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

gotten her through long, tedious hours at the factory and made all her sacrifices to save money feel worthwhile. Now that dream was destroyed, and she must make the most of this second-best alternative.
    Her heart heavy, Grace moved slowly up the aisle, concentrating on her steps to avoid tripping on her hem.
    Seth allowed her to set the pace.
    A line from one of Emily Dickinson’s poems came to her, gleaned from a long ago family letter. “I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, and Mourners to and fro.”
    I’m probably the only bride who’s ever thought of funeral poetry at my wedding ceremony. Conversely, the irony of that thought lightened her flagging spirits.
    At that moment, she lifted her gaze to her bridegroom, who watched her approach with an awestruck expression.
    Without his hat, Frey seemed less intimidating, although his huge presence dwarfed the minister beside him. A Viking, indeed. She liked the leonine thickness of his wavy brown hair and the sparkle in his blue eyes.
    Something about the strength in Frey’s stance, contrasting with the concern in his eyes, gave her courage. Grace realized she’d inadvertently been making him into an ogre because he wasn’t Victor. I’m not being fair to him.
    I must put Victor out of my mind. I must make my vows to a different man with a whole heart.
    Well, maybe not a whole heart, she amended. I must make these vows with the patched together pieces of my broken heart, for Frey deserves no less from me.
    Grace reached her groom and released Seth’s arm.
    Frey extended a large hand toward her.
    When she slid her fingers into his grasp, his hand engulfed hers. She felt the roughness of his palm and welcomed the difference from what she’d known before. Taking strength from Frey, Grace clung to him.
    Frey squeezed her hand and drew her to his side, facing the minister. Standing next to him, Grace felt petite and protected in a way she never had before. She inhaled a breath as deep as her corset and the tight lacing on the back of the bodice allowed, inhaling the spicy scent of the marigolds in the colorful arrangement of autumn flowers and leaves on the altar.
    The music ended, and Mrs. Norton slipped from behind the piano to take a seat with Trudy and Seth.
    Holding an open prayer book, Reverend Norton began the ceremony. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the presence of a loving and gracious God to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony.” The minister didn’t look down at the words. Instead he kept his gaze on Frey and Grace.
    The compassion in Reverend Norton’s eyes was almost her undoing. She bit her lip to hold back the tears that threatened. I’m marrying a good man—one who makes me laugh—and I must set aside my feelings for Victor and focus on becoming the best possible wife to Frey Foster.
    “If any can show just cause why this couple may not be lawfully joined in matrimony, speak now or—” Reverend Norton halted, looking behind them with raised eyebrows.
    Before Grace had time to wonder why the minister paused—if someone was, indeed, objecting to their union—the rapid click of toenails on the wooden floor made both of them look back over their shoulders.
    Frey groaned and made a face. “Gertie!” He released Grace’s hand.
    Who?
    A brown and black dog trotted up the aisle to them, tail held high. She had soft brown eyes and a thin, dark line down the middle of her forehead that gave her a worried look. She stopped in front of Frey and looked at him, her head cocked as if in expectation. The tips of her ears flopped forward.
    Seth burst into laughter. “Do you think Gertie’s objecting to your marriage?”
    Obviously aghast at his breach of decorum, Trudy gave Seth an owlish glare.
    Frey shrugged in apparent chagrin. “I’m sorry. I left her tied up on my porch.”
    She looked from the man to his dog.
    Gertie eyed her, as if assessing Grace for the candidacy of mate to her master.
    She’d never had a dog, but as a