Mail Order Bride Mishap (Into the West #3)

Chapter 6

A/N: Here is the next chapter, like promised. I think it will satisfy everyone. Yes, I do have an odd sense of humor; just take a listen to my musical choice! Hope everyone enjoys this installment. Dedication is to readmorebooks, because of one innocent comment that set my mind to working! Make sure you vote, follow, and comment!

“This road used to be called the haul road. The loggers used it to do exactly what it says: haul the logs from the cutting site to the log dump down near the dock. At the peak of the season, you could practically walk across the river on top of all the logs! What a sight it was to see.”

Edward Townsend waved his arm toward the Columbia River to emphasize his point. He’d picked Fiona up promptly at seven A.M. that morning in the wagon, giving his niece a quick hug and his sister a kiss on the cheek before escorting Fiona up onto the seat beside him.

Today he’d dressed down somewhat from the suit of the day before in brown, homespun pants that clung to his bended knees and hung in a perfect drape down to his shoes. He wore a white, long-sleeved shirt covered by a vest matching the pants. Because the weather remained nice, he wore no jacket or hat, the sunlight glinting off his hair and turning it to shimmering russet.

“Well, it’s beautiful now, to be sure, with all that deep blue water. It would be a shame to fill it full of wood. I’m glad I didn’t see it the way it was then.” As she stared across the swiftly moving river to their right, Fiona O’Toole congratulated herself on stringing together the first coherent sentence she’d managed to utter on this fine morning after her arrival in St. Helens, Oregon, yesterday. Once more settled beside Mr. Edward Townsend atop his wagon seat, heading into town this time, she heaved a silent sigh of relief.

Last night’s goodbye kiss upon her knuckles had sent Fiona’s stomach into doing flip-flops, and her mind twirling over the fact that a man’s lips, this man’s lips, to be precise, had touched her skin for the first time, singeing the point of contact deliciously. They’d been warm and supple, but the incident had been so brief she thought she might have imagined it. Would she get to re-experience that moment in time again today, perhaps at a lengthier interval? Would Mr. Townsend maybe, hopefully, actually take her in his arms, hold her close against him as he lowered that tempting mouth to hers—

“It was amazing how quickly they cleared a hillside that’s for sure. It’s a wonder we’re left with as much as we have.” Mr. Townsend turned toward Fiona suddenly, and she scrambled to keep up with the conversation, lost in her titillating thoughts as she’d been. While his warm, brown eyes drifted over her, Fiona couldn’t help but sigh a silent sigh of relief for having accepted one of her hostess’s gowns for today’s outing.

Having donned all of her limited wardrobe throughout her entire journey, Fiona had fretted over what to wear today. Yesterday’s disastrous choice, that beautiful taffeta that had wrinkled up into an unrecognizable puddle of misfortune, had been her last clean piece of daywear. She and Emmaline had already washed a few key pieces of clothing, but those had yet to dry and be pressed. Concerned for her appearance, since Mr. Townsend apparently prided himself on his own dapper image, Fiona had been at her wits’ end. But then, late last night, after the supper dishes had been washed and the kitchen had been set to rights once more, Emmaline Lawson had pulled out a few of her dresses, offering them for Fiona’s use until she had time to ready her own. She could have wept for Emmie’s continued kindness and generosity.

Today’s borrowed dress, a modest gingham of pale blue that still hung loosely upon Fiona’s lesser endowed frame than her hostess’s, but was at least clean and neat and complimentary to her hair color, promised she would not be humiliated by her outward appearance. With her hair rolled and pinned at the nape of her neck, and another one of her creations, this time of pale blue satin and white lace sitting atop all those tamed tresses, Fiona felt sure she represented herself much better than yesterday.