Edwina were falling apart. She wasn’t the pathetically useless little Boston Miss he had first thought her to be. His gut insisted there was more to her than he was being led to believe.
When he’d re-entered the cabin last night to find her wearing a lace-trimmed nightgown that looked almost transparent in the firelight, it had taken considerable willpower not to drag her into his arms and taste those pretty pink lips. With her hair hanging free and burnished to a deep red-gold she was exquisite. And desirable.
It had nearly killed him sharing the bed with her, but the hard floor had caused his injured hip to throb so badly he had no choice but to seek the comfort of a soft mattress. Not reaching out to caress her, had taken every ounce of willpower he possessed.
It wasn’t meant to be like this. Surely he wasn’t so woman starved he would fall for the wiles of a female who represented everything he detested. He didn’t want a wife, particularly one who came from Boston society. Going down that path before had cost him dearly. Nearly broke him. No way would he put himself through that kind of torture again. The wall he’d erected around his emotions would stay firmly in place.
He could throttle Amy for getting him into this mess.
Wheeling the barrow into the stable, he decided to unload it tomorrow since dusk had fallen, and the night air chilled his skin. Heading toward the cabin, he sniffed appreciably. Something smelled good.
Cold, tired and hungry, he pushed open the door and entered quietly. Edwina leaned over the fire, her back turned toward him, giving him a chance to study her more carefully. Her hair hung down her back in a long, thick plait. She carried herself well. He remembered her breasts were a perfect size to fill his hands.
Hell’s bells, h
e was acting like a lovesick fool. Love! Icicles formed around his heart.
He cleared the lump from his throat. “Something smells good.”
Edwina swung around. “Oh, I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Fish,” he exclaimed. “Where did you get them?” Had some man called in and given them to her? His gut clenched.
Eddy brushed a tendril of hair from her cheek. “I caught them in your stream.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, I found a fishing rod in your work room.”
He scowled. “You went into my work room without permission?”
“I thought you wouldn’t mind. You weren’t here for me to ask,” she said.
She had gutted and boned the fish and fried it along with chopped potatoes and beans. When she handed him his plate, his eyes lit up, and he gave an appreciative grin.
“Smells good, looks even better. I’m surprised.”
“Are you?” She gave a careless wave of her hand but his praise delighted her. “I might have lived in Boston, but I’m not completely useless.”
They ate in a companionable silence. She couldn’t believe how well the fish had turned out, soft and juicy with the merest hint of smokiness. Sadness surged in her breast. How many times had she and Pa eaten freshly caught fish cooked over an open fire on their camping expeditions? She had always been close to him, but after Ma’s death they became even closer. He had told her, initially he had wanted a son, but once she was born he would not have traded her for the whole of Tennessee.
Joshua was a man like her father, somewhat taciturn, but with a good heart. He would make a caring husband, be loyal and faithful, would love his children unconditionally. If only he would get over his poor opinion of Boston women.
How she regretted acting the part of Edwina from Boston, and not that of Eddy from Tennessee. She must be careful how she handled the predicament she found herself in now, otherwise he would think her a liar, and despise her even more. If only she had more time to become Eddy and not Edwina.
He stood, collected both plates and dumped them on the table. “Leave them until the morning. You can use the privy first.”
She wrapped herself in her cloak, took the lantern and dashed outside into the cold darkness.
On her return, Joshua put on his jacket, gloves and hat. “I’ll collect more wood while I’m outside. It will give you a chance to get ready for bed. And Edwina, don’t stand by the fire to brush your hair.”
“Why?”
“Because last night when you stood in the glow of the flames, you might well have been naked.”
“Oh.” Mortified heat engulfed her, and her hands fluttered to her face.
“I liked what I saw.” He grinned. “Any man would.” Laughing, he swung away and loped off. She wanted to throw something at his retreating back. Infuriating man.
She quickly washed and changed into her nightgown. Sitting on the couch, she brushed her hair, wondering whether he had purposely tried to embarrass her or whether he was a blunt man who didn’t mince his words. She was in bed with the covers pulled up to her chin when he strode in, his arms full of neatly cut logs.
Would he share the bed with her again? Her heart rate escalated until it beat a rapid tattoo in her chest. She could hardly breathe.
Shrugging out of his coat, he hung it on a hook behind the door. He did everything with a fluid grace and with an economy of movement. She could watch him for hours, as long as he didn’t see her doing it.
He sauntered over to the bed and picked up a pillow. “I’ll put this under my hip. Strange how I can sleep out of doors without a problem. I guess the ground is softer and has more give in it than the floor.”
You could share the bed with me. She clamped her lips together so the invitation would not tumble out. What was wrong with her? Did she want him to think she was a woman of ill-repute? He had a low enough opinion of her as it was, why give him more ammunition?
Chapter Four
When Eddy awoke the next morning, Joshua was nowhere to be seen. The pillow he had used was back on the bed. No sign of the blankets either.
She dressed in a cinnamon colored gown, so plain as to be almost austere. Originally it had been lavishly trimmed with lace and flounces, but she had removed them so it would not appear so fancy.
After breakfast, she poured hot water from the kettle into the tin dish and washed all the crockery and cutlery. She swept the floor and did a few other minor chores but there was not much that needed attention. The sun shone, so she wore a short cape when she stepped outside. In Joshua’s work room, several narrow steps led up into a loft, and without even a twinge of guilt about trespassing, she climbed up to investigate.
Stores. Boxes, tins and barrels all neatly labelled, onions and filches of bacon hanging from an overhead beam. Apples and potatoes were laid out neatly on a shelf. Joshua had made sure he wouldn’t starve if he got snowed in. The man was so meticulous, she knew her first assessment was correct, that he had military or naval training.
Apple pie for dinner. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, she remembered hearing that somewhere. Apple pie would be perfect.
She gathered up what she needed and headed back to the cabin. Several chickens scratched around behind a wire enclosure. They too had a timber house for shelter. All the outbuildings matched the cabin, in fact they were almost identical except for the various sizes. Would chickens be able to live through the bitter snowy winters up here? Obviously Joshua ensured they had the best chance of survival.
Without giving it any thought, she decided to take her rifle and see if she could find any wild game. Exactly what was available up here she had no idea.
With the rifle balanced in the crook of her arm, she dawdled along munching thoughtfully on an apple. Last night Joshua hadn’t mentioned anything about taking her back to Hartford, to start the long tedious journey back to Boston. I won’t be going to Boston. She gave a defiant toss of her head. She would go somewhere else.
Being up here in the mountains had strengthened her resolve. She would never risk becoming a Mail Order Bride again, that was a spectacular failure. A job as a housekeeper or cook perhaps? Her long unused culinary skills had returned. A governess maybe. If she returned to Tennessee, surely a few people would remember her father. The more she thought about the idea, the more she liked it. If Joshua didn’t want her, so be it. She didn’t need a man now she felt comfortable standing on her own two feet.
Aunt Victoria and her rigid, carping ways had sapped her confidence in her ability to look after herself. At least Joshua had given her that, even if he wouldn’t give her his name.
Gobble, gobble. She gasped in surprise on seeing several turkeys pecking at the grass in a cleared area. Roast turkey, now that would be something. She stopped and waited for an opportunity. There would only be once chance. If she missed they would be off.
You can do it. How many turkeys and other wild game had she shot when she’d been out hunting with Pa? How many Bulls Eyes, had she scored with Uncle Stanley at the shooting range?
The ability to shoot with deadly accuracy is a gift you are born with. You hone your skills with practice, Pa always said. Hopefully she hadn’t squandered her gift. She brought the rifle up to her shoulder and fired. A plump turkey dropped to the ground as the rest of the flock scattered.
Eddie hurried over to gather up her trophy. She had virtually severed the bird’s head. Holding the turkey by one leg, she turned and trudged toward the cabin, well pleased with her handiwork.
After going a few hundred yards, the hairs on the back of her neck suddenly stood up. She had the strangest feeling of being watched. A ridiculous fantasy. Except for Joshua, she was the only human for miles around.
The sun slid behind banked up clouds and the wooded area closed in, dark, and ominous. Quickening her pace, she took a short cut through a cleared area. Creepers covered the stumps, and young trees had replaced the older ones that had been felled.
A spiral o
f smoke from the cabin drifted lazily in the cloud strewn sky, but the feeling of unease increased with every step she took. Rustling in the bushes was followed by a loud, menacing growl. A huge black dog appeared from behind a clump of small trees. Its head was the size of a large frypan, slightly flattened. Foam like drool dripped from its jaws. It bared evil looking, razor sharp teeth. Red flecked the whites of the creature’s eye. The ears were pricked.
Fear almost overwhelmed her. She took a step backward, and her legs cannoned into a large tree trunk, bringing her to her knees. She tossed the turkey away. The dog must have caught the scent of blood.
Still clutching her rifle, she took up a firing stance. If the devil dog ran away she wouldn’t shoot it. She waited. Perspiration trickled down her face, down her neck and pooled at her breasts. Her stomach clenched. The monster was nearly as big as a pony.
The creature edged closer, and shock raced through her, she was his prey, not the turkey. A rotten, fetid smell assaulted her nostrils. It showed no fear, its teeth bared, and deep menacing growls rumbled in its throat. The muscles in its back legs bulged before contracting. It was preparing to attack. Its rancid breath sickened her. Forcing herself to remain calm, she braced herself. If she missed with her first shot, she was dead.
It leaped at her. She fired, hitting the dog between the eyes. It dropped like a stone almost at her feet, blood squirting on to her skirt.
Growls erupted from the undergrowth, and two more dogs appeared. They must be the feral dogs Joshua had mentioned. Like black flashes they raced toward her to avenge the death of their leader. The huge black brute had not been alone. How many more were out there? These dogs were large but not as huge as the first.
She fired two shots in quick succession, bringing both dogs down. Terrified, she waited for more to appear and attack her. Once she ran out of bullets she would be at their mercy. Visions of being ripped apart reared up and almost plucked her eyes out.
She couldn’t make a run for it, her legs wouldn’t move. There was madness in the dogs’ eyes. Thank goodness her aim had been good. There would have been no second chances had she missed.
Edwina: Bride of Connecticut (American Mail-Order Brides 5) Page 4