Read Alice: Bride of Rhode Island (American Mail-Order Bride 13) for Free Online Page A

scent tinged with the sun-warmed salt of the sea.
    It drew her like a moth to a flame.
    I like the way James smells.
    She liked most everything about him, except the way he held her at arm’s length.
    Keeping the lamplight low, she sat in the chair, reading a collection of poems by Longfellow, estimating it was still an hour before sunrise. James had finally settled into a deep slumber after she’d administered a tonic, and he seemed the better for it.
    Truth be told, she didn’t want to leave him. Being near gave her purpose. It also gave her comfort.
    She wondered if it would ever be possible for them to have a real marriage.
    “You’re always reading.”
    She started at James’ voice. “My apologies. Is the light bothering you?”
    “No. I’ve slept more in the last few days than my entire childhood.”
    She smiled, deposited the book onto the nightstand, and rose to check his forehead, but his large hand closed around her wrist to stop her.
    “You need to stop doing that.”
    “But how will I know if you’re still feverish?”
    “I will recover, Alice. I’m no weakling.”
    She hesitated, but silently agreed and stepped back, and he released his hold on her. In the faint glow of the yellow light, his muscular build filled the bed and beckoned her in a way she’d never before experienced with any man. The way he carried himself, the look of intelligence in his eyes, the strong set of his jaw all enticed her. Sometimes she caught him looking at her, and for the briefest of moments something passed between them. She couldn’t fathom why he’d married her only to deny any possible feelings he might have for her.
    She sat back onto the chair, frustration welling up inside. “No, you’re no weakling.” She crossed her arms across her chest, tucking them below her bosom. “Perhaps it’s time you shared your history with me.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Where are you from?”
    He pushed himself against the simple plank headboard, his shoulders flexing from the exertion. With great effort she had to stop herself from staring at the sinewy muscle. It was quite possible she would start drooling at any moment.
    “I was born in Quebec.”
    Latching onto the distraction, she asked, “You’re French-Canadian?”
    “Oui.”
    One simple French word let the starch out of her. If she’d had one of those fancy fans, she’d be cooling herself off as she pretended to sit sedately before him.
    He ran a hand through his hair. “My maman and papa came here when I was still a babe, settling in Providence. Papa was a fisherman. When I was thirteen, he moved to Tiverton to start his own business. When Frank and I were old enough, we began working with him. Theo didn’t really get involved until after they were gone.”
    “You must miss them terribly.”
    His countenance softened. “I do.”
    “From the sound of it, you’ve done a wonderful job with the company.”
    “I’ve been very focused on it for the past five years. I was only twenty-one when my folks passed, but I feel as if I’ve aged a quarter century since.”
    Alice sensed the weight he carried and wanted to reach out, to touch him, to reassure him that he was no longer alone. But she kept her hands clasped in her lap.
    “How is it that you became Daniel Endicott’s step-daughter?” he asked.
    The edge in James’ voice snagged her attention. “Do you know him?”
    “A bit. Our businesses overlap.”
    Apprehension washed over her. Would her path cross her stepfather’s despite every effort she’d made to distance herself from him? She sought to steady her nerves. She was married now. Daniel Endicott could no longer force her hand.
    James raised an eyebrow. “So, what happened?”
    She took a deep breath. “Daniel Endicott and my father were friends—Daniel was his attorney. When my father died, Daniel began to manage all my father’s business affairs. I never did quite understand how or why he did this. A year later, he convinced my mother