Grace (The Marriage Market Book 2) (11 page)

              "I don't feel remarkable," Grace sighed, resting her elbow on the table and planting her chin on her hand. "I'll never be able to stick to it, not if he keeps looking at me that way. Lord, at times I feel I could melt into a puddle at his feet."

              "I don't see that as necessarily a bad thing. A woman should desire her husband. I don't care what the old biddies say about grit your teeth and think of England, I'm not marrying any man who doesn't at least make my heart race."

"Really?"

              "Yes, really. I think it's a myth that women don't enjoy marital relations, at least I hope it's a myth or I'm going to be very disappointed. I was really hoping Amelia would make a good marriage so we could ask her about it. At least she would be honest."

"Do you think she got our wire yet?"

"She should have as long as it didn't get intercepted by her evil husband or his misogynistic brother."

"What makes you think he's misogynistic?"

              "The way he spoke to me in his letter, like I was a second class citizen. Plus, he threatened me."

              "Well, yes and no. He simply advised you not to bring a gun to Seattle. Maybe he was thinking of your welfare."

Effie snorted.

"Maybe he was thinking he didn't want to get shot."

"Come on, Effie, you wouldn't really shoot the man."

              "If he hurt Amelia I would. Are you finished? We only have four hours to make you look like a bride."

              "Who cares, there's no one to see anyway," Grace said rising. "I always thought I'd have a big church wedding with you and Amelia as my attendants. The church would be filled with flowers and there would be beautiful music playing."

              "You can have all that," Effie offered, hooking her arm with Grace's. "Just wait in Seattle for Horace to come and drag you home. I'm sure he'll be the picture of the devoted groom in public."

              "Yes, and a horrible, abusive baboon in private. No thanks; I'll take the captain's quarters with a man I at least like, most of the time anyway."

"Good choice."

* * * * *

              They were married later that afternoon. Grace looked lovely wearing a turquoise day dress that was on the fancy side and carrying a posy of flowers Effie confiscated from one of her hats and dressed up with a ribbon.

              Softly Grace repeated her vows, her voice trembling several times as Jonah looked at her with encouragement. His strong arm supported her until he took her hand and slipped his pinky ring onto her middle finger.

"Sorry," he whispered. "I'll get you another as soon as I can."

"It's fine," Grace murmured.

              "I now pronounce you man and wife," the jovial captain boomed. "You may kiss your bride, Mr. Blackthorn."

              Effie didn't know who was more surprised when Grace offered her cheek to her new husband. Jonah ignored her gesture, and wrapping her tightly in his arms, he claimed her lips, tipping her back until she was clinging to him. It was several long moments before he set her back upright and bending his head he whispered something in her ear that had her face flaming nearly as brightly as her hair.

              "That's the way to do it, lad," Captain Woodard crowed in approval. "Congratulations. It's been a long time since we've had a wedding on the West Wind. Let's have a toast, shall we? Steward, get the glasses."

              He poured sherry for Effie and Grace and a stout shot of whiskey for Jonah and the first mate who stood as witness with Effie.

"To long life; may all you troubles be little ones," he said with a wink.

              Once the certificates were signed, Grace and Effie returned to their room. They would meet Jonah later for a wedding supper.

"All right, I have to know," Effie demanded as soon as the door was closed behind them.

              "Know what?" Grace asked, pouring some water into the basin and patting her face with a cool cloth.

              "Come on, what he whispered to you after that magnificent kiss?" she pleaded with a teasing smile.

"I'm too embarrassed to say."

              Going to Grace she undid the buttons down the back of her dress and helped her pull it over her head. Turning, Grace did the same for her. 

              Loosening her corset, Effie removed her shoes and lay back on the bed in her chemise and petticoat. The gentle rocking of the ship was the perfect inducement to take a nap.

"I'd tell you," she quietly sighed when Grace stretched out beside her.

Grace was quiet until Effie turned away with a humph.

"All right, I'll tell you, but you have to promise not to laugh."

"I promise," Effie replied, quickly turning over. "What did he say?"

              "He said he was going to make me want him and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it," she whispered so softly Effie barely heard her.

Effie giggled before she could stop herself and then sighed delightedly.

"It's probably true, isn't it?" Grace wiggled, trying to get comfortable.

              "Probably," she admitted. "Go to sleep, Grace. I think you may have made a grand bargain."

"Do you think he'll help us rescue Amelia?"

              "After seeing that kiss, I think he'll do just about anything you ask of him," she said sleepily.

              Amelia and Molly were standing on a plank balanced between two chairs when Hugh, Angus and Ethan walked into the new cabin.

"A little to the left," Martha instructed.

"You just said a little to the right," Molly cried. "Make up your damn mind."

"I know and you went too far. Do you want these curtains to look right or don't you?"

"You know I do, but I don't want to get caught," Molly snapped. "Angus is pretty fussy about me doin' thing's he thinks are dangerous. If he only knew some of the risky things I've done, he'd have a stroke."

"Will you two stop arguing," Amelia pleaded. "My arms are killing me."

              "All right, that's perfect," Martha pronounced. "Just let me get the hammer. Don't either of you move a muscle." Spinning around she found her nose planted in the middle of a broad chest. The huge blond man held a finger to his lips and pulled her back.

It wasn't very long before the women started fidgeting.

"Come on, Martha. I can't hold it for much longer," Amelia whined.

"No, you certainly can't," her husband replied.

"Oh, no," she cried looking down.

              "Save it, darling, I imagine you'll be saying quite a bit of that later. What in blue blazes are you doing up there?"

Molly, refusing to look down, twisted her head so she could see Amelia.

"He's not alone, is he?" she whispered.

Amelia shook her head.

"Damn."

              "Molly Muldoon, you watch your language. You're already in enough trouble," Angus scolded.

"We were just trying to hang the new curtains," she nearly wailed.

"I can see that, Lass, and I'd have gladly helped you if you'd asked. Now get down from there before you fall and crack your head open."

"No. I've been standing here for twenty minutes and I'm not getting down until they're hung properly."

              "Oh you're not, we'll see about that." Looking at Hugh, he nodded and they both gripped their women around their waists at precisely the same instant and lifted them to the floor.

              Amelia rubbed her arm frantically, trying to restore some semblance of feeling while Molly stomped her foot.

"Dammit, Angus, now we'll have to start all over."

              "Oh Lord, I want so badly to wash your mouth out with soap," he groaned rubbing his forehead. "I said we'll do it for you."

              Martha was slowly scooting around the giant man who'd apparently been ordered to watch her because he caught her wrist in a firm yet gentle grasp and pulled her back to his side.

              "Martha, I'd like you to meet my foreman, Ethan. Ethan, Martha Jonah from Philadelphia," Hugh said, rubbing his wife's arm while he scowled down at her.

"Nice to meet you," Martha said tentatively tugging on her wrist.

              "Nice to meet you too, Ma'am," Ethan replied with a smile showing straight white teeth. He still didn't release her. "Are you spoken for?"

"What? Um, no, I'm not."

"You are now," the blond giant stated with a wink. "I think I'll take this one, Hugh."

"Take me where?" Martha demanded, beginning to get nervous.

"Take you to wife, of course."

"You let go of me this instant," she ordered, tugging hard against his grip.

              Ethan released her so quickly she staggered back two steps and fell on her bottom with an oomph. Her face flaming, she struggled to get up but before she could, Ethan swooped in and picked her up as though she weighed no more than a child. Setting her on her feet, he began dusting off her backside with a little more force than was strictly necessary.

              "Stop it," she squealed, spinning around and covering her bottom with both hands. "What do you think you're doing?"

              "Brushing you off, there is still quite a bit of saw dust on the floor," he explained with a grin.

              "I can brush myself off. You just keep your hands off my… my… person, thank you very much," she snapped. Backing up, she tried to smooth her hair back into a semblance of order.

"I'm just trying to help my bride to be."

"I am not your bride to be," she stammered. "Why, I don't even know you."

              "I am Ethan Jorgenson. My family came here from Sweden when I was just a lad. My parents own a restaurant in town and my brothers and I work for Mr. Jordon. I'm the oldest and have been a foreman for six years. Right now I share a cabin with my brothers, but I will build a new cabin before we are wed. Anything else you would like to know?" he asked, standing tall and proud while the others watched in amazement.

              "Well, I… It's nice to meet you, Mr. Jorgenson, but you can't just claim me as your bride like it was some kind of auction."

"Is there to be an auction, Hugh? I will bid on Martha Jonah."

"Um, not that I know of," Hugh replied grinning. "But you know my mother, she's very unconventional."

              "Hugh, stop teasing," Amelia insisted. "Of course there will not be an auction, Mr. Jorgenson. The brides will choose their own husbands."

              "This is good; you will choose me, Martha. It will be a fine match," Ethan said with a confident smile.

"I'm not sure I will choose anyone," Martha replied with a haughty tilt to her chin.

Ethan scowled.

"You are a pretty woman. Are you also stubborn and willful?" he asked thoughtfully.

"No, I am not stubborn, just particular," she sassed back.

              "Ah, there is another man who has captured your heart," he sighed, nodding with understanding.

"No one has captured my heart, Mr. Jorgenson," she cried, frustrated to the point of really losing her temper. "My heart is not up for grabs."

"Did you not come here seeking a husband?"

"Yes, I did."

              "Good, I am seeking a wife," he said, striding toward her. Picking her up by the waist, he kissed her quickly and firmly before twirling her around. "It is good. You have sweet lips," he teased. Setting her down, he swatted her briskly on the bottom. "I must get back to work. Behave yourself and no climbing up on chairs," he warned. "I am an easy going man but I will be a firm husband."

Martha swayed slightly, opening and closing her mouth, but no words came out.

              "Ah, you know when to be quiet, I like that. Tomorrow I will call for you at seven and we will go to my parents' restaurant for dinner. I want them to meet you and Mama will want to talk about the wedding."

              Hugh and Angus made a hasty retreat after the door closed behind Ethan. They promised to be back in an hour and help with anything that required a ladder. Until then, the women could make themselves busy with other tasks.

              Amelia and Molly looked at Martha strangely. She still hadn't said a word, just stood there with her fingers touching her lips.

"Are you all right?" Amelia asked.

"I think so."

              "You don't have to marry him just because he said so," Molly added, looking between Amelia and Martha.

              "No, I certainly don't," Martha agreed with very little conviction. Several moments later she squared her shoulders and marched to the window. "Give me that hammer," she said decisively as she climbed up on the plank. "You two might have to kowtow to a man, but I don't." Peeking out through the glass she looked around the area to make sure no one was watching her.

* * * * *

Putting a dab of perfume behind each ear, Grace got ready to go to dinner.

"Effie," she began, watching her friend in the mirror. "Can I ask you something?"

"What is it, Grace?" Walking up to the built in bureau, Effie met her eyes in the mirror.

"Why didn't you say anything when Jonah made his proposal?"

"He didn't ask me, dear, he asked you."

              "I know, but you're one to speak your mind. I was sort of waiting for you to either interrupt or talk me out of it in some way."

Effie turned Grace around and took her hands.

              "I know you have feelings for Mr. Blackthorn, and I suspect they run pretty deep. I want you to be happy, Grace, and while he's not someone I would choose, he may be the right man for you. Aside from that, being married to him will protect you from Horace better than I ever could.

"I think he's right. Horace will try to force you to return east in any way he can. We both know physical violence is his preferred method of persuasion. I don't believe he can intimidate Jonah Blackthorn."

Grace nodded and moved to get her bag.

"Take you wrap, Grace. I wouldn't be surprised if your new husband wants to take you for a stroll around the deck after dinner. I've been told it's quite romantic."

"Should I go?" Grace asked, biting her lip.

              "Of course," Effie laughed. "Just don't lose your temper and push him overboard. I think we may need him."

* * * * *

              Dinner was a pleasant affair. They were joined by the captain and first mate and there was even a small cake, baked by the cook.

              All during the meal, Jonah was solicitous to both women, but his eyes never strayed far from Grace. He touched her in some small way every chance he got, looking at her with a teasing expression each time she blushed. After they'd finished, Jonah suggested a stroll on the deck and Grace rose, allowing him to drape her wrap around her shoulders before taking his arm.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"I'll return her to your cabin in a little while," Jonah told Effie with a slight bow.

              If the captain thought it was unusual the newlyweds were not sharing a bed, he didn't mention it. Rising, he offered Effie his arm and escorted her down the corridor to her room.

* * * * *

"It's a lovely night," Grace sighed, looking at the full moon shining on the waves.

"Yes it is, but it can't compare to you in the moonlight," Jonah replied, moving to the rail.

"You don't have to compliment me, I've already married you," she teased.

"That you did and I am most grateful."

"You are? Why?"

              "To say I've been worried about you would be an understatement," Jonah said. "You two have led me on quite a chase since Chicago. Had I caught up with you sooner, you might have seen a much different side of me."

"In what way?"

"Well, had I managed to get ahold of you before you left Omaha, let's just say the train ride across the plains and through the Rockies might have been uncomfortable," he drawled, taking her hand and kissing her wrist.

'You would strike me?" she asked in surprise.

"I most certainly would, right on your misbehaving behind," he laughed. "Don't ever doubt it and don't ever run from me again, Gracie. You can always tell me what you're thinking or feeling, but don't run away. I thought I would go crazy worrying about that man and his companions getting their hands on you."

"Why, you hardly knew me?" she whispered.

              "I knew enough. I knew you were young and naïve, easy prey for an unscrupulous man. I knew you were lovely enough to temp even a good man to take advantage of you, because you sure tempted me."

"I did?" she asked breathlessly.

"Yes, Gracie, you did."

              "Don't call me, Gracie. It makes me feel like a little girl and I'm far from that," she insisted, trying to keep her head when he was telling her such wondrous things.

"You are little, and very, very sweet," he replied looking her over with a crooked smile tilting his lips.

              "I'm not. I'm nearly nineteen and taller than most of my friends. As an independent woman, I'm perfectly capable of looking out for myself and besides, I have a large bosom," she spat out before she could stop herself. Gasping, her hand flew to her mouth in dismay.

"You have a spectacular bosom," Jonah choked out in agreement, "as well as other physical attributes, but that does not make you invincible. You may be nearly nineteen, but if you ever put yourself in danger again, sweetheart, you'll be over my knee bawling like a five-year-old getting her first licking."

"Jonah," she cried, taking a step back. "Are you threatening me?"

              "I'm educating you on what I will and will not tolerate as your husband. I know you think the gun toting Miss Lane is a form of defense, but she's likely to get you both killed, especially in this part of the country. Most men don't take to a woman pointing a gun at them."

"That's exactly what Mr. Jordon wrote to Effie," Grace said absently.

"Mr. Jordon? What do you know about Mr. Jordon?"

"Samuel Jordon is the brother of our best friend's husband. That's the reason we made this trip in the first place, well one of them. The other you know about, I had to get away from Horace."