Violet: Bride of North Dakota (American Mail-Order Bride 39) Read Free Page B

he’d be worth swooning over.
    He smiled, hesitantly. “It is good to meet you, as well.”
    He was so formal, but surely that would ease as they got to know each other. Awkwardness was to be expected upon meeting your future spouse for the first time. She certainly felt awkward.
    Perhaps he was just shy, and so she would need to guide their conversations until they knew each other better. “I’m excited to see your town . . . and to meet the preacher.”
    He raised an eyebrow.
    “It’s starting to snow! And so early in the year.” She looked at the white clouds as pieces of white flakes starting coming down, grateful she wouldn’t have to stand out in it any longer. “I am very glad you came to get me now.”
    She looked up at her soon-to-be husband and sighed happily.
    He was everything she could have possibly hoped for.

 
    Today I met a captivating woman-child. She almost made me wish I were not a confirmed bachelor. Almost.
    (Journal Entry, Daniel Lund, October 15, 1890)
     
    DANIEL LUND LOOKED DOWN AT the adorable chit of a girl before him.
    Wearing a rumpled dark blue dress that made her skin glow, she looked to be less than twenty—though he had a hard time estimating women’s ages and would never hazard a guess.
    Regardless, it was indeed snowing now, even if just lightly, and he needed to carry her bag to the shelter of the station. Any gentleman would.
    “Let me help you, Miss.”
    She slipped her hand around his arm—and he nearly toppled over from surprise. She didn’t look it, but she was a forward little thing.
    It had been far too long since a woman touched him, and his heart pounded roughly in his chest at the warmth. He leaned over and picked up her bag with his other hand, and started toward the station house, taking small steps so she could keep up.
    She looked up at him, her eyes wide, and she walked beside him.
    As he drew closer to the small building, he saw that the door was locked and the “Closed” sign hung in the window. McDougall was probably inside getting drunk again.
    He stopped as the snow flurried more heavily.
    He looked down at her and paused, caught in her warm gaze and—heaven help him!—her smile. It lit up her face into such beauty, he longed to caress her cheek. And a strand of her hair had worked its way loose and he wanted very much to touch it. And— get hold of yourself, man!
    Forcing an awkward smile of his own, he said, “If you trust me, you can climb into my wagon and escape the snow.”
    She looked at him, innocence and trust in her beautiful toffee-brown eyes. “Of course I trust you.”
    The words pierced his heart. She couldn’t possibly know how much those words meant to him—even from a total stranger. And how pathetic did that make him ?
    She studied his wagon. “This is attractive and more sturdy than most that I’ve seen.”
    “It’s a John Deere wagon used in our business for hauling wood and furniture.”
    She touched a gloved hand to the dark green side. “I like it.”
    “And I added the cover over the seat because there can be so much snow here and I like to stay dry.
    She flashed that dazzling smile up at him. “How clever of you.”
    Heaven help him.
    He helped her up onto the seat of the wagon, the warmth of her waist searing his hands where he touched her so briefly, and climbed in on the other side.
    They were protected from the worst of the snow by the covering, but the woman sat far too close. He needed to get her to her destination—and quickly. Swallowing, he said, “Where may I take you?”
    She tipped her head. “I thought you were going to drive me around town, and then take me to the preacher’s house.” She sounded disoriented.
    Was she right in the head? She didn’t seem to be. She seemed to be living in some fantasy world far from the one he inhabited.
    But she was beautiful and brought out feelings of protectiveness in him, so he said, “I will take you to my sister Amelia’s house where you can rest from the