Dacey: Bride of North Carolina (Amercan Mail-Order Bride 12) by Shanna Hatfield Read Free Book Online Page A

wife’s cheek. “We are most fortunate, aren’t we, son?”
    Braxton cleared his throat, still unsure he could speak with his tongue tied in knots by the sight of Dacey. “Yes, sir,” he croaked.
    After his father asked a blessing on their meal, they filled their plates from the bounty on the table.
    Out of the corner of his eye, Braxton watched their guest. She spooned apple butter, made from some of his apple crop, onto her biscuit and bit into it.
    When she closed her eyes to savor the tangy yet sweet spread, he grinned. “I take it you like apple butter.”
    Her eyes popped open and she glanced at him. “Yes, sir. I mean, I don’t…” Quickly wiping her mouth on a napkin, she gathered her wits. “I don’t recall ever tasting apple butter, but if that’s what I just spread on my biscuit, it’s delicious.”
    Beatrice smiled indulgently at Braxton then Dacey. “Cook makes it every year from Braxton’s fine apple crop. We’ve plenty, so put some more on your biscuit. You’ve hardly enough to taste.”
    While the Douglas family watched, Dacey added more apple butter to her biscuit and took another bite, enthralled with the flavor.
    Satisfied their guest enjoyed her meal, Beatrice and Daniel carried the conversation as they ate.
    Braxton noted Dacey appeared somewhat uncomfortable in her borrowed finery.
    Subconsciously, she kept tugging at the lace on her left sleeve. Each time she did, Braxton bit back a smile. No doubt, the free-spirited girl probably felt as trapped as he did each time his mother insisted he dress “appropriately” for a grand ball.
    He much preferred to wear his shirt sleeves rolled up, his collar unbuttoned and no hat on his head than parade around as a southern gentleman, too good to dirty his hands. In truth, Braxton spent the vast majority of his time working directly with their overseer and employees. Just for the experience, he’d done every job on the place at least once.
    While his father looked down his aristocratic nose at menial labor, Beatrice and Braxton both knew it was necessary to keep the plantation successfully functioning.
    Braxton listened as his mother made plans for the day. Her proposed schedule drew a frown from Dacey.
    “No, ma’am, I just can’t let you do that,” she said, placing her fork on the edge of her plate.
    “Now, Dacey, it would be my pleasure. Besides, I should do something to make up for my deception.” Beatrice tipped her head toward Braxton.
    Although he felt bad for Dacey and still wondered what had inspired his mother to send for a bride on his behalf, he had no intention of marrying the girl. Too many of his friends had succumbed to feminine wiles or the opportunity to fortify their empty bank accounts by marrying a wealthy girl. The majority of them appeared to be miserable.
    From what Braxton had observed, most women put on a good show, being sweet, charming and docile up until they had a ring on their finger. Once that happened, they changed into demanding, cold-hearted shrews bent on making a man spend his life suffering for simply being a man.
    No matter how beautiful he found Dacey, no matter how much she intrigued him, he wouldn’t give in to the temptation she unwittingly presented.
    “Will you join us, son?” Beatrice asked, staring at him.
    “I beg your pardon, Mother. I didn’t hear the question.”
    Beatrice grinned and reached out to pat his arm. “That’s quite understandable, son, considering the stunning views this morning.”
    Daniel leaned back and looked outside. “Stunning? It is overcast and looks like it might rain today. I don’t see anything out of the ordinary.”
    Braxton glared at his mother, aware the stunning view she implied referred to Dacey, not anything outside the window. Irritated, he scowled. “What was your question, Mother?”
    “Dacey and I are going into Asheville. Harry will retrieve her trunk from the depot while we visit a few shops. Would you like to accompany us, Brax?”
    “A