Poppy: Bride of Alaska (American Mail-Order Bride 49) (7 page)

A quick glance at Matthew gave her pause. He looked angry. But why? Did the thought of sharing a room with her repulse him so much? Pain and insecurity threatened to take root in her heart but deep down she knew that couldn’t be it.
 

He’d grown sullen halfway through the ride down Lincoln Street, and had barely made a peep since. Could he be angry at her gaffe in the carriage? Anything was possible but he seemed fine immediately afterward. It wasn’t until moments later that he turned into a statue. Poppy had followed his fiery gaze but only saw a swarthy middle-aged man ushering a child into a dry goods store. Nothing that should cause such a reaction.

“It’s small,” Mrs. Austin said, opening the door of a room and pulling Poppy out of her thoughts, “but I hope it will be suitable for the time being. Naturally, once you’ve settled in, you’re more than welcome to find alternate lodging in town, if you so choose. Many of our married couples do. Of course, you may also stay here for the duration of your contract.”

“Thank you,” Poppy muttered as she passed the threshold.

Both her and Matthew’s bags sat at the foot of a large bed, the mahogany footboard catching her breath with its simple beauty. On either side of the matching headboard stood delicate wrought-iron nightstands, a small oil lamp on each. A standing wardrobe loomed in the middle of one wall while two dressers — his and hers, presumably — were tucked into the corners on either side of the door. A tall window dressed in a delicate lace curtain let in an absurd amount of light. Tears sprang to her eyes at the sheer prettiness of the room.

“Please rest and take your time unpacking. Dinner’s at six.” With that, Mrs. Austin eased the door shut and they were alone.

“Well, what do you suggest we do about this situation?” Poppy asked to Matthew’s back.
 

He stood at the window, staring out across the school’s property and into the distance. Something more than their sleeping arrangements was troubling him, and she intended to find out what it was, once and for all. After a moment of silence, she tried a different tack.
 

“So, Matthew…now that we’re here, don’t you think it’s time to tell me what your business is all about? I am your wife, after all.”

He spun around, his brown eyes flashing black. Eureka! That got him.

“If you were my
wife,
you wouldn’t be asking me about where we’re going to sleep. You’d know that I would be right by your side in that bed you’re sitting on so prettily.”

The mere suggestion pinked her cheeks, not from outrage but because the image of them snuggling in bed took root in her head. Taking a deep breath, she willed the image away and calmed herself.

“At least you’re talking to me. Now what’s got you so worked up? Maybe I can help. We’re in this together, remember. And the sooner you finish your business, the sooner you can go back to Boston. Isn’t that what you want?”

It’s not what
you
want
, a voice in her head whispered. It was the same part of her that turned to jelly whenever Matthew smiled. It was also an idiot that didn’t know what was good for it.

“Of course.”
 

Was that a hesitation? No, couldn’t be. All he wanted was to finish what he set out to do, and all she wanted was to find out what that was and be rid of him once and for all.

“So tell me. By now you should know that your secret will be safe with me.”

Grey light filtered through the lace, speckling his drawn face. Poppy dug her fingers into the homey quilt that covered the soft bed, resisting the urge to go to him, to smooth the frown lines from his brow, to kiss his spasming jawline until it eased.

“Fine,” he sighed, settling himself into a hardback chair next to the window. A pang of disappointment that he didn’t sit next to her on the bed drew a small frown to Poppy’s lips for a moment before she willed it away.
 

“My family was once one of the most prominent among Boston’s elite. But a few months ago, my father’s old business associate, a man named Vladimir Vinchenko, ran off with all our money. We were left destitute and humiliated. At last word, he called Sitka home. That’s why I’m here.”

The thudding of her heart echoed in Poppy’s ears. Where she came from, if a man had done such a thing, the victim would hunt him down like a rat and, almost certainly, that would be the last anyone ever heard from the scoundrel. Had she unknowingly married a murderer? Or a future murderer?
 

“W-what will you do when you find him?”
 

She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer, but she had to hear it from his own mouth. Fear pulsed through her as his lips pulled back from his teeth in a grim sneer.

 
“Oh, I’ve already found him. And you know what I’m going to do?”

His gaze grew distant, as if he was envisioning himself chopping the man to bits and pieces.
What have I done?!
She should have known better. Wasn’t she the one who vowed to never marry, to never put her life in the hands of a man? What a fool!
 

“What, Matthew? What are you going to do?”

His gaze shifted to her, flashing dark. Goosebumps pricked the hairs on her arms and neck at the terrible scowl twisting his normally handsome features. Knots roiled around in her tummy and she couldn’t stop herself from gnawing on her lower lip.

“I’m going to sue him!”

* ~ * ~ *

It felt so good to tell someone about what Vinchenko had done. No, he had to be honest with himself. It felt good to tell
Poppy
. After all the lies, a weight lifted off his shoulders as soon as the words left his lips. There were no more secrets between them, and no more need to lie. What a relief!

So her bray of laughter hit him like a punch to the gut.
 

“What are you laughing at?” he demanded, pouring all his fury into a scowl. She only laughed harder, doubling over until she nearly fell off the bed. Then she had the audacity to point at him.

“Y-you!” she giggled, unable to breathe properly. “I thought…but you…
sue
!”
 

A fresh bout of guffaws filled the room. Well, he didn’t have to sit there and be laughed at. He’d had more than his fill back home when all his friends found out about the family’s situation. With one long stride, he launched himself at Poppy, looming over her like Mt. Edgecumbe about to blow.

“Stop laughing right this minute!”

But she wasn’t the least bit intimidated by him. His command only caused her to dissolve into another fit of laughter, which only fueled the flames of his anger. There was only one way to shut her up.

In one swift move, Matthew dragged her upright into his arms, pulling her body tight against his, and took her lips with his own. Her small frame stiffened in his arms, and he fully expected her to start beating at him with her tiny fists, as he probably deserved. It was quite a shock when she relaxed into him, her fingers splayed against his chest, and responded to his kiss.

The air sucked out of the room and heat seeped up from his toes all the way to the top of his head. He couldn’t help marveling at the softness of her lips. They felt as soft as he’d imagined. Did she use a special ointment to make them so supple? The light scent of rose water judiciously applied wafted up to him as their kiss softened and lengthened. He’d never noticed her wearing any perfume before, but this suited her. A few hair pins must have come loose because a stray curl escaped the tight bun and tickled the hand cupping her cheek.
 

Pulling back from her welcoming mouth was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. Gazing into her soft blue eyes, he loosened his hold on her, giving himself a little space so he wouldn’t be embarrassed by the way his body reacted to her. The smile she gave him was intoxicating, until her whole body jerked and pain shot up from his foot through his body.

“Ouch!” He hopped back from her on one foot, while clutching the other. “Why did you stomp on my foot like that?”

Her once-beautiful eyes narrowed into a fiery glare.
 

“I don’t recall giving you permission to lay your hands on me, much less kiss me. You’re just lucky I didn’t make good on my promise at the train station.”

Matthew thought back and had to agree. At least she kept her attack to his foot, as painful as it was. He winced at the idea of the damage she might have done.

“I’m sorry, okay? I just wanted you to stop laughing at me and it was the only thing I could think to do.”

At her silence, he pulled his attention from his throbbing foot to her blinking gaze. Her lower lip was firmly clamped in her teeth.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said, moving to put the width of the bed between them.
 

That hurt more than his foot. For a moment, he thought she was responding to his kiss, and the excitement that washed over him had confused him. But her message was loud and clear.
Stay away.

“I apologize for laughing,” she finally conceded. “I wasn’t really laughing
at
you, though. It was just such a relief to discover that you aren’t out to kill the man.”

“Kill…? What kind of animal do you think I am?!”
 

He couldn’t deny the thought had crossed his mind in his greatest fits of pique but, even then, he knew deep down that there was no way he could sink to such a level. But that she, of all people, even considered that might be a possibility…well, it was more proof that their very different worlds would never mix.

“I just want to get my family’s money back,” he groused, slumping into the chair and rubbing his foot. It hardly hurt anymore but he wasn’t about to let her off the hook so quickly.

“Well, then, let’s go get it. You said you found him? He must have been that shopkeeper in town, right?” Poppy inched back around the bed as she spoke, a rosy glow in her cheeks as she once again mysteriously figured things out long before he was ready to tell her.

“How do you do that?” At her exasperated sigh, he answered, “Yes, that was him.”

“Are you sure it was this Vinchenko person?”
 

“Absolutely.”

Her face squinched up in thought. “So why would a man who stole a fortune, a man who doesn’t need money, pretend to be a shopkeeper in Sitka, Alaska, of all places?”

Good question. After recognizing Vinchenko, Matthew could only think about confronting him and somehow reclaiming his family’s wealth. Why the man would be impersonating a shopkeeper, which Matthew was certain he was doing, never entered his thoughts.
 

Poppy stared at him, waiting for an answer. The only one he had was a shrug. Her face lit up like a child’s at Christmas.
 

“Then let’s ask him!”

“Have you come down with a fever? First of all,
we
aren’t going to talk to the man. I am. Alone. Without you. Secondly, I don’t give a hoot why he’s done anything. I just want to restore our family’s status and see justice done.” At the little frown line gouged into her brow, he quickly added. “By the courts, not myself.”

Another soft curl popped free from her restrictive bun when she shook her head. His heart tripped in his chest remembering how the other one felt skimming across the back of his hand.

“Don’t be silly. I know better than you how to talk to thieves and scoundrels. Besides, any man who’s done wrong is always more ashamed when a woman is around.”

Truer words were never spoken.

The hot pressure from Matthews lips still lingered on hers, reminding her of the unexpected intimate embrace long after they left the school in the carriage they’d arrived in only minutes before. Her fingers kept fluttering to her mouth like moths to the flame he ignited there. Each time they inched toward her lips, she’d snatch them back, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
 

He’d taken her completely off-guard by the kiss, and her instinct had been to push him away, fight him off. But then her body took over and melted into him before she could tell it to do otherwise. Traitor!

It’s not like she’d never been kissed before. Boys back in Lawrence were always trying to steal kisses from her, and sometimes they succeeded. Those fellows rarely made it away without a black eye or some other damaged body part, but they continued to try, fools that they were.

In all that time, never had a kiss so completely overwhelmed her like the one Matthew had given her. Her knees had nearly buckled and all she could think was how grateful she was for the big strapping arms holding her. Only when he pulled back to gaze into her eyes did some part of her old self perk up.
 

It would have been so easy to fall under the spell of that delicious gaze, but she’d spent too much of her life protecting herself from men to trust the affection she saw there. Her instincts finally took over, delivering a lesson Matthew wouldn’t soon forget. But was that what she really wanted?
 

A lump formed toward the base of her throat. What she might want or not want hardly mattered. All
he
wanted was to get back to his old, privileged life in Boston. So even if —
if
— some attraction to the man had taken root in her heart, that path would only lead to heartbreak. Better to stomp on that little bud and save it from the pain of life.

Matthew pulled the two-horse team to a stop along a row of shops on the wide, muddy main street. He sat stock-still, not even looking at the store where he’d seen his Russian. A simple ‘Dry Goods’ was painted in the middle of its broad window.
 

Poppy shivered next to him in the brisk afternoon air but didn’t bother him with useless words. Sometimes a person needed to collect their thoughts before they went into battle. She could relate.

With a lurch, he heaved himself out of the carriage and strode up the broad wooden walkway, leaving Poppy to fend for herself. The nerve!
 

“Matthew! Wait!”
 

Worry over what he might do — or worse, what the Russian might do — brought a flush of sweat to her skin as she clambered down and ran after him, heedless of what anyone watching might think. She’d had Russian neighbors as a child and they took their brawling seriously. Bursting into the shop right after him, she caught his arm as he pulled back to hit the shopkeeper.