Alice: Bride of Rhode Island (American Mail-Order Bride 13) (4 page)

Chapter Six

A
lice sat in the parlor with Theo. She stared at the chess pieces and considered her next move, but her mind was restless.

It had been this way for the past week. There had been no honeymoon, just James telling her he didn’t expect anything from her. What he’d really meant was that he didn’t desire her enough to share his bed.

It bothered her more than she liked.

She was nothing more than a housekeeper. Not that it was unpleasant—Mrs. Irwin had schooled her in the everyday routine and continued to stop in to help, but Alice was confident she could handle the household chores herself. Besides, she didn’t have anything else to do.

Why doesn’t James want a real marriage with me?

It was true they were virtual strangers, but the only solution for that was to get to know one another. The insufferable man, however, refused to be present long enough for a conversation, let alone a meal.

After supper—
if
he ate supper with them—he would promptly depart, saying he had paperwork that needed his attention. Frank would also leave, to see Mary Beth. That left Theo to take pity on her.

“You’re taking a long time on this move.” He raised an eyebrow and watched with a youthful countenance. He had the dark look of the Martel men, but still carried a baby face and lankier build.

“My apologies.” She moved her rook. “What is James like?”

Theo smiled. “It’s hard marrying someone you don’t know, isn’t it? Please don’t take this the wrong way, Alice, but you showing up was a complete surprise. I had no idea James would ever send for a mail-order bride.”

James had decided not to tell anyone, not even Theo, that it had been Frank who had requested her. He felt it was better if everyone assumed
he
had sent for a wife.

She exhaled deeply. “Yes, it is hard marrying someone you don’t know.”

“James has always been serious, but when we were kids, he did look out for me. We moved from Providence to Tiverton when I was eight years old. It was hard settling in, and the other kids picked on me. James was thirteen but tall, so he looked much older. He wouldn’t tolerate anyone teasing me. He’s a good man, if difficult to live with.”

“James told me what happened to your parents. I’m very sorry, Theo.”

He stared at the chess pieces and shrugged. “It was James that got us through it. He took over the fishing company. He made it into what it is today.”

“Is the business successful?”

Theo nodded and grinned. “We fish the menhaden. Have you heard of them?”

Alice shook her head.

“It’s used to make an oil that can be utilized in soap-making and for smearing sheep to keep away parasites and soften the wool. It also makes an efficient compost. We fish mainly in Mount Hope Bay and have a fleet of six ships. James is looking to add more, but what we really hope to acquire is at least one fish oil factory. There are several in this area and it would really grow our business.”

“It sounds as if you all work really hard.”

“It’s all any of us has ever known.”

Alice moved her queen. “Check mate.”

Theo groaned. “You’ve beat me again. How did you get to be so good at this game?”

“My papa taught me when I was young. Like you, I’ve also lost both of my parents. But it’s nice to still have a connection to them, isn’t it?”

Theo silently agreed. “I think that’s why James devotes so much time to the business.”

Chapter Seven

A
lice placed a freshly-baked loaf of bread wrapped in cheesecloth into the basket, the warm, yeasty odor surrounding her. It sat atop a hunk of cheese and the ham from the previous evening’s supper. She went to the back door, shrugged into a heavy wool jacket and donned a bonnet, tying it below her chin. Midday was chilly in November.

Under a clear sky and a bright sun, she began the long walk to the wharf to bring lunch to James, Frank and Theo. Well, most days, it was only Frank and Theo. Her husband had a knack for being absent during her visits.

Seagulls hovered and swooped around her, and Alice took a deep breath of the biting sea air. On bad weather days, she took the buggy. Theo had showed her how to harness the gentle and amiable gray gelding they called Dimitri so that she could go to town if she desired. What she really craved, however, was the company of James. His complete lack of interest in their marriage,
and her
, left her nerves frayed. So, when she could walk, she embraced the exercise with a determined vigor fed by her brittle temper. She’d silently curse him all the way then pause just outside the door, hoping she might see him, hoping he would change.

The Martel Fishing Enterprises building—a ramshackle dwelling sided with weather-beaten shingles—sat at the end of a cluster of fishing-related businesses. Fishing for menhaden, called pogies by the locals, was by far the biggest enterprise, although Theo had told her that clams, quahogs, scallops, and oysters were also harvested during the summer.

Along with running the office, James, Frank and Theo frequently went out with the steamers they owned. On those days, she never saw James, since he arose before dawn and returned well after supper.

She could only hope that on this afternoon her husband was sequestered at his desk, attending to paperwork.

As she stepped from the soft ground to the wooden walkway, the tap of her boots matched the increasing pace of her heartbeat in anticipation of seeing her husband.

Men shouted in the distance. Unease rippled through her as she shifted her gaze to the fishing boats beyond. She set the basket down on the stoop of Martel Fishing and moved toward the commotion.

A sudden explosion blasted through the air, and she fell back. Stunned, she struggled to stand. Racing toward the smoking boat, she bumped into man after man as they yelled and pushed past her. The sight of a body dragged from the water made her heart stop.

James!

“Oh no!” She went immediately to his side as his body was hoisted on to the dock. “What happened?”

Frank crouched across from her, distress pinching his dirty face. “I told him not to go. He was trying to save Freddy from the fire. There was an oil drum...”

Alice removed her gloves and placed her hands on either side of James’ head, then beneath his nose. “He’s breathing.” She checked the length of him, looking for any serious injury. Black soot covered him, and his clothing was torn, but—thankfully— he was still in one piece. “We need to get him back to the office and call a doctor.”

Frank shouted to the men milling about, and they soon had hold of James’ unconscious form, carrying him up to the fishing office. Alice followed swiftly.

With no piece of furniture large enough to hold James’ large frame, Alice searched a sideboard and, upon locating a blanket, placed it onto the floor. The men laid James upon it. She folded a second blanket and slipped it beneath his head.

“Get the doctor,” she demanded to Frank.

He nodded and departed.

Alice went to work locating a cloth and basin of water and began cleaning James’ face. She unbuttoned his jacket, vest and shirt to assess any unseen injury, surprised by the matte of dark hair that covered his chest. As his wife, she should know such intimate details, and the fact that she didn’t filled her with despair.

Please don’t leave me, James.

Soon, a man arrived carrying a black bag.

“Alice, let Doc Sanford have a look.” Frank gently guided her into the outer room.

She watched the inert form of her husband until someone closed the door.

* * * *

James opened his eyes and found himself in his bedroom, but it had a decidedly feminine touch now. The plain white curtains had been replaced with a light purple lace, the coverlet atop him was in hues of yellows and blues, and a vase filled with flowers sat on the nightstand.

Alice entered the room, and her striped cotton day dress, despite being buttoned to her neck, revealed curves he’d tried his best to ignore. Since the day he’d married her, he’d managed to avoid his wife quite thoroughly.

She smiled, set a tray on the table at the foot of the bed, and turned to push the curtains wide. “I’m glad to see you’re awake.”

He scowled. “Why do you have flowers in your room?” Had he really just uttered such a silly question? Her presence addled his brain, not unlike the queasy sensation of seasickness.

She returned to the tray. “Although I’ve been into Tiverton several times, I actually found a delightful shop in Fall River that grows them indoors. I’m afraid I couldn’t resist. I’ve always had a weakness for flowers. It’s difficult living in an area that smells like rotting fish all the time. You did give me an allowance and said I could use it however I see fit.”

“I thought you might purchase some gowns for yourself.”

“I will. But Mrs. Irwin was able to give me several of her daughter’s hand-me-downs and I’m a quite capable seamstress.” She indicated her attire. “These will do.”

Like a schoolboy, his gaze locked onto her attributes as if he’d never before seen a woman. Mrs. Irwin’s daughter must be much smaller because Alice’s dress was distractingly snug. “How long have I been asleep?” he asked in an effort to break the spell his wife so easily cast over him.

“For a day.” She picked up a bowl and spoon and moved to the bedside. “Can you eat some broth? You really need to keep your strength up.”

He pushed himself to sit upright. Pain shot through his right ankle. “What the hell happened?”

She set the bowl on the nightstand, beside the flowers, and grabbed his arm to help him. Her touch on his bare skin startled him, and that’s when he noticed he wore no shirt. She adjusted the pillows so that he could lean back. Her lemony scent filled his senses, and despite his predicament, he became acutely aware of the two of them alone in his bedroom—correction,
her
bedroom. It didn’t matter one whit that it was bright daylight outside.

“Doc Sanford says your ankle is broken. The
Misty Seas
had a fire, and then there was an explosion—“

“Freddy!”

“He’s fine.” Her hands gently pushed back at this shoulders as he tried to rise from the bed again. “Well, not completely fine, but he’s recovering.”

Her touch ignited a new kind of panic in his belly. He reached for the bowl of broth and began to eat to distract himself.

“How bad is your pain?” she asked. “Can I give you something for it?”

“No. I’ll be fine.”

“Once you keep the broth down, I can make you a more substantial meal.”

He nodded.

She retrieved the wooden desk chair from the corner and moved it closer to the bed, then sat.

“Will Mrs. Irwin tend to me?” he asked, knowing the question was rude.

Alice furrowed her brows. He stared a moment longer than he should at her flushed cheeks, enticing rose-tinged lips, and blue eyes that reminded him of the sky on days he was on the wide open sea.

“I’m your wife, James.” Her back became straighter. “I can tend to you.”

Lord have mercy.

He didn’t have the strength to argue at the moment as fatigue crept upon him. He put the edge of the bowl to his mouth and swallowed the remainder of the broth in one gulp.

“Slow down,” she admonished, standing. “You’ll make yourself sick.” She took the bowl and spoon from him. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“No. I think I might like to rest for a while.”
And not imagine what lies beneath that cotton gown you’re wearing.

“Of course.” She poured a glass of water from a pitcher and set it on the nightstand. Without warning, she placed the back of her hand to his forehead.

His body jerked in response.

“Easy now,” she said, placing her other hand on his bare shoulder. “You don’t feel feverish. That’s good.”

There was more than one way to run a fever. She may as well have just touched him with a hot iron, so easily did his skin react to hers.

She gathered the dishes on the tray, lifted it and left the bedroom, closing the door without looking at him.

James let out a frustrated breath. He could still feel where her hand had all but imprinted onto his forehead and branded his shoulder. What would it be like to hold her, to kiss her, to...

He pushed back the covers to examine his ankle. It was wrapped, so movement was restricted. He tried to shift it, but pain sliced through his lower leg. He was definitely bed-bound for several days.

He lay back and stared at the ceiling.

He would ask Frank to bring the books from the office.

With luck, it would keep his mind off his wife.

Chapter Eight

J
ames ran a fever during the night, and Alice checked on him frequently, finally remaining in the bedroom instead of returning to the servant’s quarters where she’d been living. She’d insisted that James be brought to his former bedroom. With more sunlight, it was more conducive to healing, and there was an inspiring view of the Sakonnet as an added bonus.

The servant’s quarters were small, cramped, and a bit dingy. When she had more time, she would set to work freshening the room, although she hoped to convince James to remain in the upstairs bedroom with her.

The thought made her stomach turn somersaults, as it always did.

It didn’t help that the bed she’d slept in—his bed—smelled of him, a sharp musky scent tinged with the sun-warmed salt of the sea.

It drew her like a moth to a flame.

I like the way James smells.

She liked most everything about him, except the way he held her at arm’s length.

Keeping the lamplight low, she sat in the chair, reading a collection of poems by Longfellow, estimating it was still an hour before sunrise. James had finally settled into a deep slumber after she’d administered a tonic, and he seemed the better for it.

Truth be told, she didn’t want to leave him. Being near gave her purpose. It also gave her comfort.

She wondered if it would ever be possible for them to have a real marriage.

“You’re always reading.”

She started at James’ voice. “My apologies. Is the light bothering you?”

“No. I’ve slept more in the last few days than my entire childhood.”

She smiled, deposited the book onto the nightstand, and rose to check his forehead, but his large hand closed around her wrist to stop her.

“You need to stop doing that.”

“But how will I know if you’re still feverish?”

“I
will
recover, Alice. I’m no weakling.”

She hesitated, but silently agreed and stepped back, and he released his hold on her. In the faint glow of the yellow light, his muscular build filled the bed and beckoned her in a way she’d never before experienced with any man. The way he carried himself, the look of intelligence in his eyes, the strong set of his jaw all enticed her. Sometimes she caught him looking at her, and for the briefest of moments something passed between them. She couldn’t fathom why he’d married her only to deny any possible feelings he might have for her.

She sat back onto the chair, frustration welling up inside. “No, you’re no weakling.” She crossed her arms across her chest, tucking them below her bosom. “Perhaps it’s time you shared your history with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Where are you from?”

He pushed himself against the simple plank headboard, his shoulders flexing from the exertion. With great effort she had to stop herself from staring at the sinewy muscle. It was quite possible she would start drooling at any moment.

“I was born in Quebec.”

Latching onto the distraction, she asked, “You’re French-Canadian?”

“Oui.”

One simple French word let the starch out of her. If she’d had one of those fancy fans, she’d be cooling herself off as she pretended to sit sedately before him.

He ran a hand through his hair. “My maman and papa came here when I was still a babe, settling in Providence. Papa was a fisherman. When I was thirteen, he moved to Tiverton to start his own business. When Frank and I were old enough, we began working with him. Theo didn’t really get involved until after they were gone.”

“You must miss them terribly.”

His countenance softened. “I do.”

“From the sound of it, you’ve done a wonderful job with the company.”

“I’ve been very focused on it for the past five years. I was only twenty-one when my folks passed, but I feel as if I’ve aged a quarter century since.”

Alice sensed the weight he carried and wanted to reach out, to touch him, to reassure him that he was no longer alone. But she kept her hands clasped in her lap.

“How is it that you became Daniel Endicott’s step-daughter?” he asked.

The edge in James’ voice snagged her attention. “Do you know him?”

“A bit. Our businesses overlap.”

Apprehension washed over her. Would her path cross her stepfather’s despite every effort she’d made to distance herself from him? She sought to steady her nerves. She was married now. Daniel Endicott could no longer force her hand.

James raised an eyebrow. “So, what happened?”

She took a deep breath. “Daniel Endicott and my father were friends—Daniel was his attorney. When my father died, Daniel began to manage all my father’s business affairs. I never did quite understand how or why he did this. A year later, he convinced my mother to marry him. Then, he adopted me, and to my surprise, my mother agreed. Neither of us was very happy, though. I misbehaved and was soon shipped off to boarding school.”

“I had no idea you harbor such a rebellious spirit.”

“There’s much you don’t know about me.”

James flashed a grin at her, and her heart skipped a beat.

“I was eleven years old when my father was lost at sea,” she continued. “It’s rather ironic, actually, because the sea was his life. Gavin Harrington was most at home on a ship.”

“Gavin Harrington was your father?”

She nodded.

“His exploits during the Civil War were well known,” he said, his voice filled with reverence.

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you not know?”

She shook her head.

“He was one of the most successful privateers who serviced the Union in blockading the South. My papa knew him and spoke of him with admiration. In fact, they were to go into business together before your father died.”

“Truly? What happened?”

James narrowed his gaze. “Daniel Endicott didn’t honor the deal.” The flash of steely resolve unsettled Alice.

“I’m not surprised,” she answered quietly. She had little love for her stepfather.

“I take it you don’t have much knowledge of what your father left behind at his death.”

“No. I was young. Mama handled everything. And now...” She stared out the window.

“Is your mother still living?”

She brought her attention back to James. “No. Five years ago she died from consumption. I was away at school at the time and never had the opportunity to say goodbye.”

James went silent for a time, then finally said, “Did you run away from Daniel Endicott? Is that why you were working in that factory? Is that why you agreed to become a mail-order bride?”

Alice hesitated. “I don’t want Daniel Endicott to run my life. I want to be the master of my own journey.”

“Agreeing to become a stranger’s wife is hardly a way to forge your independence.”

“Maybe not.” A sudden flare of composure overtook her. “Are you a good man, James? Will you mistreat me?”

“No, Alice, I won’t mistreat you. Daniel Endicott can’t touch you while you’re my wife.”

His emphatic answer calmed her, but something about it also troubled her. ‘...
while you’re my wife.
’ She didn’t like the implication.

Early-morning light filtered into the room, ending the intimacy of their conversation.

She stood. “Let me make you breakfast. Would you like a poached egg and a piece of toast?”

“That would be nice.”

“Frank brought home a bag of oranges. I’ll squeeze fresh juice for you.”

“You’re going to spoil me.”

If I do, will you want me as a true wife?

The longing for something real and lasting pierced her. She fled to the hall before James could see the look of despair on her face.