Yankee Wife by Linda Lael Miller Read Free Book Online Page A

future.”
    Lydia was skeptical of both the apology and the vow to abstain from bad manners, but she nodded, looking solemn for the sake of Charlotte's obviously formidable pride. “Thank you,” she said, with dignity.
    Soon after, both Charlotte and Millie were excused from the table, and Mrs. Chilcote retired as well. Devon and Polly were lost in each other's eyes, and simply wandered out of the room. Lydia looked after them with an envy that surprised and dismayed her, remembering a time when she'd hoped for a love like that. A time when she'd believed love was possible for her.
    â€œYou thought you were going to marry my brother, didn't you?”
    Brigham's words so startled Lydia that she spun in her chair, all color gone from her face, the peach-preserve pie that had kept her at the table still untouched before her.
    She swallowed. The expression in Brigham's storm-cloud eyes was not unkind, but simply forthright. She cleared her throat. “Yes,” she answered, at painful cost to her pride.
    The timber baron sat back in his chair, looking at her pensively. “You don't need to worry, you know. You're a handsome woman, and any number of my men would be willing to take you in and give you a name.”
    Lydia sat up as though lightning had touched the small of her back. A furious blush stung her face. He made her sound like a half-witted waif, or a bedraggled kitten, not the strong and capable woman she was. “I am not looking for a man to take me in, Mr. Quade,” she told him, parceling out the words one by one on little puffs of air. “I can look after myself, thank you very much!”
    He smiled. “You would have been all wrong for Devon,” he said pleasantly. “Polly suits him far better, with her limpid looks and long sighs.”
    Lydia pushed back her chair to leave, even though it killed her to abandon her pie. She had not had such a treat since before she left the East, and she did not forgo it lightly. “I don't suppose it's occurred to you, Mr. Quade, that Devon might be all wrong for me , that he might be the one who's unsuited—”
    Brigham's palm struck the table with a resounding smack when she would have risen, and she dropped back into her seat, more surprised than intimidated.
    â€œSit,” he said, quite unnecessarily.
    Lydia glared at him. It was still raining, and she knew she wouldn't be able to find proper accommodations in a town full of lumberjacks, even if the place had looked staid and settled from the boat.
    He waggled an index finger at her. “You and I have gotten off on the wrong foot, Miss McQuire,” he said. “Every time I speak, it seems, you take immediate offense. I was merely offering a comment before; my brother would not know how to deal with a woman like yourself.”
    A little of Lydia's ire subsided. It was true that Brigham Quade nettled her sorely, but she couldn't imagine why. She was used to the teasing of soldiers with both grave wounds and minor, and besides, he hadn't actually insulted her…had he?
    She looked at her host out of the corner of one eye. “You have been quite kind, under the circumstances,” she conceded, tempted again by the slice of pie awaiting her. The fruit filling was probably both tart and sweet, while the crust looked flaky and light. Lydia tasted humble pie, as well as peach, when she took her first bite. “I'll try to be less sensitive.”
    There was a smile couched in his voice, or so it seemed to Lydia.
    â€œYou do that,” Mr. Quade replied.
    Lydia savored her pie.
    â€œDevon tells me you were a nurse during the war,” said the master of the house, apparently determined to convince her that he could carry on a civil conversation. In truth, Lydia would have been much relieved if he'd simply removed himself from the room.
    She chewed, swallowed, dabbed at her mouth with a linen napkin. “Yes.” She hated to think about those horrible