Read Harper's Bride for Free Online Page B

had cried around her father, and it hadn't been often, he'd
threatened to smack both her and Melissa if she couldn't quiet her,
"and right now, damn it." Although he had never hit the baby,
Melissa had feared it was only a matter of time. She had never
struck anyone herself, but if that day had come, if Coy had once
raised a hand to her Jenny, she believed she would have killed
him.
    After she fed Jenny and gave her a clean
diaper, Melissa washed, this time avoiding her reflection, and put
her old clothes back on. Between bites of a cold biscuit from last
night's dinner, she spread her carefully mended skirt between her
hands and looked at it. The gray muslin was so thin in some places
she could see her white petticoat showing through the sheer spots.
She dropped the folds and sighed. Melissa had never owned fine
things; no one in Slabtown did. People like the Pettigreaves, the
family her mother had worked for, had indoor plumbing and electric
lights, and even an automobile with a man to drive them around in
it. Her mother had told her about their wonderful hillside house on
Park Place—it even had an elevator—and the lavish parties they gave
with such exotic foods as lobster and oysters and goose liver
paste. Once, Melissa had even gotten to taste a bit of lobster when
her mother brought it home, wrapped in clean waxed paper. The paper
was another luxurious convenience that she had only seen before on
blocks of butter.
    No, Melissa had not grown up with fine
things; most of her life had been one of want and making do. But
she'd always had sheets on her bed, even if they had been as thin
and translucent as onionskin. And never had she faced having no
other clothes to put on her back until now. She glanced down again
to her shabby skirt. Dylan had said he'd take her out to buy things
for herself and the baby, and it bothered her to accept them. Yet
just as she was without clothes, she was also without choice. For
Jenny, she thought; she had to do it for her.
    The door opened suddenly, startling her, and
Dylan Harper walked in. This time she hadn't heard his approach on
the stairs. He had to duck under the top of the door frame, she
noticed. His tall, lean-muscled form dominated the room, dwarfing
everything else in it, and his intense eyes swept the room, resting
briefly on the rice sack in his bed. Finally, he shot her a probing
look before she dropped her gaze. She retreated a step.
    "Ready to go down to Wall Street?" he asked,
as if he had read her mind.
    She nodded, and with obvious stiffness,
picked up Jenny who slept on unconcernedly. She felt his eyes on
her, but didn't look up. Dylan stood aside to let them pass, then
followed her down the narrow staircase. With each step she took,
Melissa was aware of him behind her, his physical presence and the
strength he emanated was a force to be reckoned with. She just
prayed she could reckon with it later.
    Below, the crowd continued to wander the
knee-deep morass that was the street. The morning sun was warm, and
a breeze blew in from the rivers, but the mud was slow to dry out.
Dylan walked between her and the busy, jostling herd, sheltering
her from a careless elbow and the pack animals that slogged by.
    "Did you sleep all right last night?" he
asked, breaking the silence between them. She felt his boot heels
reverberating on the boards under her own feet.
    "Yes, thank you," she said.
    "And did the rice help?"
    Melissa glanced up quickly; was that anger
she heard in his voice? But his handsome face wore a faintly amused
expression. "Well, um, I thought—it seemed like the right thing to
do, I guess."
    He lifted his hat and resettled it. "You must
be stronger than you look—that sack weighs seventy-five pounds. And
it takes up a lot of room. I never had the urge for more than two
in my bed."
    His insinuation brought heat to Melissa's
cheeks. A man with his good looks certainly wouldn't suffer for
female company. But the range of this man's reputation that Melissa
had