Read Online The Wrong Brother's Bride by Allison Merritt - Free Book Online

signaling for him to follow along. Strange that she’d spent a portion of her wedding night watching a foal come into the world when the reason for her marriage was to provide for her child. Hand over her stomach, she paused on the path.
    “Loyal?”
    August’s voice washed over her. She could have pretended he was Jeremiah, turned, and claimed a kiss. It would probably shock him more than a punch on the nose. Tonight she should have been curled next to a man she loved and trusted. But soon she’d be tucked into bed alone except for her thoughts.
    “Waiting for you.” She smiled and it felt like her face would crack. With the darkness, he probably couldn’t see it anyway. Or the loss she felt.
    “Go on in. I think I’ll sit on the porch a while.”
    He had to be as exhausted as she was. She wondered if there were things he needed to think through before coming inside.
    “Good night.” A proper wife might kiss her husband on the cheek at least. She didn’t feel ready for that. So far they’d developed a friendly relationship. Best not to rush into anything.
    “Thanks for your help. I couldn’t have saved the foal without you.”
    Under the stars, she made out his face. The line of his cheek, the crook in his nose, and familiar stubborn chin. The slightest curve of his lips. The same set she’d avoided kissing earlier in the day. For a moment she allowed herself to wonder what it would be like to kiss him fully. A pang struck her heart. Although she was a new bride, she’d lost her first love. Her feelings were confused because they’d worked together to help Molly.
    “My pleasure.” She winced at her words. There hadn’t been anything pleasant about the task, at least not until the foal was up. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
    “’Night, Loyal.”
    She sucked a breath through her teeth and turned away without saying anything else.
     
     

 
    6
     
    Loyal had been awake for an hour before daylight, though she hadn’t summoned the energy to rise. Nearly four months into her pregnancy, she still suffered stomach-twisting morning sickness. August would need a hearty meal before he began working. She couldn’t lie in bed while he labored with the crops.
    The faint scent of coffee crept under the crack beneath the door. Dizziness washed over her and she lay back against her pillow. Getting dressed and going into the kitchen seemed impossible.
    Behind the door, the tin coffee percolator clanked against the stovetop. August’s heavy footsteps carried him across the room, each one pounding into her head like a nail. A few minutes more with her eyes closed to stop the room from spinning and she’d be fine. He probably didn’t have the faintest idea about cooking. Yes, she could tolerate frying meat and eggs. Never mind those running yellow yolks spreading across a grease-covered pan. She blocked the image from her mind. She kept a night jar near the bed. Neither getting up nor using it appealed to her. If August heard, she’d never be able to look him in the eye again.
    He knocked on the door and she dragged a pillow over her face. There was no time to brush her hair or put on a dress. He opened the door without asking. “Loyal?”
    “I’ll be up in a few minutes.” Or in the afternoon, if her stomach didn’t stop churning.
    The pillow slipped away from her face and she cracked an eye.
    August wore a frown that strained his features. “I made tea. It might help your stomach.” He bent low over the bed. “Sit up a little and tell me if it’s the right strength.”
    “You’re being a gentleman.” She sat, more from surprise than because she wanted to try his brew.
    “It’s been known to happen.” The frown was replaced with an amused smile. He lifted a teacup from a tray. His big hand almost swallowed the dainty china, but he presented it with all the care of a devoted servant. Or a husband showing genuine sympathy for his wife.
    “How did you know?” she asked, accepting the cup. Steam