MILITARY ROMANCE: The War Within Himself (Alpha Bad Boy Marine Army Seal) (Contemporary Military Suspense & Thriller Romance) (173 page)

When his organ began a slow trek into her body, she panicked. She couldn’t do this. She had to stop him. He slipped farther into her body, until she felt a ripping pain. She opened her mouth to scream, so he put his hand over it. The muffled sound frightened her, even though the pain went away in only a few moments. Finally, he burrowed into her as he kissed her.

A few minutes later, he rolled away and said, “Thank you, Stina. I love you.”

“I can’t see only you now, Nels. Give me more time.”

Stina scrambled to her feet as she buttoned her bodice. She’d wanted her first time to be with Lars, but she’d gotten carried away with Nels. She couldn’t tell anybody about this. Even though she’d initially wanted to do it, she had changed her mind. Unfortunately, she hadn’t mentioned that to Nels, who had taken her motions as acquiescence. Now she had to live with the consequences.

Two weeks later, Lars was gone. Now what would she do? Marry Nels? Follow Lars? She had no idea what her response should be, and she could confide in nobody about it because she was now unclean. She could think of only one reaction: Run away.

Then Elise got a letter from her suitor Lars asking her to come to California, where the men wanted women to marry. Finally, Stina could leave Bishop Hill forever.

THE END

A Mail-Order Bride Western

Book 1

(Can be read as a standalone book)

By: D.D. Boone

Elise and the Lumberjack

Chapter 1

This was the longest wait Elise Anderson had ever had at the Bishop Hill, Illinois, post office. She was expecting a letter from her best friend, Bridget, who lived in New York City. They’d been separated for about three years now, but they’d kept in contact every other week to tell each other about their lives.

The letter Elise expected today was in regard to Bridget’s wedding plans. Elise’s employers, for whom she translated English into Swedish and taught how to speak and read English, had given her permission to attend the wedding. All she needed to know was when she had to leave.

At last, Elise saw the mail courier coming from the southwest, as he did twice a week when he picked up the mail at the Chicago, Rock Island and Pacific Railroad depot in Galesburg, Illinois.  For the former Swedish commune established in 1841, no train station was closer than Galesburg.

Elise pondered how she’d gotten to Bishop Hill. Her parents had immigrated from Småland, Sweden, after their 1848 marriage. Rather than traverse the country to Minnesota, they’d chosen to stay in New York City with their infant daughter, Elise. By the time she was eighteen, they were both deceased, and she needed a job. With her bilingual abilities, she went to Castle Garden, into where many Swedes immigrated. The immigration department didn’t pay a lot there, but they had hired her.

About a year later, she’d met Bridget O’Riley. They’d become friends almost instantly during the O’Riley family’s immigration processing, and Mrs. O’Riley had invited her to live with them once they were settled so she could save some money.  And she did save, for another two years.

Then she aided the Bengtson family with translating when they arrived from Sweden. They were headed to the commune founded by religious leader Eric Janson, and Mr. Bengtson asked her to join them as their personal translator and teacher. Elise accepted the job immediately when he told her how much he was willing to pay her. She had always wanted an adventure, and moving to Illinois would be just that.

Unfortunately, that meant she and Bridget had to say good-bye, and both promised to write regularly.

“Would you come out of that daydream and join the rest of us, Elise?” a young man asked from beside her.

She startled and gazed up at the tall, blond Swede. Her face heated in embarrassment as she said, “I’m sorry, Lars.”

Lars Olson’s baby-blue eyes gleamed with merriment, and he grinned down at her. “You always are. Would you like the mail for the Bengtsons?”

“Is there anything for me?”

“I’m afraid not. Have you and Bridget had a falling out?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Elise replied as she accepted the mail from him. “She’s probably just busy with wedding preparations.”

“Have you heard that I’m leaving for California next week?”

“No, I haven’t. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just decided a few days ago. I’m tired of farming and making mail runs. I’m going out there to be a lumberjack.”

“A
lumberjack
,” she repeated in surprise. “Do you have any idea what kind of work that entails? I understand it’s very strenuous.”

“It is,” he said with a wide grin, “but I’ve been preparing for it. I cut trees here every chance I get—never without reason, though. Trees take a long time to grow back.”

Her heart sank to know that he would be leaving soon. So far, he’d been her only suitor, and she was going to miss him, especially that smile. “If this is what you want to do, I wish you well.”

“May I write to you?”

“You’d
better
write to me,” she said cheerfully. “I would feel terribly neglected if you didn’t.”

He winked at her. “I’d better get the rest of the mail into the post office so others can collect theirs. You have a good day. I’ll be by the house to see you tonight. Is that all right?”

“Absolutely.”

As Lars went into the post office, Elise strolled toward the general store. Mrs. Bengtson needed some thread for darning, and Elise had promised to pick it up on the way home. After purchasing the thread, she headed back to the house, her mind deep in thought.

Lars Olson was a nice guy, but she had no real interest in him. No other men wanted to court her, though, so she kept seeing him only to have someone to escort her to parties and dances and such.

Why
didn’t
other men want to court her? she wondered. Her hair was a dark blonde, not the light blonde of so many Swedes. Her eyes were a darker blue, too. She didn’t know why she didn’t have the same type of coloring as so many Scandinavians, but she didn’t. Apparently, men weren’t fond of that because her features, although not beautiful, were attractive. She did have a little bit of a big nose, but it wasn’t huge. So why didn’t men want to court her?

“
Anudder
daydream?” Mrs. Bengtson asked in a thick accent as Elise entered the back door without her normal greeting.

Elise felt the blush coming to her face. It never failed. Whenever someone pointed out that she was daydreaming again, she was embarrassed.

Dropping the letters on the kitchen table, Elise said, “Another daydream. I don’t think I’ll
ever
stop having them.”

“I don’t
tink
so,
eider
.” Mrs. Bengtson picked up the mail and glanced through it. “Stina is
vaiting
for you in
de
parlor. She has
someting
important to tell you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Bengtson. I’ll go see what it is.”

Chapter 2

Elise entered the parlor and saw Stina Bengtson sitting on the velvet-covered sofa with her feet drawn up beside her, her attention in a book with a Swedish title. Studying her for a few moments, Elise waited while Stina read.

Stina was a beautiful, young woman of nineteen with light blonde hair done up in two braids wrapped around her head, in the traditional Swedish manner. Her eyebrows and even her eyelashes were also pale blonde, almost unnoticeable had her skin not been tanned by the summer sun.

A common name in Sweden, Stina was the equivalent of the Anglican name Christina, which many Swedish had changed to upon arriving in America. Stina, though, had wanted to keep her name as it was.

In a way, Elise was surprised to see Stina alone at the house and not visiting one of her three suitors. Elise sighed. Stina had three young men from whom to choose while she herself had one—one she really wasn’t interested in.

Wandering over to the Victorian sofa with three yellowish-orange cushions, Elise plopped down onto the only one Stina wasn’t using and leaned against the high back.

“Your mother said you wanted to talk to me,” Elise said to open the conversation.

Stina looked up from her book and closed it, marking the spot with her thumb. Her light eyes took on a troubled expression as she replied, “I have heard rumors around town—from
Yohn
mostly.”

Smiling, Elise corrected her surrogate sister. “That’s John. Juh, juh, juh. Not Yuh.”

With a shake of her head, Stina smiled back. “
Juh
-ohn. Any-
wu
-ay, he told me Lars Olson is leaving Bishop Hill.”

“Yes, I know,” Elise replied, chuckling at Stina’s exaggerated pronunciation of anyway. “I was there when Lars brought in the mail, and he told me.”

“You don’t sound upset or angry.”

“I’m not.”

“No? You and Lars have been courting since
ve
got to Bishop Hill.”

“Don’t misunderstand, Stina. I’ll definitely miss him because he’s such a good person, but I was never interested in him as a suitor. I consider him a friend and nothing more.”

This time Stina frowned. “
Vy
not? If you
tink
he’s a good person, you should
vant
him to court you.”

Now was not the time for a pronunciation lesson, Elise decided. Whenever Stina was nervous, anxious or in a hurry, she always reverted to the Swedish pronunciation, and Elise doubted that would ever change.

“In America,” Elise explained, “we don’t have to marry somebody just because they want to marry us. Well, at least, not in most of America. I’ve read that there are still places where arranged marriages happen.”

“Don’t you feel sorry for him? He’s been courting you for a long time. He must expect that you’ll marry him.”

The distressed tone in Stina’s voice surprised Elise. With three suitors, Stina shouldn’t be concerned about Lars’ emotions.

Rising, Elise absently went to the window and looked out to the side yard garden, which was abloom with marigolds, tomatoes, corn, lettuce, and other vegetables. In a way, Stina was right to be concerned about Lars. He had been courting her in the hopes of marriage, and she had done everything that would indicate that she would agree someday. Why? Just because she was desperate for a suitor?

If she still had her mother, she would be able to ask for guidance. Unfortunately, she hadn’t had a mother since she was eleven. At that time, she wasn’t interested in boys. By the time she was fifteen, she had no father to ask, either. The people at the orphanage had no interest in guiding the orphans. The owners only wanted the money they got to take care of all the children, who actually took care of each other.

Now that she had turned twenty-two, she knew nothing and felt awkward asking anybody for help.

“Elise?” Stina asked from her seat on the couch.

“I know. I know,” Elise replied, turning to lean against the wall papered in large blue flowers with a white background. “I was in my own little world again.”

Now that Stina’s nervousness was gone, she reverted to proper pronunciation again. “Don’t you think he wants to marry you?”

“I suppose. Do you think I was teasing him by the way I acted during his courtship? If you do, I certainly didn’t mean to.”

“I know that,” Stina said sympathetically. “You don’t know how to be with men. You should ask
Moder
to help you.”

“I don’t know what your mother could possibly do to help me at my age.”

Stina turned on the sofa and shook her finger in Elise’s direction. “One is never too old to learn. She is learning English, and you can learn about men.”

A knock at the front door startled the pair, and they both shot their eyes to the foyer. Desperate for a reprieve from the conversation, Elise shouted that she would get it a bit louder than she had anticipated.

There stood Lars, his blue eyes sparkling as always. With a grin, he waved an envelope before her and said, “I believe this is what you were looking for.”

“Thank you,” she replied, taking the letter from him. Sure enough it was from Bridget. “Do you want to visit for a while?”

“I wish I could, but I don’t have time. I’ll return this evening.”

“All right.”

Without another word, Lars strode down the steps and off the property before Elise moved to the rocking chair on the wooden porch. Excited about the prospect of returning to New York City for a wedding, she ripped into the envelope and read the letter. Her heart dropped. Bridget wasn’t getting married after all? She had found her fiancé in the bed of another woman and had called off the wedding.

Now what? Elise wondered. She had been looking forward to a trip to New York City to see her friend, but Bridget said that she was not in the mood for visitors yet. Should she postpone her trip, or should she cancel it? A letter to Bridget should answer that question, and she went to her room to write one.