Read Online Lessie: Bride of Utah (American Mail-Order Bride 45) by Kristin Holt - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kristin Holt
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical, Saga, Western, Short-Story, Religious, Christian, Inspirational, new mexico territory, Bachelor, Marriage of Convenience, Faith, Trust Issues, twin sisters, victorian era, Utah, Forever Love, Single Woman, Fifty-Books, Forty-Five Authors, Newspaper Ad, American Mail-Order Bride, Factory Burned, Pioneer, Threats, Forty-Five In Series, Opportunity, Two Husbands, Utah Territory, Remain Together, One Couple, Cannon Mining, Bridge Chasm, His Upbringing, Mining Workers, Business Cousins, Twin Siblings, Male Cousins
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the Cannon name.
But he’d built this beautiful home. He’d referred to the residence as ‘ours’.
He’d said vows in the church and meant them.
Richard Cannon wore sincerity well.
To share his bed, to become fully his wife… scared her more than a little bit.
With no experience and desperately missing the factory girls, all those in the dormitory who would have listened to her fears and helped her find her way through this— how she missed them! — all she could do was follow her instincts. And right now, her instincts screamed to forget herself and place her trust her husband.
Hard to do, with her feet bare, her ankles naked, the towel indecently short and showing most of her calves, even with him ever so much taller and standing this near she doubted he could see more than her toes and ankles… she wasn’t wearing her corset.
Frankly, she wasn’t wearing much at all.
And legally wed or not, this was a most intimate circumstance for conversation.
“Sweetheart,” he said with great care, “yes, it’s perfectly acceptable for you to share my bed. Now tell me, what is it you need to know?”
“Mr. Cannon.” She raised her chin and fought the shakes. “Which am I? Wife or business?”
“Excuse me?” He lowered the hand braced against the wall, followed by the forearm. But he didn’t step back. He propped both hands on his lean hips, made even more apparent as he’d removed his jacket and vest. She wouldn’t be surprised to see he’d removed his shoes, but that would require looking down, and she wasn’t willing to take a peek.
Not yet.
“Wife or business?” She waited, the shakes getting worse. “Which am I? I want to know.”
He took a deliberate step closer and she shivered with anticipation. It never occurred to her to allow fear in. This was Richard, the man who’d built her a grand house and purchased a toy chest and a baby’s crib. She didn’t understand him fully, but she wasn’t afraid.
He stood within the door frame now, so near he barely extended his arm to trace fingertips along her collar bone.
Goose flesh prickled along the trail he branded. He reached her shoulder, grasped and squeezed in a manner that didn’t feel the least bit like friendship and nothing akin to a business agreement. Then retracing the trail he’d blazed, those heated fingertips barely skimmed her still-damp skin. She heard herself gasp.
He cupped her chin, though she hadn’t been able to pull her gaze from his face. He lowered his head, telegraphing his intention to kiss her.
Again.
How many kisses had there been today?
Was this his answer? Her tummy tingled, bounced, made a nuisance of itself.
This was no business handshake.
His lips touched hers, at first much like they had at the church once the pastor had pronounced them man and wife.
But the kiss before God, the minister, her sister and Adam Taylor had been perfunctory. A business dealing.
This kiss— this kiss awakened every nerve ending from her scalp, along her spine, and to her toes in delicious tingling… hadn’t it?
Richard brought his other hand to cup her neck, urge her just a little closer. His kiss deepened, heated.
Then his arms were around her, pulling her flush against him. And still he kissed her. Somehow, though she hadn’t a lick of experience, she kissed him back. Every bit as involved as if this were a discussion and they each spoke, took turns listening, struggled to explain themselves and to be understood.
She hadn’t any idea how long their kiss went on, but it seemed to explore every corner of her soul, lay bare everything she’d planned to withhold from him.
Never, despite all she’d thought she’d known, had she imagined a kiss could steal into her very being, muddle the firmest of resolves, and change everything .
When he finally ended the kiss, she expected to glimpse triumph or perhaps satisfaction on his features, but she would have sworn he was as shaken as she.
“Does that answer your
But he’d built this beautiful home. He’d referred to the residence as ‘ours’.
He’d said vows in the church and meant them.
Richard Cannon wore sincerity well.
To share his bed, to become fully his wife… scared her more than a little bit.
With no experience and desperately missing the factory girls, all those in the dormitory who would have listened to her fears and helped her find her way through this— how she missed them! — all she could do was follow her instincts. And right now, her instincts screamed to forget herself and place her trust her husband.
Hard to do, with her feet bare, her ankles naked, the towel indecently short and showing most of her calves, even with him ever so much taller and standing this near she doubted he could see more than her toes and ankles… she wasn’t wearing her corset.
Frankly, she wasn’t wearing much at all.
And legally wed or not, this was a most intimate circumstance for conversation.
“Sweetheart,” he said with great care, “yes, it’s perfectly acceptable for you to share my bed. Now tell me, what is it you need to know?”
“Mr. Cannon.” She raised her chin and fought the shakes. “Which am I? Wife or business?”
“Excuse me?” He lowered the hand braced against the wall, followed by the forearm. But he didn’t step back. He propped both hands on his lean hips, made even more apparent as he’d removed his jacket and vest. She wouldn’t be surprised to see he’d removed his shoes, but that would require looking down, and she wasn’t willing to take a peek.
Not yet.
“Wife or business?” She waited, the shakes getting worse. “Which am I? I want to know.”
He took a deliberate step closer and she shivered with anticipation. It never occurred to her to allow fear in. This was Richard, the man who’d built her a grand house and purchased a toy chest and a baby’s crib. She didn’t understand him fully, but she wasn’t afraid.
He stood within the door frame now, so near he barely extended his arm to trace fingertips along her collar bone.
Goose flesh prickled along the trail he branded. He reached her shoulder, grasped and squeezed in a manner that didn’t feel the least bit like friendship and nothing akin to a business agreement. Then retracing the trail he’d blazed, those heated fingertips barely skimmed her still-damp skin. She heard herself gasp.
He cupped her chin, though she hadn’t been able to pull her gaze from his face. He lowered his head, telegraphing his intention to kiss her.
Again.
How many kisses had there been today?
Was this his answer? Her tummy tingled, bounced, made a nuisance of itself.
This was no business handshake.
His lips touched hers, at first much like they had at the church once the pastor had pronounced them man and wife.
But the kiss before God, the minister, her sister and Adam Taylor had been perfunctory. A business dealing.
This kiss— this kiss awakened every nerve ending from her scalp, along her spine, and to her toes in delicious tingling… hadn’t it?
Richard brought his other hand to cup her neck, urge her just a little closer. His kiss deepened, heated.
Then his arms were around her, pulling her flush against him. And still he kissed her. Somehow, though she hadn’t a lick of experience, she kissed him back. Every bit as involved as if this were a discussion and they each spoke, took turns listening, struggled to explain themselves and to be understood.
She hadn’t any idea how long their kiss went on, but it seemed to explore every corner of her soul, lay bare everything she’d planned to withhold from him.
Never, despite all she’d thought she’d known, had she imagined a kiss could steal into her very being, muddle the firmest of resolves, and change everything .
When he finally ended the kiss, she expected to glimpse triumph or perhaps satisfaction on his features, but she would have sworn he was as shaken as she.
“Does that answer your
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