Would-Be Wilderness Wife by Regina Scott

touches.”
    Drew cocked his head. “Like what? I’ll have none of those doilies you’re so fond of.”
    Beth turned to him, eyes wide. “Who could hate an innocent doily? They’re so dainty and cultured.”
    Everything he was not, he realized, and trying to pretend otherwise served no one. “Just remember, this is a man’s house,” he told his sister as he stepped out onto the porch. “Miss Stanway may be staying awhile, but I’m the one who lives here.”
    With a feeling he was talking to the air, he left Beth humming to herself.
    Rouge. He shook his head again. His mother had complained about the stuff from time to time.
    A lady makes the most of what the good Lord gave her
, she’d said after they’d visited Seattle a few weeks ago.
She doesn’t need to paint herself or squeeze herself into a shape she wasn’t born with.
    He had never considered the matter, but the thought of his sister prettying herself up made his stomach churn.
    A few strides across the clearing brought him to their parents’ house. Once, they had all lived there, his brothers curled up on beds on one side of the upstairs room, and Beth with their parents on the other. When he’d laid claim to the land next to his father’s, he’d built his own house. Simon had done the same on the opposite side, clearing the land there. Now James was in the process of outfitting his cabin on the next set of acreage he had claimed. Tracts were already platted for John and Levi, as well. When they managed a town site, their father’s name would go on even if he hadn’t.
    Simon, James and John had retired for the night, and Levi was still spread in front of the fire, rereading one of the adventure novels their father had brought with him across the plains. Drew could barely make out the words
The Last of the Mohicans
on the worn leather spine. Why his father and brothers wanted to read about the frontier when they lived on it Drew had never understood. He climbed the stairs to his mother’s room.
    At the top, he paused, almost afraid of what he might find. His mother lay asleep on the bed, her chest rising and falling under the quilt. He had not seen her so peaceful in days, and something inside him thawed at the sight. Beside her on the chair, Catherine Stanway put a finger to her lips before rising to join him at the stairwell.
    His first thought on seeing her up close was that she was tired. A few tendrils of her pale hair had come undone and hung in soft curls about her face. Her blue eyes seemed to sag at the corners. But the smile she gave him was encouraging.
    â€œHer fever appears to be coming down,” she whispered. “But it’s still higher than I’d like. The next two days will be very important in determining her recovery. Someone must be with her every moment.”
    Drew nodded. “We can take turns.”
    She gazed up at him, and he wondered what she was thinking. “I was under the impression you and your brothers had an important task to undertake tomorrow.”
    â€œCaptain Collings’s spar,” Drew confirmed. “His ship, the
Merry Maid
, was damaged in a storm crossing the mouth of the Columbia River. She managed to limp into Puget Sound, but she can’t continue her journey to China without a new mast.”
    She stuck out her lower lip as if impressed, but the movement made his gaze stop at the soft pink of her mouth. Drew swallowed and looked away.
    â€œI thought all trees felled around Seattle were destined for Mr. Yesler’s mill,” he heard her say.
    â€œMost,” Drew agreed, mentally counting the number of logs that made up the top story of the house. “My brothers and I specialize in filling orders for masts and yard arms for sailing ships. Simon’s located the perfect tree not too far from the water, so it will be easy to transport, but it will take all of us to bring it down safely and