Red Snow Bride (Wolf Brides Book 2) (5 page)

I pulled both dresses up to the window and compared. One was a deep gray color with a cream sash and puff sleeves. The other was a gold color with white lace trim. With Daniel’s parents, I’d worn my very finest dress in an attempt to impress them, but both dresses I held up to the light were of plain quality and one of them smelled like dead chicken. That one I threw over the bed. The soiled streets of lower Boston usually masked the stink of my job, but we would be in a house somewhere and I didn’t want people putting delicate handkerchiefs to their offended noses as I passed.

Dressed and ready, I wrapped my threadbare coat as tightly around me as I could manage, then made my way back to the street below. What if I’d imagined him out of my desperation for an escape? A tall, strong, mannerly prince charming riding up in his cowboy boots to save me from destitution? Sounded pretty farfetched—but no. There he stood, waiting for me.

Something about his greeting smile made my heart skitter a little faster. It had been awhile since a man looked at my face without a trace of disdain.

“Where can we get a buggy around here?” he asked.

“Oh.” I looked around for inspiration. “There won’t be any around here. No one can afford them. Maybe up a few streets, that way.” I pointed.

The walkway had become congested with people arriving back to their homes after a long day of labor. The sky was darkening and pink streaks mixed with deep blue of the coming evening. I followed closely behind Jeremiah as he used his imposing size to cut through the crowd. A portly man bumped me soundly in his haste.

“Watch it,” he said in a harried tone.

I rubbed my shoulder tenderly and opened my mouth to retort, but Jeremiah spoke up from so close beside me, I jumped.

The man had kept on his way but Jeremiah looked down at me with such a look of tenderness it tugged on my tainted heart strings. “You all right?”

“Yes, of course. Just got a little behind is all.”

He grabbed my hand and held it close to his back as he led me out of the chaos. I couldn’t quite take my eyes from the sight of his large fingers clasped protectively around mine. I’d never held hands with a man before. There wasn’t even a glove to provide a protective barrier between our palms. How very intimate to hold hands with a man I’d just met.

The crowds eventually cleared and he pulled me up next to him. I thought surely he’d let me go so my heart could have a break and not explode from my chest, but no such luck. He held firmly onto my hand as if we’d grown up together.

“Are we engaged?” I asked in a much higher pitch than I’d intended.

“How many men you been with?”

I floundered. I’d expected a yes or no and instead he’d asked the most intimate question I could even name. I puffed up. “How many woman have you been with, sir?”

The corners of his eyes tightened and he looked ahead to a waiting buggy.

“Too many to count?” I asked in a prickly tone.

“Look, I apologize if I’ve offended you. I’m not used to talking to ladies and my sister-in-law—well, she speaks like a man most of the time and gets me confused on how to converse with your more delicate gender.” He growled deep in his throat and pulled me to the side. His voice was low as he stared earnestly into my eyes. “I’ve been with one woman. My late wife.”

My eyes had to be the size of saucers and the silence stretched out like a canyon between us. Well that answer was just about as unexpected as one could get. “You’ve been with one woman?”

His smile was self-deprecating. “Hard to believe?”

“No. Yes. Are there no women where you come from?”

“There’re women enough. I just didn’t have the urge to bed them all.”

I cleared my throat delicately and answered, “One,” so quietly there was no way for him to hear me.

“Is that part of the scandal you wrote me about?” he asked without batting an eyelash.

“I was married and now I’m divorced.”

He leaned back and stared at me as if I were making a joke he didn’t understand. “Divorced? Your choice?”

I straightened my spine and tipped my chin. “His.”

“Did he say why?”

“Yes he did and no I don’t want to discuss it.” I spun and stalked toward the buggy.
Hello almost stranger-husband, I was abandoned by the man sworn in front of God to take care of me through sickness and health because I was that terrible in bed.
No way was I admitting that to the dashing man behind me.

“Will you marry me?” his deep voice resonated against the skin of my neck.

Startled, I spun. “So we’re engaged?”

His smile was slow and simmering and his dimples deepened with the movement. “If you say yes.”

I glanced around. A woman screamed colorful curses at the trio of men catcalling her from beneath a window. Another woman threw a wooden bucket of urine that came terribly close to splashing my skirts. One filthy woman stood on the corner with no skirts on and smiling like a lunatic. My hands smelled like dead poultry and that baguette he’d bought me had been the most elegant and filling meal I’d had since that awful night at the dinner party.

I dragged my eyes back to him and the background seemed to blur to unimportance. “Yes,” I breathed as my heart hammered like a war drum.

“You aren’t a whore, so that’s good enough for me.”

“Of course I’m not a who—ahh!” I yelped as he scooped me over a water filled crater and set me into a buggy like I was as light as a piece of parchment paper.

“Then I suppose we’ll get along just fine is all I’m saying.”

Okay. So a matter of weeks ago I was married and living in an extravagant mansion, and today I was engaged to a handsy country stranger and would be moving to the wilderness of Colorado to be his country wife. My life had taken a hard right turn somewhere and I got the distinct feeling the Fates were laughing their teeth off.

Lorelei

“You’re staying in a tavern? I thought you said your sister-in-law was meeting us here.”

The establishment in question stood two stories tall and the entrance featured six men drinking amber libations out of atrociously large glasses.

“We live a modest life, Ms. McGregor. This is the best place for us to stay for the money, and Kristina doesn’t mind. I wouldn’t presume to set you up here though, so you don’t have to worry.”

“Oh. I didn’t mean to imply anything about money.” He didn’t react to my failed attempt at an apology so I tried again. “What I mean to say is, I live in a hostel much more questionable than this place, I’m sure.”

“Hmm,” he grunted noncommittally. “It’s no place for you, so wait here. I’ll bring them out.”

“Right,” I muttered with a nervous fidget.

A saloon girl ran out of the ale house and I shrieked when she barreled straight for me. I’d be run over and stomped into the walkway! She stopped just shy and threw her arms around me as the force of her forward movement rocked us both backward. Prying her arms from around my neck, I ducked around her and held my hands in front of me like I was soothing a wild dog.

“Lorelei McGregor, right?” the woman asked with a slight frown.

Why did I get the feeling I’d stepped into quicksand all of the sudden? Upon further inspection, her dress wasn’t as gaudy as the other whores who were kicking their legs up in unison near a piano inside. It just showed an ample amount of skin in her…chest area. And she didn’t wear the thick rouge the others did either. Uh, oh.

“Kristina, I presume?” I said in a small voice.

She cleared her throat and held her hand out in a very masculine gesture. “Pleased to meet you.”

Jeremiah stood in the entryway by another tall man with blindingly green eyes who was likely none other than his brother. The matching dark colored hair gave him away. I held my hand out and Kristina shook it until my bones rattled.

“Lorelei McGregor,” I said when my teeth had stopped clacking together.

“Let’s go meet the in-laws shall we?” she said with a wink before she took off for the nearest buggy.

Her husband, Luke I thought his name was, tipped his hat as he followed his wife. “Good to meet you, Ms. McGregor.” His voice was as deep and smooth as his gargantuan brother’s. Somewhere in their lineage was herculean blood, of that I was sure.

Jeremiah placed his hand where my spine touched my tailbone and I jumped away from him like I’d been scalded. “Sir, you are far too intimate in a public setting. I’m not used to such audaciousness.”

His dark eyes swam with confusion, but before he could argue with me, I helped myself up into the buggy. Maybe I was being too harsh, but I’d only just met the man and already he’d held my hand for all to see and tried to guide me with the intimate touch of his palm. If I didn’t draw my line in the dirt now, when would I be able to speak against what I knew to be improper? Scooting as far over as possible in the open buggy, I pulled my skirts in and tried not to touch the other passengers.

The view from the rough areas in Boston to the cleaner streets of the modestly housed would have been quite nice if I could take my astonished gaze from the bouncing, snow-white, bosom of Kristina as she pointed and laughed and talked about the passing city. When she turned her neck, a horrific angry scar peeked out from her hairline and disappeared into the neck of her dress. I’d never seen such an injury and my mouth went as dry as a cottonwood when she caught me staring.

“I don’t mind you lookin’, Ms. McGregor,” she said, but as the words left her lips, her hand drew self-consciously over her marred skin.

Luke pulled her hand away and whispered something into her ear that brought an attractive blush to her fair cheeks.

“Does it hurt?” I asked over the noise of the wheels.

“Yes ma’am, for it’s only a couple months healed. I expect it always will, but somewhere along the way I’ll get used to it.” Her voice was so cheerful and open, that a deep gash of regret took me.

I was making a terrible impression on a woman who’d had a hard time too—on a woman who would be family soon. I’d always wished for a sister, I just hadn’t ever imagined she’d be so scantily clad and uneducated. Best not to look a gift horse in the mouth, I supposed.

The buggy pulled in front of a small house on a quiet street. Someone had planted gads of early white daisies out front which made it stand out from the other houses that were perfectly groomed. Kristina was nearly overflowing with excitement and her hum was catching, except for me, it came out as acute nervousness.

Luke helped his wife out of the buggy while Jeremiah jumped over the side in a motion so graceful he looked like some exotic stag. If I’d ever attempted something like that, I’d fall straight on my face with my skirts over my head. He was waiting patiently for me to exit the buggy and while I was tempted to stay right where I was until he gave up on touching me, I didn’t want to embarrass him in front of his waiting family. I sighed. There was no help for it. His strong hands wrapped almost all the way around my withered waist and he lifted me down like I weighed nothing at all.

The house had been whitewashed to match the daisies and boasted darker shutters. It was a cheery little home but before I could walk up the front porch, Kristina put her fingers to her lips and held me back.

“Let them have their fun,” she mouthed like someone on the empty street would be able to hear a whisper.

A loaded look passed between the Dawson brothers, and quiet as foxes on the hunt, they crept around the back of the house with such agility the fine hairs rose on my arms. Moments later a scream came from inside the house but it was void of fear and filled with surprised delight.

Kristina grabbed my hand and dragged me up the stairs. “Now we can go.”

I tried to pry my fingers from hers, but she’d have none of it. Country folk seemed very dependent on physical assurances.

Murmuring grew louder from inside the house, and as the door opened, there Jeremiah stood, saying, “Ma, Da, Luke and I have a couple of ladies we’d like you to meet.”

With one hand behind his back and one hand offered to me, I gritted my teeth and placed my ungloved fingers in his while Kristina gave a dainty curtsey to the woman inside the doorway.

She looked absolutely shocked at the appearance of two strangers on her doorstep. She had her arm clasped tightly around Luke and elegant eyebrows knitted together as she asked, “Boy’s, are you mated?”

Mated? What a peculiar word to call what Jeremiah and I were. Betrothed strangers sounded much less crass. If I weren’t looking directly at Jeremiah, I would’ve missed the slight shake of his head.

“Married is what I meant to say,” Mrs. Dawson backpedaled. “You’ll have to forgive an old lady. The right words slip me more and more these days.”

From the way her intelligent, moss green eyes seemed to miss nothing, I rather doubted she said anything she didn’t mean. The older gentleman who ducked under the frame of the sitting area couldn’t be mistaken for anyone other than Jeremiah’s father. He was tall and stood straight, as if the strength in his back hadn’t weakened at all with age. His dark hair was streaked with an attractive, regal silver, and his dark eyes skipped with humor from Kristina to me.

Jeremiah took his hat off and motioned to me. “This here’s my fiancé, Lorelei McGregor.”

“McGregor?” Mrs. Dawson said with a tilt of her head. The startled look on her face said she’d heard a whisper or two of me already and my heart sank with despair. For some reason, this woman’s acceptance of me suddenly seemed very important.

“Ma, I’d like to introduce you to my woman, Kristina. Dawson,” Luke finished with a devilish grin.

Mrs. Dawson’s shock over my celebrity faded into oblivion. Her brilliant eyes, so much like Luke’s, grew round and the smile that took over her face showed the woman’s beauty. “Lucas Dawson, you’re married? Well, I never!” she exclaimed, hugging him and shaking his shoulders slowly. “Out of all three of my boys, I’d never in a hundred years pegged you for the one to give me grandsons first!”

The transformation in Luke’s face was almost startling. He dropped a concerned look to Kristina, who’d gone still and silent. The moment lasted too long, and silence filled every nook of the small home right down to the crevices between my fingers.

“No grandson’s from us, ma’am,” Kristina said. “Afraid you’ll have to be okay with just a daughter-in-law.”

The wrinkles beside Mrs. Dawson’s eyes deepened. “Ladies, help me set the table for dinner.”

She led us in through a small parlor decorated in fine forest green wallpaper while the men disappeared down a hallway. At a loss as to how to help, I stood awkwardly behind a dining chair as Kristina jumped into action, setting plates and pouring waters like she’d been raised a servant. Maybe she had. I suddenly wished I had some knowledge of such things so I could be of use to the kind family who’d offered to share their food.

“Have you been trying long, Dear?” Mrs. Dawson asked Kristina in a whisper-quiet voice. “Sometimes these things take time.”

I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but the tinkling of dinnerware didn’t quite cover up the conversation. I busied myself with folding and refolding the cloth napkins to make myself look busy.

“Oh no, ma’am. We’ve only been married a couple of months.” She slid a blue-eyed glance my way and lowered her voice as she grabbed the matriarch’s hands. “I know.” She arched her eyebrows. “It ain’t my choice to keep on with my bleedings, but I respect Luke’s decisions and I understand why he don’t want to.”

“Oh. I see.” She turned to me. “What about you and Jeremiah? Will you be breeding soon?”

“U-uuh,” I stammered, wishing for anything short of a shooting star to come crashing through the living area to interrupt this conversation. “I actually just met Jeremiah today. We haven’t had a chance to discuss such things.”

“Hmm. Are the rumors about you true?” she asked.

My stomach turned.

“Ma!” Jeremiah warned from the doorway.

“I’m your mother, Jeremiah, and I have a right to make sure you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

Luke and Mr. Dawson filed in slowly and I swallowed the bile that threatened to escape me.

Five sets of curious eyes held me and my whispered answer sounded strangled even to myself. “Yes.”

“All of them?” she asked.

“I don’t know which rumors you’re referring to, but it’s true I’m recently divorced and denounced from society.”

Besides the completely inappropriate chuckle that came from behind Luke’s clenched fist, the room was as still as a graveyard.

As the moment dragged on, I fought the stinging tears that tried their best to wrench themselves from my downturned eyes. I couldn’t bear to look at Jeremiah. Sure he already knew, but my shame could only be shared with him once in a day. It was Kristina and her wide, blue eyes my gaze settled on.

She downed the glass of wine in one long chug and set it down. Gulping, she blurted, “I’m a whore.”

A wash of gratefulness and shock washed over me. Her dress and manner made so much sense now. My soon to be sister-in-law was a whore and the insanity of my own situation pulled a giggle from my lips. Luke frowned but I waved him down in apology before another fit of giggles took me.

“I’m so sorry,” I wheezed. “It’s just I can’t imagine what you must be thinking when your sons bring a divorcé and a whore to family dinner.”

It was Kristina who cracked the smile first and then snorted a laugh, soon to be joined by Luke and the rest one by one.

A deep, booming laugh sounded from behind me and Jeremiah’s dark eyes closed as he threw his head back. He was a beautiful creature in full laughter. Pulling the chair out for me, he leaned into my ear. There was a delicious, lingering smile in his voice when he said, “I don’t care about where you come from, Lorelei. I care about where you’re going.”

That claim loosened something inside of me I’d clenched from the moment I’d been shamed. This giant of a man was willing to marry me despite the scandal that’d curdled my life. His reward was that I didn’t flinch away from the brush of his jaw against my neck.

“Thank you,” I said shyly as he took the seat beside me.

“I should clarify I don’t whore anymore,” Kristina said, putting a plate of sliced roast in the middle of the table. “Luke’s good enough for me,” she said with a wink.

Luke grabbed her waist and pulled her onto his lap. Growling he nipped at her neck and she giggled and leaned into him. I couldn’t take my eyes from their scandalous manner. Never in a million years would I have carried on so with Daniel. My gaze collided with Jeremiah’s and he shook his head good naturedly at their antics.

Clearly, I was running off to live with a family of heathens.

The smell of dinner was heavenly to my nostrils. If the baguette earlier had been the best food I’d eaten since my fall, the rich roast, potatoes and ham flavored snap beans rivaled for best meal in my existence. The meat was tender enough I didn’t even have to use a knife, and I hefted a healthy dollop of gravy where that would’ve been frowned upon at the lavish dinner parties of my old life. Women were encouraged to keep their figures after all, but no one at this table went sparing with the seconds and thirds.