Read Online The Captive Heart by Michelle; Griep - Free Book Online

more often.
    Wife.
He clenched his jaw so hard it crackled. The word stuck in his craw like a hunk of unchewed meat. Yet it was done now. No going back.
    He pivoted and hauled the crate to the back of the wagon, setting it next to the one Sutton set down.
    Ben rubbed his hands together. “That ought to do it.”
    Coppery-red flashed at the corner of his sight, and he turned. Inside the storefront window, the woman—what would he call her?—looked out at him with pale blue eyes. He gave a sharp nod for her to finish up and come out.
    “Whoa.” A man’s voice called from behind—so high-pitched, it sounded as if he’d taken a good kick to the groin.
    Unbidden, the sinful thought crossed Samuel’s mind that he’d like to be the one to give that kick.
Ahh, Lord, forgive me,
he prayed silently as he turned. Ignoring Angus McDivitt was an option, but it was always better to face an enemy head-on than take a stab in the back.
    “Hallo, Heath.” McDivitt touched his forefinger to the brim of his hat in a half-hearted greeting. “Heard you married again.”
    Samuel rolled his shoulders, working out the stiffness. This—
this
—was exactly what he hated about town. Everyone knowing everyone else’s business, or leastwise thinking they did. He skewered Angus with a scowl. “You heard right.”
    Yellowed teeth peeked out from the man’s beard. “Hope this one knows how to tend a fire.”
    Next to him, Sutton drew in a sharp breath.
    Samuel clamped down on every muscle to keep from launching off the dock and pummeling the smirk from the man’s face.
    Angus turned his head to the scorched plot across the road. A stream of tobacco juice shot out of his mouth, desecrating the ground, before he slipped his hooded eyes back to Samuel. “Oh, that’s right. Wasn’t her fault, was it?”
    Samuel’s hands curled into fists, clenching so tight his knuckles might pop through the skin.
    “He’s baitin’ ye, Heath,” Sutton said low and slow. “Leave it be.”
    Samuel cocked his head at the young man. Sutton backed away, hands up. Smart fellow.
    He swiveled that same killing stare to Angus. “You might fancy yourself a gentleman, McDivitt, but that beard, your manners, and the stench I’m catching downwind of you say otherwise. If you got words for me, then out with it. Otherwise, I’ll thank you to be on your way.”
    Footsteps tapped across wood, lightly, accompanied by the swish of thin wool and linen. He didn’t have to turn around to see the woman draw near—he watched her approach by the widening of Angus’s eyes and the lust that grew in them with each of her steps.
    Samuel may hardly know the woman, but she was his wife now. He sidestepped, blocking Angus’s view.
    Angus glowered at him. “Does she know?”
    He froze, breathing hard.
    “Do I know what, Mr. Heath?” The woman’s voice drifted over his shoulder—
    And stabbed him in the heart.
    A shrewd leer twitched McDivitt’s beard, and he kicked his horse, trotting away.
    “Mr. Heath?” the woman repeated. “Is there something I should know?”
    He turned, then hesitated, taken aback for a moment. Grace curled one chubby arm around the woman’s neck, and with the other, ran her thumb over her cheek. Nothing astonishing, really, for his daughter was ever the most accepting of souls. The woman’s response, however, stymied him. Why would a prim-and-proper Englishwoman allow such an intimate touch from a child she barely knew? Nay, not merely allow, but lean into it? It looked as if they belonged to one another—and for some odd reason, that rankled him.
    “We’ve a ride ahead of us.” His voice came out gruffer than he intended, and he worked to soften the rest. “Time we be going.”
    He pulled Grace from the woman’s arms and trotted down the few steps, waiting for her at the front of the wagon. He offered his free hand to aid her up to the seat, and when she took it, she paused halfway up, staring hard at his exposed wrist and failing at