Read Online Mail Order Prairie Bride: (A Western Historical Romance) (Dodge City Brides Book 1) by Julianne MacLean - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Julianne MacLean
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wife in tears, hunched over an empty table.
What was she going to do now? She couldn’t face him with a cold slab of salt pork when he came home, but she wasn’t about to waste time experimenting with the art of burning grass either. Heaven forbid her husband should return and discover her doing something wrong. She’d never hear the end of it.
She walked onto the roof, raising a hand to shade her eyes from the sun while she looked all around for Briggs. Strangely, her stomach did a flip when she spotted him, far off across the field. He was piercing hay with a pitchfork and tossing it into his wagon. Standing shirtless in the tall grass, in that ivory-colored Stetson, he was an arresting sight to behold, like a perfect Adonis, exquisitely formed, and she couldn’t help but admire his impressive physique. There was something so manly and virile about him. It caused a tremor of lust in her belly as she remembered their lovemaking the night before.
Despite everything, their wedding night had been more pleasurable and satiating than anything she could have imagined. She’d had no idea the marriage bed could be so sensuous and physically gratifying. If only there had been no secrets between them.
She flopped down onto the grassy roof, trying to stay focused, because there was work to be done and she couldn’t spend the afternoon ogling her husband in the fields. She let out a groan. Why had he left her so soon without explaining in more detail how things were done here? She could feel an irksome lump forming in her throat, but she’d come this far. She was not about to fall apart now. All she had to do was venture out there and ask Briggs a few simple questions.
May a thorn prick her pride for making it so difficult.
* * *
Hiking along the wagon tracks, carrying a bucket of cold water and a tin cup, Sarah rehearsed her questions. She had to ask them in a way that made her seem confident and comfortable in her new surroundings. In order to truly feel that way, she had to learn a hundred-and-one new ways to be a wife, and fast.
The bucket grew heavier with each labored stride she took into the hot summer wind, until her arm felt like it was being wrenched from its socket. Water sloshed and splashed into the grass, but she didn’t mind if it lightened her load a bit. All she had to do was ignore her own thirst and forget the idea of taking a drink herself before she reached her husband.
Huffing and puffing, she tramped onward with forced confidence until Briggs looked up from his work. Exhilaration pulsed within her as their eyes met. How was it possible that his face kept getting more handsome? And she had to fight not to stare at his bronze, muscular chest with the sun raining down upon him, reflecting the droplets of perspiration like tiny diamonds. He paused for a brief second or two and watched her, then leaned to the task again, spearing hay with the pitchfork and tossing it over his shoulder into the wagon.
“Hello there,” she said, reaching him at last.
He pitched one last mound of hay, then stopped and leaned the fork against the wagon. “What are you doing out here?”
“I brought you something to drink.” She set the bucket in the grass, scooped out a cup of water and held it out to him.
He glared at it suspiciously, as if he thought it might contain arsenic. A trickle of sweat made a trail from his temple along his hairline, and he wiped it with his forearm before raising the cup to his lips. He closed his eyes and tipped back his head while Sarah watched his Adam’s apple chug. The skin on his neck shone with perspiration, and she found herself taking shallow breaths at the awesome sight of him.
He drank the water then bent to fill another cup. Resting a muscled arm along the side of the wagon and crossing one ankle over the other, he met her gaze. “Not enough to keep you busy today?”
“There’s plenty,” she responded, trying to come up with a dignified way to ask how to light a
What was she going to do now? She couldn’t face him with a cold slab of salt pork when he came home, but she wasn’t about to waste time experimenting with the art of burning grass either. Heaven forbid her husband should return and discover her doing something wrong. She’d never hear the end of it.
She walked onto the roof, raising a hand to shade her eyes from the sun while she looked all around for Briggs. Strangely, her stomach did a flip when she spotted him, far off across the field. He was piercing hay with a pitchfork and tossing it into his wagon. Standing shirtless in the tall grass, in that ivory-colored Stetson, he was an arresting sight to behold, like a perfect Adonis, exquisitely formed, and she couldn’t help but admire his impressive physique. There was something so manly and virile about him. It caused a tremor of lust in her belly as she remembered their lovemaking the night before.
Despite everything, their wedding night had been more pleasurable and satiating than anything she could have imagined. She’d had no idea the marriage bed could be so sensuous and physically gratifying. If only there had been no secrets between them.
She flopped down onto the grassy roof, trying to stay focused, because there was work to be done and she couldn’t spend the afternoon ogling her husband in the fields. She let out a groan. Why had he left her so soon without explaining in more detail how things were done here? She could feel an irksome lump forming in her throat, but she’d come this far. She was not about to fall apart now. All she had to do was venture out there and ask Briggs a few simple questions.
May a thorn prick her pride for making it so difficult.
* * *
Hiking along the wagon tracks, carrying a bucket of cold water and a tin cup, Sarah rehearsed her questions. She had to ask them in a way that made her seem confident and comfortable in her new surroundings. In order to truly feel that way, she had to learn a hundred-and-one new ways to be a wife, and fast.
The bucket grew heavier with each labored stride she took into the hot summer wind, until her arm felt like it was being wrenched from its socket. Water sloshed and splashed into the grass, but she didn’t mind if it lightened her load a bit. All she had to do was ignore her own thirst and forget the idea of taking a drink herself before she reached her husband.
Huffing and puffing, she tramped onward with forced confidence until Briggs looked up from his work. Exhilaration pulsed within her as their eyes met. How was it possible that his face kept getting more handsome? And she had to fight not to stare at his bronze, muscular chest with the sun raining down upon him, reflecting the droplets of perspiration like tiny diamonds. He paused for a brief second or two and watched her, then leaned to the task again, spearing hay with the pitchfork and tossing it over his shoulder into the wagon.
“Hello there,” she said, reaching him at last.
He pitched one last mound of hay, then stopped and leaned the fork against the wagon. “What are you doing out here?”
“I brought you something to drink.” She set the bucket in the grass, scooped out a cup of water and held it out to him.
He glared at it suspiciously, as if he thought it might contain arsenic. A trickle of sweat made a trail from his temple along his hairline, and he wiped it with his forearm before raising the cup to his lips. He closed his eyes and tipped back his head while Sarah watched his Adam’s apple chug. The skin on his neck shone with perspiration, and she found herself taking shallow breaths at the awesome sight of him.
He drank the water then bent to fill another cup. Resting a muscled arm along the side of the wagon and crossing one ankle over the other, he met her gaze. “Not enough to keep you busy today?”
“There’s plenty,” she responded, trying to come up with a dignified way to ask how to light a
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