Free Lessie: Bride of Utah (American Mail-Order Bride 45) by Kristin Holt Page B

in the guest room, just for a few weeks—”
    He had to put a stop to that crazy talk, right now. “We already agreed to begin as we mean to go on. We’re both going to sleep in our own bed. That doesn’t mean I’ll take what you’re not ready to give.”
    She bit her bottom lip.
    “Sweetheart, I promise you something with all the solemnity of a husband’s promise. I understand you’re hesitant.”
    She looked up suddenly, as if surprised by compassion coming from his mouth. She must’ve seen what she needed to see because she relaxed, visibly. As if tension had been soothed from her muscles.
    Maybe, if he tried, he could ensure she did feel more at home, more at ease. They both wanted that, didn’t they? “You’re right, my dear. We’re mostly strangers. Man and wife, who need time to become well-acquainted, to learn to trust one another.”
    “Yes. Exactly.”
    He approached, glad when she didn’t flinch. He took her hands in his, surprised at how dry and rough they’d become since her bath. He drew his thumbs over her knuckles, found them cracked. “You’re not accustomed to Utah’s arid environment, are you?”
    She lifted one slender shoulder in a shrug. “No.”
    “I can fix that. I have just the thing.” He opened a cabinet door, looked carefully through the contents and at last found a bottle of Palmer’s lotion.
    It took some doing, but he managed to urge her upstairs and into their bedroom. “Have a seat there on the vanity seat, Sweetheart, and let me see to your dry skin. It looks like it hurts.”
    He poured a bit of the moisturizer into his palm, rubbed his hands together to warm the concoction, then gestured for her to put her hand in his. After only the slightest of hesitations, she slipped her left hand in his, the one bearing his ring. A plain gold band, devoid of gemstones.
    His ring.
    He dropped to one knee at her feet and worked the lotion into her hand, taking extra care where her skin had split in the desert’s nearly unbearable dryness.
    Something about the simple ministration felt wonderful. Soothing to him as well as to her.
    He might need to wait a while, an undetermined length of time before he might fully enjoy marital relations, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t persuade her to find herself ready quite a bit earlier than she might have assumed.
    Sudden optimism lifted his spirits. He’d never seen himself as a seducer of women, but the thought of seducing his wife was suddenly irresistible.
     

     
    This time of night, no one was anywhere near the telegraph key, which suited his purposes just fine. He paused in the deep, dark shadow cast by a faint sliver of waning moon, watching a spell. Just to be sure.
    Maybe five minutes passed without hide nor hair of another person noticing him. So he turned the knob and let himself inside.
    He knew code well enough, could send a message only those in the know could understand. To anybody who shouldn’t be listening in, it’d sound like a couple of love-sick operators sending poetry down the wire.
    Dratted clever if he did say so himself.
    He transmitted the brief signal, waiting for a come-back.
    Seconds passed, then more like a full minute.
    Irritation flashed. What had the fool gone and done? Fallen asleep? Wandered off to water a bush?
    He’d try once more, and if the soldier didn’t come back like he was supposed to, somethin’ just might happen to him. He wouldn’t see it comin’, but it’d happen, just the same. Maybe he’d know in his last seconds of life he’d been snuffed, maybe not.
    Maybe it didn’t matter.
    Hello, sweet pea.
    The key clacked in dots and dashes.
    Seconds trickled past. Finally, the clatter came back. Missing you.
    A rush of jubilation, like the first few minutes after an expensive shot of liquor, warmed his veins and provoked a smile. The correct station identified.
    Men like him didn’t usually smile, but with the stars lining up as they were and nobody around to witness him grinning,