Rebecca (Angel Creek Christmas Brides #15) - Lily Graison Page 0,12

and yawning again. Her body was stiff. Little wonder after all the traveling she’d done. But that was over now. She smiled. This was her new home.

She’d wondered most of the trip about what she’d find when she got to wherever it was Diana had been traveling. Not that she was worried. She was a fighter and knew even if it turned out Diana was a mail-order bride she’d handle it like she did everything else life threw at her.

The other girls from the train saying they were going to ‘try their luck’ made more sense now. They didn’t have a groom waiting for them and were traveling on faith that they’d find a husband. Hazel had been excited about meeting her groom and if he was even half as handsome as Caleb was, she could understand why.

Of all the men she’d pictured over the long days bumping across rutted roads in the stagecoach, she hadn’t pictured anyone like Caleb. A man hunting a bride from an advertisement did so because no other woman would have them, or so she assumed. She didn’t think that was the case with Caleb and was surprised women hadn't formed a line outside his door while wearing their fanciest dress and fluttering their eyelashes at him.

She snorted a laugh. If this had been Charleston, that’s exactly what would happen.

Her trunk was at the foot of the bed. She crossed to it and lifted the lid. The dress she was wearing was so wrinkled, she wouldn't be surprised if the material stayed like that permanently. It also smelled of road grime and sweat and she imagined she didn't smell much better.

Spotting the pitcher and bowl by the wall, she selected a simple day dress and stripped, washing in water so cold it took her breath. Cleaned and smelling of the perfumed soap Diana had hidden in the bottom of her truck, she headed for the door and peeked out into the hall.

Not a single light shined. She leaned against the doorframe and sucked on her bottom lip. What now? A door across from the one she was standing in was another bedroom. She’d seen it as Caleb had shown her this one the day before. Was that where Caleb was? Or was it where the old woman and girl slept?

She tip-toed down the hall into the main sitting room. The fire was banked, only a few red coals still glowing. Faint light filtered in around the edge of the curtains. It had to be close to dawn. The moment she thought it, she heard a rooster crow.

Movement to her right drew her gaze, her entire body stilling as Caleb sat up and sighed loud enough she heard it all the way across the room. Was this where he was sleeping?

Where else would he? There’s only two bedrooms and you took his.

He rubbed a hand over his face and stood, stilling the moment he saw her. “Morning.”

His soft voice was barely over a whisper. “Good morning,” Rebecca whispered back.

Caleb rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. He nodded down the hall with a tilt of his head. “I’ll go get changed and show you where everything’s at in the kitchen.”

Rebecca watched him disappear down the darkened hall, his parting words echoing in her head. He didn’t expect her to cook, did he?

Of course he does. That’s what wives do, you ninny.

She rolled her eyes and turned to the kitchen. More light spilled into the room from the open curtain above a long table situated against the wall. A shelf hung high above it filled with small bags of dry goods and an assortment of cans. A small table with four chairs sat against the left-hand wall and a cookstove sat to her right.

Could she really pull this off? She’d never cooked a thing in her life. She’d boiled water over a fire at the orphanage but that was it.

Caleb walked into the room and headed for the stove before she had time to contemplate her situation. A small pail of wood and kindling was against the wall. He filled the stove with a few pieces and lit it, straightening when he had a blaze going. The moment their eyes met, nervous butterflies she wasn’t used to having swam in dizzying circles in her stomach. He really was obscenely handsome.

And ordered a wife from a mail-order bride catalog.

Those butterflies stopped dancing. There has to be something wrong with him. Maybe he was mean? She’d