A Mail-Order Bride For Christmas Read online

  SUZANNE D. WILLIAMS

  Feel-Good Romance

  © 2016 A MAIL-ORDER BRIDE FOR CHRISTMAS by Suzanne D. Williams

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

  Any Scripture references are indicated with an asterisk * and found at the end of the chapter.

  Mail-order brides are a fascinating part of history that has become a popular book subject. I adore writing stories with happy endings, and this one is no exception, but I could not, in good conscience, present the truth of two complete strangers marrying and not also show the danger and possible disaster which happened for many of these women. That said, though these characters will endure trials along the way, this is ultimately the story of a man falling in love with his wife and as such contains sexual content which may be sensitive to young people and some readers.

  Suzanne D. Williams, Author

  www.feelgoodromance.com

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  From The Author

  CHAPTER 1

  1880, Arkansas

  He searched the weary faces of the ferry passengers for the woman who’d been described to him and lit upon one much younger and more desirable. She matched nothing he’d been told, but with the other passengers alighting, it soon became evident she was waiting for him.

  Her clothing and general appearance showed the ordeal she’d been through. Frankly, when he’d heard about the ferry’s capsizing, he’d thought she’d drowned with the others … drowned and frozen to death, the weather having dipped into the teens in recent days and the water of the river being icy. To find her alive and in good health pleased him. Just the same, he did wonder why she’d given her height and weight different from the truth.

  “Lafayette Faulkenberg,” he said, approaching. “You are Pigeon Burgess?”

  She shivered, the blanket she was wrapped in a poor offering at increasing her warmth. “P-pigeon, y-yes.” Her teeth chattered. “I have … had … a letter of our correspondence, but it sank with all my things.”

  “I am most sorrowful to hear of the loss of so many lives, but here …” He reached for her. “We will return to the wagon and head toward town. I have secured a room for the night. We will see the judge and say our vows forthwith.”

  Vows. Because he’d purchased himself a bride to arrive just before Christmas, only he worried because Pigeon was all the things he’d sought to avoid, voluptuous, alluring, with the palest complexion and succulent pink lips. Guessing her age, she wasn’t the thirty-something he’d been promised either, but more twenty-one or two. The fact she’d lied bothered him … a lot. Asking her about it up front seemed tasteless, however. He wanted a wife to cook and clean and, in short, do all the chores his sister used to, and here was one willing to fill that void. He’d wanted her to be older, disinclined to have children, and of plain face. He’d wanted to look at her and be able to easily turn aside. Pigeon wasn’t any of those things.

  Her elbow cupped in his palm, he led her from the wharf toward his wagon, a brisk wind whistling between the nearby trees. There, he added a second blanket to the thin one she’d wrapped in, and shook the reins, driving at an even pace into the city.

  He wasn’t used to the clutter of vehicles on the wide streets or seeing so many buildings frothing with people. She’d said, in her letter, she didn’t mind living in the countryside, but glancing toward her, her dress was nicer than he’d expected and, though bedraggled, clearly made of expensive cloth. Her shoes, as well, were once of the finest leather.

  “Perhaps you’d like to clean up first?” he asked. A delivery wagon forced him to slow their progress. “I can arrange for a bath and inquire about a gown …” Though where he’d do that, he hadn’t any idea.

  “I’d love a bath, but I think I’d like to say our vows first. A gown will be hard to find, maybe take many hours, even a day. I’d hate for nightfall to come, and we still hadn’t … made things official.”

  He understood her remark. It was a fair statement. It could very well grow dark and them be forced to share bed space. He’d promised himself he would honor her virtue. In fact, he’d thought to avoid besmirching her completely. Not that he wasn’t virile and beset with a man’s ardor, but thinking her plain and frumpy, he had decided she could be his wife without having to share anything of the flesh.

  “If you prefer,” he said. His stomach curled into an uncomfortable knot. He wanted to avoid lovemaking, but here was a woman who begged him for it.

  It was nothing she’d said or even implied. She hadn’t flaunted herself to him in anyway. Her letters had been frank and to the point, without hint of passionate overtures or flirtation. Yet, seeing her in person, he wished to dip her in cream and lap her up, as a dog would the water in a stream on a particularly hot summer’s day.

  The knot in his gut became an enormous stone that knocked against his spine with every jar and rattle of the wagon. Lafayette concentrated on their progress, ignoring the discomfort, and eventually parked outside the courthouse. Taking her elbow again to alight, her lightness and grace, the sun brightening the pale blonde of her hair, the sky formed in her blue eyes, he once more admired her and, for the briefest second, had the thought he was most fortunate to have secured so delectable a woman.

  That was outweighed at once by the truth of his life, the secret he hadn’t told her that’d caused him to choose a woman of no distinction. He thought of his betrayal and the vow he’d made to never go back there. Better to not feel emotion and never experience longing again than to do what he had.

  The scandal it’d produced added to his determination. He’d lost his job and been branded a heretic. As a result, he’d taken his sister and moved them both into the Arkansas hills, berating himself over his weakness of will. He’d destroyed all he’d worked to attain with one moment in time.

  His only point of easement had been his sister’s recent marriage. Cosette and her husband, Niles Millford, were most happy in a fine house in Little Rock, and she would never have met him if not for his own indiscretion.

  “I know you said you could not perform our nuptials …” Pigeon’s savory voice prodded him in the ears, “and that you’d turned from the church toward farming. But I find it odd, a minister who refuses to preach.”

  “I am no longer a minister,” he said evenly. “Nothing I have to say of spiritual things is of any importance. You’d do best to not remind me of it.”

  She halted inside the courthouse foyer and gazed at him, her eyes wide. He was aware of the bite in which he’d spoken and regretted the fear it sparked on her face, but she must know her place from the start. He wanted a wife to take care of the house, nothing more. He’d marry and restrain himself, no matter how hard the task.

  It felt odd to promise to cherish a man she’d just met, odder still to pretend to be who she wasn’t. She wondered briefly what her parents would say if they could see her then dismissed it. For all intents and purposes, from now until forever, she was Pigeon Burgess. The real woman, the promised bride of Lafayette, had been swept under in the current when the ferry capsized.

  She’d made the decision then to take her place.

  It seemed fortuitous when she’d considered the circumstances … the woman being seated beside her on the train, chattering endlessly about this man she was promised to. She’d showed her his letters, read them almost page for page, gone on about him choosing her when no other gentleman ever did.

  I’m so plain, she’d said.

  She did feel guilty over the loss of the women’s life and similarly of her parents’ mourning for her, but comforted herself saying no one would ever know of the switch. This was her way out of her own promised nuptials, except unlike the woman, she’d been forced to it most unwilling. Her intended was old, gray, and stodgy. Lafayette, on the other hand, was very handsome. Broad shoulders, a well-formed chest, piercing green eyes.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the judge intoned. “If you’ll move along to the clerk, he’ll help you file the paperwork.”

  Pigeon fell in at Lafayette’s side, her arm tucked in the crook of his sleeve, and obediently signed everywhere she was told. With a vague idea of the woman’s handwriting, she did her best to imitate it, straightening afterward and offering him a smile.

  He seemed nervous, sweat beaded on his brow.

  He’d surprised her, scolding her like he had, and she wondered, once more, what had caused him to sour toward his profession. Not that farming wasn’t honorable, but those inclined toward religion seldom let go of it. She had a simple faith that God was with her at all times. Hadn’t He proven it, saving her from a watery grave? Surely, that was another sign she’d chosen correctly. She didn’t think God had caused the loss of so many lives necessarily, but rather that He’d given the opportunity to her to not become an old man’s plaything. God wanted her happiness and had sent her to Lafayette. She was his Christmas gift and he was hers.

  The ring her new husband had provided threat
ened to slip from her finger, the band much too large, but then, the real woman’s hands had been wide, her knuckles fat. Pigeon made a note to tie string around it and thus keep it from constantly sliding.

  Back in the wagon, she smiled at him again. “I would like that bath. I can borrow something of yours and have my dress laundered in the meantime.”

  Mention of the bath brought wariness in his eyes, but he nodded.

  Turning her gaze forward, she considered it. It was as if he were an animal in a cage, afraid to escape for the safety he had within. Why would he feel that way? As nice as the other woman had been, she’d talked too much, been broad of hip and with a most flat chest. Surely even a minister would prefer someone younger, more voluptuous. He would, after all, have a man’s wishes behind closed doors.

  Her thoughts changed upon entering the hotel.

  It wasn’t as nice as those she’d stayed in when traveling with her parents. They’d been to London, Paris, and within the reconstructed States, St. Louis and Chicago. But she’d noticed while riding the train that the grand houses she was used to were fewer here, the land more worn, poverty holding a great claim. Still, the hotel lobby was clean, the furniture polished. Christmas decorations had been spread around, greenery tied with red ribbons, golden candles set in brass stands. The proprietress was most accommodating, promising to have a tub and hot water brought upstairs.

  The room itself was small, the décor out of date, but good enough she didn’t make comment. After all, if she’d wanted silk slippers, she would have remained her true self and married the Baron. She knew little of cooking, less of keeping house, but it couldn’t be hard to learn. Could it?

  Lafayette grew uneasy when a hotel worker arrived with the tub. A series of girls, carrying buckets of heated water followed, and soon steam twirled toward the ceiling. The group left, pulling the door closed, and Lafayette interlaced his fingers behind his back. “I will go,” he said. “Leave you to it.” He glanced toward a bag on the end of the bed. “There’s a night shirt in it you can wear. When I return, I’ll see to the care of your dress.”

  She questioned her new husband’s disinterest in her bath. Seemed like if he’d waited so long to wed, he’d be more responsive, even eager, to gaze upon her. Maybe he was simply being kind and sought to make her comfortable. Thinking of that, Pigeon nodded her agreement, and Lafayette, with clear relief, escaped the room.

  She luxuriated in the water, taking her time to soak and use the greater portion of a fragrant bar of soap. She cleansed her hair as well, lingering until, the temperature tepid, she climbed out, dried, and donned the shirt he’d offered. It reached to her knees, but not below, exposing her calves and ankles. This sparked a comparison, once more, between Lafayette and the Baron.

  She’d never been seen in private by a man. If tonight were the latter, she’d be disgusted and terribly afraid, but it being a man much more strong and earthy gave her a thrill. She almost looked forward to experiencing wedlock. Many women had happy homes and intimacy was a part of that.

  Yet, one hour, two, three hours later, he hadn’t returned, and the exhaustion of the day took hold. Disappointed with his absence, her body longed for bed, for blankets tucked about her form and the softness of the mattress and pillows. Another hour passed, and the longing grew too big to resist. She pulled back the covers and climbed in. She meant only to nap until he returned, but warmth surrounding her, she fell instead into a deep sleep, gratitude unexpressed on her lips.

  Lafayette downed what was only his second glass of whiskey, though it’d taken him four hours to drink both. In all that time, he’d nursed his wounded heart and become more and more regretful for marrying this way. He could have waited until spring and made sure of his choice. After all, he’d been by himself these many months without losing his thinking faculties.

  Yet, facing the coldness of the mountains and a Christmas alone, he’d begged her to come. Christmas was, in the past, the holiest of holidays. He’d loved it more than any other, felt closer to God through the stories of the Nativity.

  Going back into his childhood, he had the fondest memories. Of his parents’ love, they’d shared what little they had to make things festive. Of an extra portion of meat with their meals, plus a spicy glass of warm fruited drink denied them at any other time. Of joyful laughter, Christmas carols, and his dad intoning the gospel from a great leather-bound Bible.

  This was the first year without family by his side, and that had caused his desperation.

  Why did he think some woman, a stranger, could take their place? Or fill the void created when he’d given up his ordination. That’s what it came down to. He’d indulged himself in a sin of the flesh and lost his respect, his honor in the community, his home and many of his belongings. His change in circumstance had greatly harmed his sister as well. She’d lost friends, tolerated people’s cruelty. To her credit, she’d not complained once, but that had added to his guilt.

  Only the interest of Niles Millford had given him hope. The Senior Millfords were his closest neighbors. Niles, their eldest son, had come home for Thanksgiving and been taken with Cosette instantly. They were not, so far as types of people, ones he’d ever have spent time with. As pastor of a church, he’d had to deal with many people though, all ages and personalities, but separating himself from that, he wasn’t as social as the Millfords nor as well-dressed and definitely not as soft. Both Niles and his father were pasty and round, also very garrulous. Himself, his sermons were the most talking he ever did at any point in time and all of it plotted out in advance so he wouldn’t stumble.

  He had no need now. He spent his time talking to an old milk cow and a handful of chickens.

  Lafayette stared at the bottom of his glass and wished he had the nerve to down another, but knowing the late hour, was aware his new bride had probably branded him a scoundrel for being gone so long. Expelling a sigh, he shoved the glass aside and rose, tossing coins on the counter. He shuffled out, halting on the boardwalk to take in the twilight.

  It was early still, he’d do best to have something to say to Pigeon, but what he wanted to say wasn’t words at all. She was the most beautiful woman, more so even than the one whose virtue he’d taken. Fair of face, her eyes round and clear, her shoulders narrow, his bride wasn’t dainty, nor reed-like. In lifting her from the wagon, he’d noticed the swell of her hips, the alluring upward lift of her breasts. Her elegance called to him, the ring he’d placed on her finger giving it extra volume. This night was his to take and enjoy and no one would complain, but he feared what it’d do in his heart because he’d gone there already.

  He’d thought his sin hidden until his lover’s belly grew. As if the shame of that wasn’t enough, she’d lost the child and her life with it, the baby misshapen.

  These were the results of being with him and to think of Pigeon leaving in that manner was unforgiveable. She’d said she was as lonely as he and interested in having a companion. He could be that, but he could not afford to give in to the temptation that surrounded her, no matter how ill he slept at night.

  His will strengthened, Lafayette set out for the hotel. He walked an even pace, admiring the decorations in the passing display windows. He spoke to a stranger who doffed his hat. In the hotel lobby, he aimed for the stairs, taking them with steady footsteps to the third floor, and there, traveling the long hallway to their room. He unlocked it from the outside and entered, facing it to fasten the clasp.

  When he spun around, his first glance fell on the remains of her bath: cold, soapy water; latent suds on its metal rim, her drying cloth pooled in the floor where she’d alighted. He imagined he could see her footprints, the delicious cleft of her toes, the press of her heel, and saw in his mind’s eye, the flex of her ankle and graceful calves.

  His mouth watering, he swallowed. The image brightened, including in it pink flesh, rosy with heat, and softness, untouched. Shaking his head, he tried to rid himself of the vision and turned away, hasty, only to spot her supine on the bed.