Grace: Bride of Montana (American Mail-Order Bride 41) Read Free Page A

only sound except for the occasional crackle of the dying fire in the small stove and a steady drip-drip-drip. Earlier Grace had scrubbed her clothing free of soot and smoke and hung everything to dry near the stove.
    Faint moonlight gleamed through the two small windows in the front of the house. She couldn’t bear to draw the curtains and plunge the space into blackness or crawl under the covers and try to sleep.
    Although Grace had bathed and washed her hair in Shirley’s small barrel tub, using the rose-scented soap she hoarded for special occasions, the stink of smoke still lingered in her nose, and she wondered if she’d ever be free of the smell. As much as she tried not to think of what had happened today, she couldn’t stop the images leaping into her mind, bringing back the terror.
    Grace shivered, unable to forget the overwhelming sensations—how flames had appeared as if conjured from nowhere, the screams of the workers, the thumping of her heart, how their manager Roberta McDaniel had herded them through the factory, all of the workers choking on the thick smoke that obscured the rooms and made winding their way around the rows of machinery difficult.
    Think of Victor. Imagine him here, and I’m safe in his arms.
    She focused with all her might on her betrothed—his warm brown eyes, thick dark hair, short and neatly slicked back; his even features, compact body, and elegant hands; the dapper suits he wore. Victor stood just two inches taller than Grace, so he could easily lean in and kiss her and did so during the rare times they could be alone, usually-when they met secretly in the park and exchanged kisses that lately had grown passionate….
    How Grace wished he were here to hold her close and listen as she poured out today’s horrendous experience. Surely, if I put every terrifying minute into words, the nightmares in my mind will leave me in peace. But Victor was a traveling button salesman, making the rounds of factories in Lawrence, as well as cities all over Massachusetts. He wasn’t due back for three endless days.
    As if her longing had conjured him, a quiet knock sounded at the door, and she heard Victor hiss her name.
    Grace gasped. Unwrapping her arms, she stood, yanking off the towel and running her fingers through the damp strands of her hair.
    The knock sounded again.
    She tiptoed to the door and cracked it open. Her neighbors in the row house across the narrow street were still up and dim lamplight gleamed from their window, enough for her to see her betrothed.
    I can’t let him stand outside and risk being discovered. Without a word, Grace pulled Victor inside and quietly shut the door before throwing herself at him in uncharacteristic abandon.
    Just as in her imagination, his arms tightened around her. Tears came to her eyes.
    “I heard about the fire,” he whispered. “I can’t believe I could have lost you.” Keeping one arm around her, Victor brought his other hand up to cup her face, covering her mouth, cheeks, and forehead with kisses.
    The euphoria of his embrace made her almost dizzy. This is what I need to feel better. Victor will banish the nightmare.
    Forgetting she wore nothing but a nightgown, Grace burrowed against him. Feverishly, she returned his kisses.
    “My darling, darling Grace.” Victor’s whisper came out hoarse. He released her face and ran his hand down her side and over her hip, free from the confines of clothing and a corset. With his hands at her waist, he backed her toward the bed.
    A snore and a rustle from the other bed brought Grace to an awareness of their surroundings, and she put her hands on Victor’s chest and pushed him. “No, stop,” she said in a sharp whisper.
    He lifted up her hair and bent to kiss the side of her throat.
    She shivered, this time from the ticklish sensation of his lips instead of from fear. “We can’t. Shirley might hear us.”
    “Darling, you cannot refuse to let me love and comfort you,” he murmured in her