The New Year's Bride (Holiday Mail Order Brides Book Two) (9 page)

Spencer thanked Mrs. Quinn for the coffee, made sure the women were bundled up as best as they were able, then ushered them all out to the wagon.  He helped
his mother up onto the wagon seat then got the others settled in the wagon bed.  Summer and Elle pulled the quilts about them.  Charlotte who was huddled in the middle said nothing and sat with a frown on her face.

“What’s the matter Charlotte?” Summer asked.

“Well, one would think as I’m getting out first that I’d be up front.”

“But that would be improper, wouldn’t it?” Elle asked.

“Not at all.  I’ve known the Riley men all my life. Much longer than either of you.”

Summer sighed and huddled beneath the quilts next to her. “Well, if it’s any consolation, you’ll be warmer back here between Elle and me.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes in indignation and said nothing before she too burrowed deeper into the quilts.

With a slap of the rei
ns they were off.  None of the women spoke as the wagon rolled across the frozen ground toward the Davis’s place.  Spencer worried the women were all but freezing in the back of the wagon as his mother huddled against him for warmth.  The temperature was dropping fast and he had to get them all home quick.

When they reached
Charlotte’s house Mr. Davis came running out the door. “Charlotte!  Where have you been?  Abbey’s been home for almost two hours!”

“Nowhere, daddy,” she said flatly.

“I know you were in town, but really!  It’s freezing outside!  You could’ve caught your death if you had to walk all the way!”  He turned to Spencer. “Thank you for seeing her home.  I can’t thank you enough.”

“No problem,” Spencer said then sent a dagger of a glare in Charlotte’s direction.  Clayton had mentioned
she purposely stayed behind in town to flirt and finagle a ride from them.  Unfortunately it worked.  Or in this case, if one was Charlotte, it was fortunate it
did
work!  She never would have made it home on her own dressed as she was.

Spencer helped her out of the wagon and presented her to her father.  He took her by the arm and shoved her into the house. “You make it home safe no
w, you hear?” he told Spencer.

“We will, keep warm tonight, Mr. Davis!  It’s gonna be a cold one!”

Mr. Davies shivered, took one look at the dark grey sky then quickly went inside.

Spencer climbed back up into the wagon and headed straight for home.  He’d have to get the wome
n inside, take care of the livestock then gather wood for the fires.  It was going to be a long, cold night.  One he wished he could spend with Elle Barstow tucked snuggly in his arms.  It was the kind of night that could make any man or woman alone in the world wish for a mate, long for one in fact. It wouldn’t be the first time he himself had done so.  Spencer had secretly longed for a wife plenty of times.  But this time there was a beautiful woman just down the hall from him.  Not downstairs.  Summer and Elle would most likely share a bed tonight to keep warm.  In fact, he was going to suggest it if they didn’t think of it themselves.

But how hard was it going to be with Elle just feet
away in the next room? The deep longing that began earlier in the day was wide and vast and made of something he hadn’t been aware of it in his own heart until now.

Deep, bone searing,
loneliness. The kind that far outstretched a simple longing, and loneliness on a cold winter’s night was the worst sort there was.  Spencer looked over his shoulder at the top of Elle’s bonnet.  It was all he could see of her as she sat huddled beneath the quilts next to Summer.

For the first time since Clayton and
Summer were married Spencer felt the sharp stab of jealousy.  He knew there was only one remedy to both his jealousy and his newly discovered loneliness.  Marriage. Something he’d best see to right away.

Nine

By the time they got back to the farm Elle was so cold she couldn’t feel her toes!  Getting out of the wagon became a great effort and she had to ask Summer to help her stand up.  Every fiber of her body was cold and Elle shivered something fierce as she stood and waited for Spencer to help his mother down then see to Summer and herself.  Mrs. Riley ran straight for the house as soon as her feet touched the ground, as did Summer. The wind was picking up and now howled through the apple orchards, the grey branches of the trees reminding Elle of bare bones.  She shook as she reached down to Spencer’s outstretched hands.  He grabbed her around the waist and lifted her from the wagon. When her own feet touched the ground pain shot through them and up her legs, yet she still couldn’t feel her toes, they were so cold.

“Let’s get you inside!” Spencer yelled above the wind as he pulled her close and made for the farmhouse.  She stayed next to him, allowing him to keep her wrapped in one arm until they were safely inside.

“Land sakes it freezing in here!” Mrs. Riley cried from the kitchen.  “Spencer, do you need help in the barn?”

“I should be fine ma,” he told her then turned to Elle. “Get into the kit
chen, it’ll be the warmest room in the house until we get some fires going.”

“How can I help?” Elle asked.

Spencer looked at her and smiled. “You can keep warm for me for one. But if you really want to help, you can start a fire in the parlor.” He reached up and touched one of her red cheeks with the back of his cold finger. “I’ll get more wood after I take care of the horses.  We’re going to need a lot of it tonight.”

Elle swallowed.  His finger was freezing, yet his touch made her belly feel like it was on fire. “Hurry back,” came out before she could stop it.

He closed the distance between them and looked down into her eyes. “I will.” He lingered there and continued to gaze at her.  Elle was becoming warmer by the second as she watched him, watch her.  It was a strange thing to do, and she’d never done it before.  Look at each other, take each other in.

Finally Spencer looked away
and broke the spell.  Elle’s body moved forward, as if being pulled by his gaze. But that was impossible, wasn’t it?
“I’d best go see to those horses,” he said in a low voice. “Get the fire in the parlor going,” he said as he began to turn. “I’d like to be able to enjoy it after supper… with you.”

S
he sucked in a tiny breath at his words. He turned back at the sound and again looked down into her eyes.  “Elle …” he rasped.

She stared
up at him, mesmerized by the look on his face.  She’d never seen such a look before and marveled at the power of it.  His eyes, the set of his jaw, everything around him seemed suddenly charged with … with …

“Oh God …” was all she got out just before he took her in his arms, lowered his face to hers, and did the one thing she dreaded above all else.

He kissed her.

Now, one would think
a kiss by a handsome man would be welcomed by a young miss,  especially if said miss had a heart hankering after the handsome man to begin with.  But Elle Barstow was afraid of a kiss by such a man, especially this man! For she knew,
knew
that if he kissed her it could be her undoing.  Elle had never been kissed you see, and so
this kiss
by
this man
would surely brand her.

And it did.

He pulled away, his eyes dark with desire, and gently put her from him.  Without a word he turned to the door and left the house to leave her standing there in the cold foyer and stare after him.  She raised a hand to her lips and touched her mouth.  Her lips were warm from the kiss and still tingled from having his mouth on hers.

Glorious.

Wonderful.

Incredible.

What other words were there to describe what just happened?

“I need some wood!” Mrs. Riley called from the kitchen.

‘Wood’ was not a word Elle could use to describe Spencer’s kiss, but without it, Mrs. Riley wouldn’t keep the fire in the cook stove going and Elle wouldn’t be able to build one in the parlor as Spencer asked.  She numbly looked to the front door and smiled.  Her future husband was out there.  She touched her lips again.

My future husband, t
he man I came out here to marry just kissed me …

Elle’s
smile deepened.

“Land sakes, where is all my kindling?” Mrs. Riley asked as she came down the hall.  “Elle, are you all right?”

Elle turned to her. “Yes. I’ll get you some wood,” she said without thinking and went straight for the front door.

“Be careful dear, it’s frightfully
cold out there.  Use the wheel barrow if you need to,” Mrs. Riley called after her as she headed out.

Elle stepped
onto the front porch and was immediately pulled out of her dream like state by the icy wind.  She wrapped her arms about herself and headed for the wood shed near the barn.  She knew everything she needed would be there.  She’d bring in a load of kindling first then go back for some bigger pieces.  The thought she would be saving Spencer some trouble fueled her efforts to fight the wind and cold that beat against her and slowed her steps. By the time she finally reached the wood shed she was once again shivering something awful.

She got the wheelbarrow,
maneuvered it over to the woodpile, and began to load it.  She put not only the kindling they would need into it but also a few good-sized pieces.  Straining, she then lifted and pushed the wheelbarrow back toward the house.

“What are you doing out here?”  Spencer yelled at her
over the wind. “You’ll catch your death!”

Elle turned to him. “Your mother needed kindling.  I offered to come get some,” she managed to tell him without her teeth chattering all over the place.

He gently moved her away from the wheelbarrow and took it the rest of the way to the house.  He dumped the contents next to the back porch.  “I’ll go get another load. You hurry and get that into the kitchen.”

She smiled.  He was going to let her help.  S
he bent to the wood and gathered what she could into her arms to take into the house.  There was a deep satisfaction in helping him, something she’d never felt before, and she liked it.

She took the first load of kindling into the house, dumped it into a
large bucket Mrs. Riley kept near the stove, then went back outside to get more.  Before she was done carrying all of it in, Spencer had returned with another wheelbarrow full.  Rather than dump it he loaded her arms with wood, got his own armful, and together they carried it into the house.  They repeated the entire process one last time before Spencer was satisfied they had enough wood to see them through the night and into the morning.  He then went back to the barn as Elle put the wheelbarrow in the woodshed.  Just as she was done, he came out and they returned to the house together.

It was cold, the sky heavy with grey clouds.  The smell of snow was in the air and Elle’s lungs
strained for breath as she tried to keep up with Spencer.  But none of it mattered.  What did was the man beside her.  He reached over and took her mitten-clad hand in his own and gave it a healthy squeeze.  She looked up at him and smiled.  The satisfaction she’d felt earlier at helping him bring in wood engulfed her heart.  Together they had performed a simple task, but one that brought them closer in a profound way.  Elle couldn’t begin to describe how, it just did.  Maybe it was because part of it had to do with basic survival, the need to stay warm.  Maybe because she knew she was helping him, working along side him to achieve a goal.  What ever it was, she liked it, and wanted to experience it again.

“Let’s get inside, you must be half frozen by now!”
  He said as he opened the kitchen’s back door and ushered her through. The warm air hit her face and made her cheeks tingle.  She shivered then, and after a few failed attempts at removing her coat, found she couldn’t stop.

“Here, let me help you,” Spencer said as he pulled her coat off.  He
’d already removed his own and slung hers over the back of a chair next to his. Without warning he pulled Elle into his arms.  She gasped at the action and immediately tried to pull away.

“Stop, it’s all right.  You’re freezing and I need to get you warm.  Now stand here with me in front of the stove.”

He pulled her close again, holding her to him in front of the kitchen’s cook stove and it’s glorious heat.  Her head was tucked beneath his chin, her ear against his broad chest.  She could hear his heart beat and marveled at the sound.  She’d never heard a man’s heart beat before.  Probably because she’d never been this close to a man before!

“Isn’t this improper?” She had to ask.

“Not when we’re to be married.  Besides, it’s rather nice don’t you think?”

Elle closed her eyes tightly shut.  Oh, she thought it was well beyond
nice
. In fact if it got any nicer she’d melt into a puddle right there on the floor!  How was she going to avoid him now?  He’d kissed her!  He’d held her!  They brought in wood for Heaven’s sake!

Wood? Hmmm, OK, so maybe the wood didn’t count so much as doing the chore together. At any rate, something between them had changed between his kiss and standing in his arms in front of a cook stove.  And where were
Summer and Mrs. Riley?  Why were they not in the kitchen?  It was the warmest room in the house at the moment!

Or had they vacated the kitchen
on purpose to give Spencer and his intended a moment to themselves?  The only thing Elle knew was that if she didn’t get away from him, her resolve to protect her heart until she heard from Mrs. Ridgley would be dashed to pieces.

But Elle Barstow couldn’t bring herself to pull away.  Spencer’s arms held her as tightly and firmly as any chains.  In fact, if he removed his arms from her entirely, she knew she would still be just as bound to him.

It was then Elle realized there might be no turning back, for her heart that is. Spencer Riley had captured it.

* * *

What had he been thinking?  He
’d kissed his mail order bride! Not a bad thing mind you, but up until now he wasn’t so sure.  He ran out the door with the taste of her sweet mouth lingering in his and quickly walked to the barn.  The moment the cold wind hit him he should have snapped out of it and had the livestock on his mind.  But let’s face it, there was no way his horse could compare with kissing Elle Barstow.

But had she been ready for it?  That was the main question running through his mind.  Sure, she didn’t protest, but he hadn’t exactly given her a chance to
do so either.  She didn’t bite him or step on his foot or slap him.  All encouraging signs … but she didn’t say
anything.
  Of course he didn’t know what she would say, but he was hoping for a sigh of contentment, a slight swoon, a buckling of the knees,
something
to indicate she’d enjoyed it as much as he did!  All he remembered was her shocked mumbling of “Oh God” right before he kissed her.

Oh God …

Well she wasn’t saying “Oh God” at the moment and she hadn’t stepped on his foot or slapped him or any of that sort of thing.  She only pulled away slightly for propriety’s sake.  Which of course made him wonder.  Should he kiss her again?

Spencer’s entire body warmed at the thought.

Elle pulled away as he mused and stared at the stove a moment before turning her attention back to him. “What are you smiling at?”

“Nothing, really,” he said then gave her body a small squeeze. “Except this.”

She swallowed and quickly looked to the stove again.

He hooked a finger under her chin and pulled it up to so she’d
have to look at him.  His eyes began to roam her face. “Are you warming up?”

She swallowed again. “Uh huh …”
she said softly.

Her mouth was perfect and it was all he could do not to ravage it.  He licked his lips and closed his eyes.  He wanted her, wanted her like he’d never wanted anything before in his life.  She was beautiful, she was strong,
and if things worked out right in a matter of days she’d be his.

Just how long
did
it take to sew together a wedding dress?

“Where … where do you suppose the others are?” Elle all but whispered, pulling him from his thoughts.

“I have no idea, upstairs perhaps? Ma has a fireplace in her room.  Maybe she and Summer are trying to get a fire going up there.” His head bent lower, his finger still hooked beneath her chin.

She made a small movement with her head, as if trying to turn away yet not wanting to.  He cupped her face with his hand to hold her in place and bent his head even lower.  “Are you warm now?” he whispered.

Her breathing hitched and she shivered. “I … I …”