Mail-Order Bride (8 page)

“That's ridiculous,” Paul said aloud. “No woman is that good an actress.”

All the talk of a child. He groaned. She knew his greatest weakness. He sat at his desk and slumped forward, burying his face in his hands. He couldn't condemn her on such flimsy evidence, but he couldn't trust her, either. She'd taught him that once—when she'd walked out on him with Burt Manners—but it seemed he was a slow learner.

By the time Paul arrived home that evening, he was, to all appearances, outwardly calm.

Caroline whirled around when he entered the cabin. “Guess what I'm making for dinner.” Her smile was brighter than the sun had been all day.

“What's that, love?”

“Pizza.”

“Pizza?”

“Well, a close facsimile. I didn't have a round pan, so I'm using a square one. And I didn't want to make bread dough, so I'm making do with biscuit batter. And last, but not least, we didn't have any sausage, so I'm using ground caribou.”

“A caribou pizza?”

“How does that sound?”

“Like we'll be eating scrambled eggs later.”

“Oh ye of little faith.”

Paul laughed shortly; she didn't know the half of it.

Dinner was only partially successful. To her credit, the caribou pizza wasn't bad. He managed to eat a piece and praised her ingenuity.

“What's for dinner tomorrow night? Moose tacos?”

She laughed and promised him fried chicken.

While Caroline did the dishes, she watched Paul. He sat in the recliner with the paper resting on his lap as he stared into space. His face was so intent that she wondered what could be troubling him.

“Paul.”

He shook himself from his reverie.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“No. I was just thinking.”

“About what? You looked so pensive.”

“Life.” His grin was wry.

“Life?”

“It's taken an unexpected turn for us, hasn't it?” He eyed her carefully, hoping to read her heart and recognize the truth. He saw the love and devotion shining from her eyes—and didn't know what to believe.

“Tanana let me watch Carl for her this afternoon,” she announced, smiling. “He's growing so fast.”

“You love that baby, don't you?”

“As much as if he were our own.”

Tenderness wrapped its way around his heart, suffocating his doubts. He loved Caroline more than life itself. If she was playing him for a fool, then he was the happiest idiot alive. He planned to hold on to that contentment, hug it close and treasure every minute she was with him for as long as it lasted. She might dream of her precious Larry, she might even write the bastard, but it was in the curve of his arm that she slept. It was his body that filled hers and gave her pleasure. It was his name she now had and later, God willing, it would be his children she bore.

When they made love that night, it was as if a storm of passion had overtaken them. As if electricity arced between them, the current more powerful than lightning. Each caress became a fire fueled by their love.

Afterward, Caroline lay limp and drowsy in her husband's arms. Her cheeks were bright with the blush of pleasure, her breath uneven. Paul closed his eyes, wondering how he could ever have doubted her. He buried his face in her hair, savoring the fragrance, and held her against him until her breathing grew even and regular.

Caroline wasn't sure what woke her. One minute she was asleep and the next awake. It took her a moment to realize Paul wasn't asleep, either.

“Paul, what's wrong?”

“Not a thing, love.”

She slipped her hand over his ribs and kissed his throat. He'd been so quiet this evening, and their lovemaking had been a desperate act of passion. Paul wasn't himself, and Caroline wondered what had happened. “I've failed you in some way, haven't I?”

He hesitated. “No, love, I fear I may have failed you.”

“Paul, no. I'm happy, truly happy.”

“Do you miss Seattle?”

“I miss my aunts,” she admitted. “I wish you could meet them. And now and then I think about my friends, but there's nothing for me in Seattle now that I'm with you.”

“I love you, Caroline.”

She smiled and kissed the side of his mouth. He'd shown her his love in a hundred ways, but he'd never said the words. “I know.”

“You're laughing at me, aren't you?” His grip on her tightened, and Caroline jerked away from him with a gasp.

“Paul, what's gotten into you?”

He held himself rigid and didn't speak for an interminable moment. “I told you I loved you and I know you were smiling.”

“I…was happy.” She lay on her stomach, her hands beneath her.

Another long minute passed. “I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean to frighten you.”

She nodded and rolled away from him. Their happiness was shattering right before her eyes and she was powerless to stop it.

“Caroline,” he said at last, reaching for her, “I talked to Harry after you were in the store today. I saw the letter you'd written to Larry Atkins.”

“It's obvious you didn't read it.”

“Why?”

“If you had, your reaction would be altogether different.”

“Have you written him in the past?” Paul hated his jealousy. All day he'd been brooding, furious with himself and unreasonable with Caroline. If love did this to a man, he wanted no part of it, and yet he wouldn't, couldn't, give her up.

“This is my first letter to him.”

“Why did you feel it was necessary to contact him now?”

“To thank him.”

“What?”

“It's true. You mean
this
is what's been bothering you?”

He didn't answer, ashamed of his behavior.

“Why didn't you ask me earlier? I would've told you all about it. I wrote Larry to let him know he'd done me a gigantic favor by standing me up at the altar.”

“You told him that?”

“Not exactly in those words, but basically that's what I said.”

“Why didn't you tell me you were writing him?”

Caroline expelled her breath on a nervous sigh. “To be truthful, I didn't think about it. My mistake. Are you always going to be this irrational?”

“When it comes to my wife contacting another guy, I guess I am.”

“It isn't the way you're making it sound.”

“I have only your word for that.”

Caroline fumed, feeling insulted and angry, but rather than argue, she turned her back on him. “Good night, Paul,” she grumbled. It wouldn't help matters to talk to him now. In the morning things would be better.

For two days they put the incident behind them. Their happiness was too complete to be destroyed over a silly letter, and they each seemed to realize it. On the third day, Paul got home two hours before his usual time.

“You're home early.” She looked up from writing Christmas cards, delighted to see her husband.

He sat at the table across from her. “I've got to fly into Fairbanks for a few days.”

“Oh Paul. Fairbanks? I can hardly wait! The first thing I'm going to do is order a real sausage pizza with extra cheese and then I'm going to shop for twelve hours nonstop. You have no idea how much I want to buy Tanana and the baby something special for Christmas. Why didn't you tell me earlier?”

“Because—”

“And you know what else I'm going to do?” She answered her own question before he had the chance, her voice animated and high-pitched. “I'm going to soak in a hot bubble bath and watch television and then I'm—”

“Caroline,” he broke in gruffly, his gaze avoiding hers. “This is a business trip. I hadn't planned to bring you along.”

It took a minute for the words to sink in. “You're not taking me with you?” With deliberate patience, Caroline set down the pen and pushed the Christmas cards aside. “Why?”

Paul refused to meet her probing gaze. “I've already explained that it's a business trip.”

“That's not the reason and you know it.” She'd thought they'd come so far, but the only one who'd moved had been her. She'd walked into his arms and been so blinded by her love she hadn't even seen the chains that bound her.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Like hell!”

“I go to Fairbanks every other month or so…”

“Every other month?”

“You can come with me another time.”

“I want to go now.”

“No!”

“Why not?” She was growing more furious by the moment.

“Because—”

“Because you saw that stupid letter to Larry and you're convinced I've made arrangements to escape. To catch a plane out of Fairbanks.”

“Don't be ridiculous.” But her accusation was so close to the truth that Paul's heart pounded hard against his ribs.

Caroline's smile was sarcastic. “Since I'm your prisoner, after all, you might as well lock me in a cell.”

“You're my wife!”

“I'm the woman who was forced to stay married to you. What we have isn't a marriage!” She saw him open his mouth to contradict her, then close it again. “It takes more than a piece of paper.”

“Caroline, you're making too much of this.”

“Yes, master,” she said, gazing straight ahead, refusing to look at him. “Whatever you say, master.” She bent low in a mocking bow, folding her hands in front of her.

“Caroline, stop that.”

“Anything you say, master.” He wanted a slave? Fine! She'd give him one. She'd speak only when spoken to, accede to his every wish, smother him with servitude.

Her unflagging calmness shocked her. It was as though the sun had come out, revealing all the glaring imperfections of their relationship. She stared at the flaws, saddened and appalled. She'd come to love Paul and Alaska. She'd found happiness with him—only to discover it was badly marred. She was no better off now than she'd been that first week, when he'd turned her into his shadow. The only difference was that she'd grown more comfortable in her cell.

Another thought came to her and she forgot her resolve not to speak. “How…How do I know you don't have a lover in Fairbanks?”

Paul stood, pushing back the kitchen chair so suddenly it threatened to topple. “That's crazy! I can't believe you'd even think such a thing!”

“Why? I've lived with you for these past two months, so I'm well aware of your appetite for—”

“The only lover I have is you!” He shouted the words and shoved his hands inside his pants pockets.

“If you can't trust me, there's nothing that says I have to trust you.” She didn't think for a minute that Paul did have another woman, but she wanted him to sample a taste of her own frustration. “The fact that you don't want me along speaks for itself. It's obvious you're hiding something from me.” She arched her brows speculatively. “Another woman, no doubt.”

Paul's mouth was tight. “That thought is unworthy of you.”

“What else am I supposed to believe?”

His expression darkened. “I'm leaving for Fairbanks and you're staying here and that's the way it's going to be.”

“Yes, master.” She bowed in a sweeping, exaggerated manner.

He sighed loudly. “Are we back to that?”

She didn't answer. Instead, she walked across the cabin and reached for her parka and boots. “I'm going to see Tanana unless my master demands that I remain here.”

“Caroline.” He stopped her just before she opened the door, but she didn't turn around and Paul knew she was fighting back tears. He felt himself go weak; he loved her and wished he could take away the pain, but it was too late to change his plans. “Never mind,” he said gruffly.

Caroline left, closing the door behind her.

Paul paced the room, his emotions in conflict. Caroline was right; she'd given him everything—her love, her heart, her trust…And yet he wasn't satisfied. He wanted more.

The cold wind cut through Caroline's jacket as she trudged the frozen pathway that led to the Eagleclaws' cabin. She needed to get away and think. Paul had hurt her; he'd never guess the extent to which his doubts and his exclusion had pained her sensitive heart.

Tanana answered the knock at her door, looking relieved to discover it was Caroline. The baby cried pitifully in the background.

“Carl cried all night. I'm afraid he's sick.”

Caroline didn't bother to take off her parka but walked directly to the baby's side. Gently, she lifted him from the crib. His little face was red and his legs were drawn up against his stomach.

“He might have colic.”

“Colic?”

“Does he cry after each feeding?”

“And before. All he does is cry.”

From the young woman's obvious exhaustion, Caroline could believe it. “Then I think you should make an appointment with the medical team for next week.”

Tanana agreed with a brief nod.

“Lie down for a while and rest,” Caroline said. “I'll hold Carl.”

“You spoil him.”

Caroline grinned and kissed the top of his small head. “I know, but let me do it, okay?”

“You'll make a good mother for Paul Trevor's sons.”

Caroline quickly averted her face so her friend couldn't read her distress. She spent most of the afternoon with Tanana and the baby, leaving only when she was sure Carl would sleep and that his mother had received a few hours' rest.

“Send Thomas if you need me,” she said on her way out the door.

Paul met Caroline halfway back to the cabin. His eyes held hers in a long, steady look. “I'll be leaving in a few minutes.”

“Does my master wish me to carry his bags to the airstrip?”

“Caroline…don't, please.”

Keeping up this charade was hard enough when her heart was breaking. “Carl has colic and poor Tanana's been up with him for two nights.” She tried to cover the uncomfortable silence.

Paul's eyes caressed her. “Don't go to the airstrip. There's no need.”

She lowered her gaze, already feeling herself weaken.

Walter met them and loaded Paul's suitcase onto the back of his sled. He seemed to realize that Paul and Caroline needed time alone.

“Caroline,” Paul began. “You're not a prisoner.” He took her in his arms and held her close, shutting his eyes to savor the feel of her against him. Their coats were so thick, holding each other was awkward and he reluctantly dropped his arms.

Caroline swallowed her anger. “When will you be back?”

“In four days, possibly five.”

It seemed a lifetime, but she said nothing. His hands caressed her face with such tenderness that Caroline closed her eyes and swayed toward him. When he covered her mouth with his, her lips parted in eager welcome. The kiss was long and thorough, making her all the more aware of the seductive power he held over her senses. Of their own volition, her arms slid upward and around his neck. One kiss and he'd destroyed her resolve. Caroline didn't know whether she was more furious with Paul or with herself.

“Oh love,” he breathed against her lips. “Next time maybe you'll come with me.”

Purposefully, she stepped away from him. She was frustrated with herself for being so weak and even more so with Paul for not trusting her. “I'll be happy to go with you if I'm still here.”

The shock that contorted Paul's features and narrowed his eyes caused Caroline to suck in her breath. Abruptly he turned away, marching to the airstrip without a word of farewell.

Caroline wondered what had made her say something so stupid. She regretted her sharp tongue, but Paul had hurt her and she wanted him to realize that.

“Damn!” She stomped her foot in the dry snow. If she'd hoped to build a foundation of trust, she'd just crumbled its cornerstone.

Caroline stood where she was until Paul's plane had taxied away and ascended into the gray sky. Only then did she return to the cabin, disillusioned and miserable. She was astonished by how empty the place felt. She remained standing in the middle of the living room for several minutes, hardly able to believe that in the span of a few hours her entire world could have been jolted so badly.

That night, Caroline slept fitfully. She was too cold, then too hot. Her pillow was too flat and the mattress sagged on one side. After midnight, she admitted it wasn't the bed or the blankets. The problem was that the space beside her was empty. With a sigh, she turned and stared up at the ceiling, trying to think of ways to repair her marriage.

Paul set his suitcase on the carpeted floor of the Hotel Fairbanks. His room was adequate—a double bed, a dresser, a television, and a chair. He stared at the TV and experienced a twinge of regret. The sensation multiplied when his gaze fell on the bathtub.

Regret hounded him. Not once in all the weeks that Caroline had been in Gold River had she complained about the less-than-ideal living conditions. Yet she'd been denied the simplest of pleasures.

Slowly, Paul removed his parka and tossed it carelessly on the bed, then rubbed his eyes. He was determined to rush this trip so he could get back to Caroline and rebuild what his jealous doubts had destroyed.

After he'd undressed and climbed into the soft bed, Paul lay on his back, arms folded behind his head. It didn't feel right to be here without Caroline. He smiled as he recalled how quickly she'd dropped her self-imposed role of servant; she had too much fire in her to play the part with any conviction.

He thought about her being alone in the cabin, curled up and sleeping in his bed, and experienced such an overwhelming surge of desire that his body tightened and tension knotted his stomach. She often slept in that thin piece of silk her aunts had given her. Usually it rode up her slim body, so that if he reached for her, his hand met warm, soft skin.

Paul inhaled sharply at the memory. Her eagerness for his lovemaking had been a surprise and a delight. She hadn't refused him once, welcoming his ardor with an enthusiasm he hadn't dared expect. He wouldn't leave her again, wouldn't take another trip unless she could join him. He planned on telling her so the minute he returned to Gold River.

Caroline woke early the next morning. As usual it was dark. The hours of daylight were becoming shorter and shorter as they approached the winter solstice. More and more of each day was spent in complete darkness. She contemplated the summer and what it would be like to have the sun shine late at night. Then she wondered if she'd be in Gold River to see it. The thought stunned her. Of course, she'd be in Gold River. This was her home now.

No sooner had she dressed and made breakfast than there was a knock at her door. Walter Thundercloud stood on the other side.

“Good morning, Walter.”

He nodded politely and stepped inside, looking a bit uneasy.

Without asking, she poured him a cup of coffee and set it on the table.

“You okay?” he asked gruffly.

“Of course I am.”

“Paul asked me to check on you.”

Caroline pulled out a chair and sat across from the old man. Naturally, Paul would want to be sure his prisoner was in her cell, she told herself wryly. Her hands tightened on the thick mug. “I'm fine. You needn't worry about me.”

Walter hesitated. “Paul's been in Gold River for several years now.”

Her husband's friend seemed to be leading up to something. She nodded, hoping that was encouragement enough for him to continue.

“When he first came, he had the cabin built for privacy. The oil company had supplied his quarters, but he wanted a larger place—more homey—so he could bring his wife to live with him.”

“His wife!” Caroline nearly choked on her coffee.

“Oh, the woman wasn't his wife yet. She'd only promised to be.”

“I…see.” Paul had been engaged! “What happened?”

“He never told me, but one day he got a letter and after he read it, Paul left the station and got sick drunk. He never mentioned her name again.”

Nor had he mentioned the woman to Caroline. The heat of jealous anger blossomed in her cheeks. The night of her arrival, she'd spilled her guts about Larry. Apparently, Paul had gone through a similar experience and hadn't bothered to tell her. Talk about trust!

“For many months, Paul was angry. He worked too hard, not sleeping some nights. He scowled and snapped and drank more than he should.”

“He didn't leave Gold River and try to work things out with this woman?”

“No.”

Caroline took another sip of her coffee, somehow not surprised. He had an overabundance of pride, often to his own detriment. “Why are you telling me this?”

“For the first time since Paul moved to Gold River, he smiles every day. He laughs. Before my eyes I've seen him change. He's happy now. These changes began when you came here.”

So Walter wanted to reassure her. She smiled softly and stared at her coffee. His words only proved how little she knew of the man who was her husband.

“What made Paul decide to get married now?”

Walter shrugged. “He wants a family.”

She nodded. Tanana had told her that, too.

“He loves you,” Walter continued. “I don't believe Paul ever thought he'd be fortunate enough to find a woman as good as you. He put the ad in the paper because he was lonely.”

“But why did he advertise for a wife? Surely there were women who'd want to marry him. Someone in Fairbanks, maybe?”

Walter added sugar to his coffee, stirring it a long time. “You'll have to ask him that.”