Read Online Howard Haskell Takes A Bride (The Brides of Paradise Ranch Book 0) by Merry Farmer - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Merry Farmer
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hadn’t known him long enough to know that he would prevail. She could only wish that he would.
She tossed in her already rumpled bed, where she had lain awake all night thinking about things. A headache squeezed around her temples, and her thoughts refused to settle. What would she do if Howard lost the competition?
She would flee, that’s what she would do. No matter what her mother and father said, she was going to leave Cincinnati with Howard. If she had to leave the city in disgrace, never to see or speak to her family and friends again, then so be it.
She sucked in a breath, staring up at the canopy enclosing her bed. Could she really do it? Could she really run away with a man she’d known for a week, had barely been able to have a full conversation with? Could she forsake her entire life to start again in the wilds of the western frontier?
Yes. Yes, she could. It was by far a better option than staying meekly home and marrying a man who was as like as not to raise his hand to her. Someday, when she had a daughter, she would encourage her to do the same thing—to be bold and brave, to throw caution to the wind, and to defy the strictures of society if it meant she could be happy and follow her heart.
As thoughts of her future daughter and all the adventures she would have spun through Elizabeth’s restless mind, an odd, pinging sound came from the window. She ignored it at first, so wrapped up in fantasies of the brave, strong children she would have with Howard that the sound hardly reached her ears. But it came again, then again, then again.
At last, Elizabeth sat up with a frown, listening. The pinging came a fifth time, and with it a tiny crack. A muffled curse sounded outside.
Elizabeth gasped. “Howard.”
She threw her tangled bedcovers aside and leapt out of bed, running to the window. Sure enough, a tiny crack split the glass near the bottom. She ignored it, unlatching the window and throwing it open. A blast of cool, morning air swirled around her, sending gooseflesh along her skin and tightening her nipples against the flimsy cotton of her nightgown. Or perhaps that tightening was because of the sight of Howard standing in his shirtsleeves a few feet below her window.
“What a heaven-kissed vision,” he murmured at the sight of her. “It is as if the vales of night have sighed with pleasure and produced a goddess from their mist.”
Elizabeth was so relieved to see him—arms outstretched below her—that she could only giggle in response to his flowery language. “What are you doing here?” she whispered, brushing her unbound hair back from her face with both hands.
“Do not hide your midnight tresses from me, my love. I long to bury my face in them, to breath in your Elysian fragrance, and to lose myself to the bliss of your loveliness.”
“Howard.” She scolded him with a laugh, shaking her head, although the very ridiculousness of his honeyed words caused a distinct ache to pulse in delicate places.
“I would ask you to toss your hair down to me so that I might climb up to your tower, like a prince of old, but I fear time has not given you a chance to grow it long enough yet.” The dawn light may have been dim, but there was enough to see the sparkle of teasing in Howard’s eyes.
A bump sounded from somewhere deep in the house. Elizabeth straightened, pulling back into her room and turning to glance over her shoulder at the door. When no other sound followed, she thrust her head and shoulders back out and whispered to Howard, “Stay right there. I’m coming down.”
“Yes, my love.”
She shut the window before he could go off on another flowery tangent, and skittered to her bedroom door. It wasn’t until she made it downstairs and across the hall to the library, then out through the library door and into the dew-wet garden that she realized she’d forgotten slippers or a wrap. Her nightgown was barely enough to cover her. The greater shock was how delicious it felt
She tossed in her already rumpled bed, where she had lain awake all night thinking about things. A headache squeezed around her temples, and her thoughts refused to settle. What would she do if Howard lost the competition?
She would flee, that’s what she would do. No matter what her mother and father said, she was going to leave Cincinnati with Howard. If she had to leave the city in disgrace, never to see or speak to her family and friends again, then so be it.
She sucked in a breath, staring up at the canopy enclosing her bed. Could she really do it? Could she really run away with a man she’d known for a week, had barely been able to have a full conversation with? Could she forsake her entire life to start again in the wilds of the western frontier?
Yes. Yes, she could. It was by far a better option than staying meekly home and marrying a man who was as like as not to raise his hand to her. Someday, when she had a daughter, she would encourage her to do the same thing—to be bold and brave, to throw caution to the wind, and to defy the strictures of society if it meant she could be happy and follow her heart.
As thoughts of her future daughter and all the adventures she would have spun through Elizabeth’s restless mind, an odd, pinging sound came from the window. She ignored it at first, so wrapped up in fantasies of the brave, strong children she would have with Howard that the sound hardly reached her ears. But it came again, then again, then again.
At last, Elizabeth sat up with a frown, listening. The pinging came a fifth time, and with it a tiny crack. A muffled curse sounded outside.
Elizabeth gasped. “Howard.”
She threw her tangled bedcovers aside and leapt out of bed, running to the window. Sure enough, a tiny crack split the glass near the bottom. She ignored it, unlatching the window and throwing it open. A blast of cool, morning air swirled around her, sending gooseflesh along her skin and tightening her nipples against the flimsy cotton of her nightgown. Or perhaps that tightening was because of the sight of Howard standing in his shirtsleeves a few feet below her window.
“What a heaven-kissed vision,” he murmured at the sight of her. “It is as if the vales of night have sighed with pleasure and produced a goddess from their mist.”
Elizabeth was so relieved to see him—arms outstretched below her—that she could only giggle in response to his flowery language. “What are you doing here?” she whispered, brushing her unbound hair back from her face with both hands.
“Do not hide your midnight tresses from me, my love. I long to bury my face in them, to breath in your Elysian fragrance, and to lose myself to the bliss of your loveliness.”
“Howard.” She scolded him with a laugh, shaking her head, although the very ridiculousness of his honeyed words caused a distinct ache to pulse in delicate places.
“I would ask you to toss your hair down to me so that I might climb up to your tower, like a prince of old, but I fear time has not given you a chance to grow it long enough yet.” The dawn light may have been dim, but there was enough to see the sparkle of teasing in Howard’s eyes.
A bump sounded from somewhere deep in the house. Elizabeth straightened, pulling back into her room and turning to glance over her shoulder at the door. When no other sound followed, she thrust her head and shoulders back out and whispered to Howard, “Stay right there. I’m coming down.”
“Yes, my love.”
She shut the window before he could go off on another flowery tangent, and skittered to her bedroom door. It wasn’t until she made it downstairs and across the hall to the library, then out through the library door and into the dew-wet garden that she realized she’d forgotten slippers or a wrap. Her nightgown was barely enough to cover her. The greater shock was how delicious it felt
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