Josephine_Bride of Louisiana by Cindy Caldwell

Author:Cindy Caldwell [Caldwell, Cindy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical, Romance, Fiction, Forever Love, Victorian Era, western, Fifth In Series, saga, Fifty-Books, Forty-Five Authors, Newspaper Ad, short story, American Mail-Order Bride, Bachelor, Single Woman, marriage of convenience, Christian, Religious, Faith, inspirational, Factory Burned, Pioneer, Subterfuge, Massachusetts, Privileged Childhood, Louisiana, Speaks French, Plantation, Mississippi River, Father, Charade
Goodreads: 27425201
Publisher: Virtual Bookpublishing, LLC.
Published: 2015-12-06T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Pierre tried to make it to the cottage as quickly as he could, as Josephine’s fingernails were digging into his arm, deeper with every clap of thunder. He smiled down at her, her face buried on his shoulder and her hair tickling his nose. He breathed deeply, and the scent of rose water washed over him and combined with the falling rain, he actually thought it was quite nice--all of it.

He pulled up in front of the cottage, glad he’d worn his boots and had asked Josephine to, as well. He pried her fingers from his arm and his heart pinched as she shivered at the next clap of thunder.

“I’ll be right back, Josephine,” he said as he set her hands on the handle of the basket. “I’ll just be a second.”

He looked back at her pleading eyes as he hopped out and walked the horses and the buggy under a lean-to on the side of the cottage--one they’d built for just this kind of thing. The horses and buggy under cover, he hastily tied them to the post and ran around for Josephine, swooping her up in his arms as she stood. He turned and took just a few long strides and they were under the roof of the porch.

He felt her shivering as he opened the door of the cottage, pushing it open wider with his foot. He quickly looked around, releasing his breath when he spotted the pile of firewood in the corner.

“You’ll be all right here, just for a moment. Let me start a fire.” He removed his coat, draped it over her thin wrap and reached for some of the kindling set by the front door. The cottage should be well stocked, he thought, as sometimes workers needed to stay rather than take the time to travel all the way back to the main house.

“The...the basket.”

Pierre looked up from the wood stove, intent on getting it lit and adding a little warmth in the room. It wasn’t terribly cold yet this time of year, but it could be. Storms here were unpredictable. Besides, this young lady was shivering enough from the thunder, and the fire certainly couldn’t hurt.

“Are you saying that you’re incredibly eager to find out what French delicacies Bernadette has in store for us?” He smiled, and her meek one in return tugged at his heart. He remembered being frightened by storms as a small boy, but when his mother passed away, he no longer had the luxury of being comforted by her--so he toughened up.

“You were hungry. Your stomach growled,” she said as she took a deep breath and moved closer to the start of the fire. She held her hands closer to it and turned toward him. “Thank you, Pierre. I...it’s something that’s frightened me since I was a child. I always hope I’m over it.”

He pulled his coat more snugly around her shoulders. “It would appear not,” he said, smiling at her.

By the time he’d returned with the basket, Josephine had removed her bonnet, found a cloth and dusted off the small table and chairs.

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