Read Online High Country Bride by Linda Lael Miller - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Linda Lael Miller
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He took her hand again, interlaced his fingers with hers.“That’s good,” he said.
She sat in silence for a long time, struggling with her conscience. It wasn’t right to deceive Mr. McKettrick, but she didn’t dare confide in him, either. “Why didn’t you just marry someone from around here?” she asked finally. “Instead of sending all the way to Kansas City for me, I mean.”
“Nobody here to marry, save a few whores and Daisy Pert,” he said with a shrug, “and none of them would make a fitting wife.”
She flinched, but only slightly, and again he didn’t seem to notice. “I guess you wouldn’t marry a—a fallen woman, even if you loved her?”
“Love?” he scoffed. “Maybe folks have time for that nonsense where you come from, but this is rough country, Emmeline. Out here, marriage is a practical matter, a sort of partnership, and love has damn little to do with it.” He paused, regarded her solemnly. “I want a family of my own, like I said, and a man doesn’t have children with a prostitute.”
Emmeline had a strong urge to bolt to her feet and run fast and far, maybe all the way back across the mountains, plains, and valleys she’d crossed to get here, but she sat still as a stone. “A partnership?” she countered, feeling more than a little testy now that her dream of being someone’s beloved wife had been thoroughly shattered. She’d been reading about Suffrage in the newspapers, during the endless train and stagecoach rides, and the things she’d learned in the process nettled her brain and her spirit like briars. Why, she would have painted a sign and marched for the cause if there had been a parade passing by. “I’d hardly call it that. Once a woman is married, she becomes her husband’s possession, the same as a dog or a buckboard. If she’s got money or property, he can take it away and then turn her out into the snow. He can work her like a mule, run her right into the ground, wear her out having babies. He can beat her, if he likes, put her in an insane asylum, and give away their children like kittens from a litter—”
“Whoa,” Rafe said, laughing and shaking his head. “If that’s what you think it means to be a man’s wife, why did you sign on in the first place?”
It was a good question, but the answer was too embarrassing to share. She hadn’t bothered to consider the potential drawbacks of marriage until it was too late. Now, she held her tongue, since her only other option was to beg for mercy.
“I don’t mean to do any of those things to you, Miss Emmeline,” Rafe said, very reasonably, when she didn’t speak. “What I’m suggesting here is a kind of contract, since you obviously don’t care for the word partnership . Here it is, plain and simple: You make a home with me, and give me children, and I’ll see that you never lack for anything for the rest of your life. I’ll expect you to cook for me, of course, like any wife, and certainly to share my bed. I won’t abide lying, and God help you if you shame me with another man.” He smiled, pleased with himself, spreading his hands to indicate that he had finished stating his terms. “Seems like a fair deal to me.”
Emmeline was glad she wasn’t armed. She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, tried to be sensible. Now was the time to tell him about Holt, about the baby she might or might not be carrying; if those things came out later, she was certain he would never, ever forgive her. Even knowing that, she couldn’t bring herself to say what she knew she must; she didn’t have the courage and, besides, she was too furious.“Suppose you shamed me, by keeping company with another woman?” she challenged.
He looked at her with consternation. “That’s not the same,” he said.
Emmeline’s self-control snapped. She shot to her feet, which were beginning to feel damp, since she was wearing a pair of Concepcion’s slippers in place of her own sturdy shoes.“I beg your
He took her hand again, interlaced his fingers with hers.“That’s good,” he said.
She sat in silence for a long time, struggling with her conscience. It wasn’t right to deceive Mr. McKettrick, but she didn’t dare confide in him, either. “Why didn’t you just marry someone from around here?” she asked finally. “Instead of sending all the way to Kansas City for me, I mean.”
“Nobody here to marry, save a few whores and Daisy Pert,” he said with a shrug, “and none of them would make a fitting wife.”
She flinched, but only slightly, and again he didn’t seem to notice. “I guess you wouldn’t marry a—a fallen woman, even if you loved her?”
“Love?” he scoffed. “Maybe folks have time for that nonsense where you come from, but this is rough country, Emmeline. Out here, marriage is a practical matter, a sort of partnership, and love has damn little to do with it.” He paused, regarded her solemnly. “I want a family of my own, like I said, and a man doesn’t have children with a prostitute.”
Emmeline had a strong urge to bolt to her feet and run fast and far, maybe all the way back across the mountains, plains, and valleys she’d crossed to get here, but she sat still as a stone. “A partnership?” she countered, feeling more than a little testy now that her dream of being someone’s beloved wife had been thoroughly shattered. She’d been reading about Suffrage in the newspapers, during the endless train and stagecoach rides, and the things she’d learned in the process nettled her brain and her spirit like briars. Why, she would have painted a sign and marched for the cause if there had been a parade passing by. “I’d hardly call it that. Once a woman is married, she becomes her husband’s possession, the same as a dog or a buckboard. If she’s got money or property, he can take it away and then turn her out into the snow. He can work her like a mule, run her right into the ground, wear her out having babies. He can beat her, if he likes, put her in an insane asylum, and give away their children like kittens from a litter—”
“Whoa,” Rafe said, laughing and shaking his head. “If that’s what you think it means to be a man’s wife, why did you sign on in the first place?”
It was a good question, but the answer was too embarrassing to share. She hadn’t bothered to consider the potential drawbacks of marriage until it was too late. Now, she held her tongue, since her only other option was to beg for mercy.
“I don’t mean to do any of those things to you, Miss Emmeline,” Rafe said, very reasonably, when she didn’t speak. “What I’m suggesting here is a kind of contract, since you obviously don’t care for the word partnership . Here it is, plain and simple: You make a home with me, and give me children, and I’ll see that you never lack for anything for the rest of your life. I’ll expect you to cook for me, of course, like any wife, and certainly to share my bed. I won’t abide lying, and God help you if you shame me with another man.” He smiled, pleased with himself, spreading his hands to indicate that he had finished stating his terms. “Seems like a fair deal to me.”
Emmeline was glad she wasn’t armed. She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, tried to be sensible. Now was the time to tell him about Holt, about the baby she might or might not be carrying; if those things came out later, she was certain he would never, ever forgive her. Even knowing that, she couldn’t bring herself to say what she knew she must; she didn’t have the courage and, besides, she was too furious.“Suppose you shamed me, by keeping company with another woman?” she challenged.
He looked at her with consternation. “That’s not the same,” he said.
Emmeline’s self-control snapped. She shot to her feet, which were beginning to feel damp, since she was wearing a pair of Concepcion’s slippers in place of her own sturdy shoes.“I beg your
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