Blacksmith Brides by Amanda Barratt

Author:Amanda Barratt [Barratt, Amanda; Couch, Angela K.; Thomas, Pegg; Uhlarik, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781643524276
Publisher: Barbour Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2020-06-14T16:00:00+00:00

An Irishman? Her late husband had cursed the existence of them, and they had indeed plagued the streets of Boston. But this man did not speak with the same strong brogue. Looking at his wares, it was obvious he was a talented craftsman.

But Irish?

“Look at these fireplace shovels.” Julia waved her over to a small selection leaning against the wall. Some simpler styles, while others sported intricate handles portraying hearts and vines. One spiraled upward from the base into an elegant hook at the top, a teardrop of bronze melded within. A matching broom stood alongside. A man who knew his craft.

She brushed a finger over the smooth handle. “Very nice.”

“Is that the set you would like?”

“Should do adequately.” The need for a fire in her room was almost gone with the warming weather, but this would appease her sister.

Julia motioned to Mr. Flynn, who stood in the doorway beside Charlie. “Can you set these aside, and I’ll have someone fetch them.”

His head dipped with a nod, but his azure gaze remained on Esther, stirring the strangest sensation in her chest. “I hope they will serve you well, ma’am.”

Esther refrained from shifting. “I’m sure they will.” She should tell him how beautiful she thought them, how much she appreciated the skill required. Instead, she opened her hand to Charlie. “Let’s be off.”

He came obediently, but she wasn’t blind to the pat on the shoulder the blacksmith gave him as a send-off. Her core melted at the gesture. Most seemed eager to keep her boy at arm’s length, as though his ailment would somehow pass to them. A boy with a heart as big as Charlie needed touch, needed acceptance.

The sun greeted them as they stepped onto the street, and Esther blinked at the noonday brightness, not allowing herself to look at the man who watched them from his doorway. Instead, she glanced to her sister. “When we’re home, I’ll give you the money to send. I see no reason for Father to take care of me as before I married. Charles left me a comfortable enough living.”

“Nonsense. Father will not hear of you fritting away your living so long as you’re here. Besides, Mr. Flynn has a debt with father. Anything we wish from his shop is simply deducted from that amount. Don’t give it a second thought.”

Esther held her reply, though she had no intention of backing down. She enjoyed her independence, and would allow Mr. Flynn the same. If he paid Father with the money she owed him, that was his right. Though what sort of debt would a blacksmith have with a doctor? Even if not as large a man as many of the blacksmiths she’d seen, the strength in his lean frame was impossible to ignore. Hard to imagine such a virile man sick. Perhaps a family member had fallen ill? For all she knew, Mr. Flynn was married with a dozen children. The Irish never seemed to do things by halves.

After the milliners, Julia led her to the dressmakers where she hurried about selecting ribbons and gushing over fabrics.

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