Read Online Harper's Bride by Alexis Harrington - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Alexis Harrington
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had
locked for just a moment, and he had seen her terror before she
bolted off through the brush.
"Oh! I'll have your dinner for you in just a
minute." She put the baby in her crate, and the child began howling
again. In a rush she slapped the potatoes, ham, and some biscuits
on the table, all the while shifting her gaze between him and
Jenny. Then she hurried to the crate and picked up the baby
again.
Baffled, Dylan threw his hat on the bed and
sat down at the place she'd set for him. "Aren't you going to
eat?".
Melissa paced the small floor, jogging Jenny
in her arms. "No, not now. Not until—" The baby's wails climbed to
ear-piercing shrieks. "Oh, please, button, please don't cry," she
begged. With her cheek pressed to Jenny's head, plainly she was
beside herself with worry.
Dylan took a bite of the ham. It tasted good,
but he couldn't really enjoy it while the agitated woman paced with
her screaming child in this little room. Her pale hair had come
loose from its knot again and hung beside her face in damp
tendrils. He pushed the other chair out with his foot. "Maybe if
you stop pacing and sit down?" he suggested. He didn't know much
about kids but he thought that Melissa was making things worse.
She eyed him warily.
"Come on," he urged.
Melissa edged closer, feeling as if she were
approaching a wild dog, and perched on the edge of the chair.
"What's the matter with her? Is she sick?"
Dylan asked over the bawling.
"No, I don't think so," she said, hearing the
overwrought edge in her own voice. "She usually isn't like this—I
just don't know what it is." She continued to jog Jenny frantically
in her arms, all to no avail. The baby turned the color of a ripe
plum with her screeching. "Jenny, Jenny, don't carry on so,
sweetheart, please."
Melissa glanced up at Dylan's stem face, and
her heart thundered inside her rib cage. She was familiar with that
kind of expression—he looked angry and impatient, while he fixed
her and the baby with that hard glare. On top of that, his dinner
was growing cold in front of him, and she knew how men hated that.
Oh, God, please make Jenny be quiet, please, please, please—
Suddenly, Dylan reached out to touch the
baby's forehead. Melissa pulled back and clutched Jenny to her
chest, unable to completely bite back a scream of her own.
He withdrew his hand and stared at her. "Does
she have a fever?" he asked in that quiet, deadly serious voice
she'd heard him use on the miner.
She shook her head and kept her eyes down,
resenting him in that moment because she feared him, and hating the
way it crippled her.
Melissa heard the legs of his chair scrape
across the floor, and she held her breath. Now she would hear his
boot heels on the plank flooring as he came around to her side of
the table. She waited for the sharp, heavy impact of his fist, or
the fiery burn of a slap. Either, she knew from experience, would
make her head feel as if it were going to come off with the blow.
Lights would flash behind her eyes, like a thousand candle flames
bursting into stars. She bent farther over Jenny, shielding her as
best she could, and drew in a deep, sobbing breath.
But instead of coming toward her, she heard
the boot heels walk away, and then the door opened and closed. His
footsteps rumbled down the stairs and glancing up, she found she
was alone with Jenny. Dylan's plate still held most of his dinner,
and his coffee was untouched.
She and the baby had driven him out of his
own place. No man would tolerate that, and it wouldn't surprise her
if he went to the saloon. Now she had to worry about when he would
come back, and in what condition. For a wild moment Melissa
considered piling everything in the room against the door to keep
him out. Or maybe she could pack up Jenny and leave before he got
back.
And go where? she asked herself, trying to
hear her own thoughts over the baby's crying. Could she find some
kind of work? She wished she could dissolve into tears like Jenny,
but she had
locked for just a moment, and he had seen her terror before she
bolted off through the brush.
"Oh! I'll have your dinner for you in just a
minute." She put the baby in her crate, and the child began howling
again. In a rush she slapped the potatoes, ham, and some biscuits
on the table, all the while shifting her gaze between him and
Jenny. Then she hurried to the crate and picked up the baby
again.
Baffled, Dylan threw his hat on the bed and
sat down at the place she'd set for him. "Aren't you going to
eat?".
Melissa paced the small floor, jogging Jenny
in her arms. "No, not now. Not until—" The baby's wails climbed to
ear-piercing shrieks. "Oh, please, button, please don't cry," she
begged. With her cheek pressed to Jenny's head, plainly she was
beside herself with worry.
Dylan took a bite of the ham. It tasted good,
but he couldn't really enjoy it while the agitated woman paced with
her screaming child in this little room. Her pale hair had come
loose from its knot again and hung beside her face in damp
tendrils. He pushed the other chair out with his foot. "Maybe if
you stop pacing and sit down?" he suggested. He didn't know much
about kids but he thought that Melissa was making things worse.
She eyed him warily.
"Come on," he urged.
Melissa edged closer, feeling as if she were
approaching a wild dog, and perched on the edge of the chair.
"What's the matter with her? Is she sick?"
Dylan asked over the bawling.
"No, I don't think so," she said, hearing the
overwrought edge in her own voice. "She usually isn't like this—I
just don't know what it is." She continued to jog Jenny frantically
in her arms, all to no avail. The baby turned the color of a ripe
plum with her screeching. "Jenny, Jenny, don't carry on so,
sweetheart, please."
Melissa glanced up at Dylan's stem face, and
her heart thundered inside her rib cage. She was familiar with that
kind of expression—he looked angry and impatient, while he fixed
her and the baby with that hard glare. On top of that, his dinner
was growing cold in front of him, and she knew how men hated that.
Oh, God, please make Jenny be quiet, please, please, please—
Suddenly, Dylan reached out to touch the
baby's forehead. Melissa pulled back and clutched Jenny to her
chest, unable to completely bite back a scream of her own.
He withdrew his hand and stared at her. "Does
she have a fever?" he asked in that quiet, deadly serious voice
she'd heard him use on the miner.
She shook her head and kept her eyes down,
resenting him in that moment because she feared him, and hating the
way it crippled her.
Melissa heard the legs of his chair scrape
across the floor, and she held her breath. Now she would hear his
boot heels on the plank flooring as he came around to her side of
the table. She waited for the sharp, heavy impact of his fist, or
the fiery burn of a slap. Either, she knew from experience, would
make her head feel as if it were going to come off with the blow.
Lights would flash behind her eyes, like a thousand candle flames
bursting into stars. She bent farther over Jenny, shielding her as
best she could, and drew in a deep, sobbing breath.
But instead of coming toward her, she heard
the boot heels walk away, and then the door opened and closed. His
footsteps rumbled down the stairs and glancing up, she found she
was alone with Jenny. Dylan's plate still held most of his dinner,
and his coffee was untouched.
She and the baby had driven him out of his
own place. No man would tolerate that, and it wouldn't surprise her
if he went to the saloon. Now she had to worry about when he would
come back, and in what condition. For a wild moment Melissa
considered piling everything in the room against the door to keep
him out. Or maybe she could pack up Jenny and leave before he got
back.
And go where? she asked herself, trying to
hear her own thoughts over the baby's crying. Could she find some
kind of work? She wished she could dissolve into tears like Jenny,
but she had
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