A British Bride by Agreement Read Free Page B

cabinet
and threw them into a box. A Bible, a wedding present from DJ’s parents, had
been shelved in among them.
    She held the soft, brown, leather book.
There was a time in her life, after her in-laws prayed with her to ask Jesus
into her heart, when she had read it every day. Conviction picked at the wounds
in her heart. Maybe if she’d been a more dedicated Christian, she would have
been better able to help DJ deal with his unhappiness, instead of him using his
addictions to deaden his pain. Maybe if she’d tried harder to be a good wife,
listened more, prayed more…maybe then his drunken car crash would never have
happened. “Lord, if You truly care about me, truly
know where I am, show me what to do.”
    Flipping the Bible open, she let her
finger land on a scripture. Anyone too
lazy to cook will starve. Her shoulders
slumped. That’s what you get when you keep your Bible on the same shelf as your
cookbooks. Not much help there.
    She pressed her eyes shut, flipped the
pages, and tried again. Do not take
advantage of a widow or an orphan. If you do and they cry out to me, I will
certainly hear their cry.
    A piercing shriek startled her. But it
was just the teakettle. She set the open book down and poured her tea. After
stirring in the milk, she sipped the hot brew, taking comfort in its smoky yet
sweet flavor. Something yellow on the page of the open Bible snagged her
attention. A highlighted verse.
    We
have run to God for safety. Now his promises should greatly encourage us to
take hold of the hope that is
right in front of us.
    A slow realization dawned. She’d been
trying to solve these problems on her own, instead of running to God. No wonder
she was in such a muddle. Warmth flooded her chest. Had God just spoken to her?
Had He been just a prayer away all this time? She bowed her head as tears
moistened her eyes. How long had it been since she’d prayed?
      “Dear God," she searched to find the
right words. “Forgive me for not turning to You sooner. Help me to hold onto Your hope and not my own.
Give me Your wisdom to know what I’m supposed to do.”
Her voice trembled.
    As she wiped away the tears, a peace
settled over her, tempering the wretchedness that had blanketed her for months.
She took another sip of tea. Was the hope right in front of her … Jonathan Steller? Could God want her to marry him?
    No. Impossible.
    One thing she was confident of, help
would not come from her family. She took her parent’s plane ticket, their
letter, and tossed them into the box on the counter. Then, taking one more
fortifying sip of tea, she strode back toward Steller Manor.
    ***
    Light flashed in Jonathan’s half-open
eyes. He shot up in bed and glanced at the clock. 10:08 p.m. His butler stood
in the doorway. “Clive?”
    “It’s Mrs. Banks, sir. She’s waiting for
you in the entryway.” Clive harrumphed and left Jonathan’s bedroom door open.
    Slipping on a robe to cover his bare
chest, Jonathan headed down the sweeping staircase, trying not to misstep on
the thick carpeting in his half-awake state. He’d gone to bed early, as he had
scheduled a four a.m. flight to New York on the Steller company jet.
    “Why me?” Emma stood at
the bottom of the stairs, her thumbs hooked in her jean’s pockets.
    A thrill shot through him as he came
down the stairs. It had been a busy day of letters of credit, faxes from the
bank, and calls from their new office in Shanghai, China. He’d put the
agreement for her to become his wife out of his mind. He ran his fingers
through his hair. “Would you like some coffee?”
    Her green eyes flashed. “I suppose the
Steller Soda Company makes that too.”
    “It comes from the Steller coffee
plantation in Columbia.”
    “Oh, I see.”
      “We hire local people and offer free schooling
to their children—”
    “Yes, please.” A tentative smile touched
her lips. “I mean,” she removed her gaze from his attire. “I’d like some
coffee.”
    “Great.” He seized on