Heaven in His Arms by Lisa Ann Verge Read Free Book Online Page B

patient has become the nurse, has she?" A smile softened the dour lines of her face. "You gave the sisters a fright by disappearing from your pallet."
    "Forgive me, Mother, but there's hardly enough room for me in it anymore."
    "I know, child." The nun shook her head. "The ships have brought much disease this year. Soon we're going to have to house the sick in the church."
    "Which is why I wanted to see you." Genevieve stilled her hands by clutching the cloth of her skirts. "I would like to offer my pallet to someone who needs it more."
    The nun's eyes flickered over her. "Sister Ignatia told me you should stay three or four more days to regain your strength."
    "I can regain my strength just as well in my husband's house."
    "Child, a sickly wife is useless to a man."
    Genevieve spread her arms. "Do I look sickly, Reverend Mother?"
    "Sister Ignatia has been a sister in this hospital for years and she knows what is best for you." Mother Superior leaned back in her chair and folded her hands over her belly. "You're a king's girl, aren't you?"
    "Yes, from Paris."
    "Ah." The nun nodded in understanding. "Now I agree with Sister Ignatia's hesitation. You don't know the rigors of setting up a household in this settlement, child."
    "There can't be much rigor in setting up my household." Genevieve remembered the fine embroidery that edged the handkerchief her husband had given her. "My husband, Andre Lefebvre, is a man of means."
    The Reverend Mother puckered her forehead in thought. "His name is unfamiliar to me."
    "But you must know him. . . . He must have sent several inquiries by now."
    "I've received no messages for any of the girls." At the sight of Genevieve's stunned expression, the nun added, "It's harvest time, dear. The men of the colony are working their fields or catching the season's eels. Your husband is undoubtedly too busy preparing for winter to send a message."
    "My husband is not a farmer or a fisherman."
    "Wealthy men must prepare for winter as well. The last ships are leaving for France, and accounts must be settled, letters must be written. There is much for all of us to do this time of year."
    "If he is busy, then that is all the more reason why I should let him know I am well." She walked to the desk and stopped across from the nun. Four days had passed since her marriage, four days and not a word? "Let me send a message to him."
    Sister Ignatia warned me that you were stubborn.'' Mother Superior pursed her lips. "But, I suppose if he is a wealthy man, he should be able to see to your care himself, and we need every bed we can get. ..."
    Genevieve sensed victory, but she took care not to let it show on her face.
    "You must remember not to exert yourself, child. I don't want to see you back here within a week."
    Hell will freeze over first.
    "I'm sure I have his instructions somewhere." The nun riffled through a pile of papers stacked on one side of her desk. She removed one, then placed a pair of spectacles on her nose and began to read.
    Genevieve tried to peer over the edge of the paper. Her heart quivered in elation. Her husband had a bold, slanted script, but she couldn't read his words from where she stood. A shiver traveled up her spine as she realized that soon she would meet the man who had penned these instructions, the man with whom she would spend the rest of her life—the man whose home she would tend, whose bed she would share, whose children she would bear. There would be no more hunger, no more fear. The past was over and the future was about to begin.
    She took a deep, shuddering breath and tried, for the hundredth time, to remember something about him. The day she had married, her illness had been at its peak. She'd had no strength or inclination to scrutinize the man who had so swiftly chosen her as his life's mate. Genevieve vaguely recalled the strength of his arm as she'd clutched it during the ceremony, for the floor seemed to buck and roll beneath her feet. She remembered leaning her