Mail-Order Bride (3 page)

Once he was sure she'd had as much time as any woman would possibly require, Paul went back into the cabin. The bedroom light was off and he could see the outline of her figure in the bed. His bed. Waiting for him. He recalled the way her body had felt against his. With vivid clarity he remembered how she'd looked at him, her blue eyes huge, when she'd suggested going to bed. Then she'd asked him if she was dreaming. The woman was drunk—drunk on her wedding night. From the day he'd received her letter, Paul had decided to wait for the rewards of marriage. Yes, he'd wait until she was ready. But, oh boy—that kiss. For a moment he'd thought she was as eager as he was. He wanted their lovemaking to be slow and easy, but hadn't anticipated her effect on him. The restraint he needed not to rush to her side made him feel weak. The taste of her lips lingered on his own and left him craving more. He took a deep breath and leaned against the counter.

Hoping to gain some perspective, Paul took down the bottle of Jack Daniel's from the cupboard and poured a stiff drink. He had to think things through. He suspected she didn't believe their marriage was real, yet she had to know he'd brought her all this way for exactly that purpose. During the wedding she'd looked so confused and unsure. As her husband, he expected to claim his marital rights—only he preferred to wait until she was sober. He wanted a wife and had made that evident in his letter. This was to be a real marriage in every way, and she'd come to him on his terms. Yet he couldn't help feeling nervous.

He sat at the table and gulped down the drink, hoping to feel its numbing effect—fast. But if anything, imagining Caroline in his bed, dressed in that see-through silk gown, had the
opposite
effect on him. He'd hoped to cool his passion with sound reasoning and good whiskey but had ended up fanning the flames.

Standing, Paul took his empty glass to the sink and saw that his hands were trembling. He felt like a coiled spring, tense, ready. Oh yes, he was ready.

He moved into the bedroom and undressed in the dark, taking time to fold each piece of clothing and set it on the dresser. For a moment he toyed with the idea of sleeping at Walter Thundercloud's place, but he quickly rejected the thought. He'd be the laughingstock of the entire community if he spent the night anywhere but with Caroline.

She was asleep, he realized from the evenness of her breathing. He was grateful for that. Much as he wanted her, he felt certain
she
wasn't ready and he needed to respect that.

The mattress dipped as he carefully slid in beside her. She sighed once and automatically rolled into his arms, nestling her head against his chest. Paul's eyes widened with the force of his resolve.

She stroked her fingertips over his lean ribs. He swallowed convulsively against the sweet torture of her touch and strengthened his self-possession by gently removing her hands. He wished she could appreciate what he was giving up…

“Love,” he whispered in her ear. “Roll onto your side, okay?”

“Hmm?” Caroline was having the sweetest dream. And this time, she felt sure it really
was
a dream.

“I know you'd prefer to wait.” Paul found it ironic that he was telling her this; she'd come so willingly into his arms.

“Wait?”

“Never mind,” he whispered. “Just go back to sleep.” Unable to resist, he kissed her forehead and shifted away from her.

Unexpectedly, the comforting, irresistible warmth beside her moved and Caroline edged closer to it. With a sigh of longing, she buried her face in the hollow of his neck.

“Caroline, please, this is difficult enough,” he whispered, inhaling harshly. She flattened her hand against his abdomen and slowly brushed her lips over his.

With every muscle, Paul struggled for control. Seconds later, he was lost—irrevocably and completely lost. Their kiss was unlike any he'd ever experienced…But Paul was the one to break contact, twisting so that he lay on his back. His control, such as it was, seemed to be slipping fast; another minute and he wouldn't have been able to stop.

Caroline felt unbearably hot, as if she was sitting directly in front of a fireplace. The thought was so illogical—she was in bed, wasn't she?—that she bolted upright, giggling, and tossed the blankets aside. She fell back onto the pillow and raised her hands above her head, intertwining her fingers. The ceiling was spinning around and around. In an effort to block out the dizzying sight, she closed her eyes and sought anew the security of the dream.

Again Paul tried to move away from her, but Caroline wanted him close. She couldn't understand why he kept leaving her. If he was part of her dream, the least he could do was stick around! She reached for him, locking her arms around his neck, kissing him.

“Caroline, stop it!”

“Why?”

“Because you're drunk,” he hissed.

She giggled. “I know.” Her fingers roamed over his shoulders. “Please kiss me again. Has anyone ever told you that you're a great kisser?”

“I can't kiss you.”
And remain sane,
he added silently.

“But I
want
you to.” She sounded like a whiny child, and that shocked her. “Oh never mind, I wouldn't kiss me, either.” With that she let out a noisy yawn and rested her cheek against his chest. “You have nice skin,” she murmured before closing her eyes.

“You do, too,” he whispered, and slid his hand down the length of her spine. “Very nice.”

“Are you sure you don't want to kiss me?”

Paul groaned. His nobility had limitations, and he wasn't going to be able to hold off much longer if she asked him to kiss her every ten seconds.

“Good night, love,” he whispered, hoping his voice had the ring of finality. He kissed the crown of her head and continued to hold her close, almost savoring the sweet torture.

Caroline smiled, content. Just before she gave in to the irrepressible urge to sleep, she felt his kiss, and she prayed that all her dreams would be this real and this exciting.

Snuggling closer to the warm body at her side, Caroline woke slowly. Her first conscious thought was that her head ached. It more than ached; it throbbed with each pulse and every sluggish heartbeat as her memory returned, muddled and confused. She rolled onto her back, holding the sides of her head, and groaned aloud. She was in bed with a man she barely knew. Unfortunately, he appeared to be well acquainted with her. Extremely well acquainted. Her first inclination was to kick him out of the bed. He'd taken advantage of her inebriated state, and she bit back bitter words as a flush of embarrassment burned her cheeks.

Opening her eyes was an impossible task. She couldn't face the man.

“Good morning,” the deep male voice purred.

“It…wasn't a dream, was it?” she asked in a tone that was faint and apprehensive.

Paul chuckled. “You mean you honestly don't remember anything?”

“Some.” She kept her eyes pinched shut, too mortified to look at him.

“Do you remember the part about us getting married?”

Caroline blinked. “I'm not sure.”

“In case you don't, I suppose I should introduce myself. I'm Paul Trevor, your husband.”

“Then it
was
real!” Still holding her head, Caroline struggled to a sitting position. Gradually her eyes opened and she glared down at the bearded man beside her.

Paul was lying on his side, watching her with an amused grin. He rose up on his elbow and shook his head. “I can't believe you didn't expect to be married.”

She felt as though the heat in her face was enough to keep the cabin warm all winter. “I knew at the time you…you weren't completely a dream.” She had to be honest, even at the expense of her stubborn pride.

“We're married, love.”

“Stop calling me your love! I am not your love, or any other man's. And we've certainly got to do something about annulling this…this marriage.” She winced at the flash of pain that shot through her head.

“If you'd rather I didn't call you
love,
I won't.”

“Call me Caroline or Ms. Myers, anything but your love.”

“I
am
your husband.”

“Will you stop saying that?”

“I have the paperwork to prove it.”

Caroline tucked the blankets under her arms and scowled at him with all the fury she could muster. “Then I challenge you to produce them.”

“As you wish.” He threw aside the blankets and climbed out of bed, standing only partially clothed before her.

Caroline looked away. “I would really appreciate it if you'd put something on.”

“Why?” He sent a questioning glance over his shoulder.

The red flush seeped down to her neck and she swallowed convulsively. “Just do it…Please.”

Chuckling again, Paul withdrew a slip of paper from his shirt pocket. “Here,” he said, handing it to her.

Caroline grabbed it and quickly unfolded it, then scanned the contents. The document looked official and her name was signed at the bottom, although she barely recognized the signature as her own. Vaguely she remembered Paul having her sign some papers when they'd entered the meeting hall. She'd been so bemused she'd thought it had to do with registering as a guest.

“I signed first,” Paul explained, “and gave you the pen.”

“Yes…but at the time I assumed it was something all tourists did.” It sounded so ridiculous now that she wanted to weep at her own stupidity. “The party yesterday was our wedding reception, wasn't it?”

“Yes.”

Caroline shook her head. “I…I thought Gold River got so few tourists that they greeted everyone like that.”

“Caroline, you're not making any sense.”

“
I'm
not?” she shouted, then winced. “You should look at it from my point of view.”

“But you agreed to marry me weeks ago.”

“I most certainly did not!”

“I have the letter.”

“Now, that I'd like to see. I may not have been in full control of my wits yesterday, but I know for a fact I'd never heard of you until…” The words died on her lips. “My aunts…my romantic, idealistic, scheming aunts…They couldn't have. They wouldn't…”

Paul regarded her suspiciously. “What aunts?”

“Mine. Just get the letter and p-please…” she stammered, “please put something on. This is all extremely embarrassing.”

Grumbling under his breath, Paul reached for his pants and pulled them on, snapping them at the waist. Next he unfolded his shirt and slipped his arms inside the long sleeves, but he left it unbuttoned. “There. Are you satisfied?”

“Somewhat.” Speaking of clothes reminded Caroline of her own skimpy state of dress. When Paul's back was turned, she scurried to the very edge of the mattress in a frantic search for her cords and sweater. She remembered undressing, but she couldn't recall where she'd put her things.

Stretching down as far as possible, Caroline made a wide sweep under the bed and managed to retrieve her sweater, sliding her arms into the bulky sleeves, and yanked it over her head. As she shook her hair free of the confining collar, Caroline came eye to eye with Paul.

He stood over her, his grin slightly off-center. “Just give me that letter,” Caroline demanded.

“Would you like me to read it to you?”

“No.” She grabbed for it, but he held it just out of her reach. “I don't appreciate these sophomoric games, Paul Trevor.”

“Go ahead and read it for yourself while I fix us something to eat.”

“I'm not hungry,” she announced sharply, jerking the envelope from his hand. Food was the last thing on her mind.

Humming as though he didn't have a care in the world, Paul left the bedroom while Caroline's eyes narrowed on his back. How dare he act so…so unruffled by this unexpected turn of events.

The instant Paul was out of sight, Caroline tore into the letter. The creases were well worn, and with a mild attack of guilt she realized he must have read the neatly typed page repeatedly.

Dear Paul,

My name is Caroline Myers and I'm responding to your advertisement in the
Seattle Post-Intelligencer.
I am seeking a husband to love. My picture is enclosed, but I'm actually more attractive in person. That isn't to say, however, that I'm the least bit vain. I enjoy fishing and hiking and Scrabble and other games of skill. Since I am the last of the Ezra Myers family left in the Northwest, I am interested in having children. I'm a nurse currently employed by Dr. Kenneth James, but can leave my employment on two weeks' notice. I look forward to hearing from you.

Most sincerely,

The evenly shaped letters of her name were penned at the bottom of the page in what Caroline recognized as her aunt Mabel's handwriting.

With sober thoughts, Caroline dressed, then joined Paul in the kitchen. He pulled out a chair and handed her a cup of coffee.

She laid the letter on the table. “I didn't write this.”

“I figured that might've been the case.”

Her face flushed, and she wondered just what had happened after the ceremony. Surely she'd remember something as important as that. “I have these two elderly aunts…” Caroline hedged, not knowing where exactly to start her explanation.

“So I gathered.” He pulled out the chair across from her and placed his elbows on the table. “They answered my advertisement?”

“Apparently so.”

“How'd they convince you to marry me?”

“That's just it…They didn't.” Caroline dumped a tablespoon of sugar into the coffee and stirred it several times.

“Then why did you go through with it?”

“I…wasn't myself yesterday. I…I didn't fully realize what was happening.” She knew how ridiculous that sounded and hurried to explain. “You see, Aunt Mabel and Aunt Ethel—they're really my great-aunts, but I've always called them Aunt—anyway, they told me they were giving me a trip to Alaska.”

“Why?”

She wasn't sure how much she wanted to reveal. She understood the reason her two scheming aunts had answered Paul's ad. They'd been worried about her after the breakup with Larry. The question was: How was she going to untangle herself from this unfortunate set of circumstances? “The purpose for my agreeing to come to Alaska isn't important,” she told him stiffly.

“Not too many people visit Alaska on the brink of winter,” he said.

She wished he'd stop arguing with her. Keeping her composure under these conditions was difficult enough.

“Was it because of Larry?”

Caroline felt her blood run cold. “They told you about Larry?”

“No, you did.”

“I did!” She opened her eyes wide, then quickly lowered them. “Is there anything I didn't tell you?”

“I imagine there's quite a bit.” He paused to drink his coffee. “Please go on. I'm curious to hear how you got yourself into this predicament.”

“Well, Aunt Mabel and Aunt Ethel insisted I take this trip. I'd never been to Alaska, and they kept telling me how beautiful it is. I didn't know how they could afford it, but—”

“They didn't.”

“What do you mean?” She held the mug with both hands. This was getting more complicated by the minute.

“I paid for it.”

“Terrific,” she said and groaned. She'd need to repay him for that and God only knew what else.

She paused for a sip of coffee and continued her explanation. “Then John Morrison met me in Fairbanks and the ride to Gold River got a bit rugged, so I drank the thermos of tea my aunts sent along.”

“Tea?”

“Not regular tea,” Caroline corrected. “My aunts have a special brew—their father passed the recipe to them.”

“I see.” One corner of his lip curved upward as he made an obvious—but futile—effort to contain his smile.

Caroline wasn't fooled. “Would you stop looking amused? We're in one heck of a mess here.”

“We are?” He cocked an eyebrow expressively. “We're married, Caroline, and the ceremony is as legal as it gets. We stood before God, with the whole village as witness.”

“But you don't honestly expect me to honor those vows…You can't be that unreasonable.”

“We're married.”

“It was a mistake!”

“Not as far as I'm concerned.”

“I'll have it annulled,” she threatened.

His grin was wide and cynical. “After last night?”

Her cheeks flamed even hotter. So something
had
happened. “All right,” she said tightly, “we'll get a divorce.”

“There will be no divorce.”

Caroline placed her mug on the table. “You can't be serious! I have no intention of staying married to you. Good heavens, I don't even
know
you.”

“You'll have plenty of time for that later.”

“Later? Are you nuts? I'm not staying here a second longer than necessary. There's been a terrible mistake and I want out before something else happens.”

“And I say we make the best of the situation.”

“Just how do you propose we do that?”

“Stay married.”

“You're crazy.” She stood up so abruptly that the chair went crashing to the floor. “Let's talk about this in a logical fashion.”

“The deed is done.” In Paul's opinion, there was nothing to discuss; she was here in his home and they were legally married.

“Deed,” Caroline echoed, feeling slightly sick to her stomach. “Then we…I mean, last night, you and I…we…?” Her eyes implored him to tell her what they'd done.

Paul yearned to assure her they'd shared only a few kisses, but the instant he told her that nothing—well, almost nothing—had happened, she'd bolt. “Caroline, listen to me. It's too late for argument.”

“Not from my point of view.” Her arms were wrapped around her stomach as she paced the floor. “I want out of here and I want out now.”

Paul shrugged. “That's unfortunate, because you're staying.”

“You can't force me!”

His frustration was quickly mounting. “Would you give us a chance? I'll admit we're getting off to a shaky start, but things will work out.”

“Work out!” she cried. “I'm married to a man whose face I can't even see.”

Paul ran his hand over the neatly trimmed beard. “It's winter and my beard's there to protect my face from the cold. I won't shave until spring.”

“I…I don't know you,” she said again.

“I wouldn't say that.”

“Will you stop bringing up the subject of last night?”

Caroline was surprised by Paul's low chuckle. “
Now
what's so funny?” she asked.

“You're a passionate woman, Mrs. Trevor. If it's this good between us at the beginning, can you imagine how fantastic it'll be when we know each other better?”

“Stop it!” Furious, she stalked across the room and stood in front of the window. A thin layer of snow covered the ground, and in the distance Caroline could see the form of a small plane against the blue sky. Her heart rate soared as she contemplated her means of escape. If the plane landed in Gold River, maybe she could sneak out before Paul discovered she was missing.

“Caroline?”

She turned back to him. “Were you so desperate for a wife that you had to advertise? That doesn't say a whole lot about your sterling character.”

“There are very few opportunities in Alaska, love. I don't often get into Fairbanks.”

“I already asked you not to call me that.”

“I apologize.”

He didn't look the least bit contrite and his attitude infuriated her further. “Why did you choose
me
? You must've received more than one response.”

“I received…several.”
Hundreds, if the truth be known.
“I chose you because I liked your eyes.”

“Wonderful!” She threw her hands in the air.

“But your aunts were right—you are more attractive in person.”

Caroline couldn't believe what she was hearing. Paul Trevor apparently expected her to honor her vows and live here on this chunk of ice. She was growing increasingly frantic. “I…have disgusting habits. Within a week you'll be ready to toss me to the wolves.”

“There isn't anything we won't be able to work out.”

“Paul, please, look at it from my perspective.” Her eyes pleaded with him.

Paul struggled with the effect they had on him. It was difficult to refuse her anything, but the matter of their marriage was something on which he couldn't compromise. “We'll discuss it later,” he told her stiffly and turned away. “I've got to get to the station.”

“What station?”

“The pump station by the pipeline.”

“Oh. John mentioned it.” Already her mind was scheming. She'd let him go and pray that the plane circling overhead would land. If it did, she could convince the pilot to get her out of Gold River before Paul even knew she was gone.