Victoria: Bride of Kansas (American Mail-Order Bride 34)

by E. E. Burke

  “She does make a good point,” Maggie called out from behind the counter.

  Fannie ran over, tugged his sleeve and signed, Please.

  “You too?” David’s stern expression eased. His eyes softened and his lips twisted in a wry smile. “Ah well, because you ask so nicely.”

  When he looked up at Victoria, his smile broadened. The dimples appeared, and her heart took off at a wild gallop. “I can’t fight all of you. Help me move these shovels and we’ll bring in a tree.”

  * * *

  “I’ll help, too.” Maggie practically leapt over the counter in her haste. His sister’s smile said he had made her happy, along with his daughter, not to mention his bride-to-be.

  The old David would’ve stood his ground and refused to rearrange the store to make room for something he considered frivolous. But he had vowed to become the man Victoria had fallen in love with so she wouldn’t leave. He suspected that man would put up a Christmas tree.

  They selected a stout pine, brought it inside and untied the branches. David secured the trunk in one of the ornate metal stands on display. The tree would’ve sold quickly, the stand as well, and taking them for personal use seemed a waste of merchandise. Then again, he couldn’t put a price tag on joy.

  His daughter skipped as she fetched ornaments from a box. Maggie laughed. Victoria didn’t stop smiling. The very air seemed charged with happiness. He couldn’t recall being in such good spirits since…well, he couldn’t remember.

  He kept busy waiting on customers while the others decorated the tree. More people began to wander inside. Everyone remarked on the Christmas tree, and most purchased decorations. He hated to admit it, but Victoria was right. Even his business had benefited from her touch.

  As more customers arrived, she kept up cheerful conversation and directed them to merchandise. Her easy manner and friendly nature drew people to her, not to mention her beauty. Her eyes sparkled like gems and her skin glowed with health. That velvet skirt and jacket fit her like it was made for her, and probably had been.

  She’d given up wealth and social standing to come out here and marry him. He felt humbled and proud, even if he hadn’t been the one who’d convinced her. He could never have penned those heartwarming letters, and he wasn’t as fine a man as his sister made him out to be. But that was the man Victoria had fallen in love with, and the man who loved her. Surprisingly, it wasn’t as difficult as he thought it would be to keep up the pretense.

  When time came to close the store, he couldn’t wait to lock the door so he could spend time alone with Victoria.

  Maggie herded his daughter toward the rear of the store. “Why don’t I take Fannie upstairs and we’ll get supper on the table. You can help Victoria finish decorating the tree.” She threw a quick look over her shoulder, and winked.

  David pretended not to notice her laughable attempt at subtlety. His sister had kept Fannie out from underfoot so he and Victoria could spend precious time together. To her credit, Maggie hadn’t breathed a word about her part in arranging their wedding.

  Victoria circled the adorned tree, studying the handiwork. Ornaments hung from every branch, a wide lace ribbon had been looped around the tree from top to bottom. It looked like someone had dressed it for a ball.

  David folded his hands behind his back. “Anything left for me to do?”

  She handed him a hand-painted angel with a hoop skirt fashioned from paper and decorated with ribbon. “We need something on top. I think this would do nicely.”

  “Here?” He positioned the angel over the uppermost vertical branch.

  “That’s perfect.”

  “Just what I was thinking.” He didn’t take his eyes off Victoria. “A perfect angel.”

  She averted her gaze with a pleased smile. “I believe that’s all we need. I should go help Maggie with supper.”

  She’d leave? Now? Just when he’d gotten a moment alone with her? He nabbed her arm. “That’s not all I need.”

  Her eyes widened as he bent to kiss her parted lips. She gasped, drawing his breath into her mouth, and it seemed she took his heart with it.

  He hauled her into his arms and forgot about everything except kissing her. She apparently shared his hunger because she clung to him, returning his ardor.

  A knock sounded on the door. He pulled back at the same time she did. The old David would’ve opened the store rather than disappoint a customer. To hell with that.

  “Whoever is outside can’t see us through the Christmas tree,” he whispered, keeping a tight hold around Victoria’s waist. “They’ll soon figure out we’re closed and leave.”

  Her lips were rosy from his kisses, and a deep flush spread across her cheeks, making her eyes appear lighter, clearer. Her beauty took his breath away. He tried to find the right words to tell her, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t even recall any of the flowery nonsense Maggie had written. All he could come up with was an endearment his father had used with his mother.

  “A mhuirnín,” he murmured.

  She leaned against his chest, and he pressed a kiss to her temple. “What does that mean?”

  “Darling.”

  “It sounds romantic when you say it like that. Will you teach me?”

  “More fun to show you.” He covered her mouth and gave her a demonstration.

  Only two more weeks, he couldn’t wait. Her eager response told him she didn’t want to wait either. They could slip away and tie the knot tonight, but for the fact that the justice of the peace wouldn’t appreciate being dragged away from his supper. There was something they could do, though, to declare their commitment before they made it legal. In fact, she might find the ancient ceremony romantic. He trailed kisses to her ear. “Are you ready to be married?”

  She drew back in surprise. “Now?

  “Why not?” He picked up a handful of silk ribbons from a table display and then tugged his shirtsleeve to expose his wrist. Capturing her hand, he pushed her jacket sleeve up her arm before bringing their wrists together. “We’ll hand fast.”

  She gazed up at him trustingly. “What is a handfast?”

  “An Irish tradition. Back in the old days, a man and woman would come together in front of witnesses, exchange vows and bind their wrists to symbolize they’d be united for a year.”

  “Only a year?”

  “They could stay together for as long as they wanted.”

  “Is forever permissible?”

  She was adorable. David couldn’t resist dropping a kiss on her pink lips. “That ought to be long enough.”

  David wrapped the first ribbon around both of their wrists. He’d seen the handfasting ceremony several times, mostly at friends’ weddings. He hadn’t followed tradition with his first marriage, which had been rushed and without much fanfare. That had turned out to be a good thing. It made this ceremony special.

  He looked deep into his bride’s eyes, “Victoria Lowell, do you willingly come to this marriage?”

  She nodded.

  “You’re supposed to say, yes.”

  “Oh. Yes. Yes, of course.”

  Caught off guard, she was understandably nervous. He was, too. It wasn’t every day he got married. The ceremony wouldn’t be recognized as legal, they didn’t even have witnesses. However, in his mind, this was as binding as any piece of parchment. He would commit his life to her, right here, right now.

  “And I come to this marriage willingly, as well.”

  David wrapped a second ribbon around their joined wrists. He couldn’t recall the precise vows, so he spoke from his heart. That was all that mattered anyway. “Victoria, I vow to honor and respect you, and to remain by your side through times of pain and sorrow, as well as in times of laughter and joy. Now you…”

  Her eyes never left his as she repeated the vows.

  The place where their wrists were joined grew warm, and her pulse throbbed against his until their hearts beat together.

  David’s hand trembled as he added a third ribbon. “Through
this ritual of handfasting, you declare your intention to be my wife and promise to keep your commitment.”

  Her eyes grew bright, and her throat worked convulsively before she finally answered. “I do, and I will.”

  “And I declare my intention to be your husband, and to provide for you and protect you.”

  Bending down, he kissed her. Not like the hot, hungry kiss he’d given her a moment earlier. This was a sacred kiss, the memory of which would remain on his lips long after it ended.

  She opened her eyes, looking dazed. “Does this mean we’re married?”

  “Far as I’m concerned, it does. We still need to make it legal, and for that, we’ll need a witness.”

  “How about two witnesses?” The question came from the across the room.

  Maggie and Fannie stood just inside the doorway. How long they’d been back there, he had no idea, but it was long enough for his sister to start crying. Tears of joy, he’d guess. The crease between Fannie’s brows was more difficult to decipher.

  “Two witnesses would be even better,” he agreed. Without releasing the bonds, he threaded his fingers with Victoria’s and lowered his arm to his side, bringing hers down with it.

  Maggie beamed. “We’d love to stand up with your father and your new mother, wouldn’t we Fannie?”

  Fannie yanked her hand from Maggie’s grip. She signed something he didn’t catch, but Victoria did, and based on her expression, it hurt. For the first time in his life, David was sorely tempted to take a strap to his daughter’s backside. He didn’t get the chance before Fannie ran away.

  “What did she tell you?”

  Victoria turned her head, her eyes brimming. “She doesn’t want a new mother.”

  Chapter 8

  That night, Victoria lay beside Maggie, unable to sleep. After the impromptu wedding ceremony, David hadn’t suggested they share a bed. Of course, they weren’t officially wedded, not yet. Just handfasted, which meant… Well, she wasn’t certain. He’d assured her they were as much as married, but hadn’t he also told her the agreement was only good for a year? Although he’d seemed happier with her this past week, he still might not be sure she met his requirements for a wife, and handfasting was his way of determining whether she would work out, rather like a trial period for a new maid.

  Doubts wouldn’t plague her if he’d found a way for them to be alone, even just to talk. Throughout most of the evening, he had been dealing with Fannie, who was skillful at finding places to hide when she didn’t want to be found. Still…

  Victoria turned over. She shifted onto her side and faced the dark room. Rather than toss and turn and wake Maggie, she ought to get up. No reason more than one of them should miss sleep.

  Opening the door, Victoria tiptoed into the parlor and was greeted by a soft snore. David had turned down the light, but not turned it out completely, perhaps so he wouldn’t trip over something if he got up in the night. He’d wedged himself onto the sofa, still wearing his trousers and shirt, hugging a blanket that looked far too thin to keep him warm in this cold apartment.

  Shivering, she knelt beside him, taking advantage of the opportunity to study him close up while he slept. So tempting. She curled her fingers closed to keep from smoothing the dark, tousled hair off his forehead. His eyes remained closed. Thick, inky lashes shadowed his cheekbones, and his breath puffed through slightly parted lips.

  If only he would kiss her again and hold her close like before, and reassure her that he cherished her, then she wouldn’t be so afraid. He had promised to honor and respect her. He’d vowed to provide for her and protect her. He’d said nothing about love.

  Another shiver passed through her. She stood, hugging herself.

  David wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to obtain a temporary wife. Not only that, he wouldn’t marry her if he wasn’t willing to give love another try.

  The torsion clock on the mantle chimed five.

  She’d cook him breakfast this morning. The way to any man’s heart was through his stomach. Every woman knew that—even the ones who didn’t know how to cook.

  Victoria headed into the kitchen, grabbing an apron from a drawer. She examined the range. This stove burned coal. Several times a day, Maggie would empty the ashes and add enough fuel to keep a fire going. Through the night, it would burn down to embers and would have to be stoked early in the morning so it would be hot enough for cooking. Not wanting David to think she was useless, Victoria had never admitted to her ignorance of ranges or her lack of knowledge in cooking. How hard could it be?

  Humming quietly, she adjusted the dampers and scooped the amount of coal she’d seen Maggie use, and then added another large shovelful, reasoning it would make the fire hotter and warm the rooms faster. Once she got the fire in the range going, she turned her attention to making biscuits. She’d brought along a cookbook, but had learned more by helping David’s sister.

  After sliding the pan of biscuits into the oven, she stood and wiped perspiration off her forehead. Flour drifted into her eyes. Oh dear, it was on her hands, and now, all over her face.

  Frying bacon turned out to be more difficult than it looked. When the bacon started sizzling, she realized she needed something to wrap around the hot handle. By the time she’d located what looked like a sleeve, bacon grease was popping out of the pan onto the stove.

  Beads of moisture formed on her upper lip. The stove had certainly heated up the room. At least David wouldn’t be cold when he got up.

  The grease started smoking something awful.

  She jerked the frying pan off the burner. Hot grease leapt over the edge and a few drops splashed onto the back of her hand. She bit her lip at the pain, but had no more time to think about it because a gray haze filled the kitchen, along with smell of something burning.

  Smoke slipped out from around the edges of the oven door.

  “The biscuits!” She used her apron to open the oven door. Smoke billowed into the room. Grabbing a cloth she’d tucked into her waistband, she pulled the pan from the oven. Her first biscuits resembled chunks of coal.

  “Oh no. No,” she groaned.

  “What the hell!” David appeared in the kitchen almost as if he’d flown there. The upper buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing he did have dark hair on his chest. His trousers hung dangerously low on his hips without the aid of suspenders to hold them up. He had a wild look in his eyes, and his untamable hair stuck out in every direction.

  “Did I wake you? I’m sorry. Everything’s all right.” Flustered, she stammered. “I-I just thought I’d cook breakfast and…well, it seems the fire got too hot…”

  “Get out of here!” He snatched her by the arm and flung her out of the kitchen, still yelling. “Get Fannie and Maggie and leave the building.”

  She stumbled, barely catching herself before she fell over the table. “Leave? Why? I can start over. I can make more—”

  “Shut up! Do as I say.” He vanished into the smoke-filled kitchen.

  Victoria remained rooted to the floor for another moment. A pungent cloud wafted into the parlor and hovered just below the stamped tin ceiling.

  Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

  She had failed, horribly, on her first attempt at cooking. Worse, David wasn’t just unhappy with her, he was furious. Panicked, even. Had she unwittingly caused a disaster? She had to do as he said. Even if it seemed somewhat ridiculous to run from a smoky oven, what did she know? If she didn’t get Maggie and Fannie to safety, she’d not only be ignorant, she would be irresponsible. At this rate, the handfast marriage might not last longer than a day.

  * * *

  After getting the overheated stove under control and airing out the room, David went looking for Victoria. She had herded his sister and daughter outside as ordered, and they stood huddled together on the sidewalk, shivering, despite having wrapped up in blankets.

  He felt damn foolish for panicking. Now guilt stabbed him for sending them out into the freezing weather. They were more likel
y to catch their death from cold than to expire in a fire. Victoria had only burnt the bacon and biscuits; she hadn’t burned down the building.

  Poor thing. She had flour on her face, her apron was stained with grease and soot, and her hair hung in limp strands around her face. She’d gone white as milk and looked thoroughly shaken. He tried to comfort her, but she pushed him away.

  “I’m useless,” she muttered.

  “No, you’re not. I overreacted.” Didn’t matter how many times he repeated himself. She didn’t appear to believe him.

  After ushering everyone upstairs, he told Victoria to go wash up and help Fannie get dressed while he and Maggie cleaned the kitchen. It didn’t strike him that Victoria would take his suggestion as a slap at her competence, but the defeated slump of her shoulders told him she did. They would have a long talk later, once he’d put things back in order.

  David wiped the grease off the range top, and dumped the charred remains of their breakfast into the garbage bin. Thank God it hadn’t been worse. There was no permanent damage, nothing that couldn’t be remedied. Even still, he couldn’t stop trembling.

  At the smell of smoke, he’d woken, reliving the nightmare. The awful cracking sound just before the porch roof collapsed. Terrible pains shooting up his leg, which somehow got twisted beneath him as he tumbled into the pile of shingles and broken timber clinging to his little sister. Someone had snatched her away and pulled him, screaming, away from the rubble and the suffocating smoke.

  He couldn’t breathe.

  Somehow, he’d managed to suck in air and drag his mind out of the past long enough to get off the sofa and get Victoria out of danger—had she been in danger, which now appeared unlikely. A smoky kitchen wasn’t disastrous, and closing the dampers had suffocated the fire. However, a rational analysis of the situation didn’t make his heart stop racing.

  “The fire got too hot and the food burned. It’s nothing.” Maggie muttered from behind him. Was she trying to convince him or herself?

  As she cleaned flour off the worktable, her long black braid swung against the quilted wrapper she’d donned before dashing out of the apartment.