Evie. That’s all you need to do.”
Evie rolled her eyes as her mother’s arms came around her waist and hugged her. A preacher’s wife. Could she have locked herself more tightly in propriety if she’d tried?
THE SEND-OFF WAS raucous and full of good cheer, and no different from the end of any other wedding, except everyone knew this wasn’t a love match, so such happiness was completely out of place. After one last wave, one last forced smile, Evie subsided back into the shelter of the buggy’s top.
“Thank goodness that’s over.”
Brad turned slightly. “I thought it was a rather pleasant wedding.”
“It wasn’t real.”
His brow rose. “Feels real enough to me.”
Evie sighed. “Please. This is not a love match.”
His expression didn’t change. “Doesn’t make it any less of a match though, and doesn’t make people’s well wishes any less sincere.”
She supposed it didn’t. Reaching up, she unpinned her hat, and stretched her arms out in front of her. “I wonder if a real bride receives so much advice.”
His lips quirked and his gaze touched her mouth, swept over her throat, and lingered in the vicinity of her chest. “I guess you’ll have to tell me what kind of advice you received before I can give you an answer.”
It was a look meant to seduce a woman, designed to throw her off balance. Brad was going to have to do better than that. Between putting on her cape and walking out the door, Evie had decided she wasn’t going to be that easy to seduce.
“Just the usual malarkey. Men are wonderful and all-knowing and I should believe everything they say implicitly.”
“Well, now, that was a fair bit of advice.”
A fair bit of horsefeathers. She placed her hat in her lap, not rising to his bait. “Why do you like to make me angry?”
“Why do you like to break convention?”
The buggy hit a bump. The cans tied behind jangled. She grabbed the side. “If you’re implying ‘because it’s fun,’ this is going to be a very long marriage.”
He steered the buggy around a corner. “Until death do us part.”
He didn’t say it with the sense of doom that she felt. The heat burned through her cape. She unbuttoned the frogs at the throat. “God help us.”
By the time she got to the third button, they’d passed the Reverend’s residence.
“Where are we going?”
The twitch of his lips should have warned her. “Someplace where you can strip in private.”
Heat that had nothing to do with the temperature burned her cheeks. She forced her fingers to keep doing what they were doing, as if she wasn’t blushing like a young miss. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”
“I try to be accommodating.”
Not that she’d noticed. And she’d noticed him a lot. From the day he’d wandered into town with the McKinnelys after their last hunt, he’d fascinated her. And not just because he was a fine-looking man with a powerful build, though that alone would have been sufficient to draw any woman’s attention. But because he was a man who commanded everyone around him, and no one seemed to notice. She would love to have that ability.
She glanced up from beneath the shield of her lashes. He did have a nice set of shoulders. Broad enough that he made her feel crowded. Broad enough that parishioners felt secure. And after the disaster of their last preacher, a man who’d hated himself, God, and everyone he came in contact with, the Reverend Brad was a breath of fresh air. Enough so that people overlooked his idiosyncrasies for the embrace of his accepting nature.
But just because he smiled and nodded didn’t mean he was going along. His accommodation was often just an illusion as he went around behind the scenes making things happen according to his preferences. There was a relentless energy about the man. Most of it under the surface, only noticeable if one knew to look for it.
The last frog released.
“Good.” She shrugged the cape off her shoulders. The buggy
Evie rolled her eyes as her mother’s arms came around her waist and hugged her. A preacher’s wife. Could she have locked herself more tightly in propriety if she’d tried?
THE SEND-OFF WAS raucous and full of good cheer, and no different from the end of any other wedding, except everyone knew this wasn’t a love match, so such happiness was completely out of place. After one last wave, one last forced smile, Evie subsided back into the shelter of the buggy’s top.
“Thank goodness that’s over.”
Brad turned slightly. “I thought it was a rather pleasant wedding.”
“It wasn’t real.”
His brow rose. “Feels real enough to me.”
Evie sighed. “Please. This is not a love match.”
His expression didn’t change. “Doesn’t make it any less of a match though, and doesn’t make people’s well wishes any less sincere.”
She supposed it didn’t. Reaching up, she unpinned her hat, and stretched her arms out in front of her. “I wonder if a real bride receives so much advice.”
His lips quirked and his gaze touched her mouth, swept over her throat, and lingered in the vicinity of her chest. “I guess you’ll have to tell me what kind of advice you received before I can give you an answer.”
It was a look meant to seduce a woman, designed to throw her off balance. Brad was going to have to do better than that. Between putting on her cape and walking out the door, Evie had decided she wasn’t going to be that easy to seduce.
“Just the usual malarkey. Men are wonderful and all-knowing and I should believe everything they say implicitly.”
“Well, now, that was a fair bit of advice.”
A fair bit of horsefeathers. She placed her hat in her lap, not rising to his bait. “Why do you like to make me angry?”
“Why do you like to break convention?”
The buggy hit a bump. The cans tied behind jangled. She grabbed the side. “If you’re implying ‘because it’s fun,’ this is going to be a very long marriage.”
He steered the buggy around a corner. “Until death do us part.”
He didn’t say it with the sense of doom that she felt. The heat burned through her cape. She unbuttoned the frogs at the throat. “God help us.”
By the time she got to the third button, they’d passed the Reverend’s residence.
“Where are we going?”
The twitch of his lips should have warned her. “Someplace where you can strip in private.”
Heat that had nothing to do with the temperature burned her cheeks. She forced her fingers to keep doing what they were doing, as if she wasn’t blushing like a young miss. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”
“I try to be accommodating.”
Not that she’d noticed. And she’d noticed him a lot. From the day he’d wandered into town with the McKinnelys after their last hunt, he’d fascinated her. And not just because he was a fine-looking man with a powerful build, though that alone would have been sufficient to draw any woman’s attention. But because he was a man who commanded everyone around him, and no one seemed to notice. She would love to have that ability.
She glanced up from beneath the shield of her lashes. He did have a nice set of shoulders. Broad enough that he made her feel crowded. Broad enough that parishioners felt secure. And after the disaster of their last preacher, a man who’d hated himself, God, and everyone he came in contact with, the Reverend Brad was a breath of fresh air. Enough so that people overlooked his idiosyncrasies for the embrace of his accepting nature.
But just because he smiled and nodded didn’t mean he was going along. His accommodation was often just an illusion as he went around behind the scenes making things happen according to his preferences. There was a relentless energy about the man. Most of it under the surface, only noticeable if one knew to look for it.
The last frog released.
“Good.” She shrugged the cape off her shoulders. The buggy
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