Dakota Bride by Joyce Armor

Author:Joyce Armor
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: love, horses, danger, welsh, irish, widower, novella, south dakota, sandwiches, fiddle
Publisher: Joyce Armor

Chapter 6

As she approached the chair, Carys quickly took in the rest of the cozy room, marveling particularly over the built-in bookshelf, which included a number of volumes that appeared to have actually been read, another stark contrast to her former employer’s pristine bookshelf. She also noticed the sturdy chair behind the desk, a large, oval burgundy rug with a green border and burgundy and white curtains on the window, which looked out onto the field next to the house.

She slumped into the chair, which fit her back perfectly. It was as comfortable as it appeared, just like the bench in Con’s stable. Just like him. She looked up. And up. And up as he leaned against the edge of the desk with his arms folded. She almost rolled her eyes. This must be his imposing, intimidating look.

“It occurs to me, Miss Rees, that I have invited you into my home without knowing hardly anything about you.”

He waited for a response. When none came, he continued. “Where are you from? What brought you to this country? How did you live once you arrived in America? Why did you leave Pennsylvania? Or is that even where you were?”

Her heart pounding a mile a minute, she wiped her hand across her mouth and then rested her elbow on the arm of her chair and supported her chin on her hand. “We lived in Taibach, Wales. My father worked in the mines. Most of my family died in the cholera epidemic of ’66. The following year, my father and I decided to start over in America.”

She went on to tell him about her tad’s dream of buying a farm, her experience aboard the Frisia, her father’s death and how the Switzers promised to take her in.

“How old were you?”

“Fifteen.”

He quickly did the math in his head. She was 22 now, older than he’d thought.

As she told her story, he uncrossed his arms, and when she got to the part about her years of servitude with the Chestnut Hill couple, his fists clenched.

“Is that why you left Pennsylvania?”

The moment of truth.

Tell him.

Don’t tell him. He’ll throw you out.

For a woman who was overly chatty, this was like pulling teeth. He frowned. “A simple yes or no will do.”

She wrung her hands, then looked at him with the most desperate look he had ever seen. He wanted to draw her into his arms and comfort her. No! No-no-no-no-no!

“Just tell me,” he said softly

If he had demanded she tell him, she probably wouldn’t have. She most likely would have concocted some lie. But she had no defense for the kindness approach.

She hesitated, then began her story. “About six months ago, a distant cousin, Trent Switzer, arrived in Chestnut Hill from Baltimore. Mr. Switzer named him manager of one of his clothing stores for gentlemen, and he began showing up at the house at different times.”

Con had a bad feeling. “Is he the one who…” He fluttered his hand toward her stomach.

At that, she suddenly ran out of patience.

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