Once Upon a Mail Order Bride - Linda Broday Page 0,9
the lump.
Ridge set down her trunk and took a wide stance. He seemed a bit uncomfortable in her presence, jerking off his hat and holding it in his hands. She watched him from beneath lowered lashes. “I picked the flowers. I hope you like them.”
Surprised by his thoughtfulness, Adeline smiled and reached for her paper and pencil. “Wild roses are my favorite. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I thought you might need some cheer.” Ridge glanced around the room as though checking to make sure it was suitable before turning his attention back to her. “It’s not home, but it’ll do for one night. Luke and Josie are just down the hall.”
She nodded, walked to the french doors that opened onto a small balcony, and stepped out. After her dank underground cell, she couldn’t get enough fresh air. A large overhang shaded her from the sun.
Ridge followed, crushing the hat he still held. His large presence frightened her, at least a little. He could knock her across the room, break bones if he chose. It would take time to trust, time to heal, time to know his heart. Though he’d gently courted her through his letters, his tender words were just words in the end. Ezekiel was most adept at using words to wound.
But something in this outlaw reminded her of a tall oak with thick branches stretching out, shielding her from harm.
Tense muscles in her neck and shoulders relaxed. This path felt right and good.
At least for now. Time would tell for sure.
“I have no idea what you’re thinking, but it has to be very difficult to marry someone you’ve never met. I’ll give you all the time you need.” His voice was low, deep. “I’ve never forced any woman to my will, and I won’t start with you.”
Adeline swung around and met his gaze. The lines in his face had deepened, and she wished she could smooth away the worry, to say that she’d find a way somehow to be a real wife. Only she had no idea what that looked like. She’d never seen a marriage worth modeling hers after, with the possible exception of Luke and Josie’s. They seemed to have the right idea, but she’d known them only a short time. People often projected misconceptions.
Maybe Ridge did too, and would make her a fool for trusting so quickly. Yet believing in something seemed better than this yawning, lifeless hole inside that tried to swallow her.
After several beats of silence, Ridge cleared his throat. Shadows filled his eyes. “I don’t know what you expect of me. Hell, I don’t even know what to expect myself. But I vow never to raise my hand to you in anger. Our marriage will be one based on respect, not fear.”
She nodded but wished with all her heart she could unlock her words and tell him that she could take anything, as long as he didn’t hurt her.
But of course, she just stood there like some mute.
“I’m sure you have a lot of questions. I built a house for you just outside of town. I hope I thought of everything, but if you need something else, I’ll get it. I’d like to take you there after you’ve rested and we’ve discussed the wedding plans. Would you like that?”
Her nod brought a gentle smile to his face that revealed a flash of white teeth. Josie was right—he was handsome. She’d be tongue-tied too, if she could remember how to form words in the first place.
Ridge sauntered toward the door, his gait loose and easy. “You don’t seem to recall, but we’ve met once before—in Fort Worth. It was dark, though, and you were having quite a tussle with a drunk bent on spending time with you.” He swung around with a teasing grin. “I’d like some advice about where to best wallop a person with a shoe for maximum damage.”
Surprise swept through her. She studied him, wracking her brain. The mention of the shoe jogged her memory. When she’d gotten off the train, she’d gone the wrong direction and wound up on that dark street in the clutches of that disgusting drunk.
So Ridge had been her savior. He’d handled the inebriated fool with ease.
She covered the space between them and reached for the paper and pencil on the table. She wrote: “Thank you for coming along and freeing me from that wretch’s hands. He terrified me.”
“You certainly didn’t look scared. Just mad as a soaked cat.”