While Snowbound (Sensual Romance Series)

by McIntyre, Anna J.

  Ella couldn’t suppress her smile. “Let’s go tell the others,” she suggested.

  Brady pulled her closer for a kiss. They wouldn’t wait for Thanksgiving dinner to share their news. But it could wait until after the kiss.

  Excerpt from Anna J. McIntyre’s

  Coulson’s Wife

  Prologue

  After five sons, Sally Johnson Browning gave birth to a baby girl on July 4, 1900. She named her daughter Mary Ellen. Sally and her husband Edward would have five more children, all boys.

  The dawn of the 20th century was a time of peace and prosperity for the country. The bloody Civil War had ended just 35 years earlier. The number of states in the Union had grown to 45 and Republican William McKinley was President. McKinley would not be president for long, as he would be assassinated the following year and replaced by Theodore Roosevelt.

  The average life expectancy for the white population was less than 48 years in 1900, and just 33 years for people of color. Men outnumbered women by over a million and a half, and their feeling of superiority was not limited to their sheer numbers. The fairer sex was banned from restaurants, clubs, saloons and voting booths. Admission to certain establishments was only allowed when the female was accompanied by a male chaperone.

  Edward Browning was the unquestionable head of his household—as were other men from his generation. He worked over 55 hours a week to support his growing family, earning less than $600 a year. At the time, a pound of beef went for 10 cents, a dozen eggs sold for 12 cents, and a pound of coffee cost 15 cents. There were approximately 8,000 registered automobiles in the country and those cars had fewer than 150 miles of paved highways to drive on.

  The electric icebox had yet to be invented, but the telephone, whose patent had been issued 24 years earlier, was bringing the world closer.

  Chapter One

  By the summer of 1918, the world was almost four years into what was termed the Great War. The United States of America, now with 48 states, had been in the conflict for a little over one year. To conserve steel for the war effort, the United States War Industries Board asked women to stop buying corsets. Not only did the effort help liberate enough steel to build two battleships, it was a liberating moment for women.

  In America, more and more states were giving women the right to vote. A new woman was emerging—one who dared to cut her hair, drove automobiles, sought financial independence through employment and no longer wore confining corsets.

  Some men welcomed this new woman, yet many were horrified and sought brides who were more traditional—and manageable.

  “The girl is only seventeen,” William Hunter reminded Randall Coulson.

  Randall, who sat perched on the leather wingback chair drinking a glass of brandy, waved his hand dismissively and took another sip of the amber liquid. From his chair, he watched his business partner pace back and forth in the parlor. William was obviously annoyed with Randall’s announcement. Lace curtains, disturbed by May’s evening breeze, fluttered inward from the opening and barely touched the side of William’s right, and then his left arm as he paced the room in a fit of agitation.

  Twenty minutes earlier, he’d stopped by Randall’s Philadelphia estate to welcome his friend home after a business trip to their plant in Virginia. He didn’t expect to be greeted with news of an impending marriage with a girl who was practically a child.

  “Seventeen is a respectable age for a girl to marry. And good lord, man, sit down. You’re making me dizzy!”

  “I don’t want to sit down!” In spite of his protest, William sat in the empty wingback chair. Randall chuckled and then reached out and picked up a second glass of brandy that sat on the small oak table separating the two chairs. He handed it to his longtime friend and business partner, who took it without comment. William promptly downed half the contents from the glass.

  “Why are you so upset that I’m marrying this girl? I’ll be thirty next year; it’s about time I start a family. You should consider it yourself, you know. You’re older than me and not getting any younger.”

  “I’m all for you marrying, but good lord, marry a woman, Randall, not a girl!”

  “I really don’t see what you’re so upset about. My grandmother was fifteen when she married my grandfather.”

  “Times are changing, Randall.”

  “Exactly, and that’s one reason I chose this girl. She hasn’t cut off all her hair and raised the hem of her skirt like so many young women are doing these days.”

  “I can’t believe you want to marry the Browning girl because of the length of her hair and skirt. And you have to admit, there is something very appealing about a Castle bobbed dame.”

  “A doxy you mean, which might be an entertaining diversion; definitely not suitable as a wife. I’m not about to marry some silly broad who thinks she should have the right to vote; who believes she is in some way equal to a man.”

  “They are getting the vote, you know. In many places they already can.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” Randall let out a sigh, finished his drink, and then set the glass on the side table. “But I intend to marry a woman who’ll vote as I tell her to. Mary Ellen seems like a most sensible young thing.”

  “And how does she feel about being your wife?”

  “She’s a proper young woman who’ll obey her father, and when married, she’ll obey her husband. I’ve barely spoken to the girl. But it’s all been arranged with her father.”

  “Randall, why this girl? There must be countless young women who’d be thrilled to be your wife, and would obediently vote as you say. Why drag some innocent from the hills of Virginia here?”

  “It’s quite simple, really. I want sons. Browning’s wife has given him ten sons. Have you seen Browning’s wife?”

  “Yes. She’s amazingly lovely, and still has a trim figure.”

  “Exactly. Women who’ve birthed that many brats typically have hips broad as a barn and breasts that fall to their waist. If I’m to be chained to a wife for eternity, I’d prefer she be someone whose body does not repulse me. But I also want sons. She looks just like her mother, so I suspect she’s like her mother in other ways too.”

  “You are a romantic,” William sardonically quipped before emptying his glass and depositing it back on the table with Randall’s.

  “This war won’t last forever, William. It’s made us rich men, but before it ends, we need to be prepared for the transition. I can’t waste my time courting some silly girl. I’d rather have this matter settled and hopefully I’ll have a son within the year.”

  “Browning’s sons, the older ones, aren’t they all overseas?”

  “They all enlisted last June. From what I understand, their mother wasn’t thrilled, and I suppose for good reason—the eldest was killed last month.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Men die in war; that’s the reality of the situation. I suppose you and I should be grateful the war department needs what our company can produce more than they need you or me on the battlefield. But I really didn’t know him, or any of the brothers.”

  “I suppose you’ll get to know the rest of them since they’ll be your brother-in-laws.”

  “Oh please, William, don’t get all maudlin on me.” Randall stood up abruptly and snatched his glass off the table to go pour himself some more brandy. “I’ve already made it very clear to Browning what I expect of this arrangement. Mary Ellen will be allowed to visit her family once a year, if she so wishes. But they won’t be welcomed here. I’m procuring a wife, not a bunch of hillbilly relatives.”

  “And Browning was good with that?” William watched him refill the glass. Although Randall had been his friend since they were children and business partner since they reached maturity, the man could sometimes be such an ass. William pitied poor Mary Ellen.

  “Why wouldn’t he? As soon as the wedding vows are exchanged, his family moves into a newer, larger house I’ve purchased for them. Most generous of me.”


  “I wouldn’t boast about this little transaction of yours. You’ll have suffragettes camping on your doorstep.”

  Randall only shrugged in response before sitting back down.

  “Are they at least coming for the wedding?”

  “Good lord, no. The girl will be arriving June 2nd, chaperoned by Browning’s older sister. I met the woman when I was back there. She’s one reason I felt confident this would work.”

  “How so?” William picked up his glass and started to take a sip before realizing it was empty. Instead of refilling the glass, he set it back on the table and waited for his friend’s response.

  “She’s a handsome woman. I believe she is—or was—a school teacher. Everyone in that family knows how to read and write. I want a traditional wife, but not a stupid one. I want a manageable wife who’s pleasing to look at and capable of producing sons but she must be able to fit in socially. With a little training, I’m confident Mary Ellen will manage fine.”

  “When is the wedding? I always thought the bride’s parents handled that sort of thing.”

  “We’ll be getting married as soon as she arrives. I was hoping you’d come over that day and be one of the witnesses. Her aunt can also serve as a witness.”

  “You’re getting married here?”

  “Yes. I’d prefer people to think I simply eloped with the girl. Sounds more romantic, which is always good for public perception, and I don’t have time for a formal wedding. Those things are always a foolish waste of money.”

  “Oh yes, you are the romantic, Randall,” William scoffed. “Don’t you think your bride will want something a little special?”

  “I intend to adequately provide for her. She’ll have nothing to complain about. I think that is sufficient. She’s to be my wife, not my mistress.”

  “Exactly what is that supposed to mean?”

  “Men tend to spoil and pamper their mistresses. A wife is to be properly managed. If you over-indulge your mistress, and she steps out of bounds, it’s fairly easy to show her to the door. But with a wife, it’s best to keep her well in hand, because if she does get out of control, she’s not quite as easy to dispose of.”

  “I’m impressed with how much you know about managing wives and mistresses, considering you’ve had neither.” William chuckled and stood up to go refill his glass.

  “But I do observe. So will you be here?”

  “You mean to be a witness?”

  “Yes.”

  “I suppose so, but I wish you weren’t doing this.”

  “Why?”

  “Because,” William said as he returned to his chair with a full glass and sat down, “Mary Ellen Browning seems like a very sweet, unspoiled and innocent girl.”

  “You’ve strong opinions for a girl you’ve only seen, what, once—or twice?”

  “Twice. The last time was this past summer. As you’ll recall the Brownings invited me for supper. Their daughter helped serve. She was quite lovely.”

  “Good lord, are you smitten with my bride?” Randall laughed, sounding not a bit jealous.

  “Of course not. I barely spoke to the child. And she is a child. But there was something very endearing about her. You’re too much for someone like that.”

  “William, I’m not sure if I should be flattered or insulted.” Randall laughed then sat up a little straighter in his chair, flattered by his friend’s comment. Selecting a wife, in his opinion, was not much different than choosing a good hound or horse. While he hadn’t ridden a horse for years, as a teenager Randall often accompanied his father when selecting a new horse for the stable. He believed a prospective wife should be examined with the same critical eye as when choosing a horse. A wife was another possession—one with a specific purpose—to give him sons.

  “I’ll stand by you on your wedding day. You know I will. I just wish you’d reconsider this particular match. She’s awfully young and innocent. What about Clare Taylor? She was quite smitten with you, and she looks fully capable of giving you your desired sons.”

  “You know, I’m fairly certain that forty years ago I could’ve legally married a ten year old in this state.”

  “That’s an appalling thought, Randall.”

  “Oh, I’m not saying I’d want to marry a ten year old. But once you see Miss Browning, you’ll realize she’s filled out quite nicely and is fully equipped to handle the duties as my wife. Hardly a child.

  “As for Clare, the last time we were to go out, I went to pick her up and discovered she’d cropped off her hair. Looked scandalous. The next thing you know, she’ll be marching with the suffragettes.”

  “How did you respond to her new hairstyle?”

  “Oh, I suspect not what she wanted to hear. I told her I would not be taking her out in public looking like that, but she was welcome to come back to my home and spend the evening in my bed.”

  “You didn’t!”

  “I certainly did. If she doesn’t respect me enough to not embarrass me when I take her out in public, then don’t blame me if I leave her in a fit of tears. If she chooses to behave like a doxy, she should expect to be treated as one.”

  “Why haven’t I heard about this before? When did this happen?”

  “The week before I left for Virginia, which is what gave me the idea to procure a wife from a more sheltered background.”

  “What in the world did her father say? I would imagine he was furious with you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. He stopped by my office the next day and thanked me. I wasn’t the only one she embarrassed by her foolish behavior.”

  Chapter Two

  “Papa, please, don’t make me do this!” Mary Ellen pleaded with her father, who silently packed her trunk since she refused to do so.

  In the adjacent room, her mother sat quietly in the rocking chair, gently rocking back and forth, staring blankly ahead. Since hearing the news of her eldest child’s death, she had retreated into herself and refused to talk. Because of her self-imposed isolation, Sally Browning was unwilling—or unable—to speak up for her daughter. Instead, she silently mourned the loss of one child while she was about to lose another.

  “Stop this, Mary Ellen. You’re a lucky girl that Mr. Coulson wants you for his wife.” Edward Browning angrily shoved his daughter’s meager belongings into the opened trunk.

  “Are you really trading me for a house, Papa?”

  Browning paused from the packing long enough to reach over and backhand his daughter across her face, sending her stumbling to the floor. In the other room, the rocking paused for a moment and then resumed. Crouched on the floor, Mary Ellen began to sob.

  “Your mother is no use to me now, girl. How am I to take care of this family, with her just sitting in there all day long?”

  “I can help you Papa,” Mary Ellen sobbed, rubbing her face, which still stung from the assault.

  “The boys can take over your chores. It’s time for you to marry anyway, and even if Mr. Coulson didn’t so generously offer to move us into a better house, I would still insist on this match. Good lord girl, he’s a rich man. Do you really think you can do better finding a husband on your own? What’s wrong with him; isn’t he good looking enough for you?”

  “I don’t even know him.” In truth, Randall Coulson was a very handsome man. That she could not deny. He was tall, even taller than her papa, with dark brown eyes and darker hair. He didn’t have a bulky physique like her father, but was lean and trim. A stylish man typically clad in snazzy silk suits, he wore his hair slicked back and she imagined the cost of his leather shoes would feed her family for a year. But he wasn’t an approachable man, not someone who she might engage for small talk; much less share a lifetime with.

  In fact, she had never had a real conversation with Randall Coulson. She understood why she should be flattered. He and William Hunter owned the plant Ed Browning had been working at since it first opened eight years earlier.

  No longer crying, Mary Ellen got to her feet and faced her
father. An inexplicable wave of guilt washed over her. She regretted the careless accusation about trading her for a house. Not for a moment did she doubt her father would insist on this match even if it did not include a new home for the family. Mary Ellen Browning felt like a very ungrateful girl, especially considering the current condition of her mother.

  “I’m sorry Papa,” Mary Ellen mumbled, tears filling her eyes again.

  Edward Browning studied his daughter. For the past week, she’d been fighting against the marriage, and now it seemed she’d finally acquiesced. Perhaps I should have smacked her earlier, he thought. He would be sorry to see her go, considering she’d faithfully attended to her mother the last few weeks. He wasn’t sure how he would handle Sally, but he imagined having a new house—one that was paid for—would certainly help, and he could then afford to hire someone to tend to his wife.

  Fortunately, he managed to keep Coulson away from Sally on his last visit. If Coulson suspected there was some mental illness in the family, he certainly would call off the match. Browning hoped his wife would soon snap out of the depression, as it was wearing on his nerves.

  “Good girl.” Ed gave her a smile and reached over and patted her right arm. “Now you finish up packing, we need to leave for the train station within the hour.”

  “Yes, Papa,” Mary Ellen said dully, watching her father leave the room. Silent tears streamed down her face. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she heard a door shut and suspected her father had gone outside. Perhaps he was going to pick up her aunt, who would be travelling with her to Philadelphia. Mary Ellen had never been to Philadelphia. She had never been outside of Virginia. Her only adventures and travels were through the books she read.

  “Mary Ellen?” came a small child’s voice from the doorway. She looked up to see two of her younger brothers standing at the entrance to her bedroom.

  “Billy, where are your brothers?” Mary Ellen asked as the two edged their way into her tiny room. Being the only girl, she was afforded her own bedroom, which doubled as her mother’s sewing room. The brothers had long since learned they were not allowed in without an invitation, something they seemed to have forgotten; yet just this once, she did not mind.