Free Grace: Bride of Montana (American Mail-Order Bride 41) by Debra Holland

have a photograph taken, even if the colors won’t show.”
    Grace inhaled the scent of roses. “My mother told me a portrait was done of the ancestress who first wore this dress, as well as one of her groom. Those paintings were passed down through a different branch of the family and became lost to us.” Suddenly the connection to family felt important. “Maybe Frey and I could also have a portrait painted, so the colors would show.”
    “Good idea.”
    Grace reached out a hand to Trudy. She started to speak, but a lump formed in her throat, and she couldn’t even put her gratitude into words. All she could do was press her new friend’s hand.
    Trudy pulled a handkerchief from the cuff of her sleeve and mopped at her eyes. “Weddings are always so emotional. Don’t you get me started.”
    Seth stepped out of the church. “Are you ladies ready?” He cocked an eyebrow at his wife. “The Viking’s chomping inside, chomping on his chainmail.” His voice slid into a drawl for he obviously wanted to banish any female displays of emotion. “Another minute, he’s liable to toss Grace over his shoulder and carry her off. Reverend Norton will have to chase after them, calling out the words to sanctify the rampaging abduction.”
    The women laughed and separated.
    Seth studied Grace, his gaze admiring. “I’ll say you are the second most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.” He slipped his arm around Trudy and gave her a squeeze, accompanied by a look of adoration.
    Trudy blushed.
    Grace could well imagine her as a bride.
    Seth frowned and, with a raised eyebrow, pulled at his chin. “I’m a little concerned, though.”
    “What?” Both of them asked at the same time.
    “When Frey-The-Warrior sets eyes on Grace….” Seth shook his head in mock concern. “Why, the sight of you will knock that hulk on his backside. Probably break the altar into pieces. I’ll have to haul him to his feet, probably strain my shoulder and back in the process.”
    Trudy rolled her eyes and smacked his arm. “I declare, Seth Flanigan, the longer I know you, the more your sense of humor increases. You barely had any when we first married. Now look at how you act. Being around Frey has brought out the worst in you.”
    “No, I don’t think it’s Frey’s fault.” He winked at Grace. “It’s what happiness does to a man.” He gave Trudy a gentle shove toward the doorway. “Go on with you, now. The Viking awaits his bride.”
    With a smile for Grace, Trudy vanished inside, leaving the door open.
    Seth extended his arm to her.
    The strains of “Blessed Be The Tie That Binds” sounding from inside the church made her stomach quiver. Mrs. Norton had given her the choice of a processional hymn, and now Grace wondered if she should have selected another—one that hadn’t featured in her dream of this day.
    A wave of sadness washed over her, making her knees weak. Grateful for Seth’s support, she leaned on his arm, needing a moment to compose herself.
    With a cocked eyebrow, he sent her a questioning look.
    Not knowing how to explain, Grace turned up her lips, trying to reassure him, even if the effort did nothing to ease her own pain. “Don’t walk too close,” she warned Seth. “Or my dress is apt to end up under your feet.”
    “They don’t call me nimble-footed Flanigan for nothing.”
    In spite of her sadness, Grace couldn’t help but smile at his efforts to bolster her courage. She lifted her chin in a signal for them to enter the church.
    Seth guided her through the door.
    She kept her gaze downcast, not yet willing to look around the church or view her bridegroom.
    This was the day Grace had imagined for the last two years—the journey up the aisle to her loving groom. She’d envisioned wearing her beautiful wedding gown, feeling the loving connection to all the brides in the family who’d come before her as far back as Abigail Richmond, and seeing the eager smile on Victor’s handsome face. The dream had