Poppy: Bride of Alaska (American Mail-Order Bride 49) Read online

  Matthew Turner stood like a marble statue beside her, so uncomfortable that a pang of pity zipped through her. His expensive clothes and perfectly combed blond hair made him the spitting image of an upper-crust snob from a wealthy Boston family. Except for the tattered cuffs, that is. And the fact that such a handsome man was in desperate need of a wife. To go to Alaska.

  None of it really made sense but, as he said on the platform earlier, she didn’t really care about the why. Despite his blatant attempt to charm her with those disturbingly long eyelashes earlier, his promise to not attempt to bed her sounded genuine to her ears — ears that had heard so many lies that it was rare for her to fall victim to them any longer. Still, Poppy didn’t give her trust lightly. No matter what he claimed, one sharp eye would stay focused on his every move, just in case.

  Her pride still stung a bit, though, at how disgusted he looked at the thought of making her his wife in more than name only. Perhaps the women he courted back in Boston were fancier, but enough heads turned when she walked by for her to know that she wasn’t a hideous ogre.

  Stop being vain, she chided herself. None of that mattered, except to her silly ego.

  A muscle twitched in Matthew’s jaw as the justice spoke of love and forgiveness, and Poppy wondered what had happened in his life to make the man so desperate and angry. It came off him in waves, and she was almost sure he had no idea. Curiosity gnawed at her. Exactly how did a posh fellow like him fall so low as to marry a gutter rat like her?

  Time would tell. Or it wouldn’t. Poppy didn’t really care. All she cared about was getting to Alaska to start her new life. It didn’t matter that she had no idea what she would do once she arrived, but she had Matthew’s promise of one month’s rent so at least she wouldn’t be left out in the cold…literally. Hopefully he would keep that promise. If he didn’t, he’d be sorry.

  Visions of John Muir’s famous glacier kept Poppy entertained through the rest of the ceremony. All that solitude and peace. No one to hurt you. No one to tell you that you’re less than. Only a pure blue-white river of ice that held the promise of scouring away the sins and horrors of the past.

  After the ‘I dos’, the justice pulled out two copies of the marriage certificate. “Please sign here,” the justice said, pointing to the appropriate line on each form, then handed one to Matthew. “And congratulations. You’re officially wed. You may kiss the bride.”

  Poppy stiffened as Matthew turned to her, suddenly worried that she’d misread him, that he was going to take advantage of the situation, despite his promises. Lifting one knee slightly, she readied herself to make good on her promise at the depot. Relieved breath whooshed out of her when he barely brushed his warm, soft lips along her cheekbone. Strange, though, how the spot he kissed tingled.

  Stepping out of the justice’s office, the sharp, clean odor of sea and rain and green filled Poppy’s nostrils. It was exactly how she thought Alaska would smell. The scent of freedom, of a new life. And if this was how Seattle smelled, she could hardly wait to discover the aromatic delights of her new home.

  “You must be famished,” Matthew said, looking down at her kindly. She still couldn’t get over how tall he was. It was a good thing this wasn’t a real marriage because she would develop a permanent kink in her neck looking up at him. Of course, the view was quite pleasing…

  Stop that!

  In response to his question, Poppy’s stomach chose that moment to grumble loudly, as if it had heard him.

  “Well, I guess that’s your answer,” she laughed.

  A funny cross between amusement and embarrassment flashed in his warm, hazel eyes, a look she’d seen a few times since stepping off the train. No doubt she’d made a fool of herself, not that she could help it. It was in her nature. He could like it or lump it, it made no difference to her.

  Yes, it was a very good thing this wasn’t a real marriage. He was far too uptight for her uncouth ways, and she didn’t have any interest in changing for anyone.

  “There’s a nice little cafe just down the street,” he said, hooking his elbow out for her to latch onto. What an oddly intimate gesture, one she’d never experienced before with the roughnecks who lived in her old neighborhood. Then again, he was her husband, as much as the thought mortified her, and it was probably the proper thing to do.

  Warmth sizzled up her fingers the moment they touched Matthew’s arm, vining its way up and through her body. It took all her willpower to not snatch her hand away as if she’d been burned, because that’s what it felt like. Burning heat. Her only recourse was to painfully gnaw on her lower lip for the rest of the short walk to keep unwanted images of Matthew giving her a real wedding kiss out of her head.

  “So, Matthew, tell me about this meeting at the YMCA,” Poppy said, her lip throbbing, once they had ordered their meals.

  Fury filled his features so quickly that Poppy’s natural instinct was to pull back far enough that his fist would miss her. It took a moment before the fear actually hit her. This was not what she signed on for!

  But when he saw her reaction, shame replaced fury.

  “I’m sorry if I frightened you,” he said, reaching out to lightly touch her hand. “I just…”

  The pain and frustration etched deeply into his features eased her worries. The man had seen some trouble, that much was obvious. Matthew took a lungful of air to brace himself.

  “Suffice it to say, Seattle isn’t one of my favorite places.”

  “Really? I think it’s beautiful!”

  He grimaced. “It has its charms, but mere minutes after arriving four months ago, some scoundrel picked my pocket, along with almost every penny I had left in the world.”

  Poppy blanched. “That’s terrible! Did you catch the thief?”

  “If I had, I’m sure I’d be in the local jail awaiting trial for murder instead of enjoying a meal with you.”

  Despite the dark look on Matthew’s face, his comment made her giggle.

  “Are you laughing at my misfortune?”

  “Not at all,” she protested. “I just can’t picture a fine gentleman like you rotting away with the types of boys I grew up with, is all. Truly, I’m sorry that happened to you. Is that the reason you’re staying at the Y?”

  His face went slack with surprise.

  “How did you…?”

  It was all Poppy could do to not roll her eyes. It was so obvious to her, but maybe not so much to someone of his stature.

  “Let’s see, you lost all your money in a new city and now we’re going to the Y for a meeting. It doesn’t take a fortune teller to figure it out.”

  Her heart ached with sympathy for him. Accepting charity was probably just as painful for him as it was for her, though she suspected an aristocrat like him wouldn’t believe it. Maybe they were more alike than either one of them suspected.

  “So…the meeting?”

  “It shouldn’t take long,” he said, his deep voice strained for some reason. “We simply need to show Mr. Horton our marriage certificate to prove our union.”

  “Why?”

  Instead of averting his gaze in shame, this time he met her gaze head on.

  “Because I need to get to Sitka, and since someone else is currently enjoying my money, I’ve been forced to sign on with an organization that sends doctors, teachers and missionaries to the wilds of Alaska. This particular one requires its missionaries to be married. And I’d prefer if you didn’t mention our arrangement or how we, um, met.”

  “Oh.” It was all she could think of to say.

  The news that she was to travel to Alaska as a missionary was a total surprise. Good thing the only book her family had owned was a Bible, and that Old Lady Johnson, their next door neighbor, had taught her to read at a young age. She probably knew more of the stories than that stodgy old justice of the peace who married them. She could pass for a missionary without even trying hard.

  “Okay.”

  His gaze skimmed over her, just like it had at the train
station, only this time it moved more slowly and settled on her mouth for a moment too long. A pleasing warmth flooded Poppy, pinking her cheeks and making her squirm in her seat.

  This wouldn’t do. Not at all.

  “So why are you so all-fired antsy to get to Alaska, Matt?” There went the jaw muscle again, but the side benefit was that he ground his eyes shut and stopped looking at her like she was the meal he’d just ordered.

  “Business,” was his clipped reply.

  “Oh, right. I wasn’t supposed to ask about that. Sorry,” she said, ignoring his terseness. “What is your business? Me, I was a seamstress at a textile mill until the owner burned it down and left me and all my friends jobless.”

  She probably should have been offended at his shocked expression, but she very nearly brayed like a donkey. What, had he expected a fairy tale princess to reply to his oh-so-tempting advertisement? There was a reason she was the only woman to respond, after all, but she kept her big mouth shut on the subject…for the moment. Instead, she just smiled at him, which seemed to confuse him even more.

  This was going to be fun.

  “I—uh, I—“ Clearing his throat and taking a deep breath, Matthew composed himself quickly. “I’m a doctor, Miss…I mean, Poppy.”

  “No wonder that charity wants you to go to Alaska. They probably need all the doctors they can get up thataway.”

  Just then, the waiter delivered their meals. The last decent meal she’d had was several weeks earlier, before the fire. Nearly all thoughts of her Alaska adventure were forgotten when the aroma of the sizzling steak and creamy mashed potatoes hit her nose.

  Only one remained, worming its way into her brain like a parasite: Bet they don’t need seamstresses.

  * ~ * ~ *

  “Dr. and Mrs. Turner, please come in!”

  Mr. Horton, the director of the YMCA, had been very kind and helpful to Matthew after his unpleasant arrival in Seattle. He’d even secured him a temporary position with the organization assisting their on-staff doctor. It didn’t pay much, but Matthew was grateful for any income at that point, hoarding every penny he could.

  “First of all, welcome to Seattle,” Horton said to Poppy, who appeared decidedly more fresh this morning. “And congratulations on your nuptials. I hope you’ve recovered from your train trip.”

  “Oh, yes,” she said, smiling in a way that set Matthew’s heart to beating just a jot faster. She really was quite beautiful, when not dressed in rags and reeking of train smoke. “My dear husband knew I would be exhausted from the long journey so he thoughtfully rented me a room at that lovely boarding house down the street. Mrs. Olson even surprised me with a much-needed hot bath. Let me tell you, I had dirt in places I didn’t even know I had!”

  Horton’s face flamed red at Poppy’s comment, which she was apparently oblivious to. Matthew wasn’t sure if he should be angry or amused, then settled on chagrined, if only for Horton’s benefit.

  “Forgive her, Mr. Horton. She’s still tired from the trip.”

  “No, I’m not,” she protested, but quieted when he placed a hand on hers and squeezed. She stiffened for a moment, then relaxed. A tingle whispered through Matthew when her thumb moved lightly across the skin of his pinky, almost as if she were stroking it.

  Must have been a twitch, he thought. Still, he didn’t remove his hand.

  “Oh, not at all,” Horton coughed, composing himself in the face of such frankness. “So I take it you have something for me?”

  Loathe as he was to do it, Matthew pulled his hand from Poppy’s and slid their marriage certificate to Horton. He still couldn’t believe he’d had to resort to marrying a total stranger just to find Vinchenko, but he’d promised himself to do whatever it took. He had enough saved to set up Poppy for a month at Mrs. Olson’s, as he’d promised, and this time tomorrow, he’d be on the steamship bound for Sitka.

  “Everything looks in order, then,” Horton beamed, passing the certificate back and pulling a stack of papers from a drawer. “Now Matthew, you’re already signed on as a doctor. Mrs. Turner, we just need to assign you a position.”

  “A position?” Matthew asked. “What do you mean?”

  Horton looked positively perplexed.

  “Why, for when you get to Sitka, of course. If we’re paying her passage, she needs to be on the rolls as something. ‘Beautiful wife’, while it may be true, is not a qualified position in our organization.”

  Poppy opened her mouth to speak but Matthew cut her off.

  “I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding, Mr. Horton. My wife will not be accompanying me on this trip. She will remain here until my return.”

  “I will do no such thing!”

  Matthew spun to face Poppy. Her normally bright blue eyes flashed dark, and the cute little wrinkle between her eyebrows was back, but looking much less adorable in her anger.

  “Of course, you will. That was understood from the very beginning.”

  Matthew shot his eyes over toward Horton, silently reminding her to not mention the whole mail-order bride thing. Her steely gaze never wavered from his, and her voice was just as cold and hard.

  “No, quite the opposite. I was promised a voyage to Alaska, and I intend to have it.”

  Matthew could only stare agape as she turned to Horton with a conspiratorial smile.

  “I’ve always longed to see the territory, ever since reading John Muir’s wonderful tales of his adventures. Now, Mr. Horton. I would like to offer my talents in whatever position would benefit the YMCA the most.”

  Horton laughed awkwardly, obviously uncomfortable at their spat.

  “Oh, this isn’t for the Y, Mrs. Turner. I happen to be on the board of directors for the Presbyterian Home Mission Board, a ministry run by Sheldon Jackson himself, that supplies doctors, teachers, wilderness missionaries and so on. Doctors are obviously in desperate need, as are teachers, so we’re very grateful that your husband has agreed to tend to the communities needs for so long.”

  “So long?”

  “Two years, the length of the contract.”

  Matthew felt more than saw Poppy’s keen eyes slide over to him before capturing Horton again.

  “I see. Well, you can sign me on as a teacher then.”

  Horton was so giddy at snaring a ‘teacher’ that he didn’t notice Matthew’s sudden coughing fit. Poppy refused to meet his gaze. What was she playing at? She was a seamstress, for heaven’s sake.

  His mind raced, thinking back to his ad. He’d taken great pains to be perfectly clear about his intentions; what had she misunderstood? Then it hit him like a lightning bolt.

  In need of a wife in name only to travel to Sitka, Alaska.

  He’d meant that he needed a wife so he could travel to Alaska, not that he needed the wife to travel, too. She couldn’t possibly think—

  Then he recalled: Passage paid for the right match.

  Cold seeped into his bones. Viewed from her perspective, the ad could have been offering a trip to Alaska.

  Poppy fairly glowed as Horton described Sitka and what her duties would be there. A light pink blush had settled on her cheeks and her plump lips were parted a bit in excitement. Already he’d memorized every line and curve of them, including the slightly puffy spot she chewed when she was anxious. Only when he caught himself wetting his own lips did he tear his gaze away.

  See? That was just the problem. How could he expect to maintain the fiery hate burning in his heart if he was so easily distracted by the set of her mouth? He couldn’t afford to be swayed from his quest to track down Vinchenko, and being responsible for a fake wife — especially this one — would be very distracting.

  No! He wouldn’t allow it. As her husband, he had ultimate say whether she joined him. It would be an easy thing to convince Horton that a steamer bound for the brutal wilds of Alaska in winter was no place for a woman.

  Trouble was, she had him trapped, and the sly glance she threw his way told him that she knew it. If he said one word, he
had no doubt that she would reveal their secret, throwing his character into question and jeopardizing his plan. Most likely, Horton would evict and fire him, leaving him homeless and penniless — and all that much farther from catching up with Vinchenko.

  He couldn’t risk it, as much as he’d like to show the little troublemaker who was boss in this strange partnership of theirs. A shiver rippled down his spine when a voice inside his head whispered…

  She is.

  Chapter 3

  The moment they walked out of the Y into the drizzling rain, Matthew gripped Poppy’s arm. Not painfully, as Pa had done more times than she could count, but firmly. That familiar constriction of her throat was no longer welcome in her life. Shrugging his hand off, she spun on him.

  “Don’t ever lay your hands on me again, do you understand?”

  Confusion poured from Matthew’s hazel eyes, but she wouldn’t relent. Never again would she allow anyone to manhandle her, not even her ‘husband’. His raised hands conceded defeat.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  Just as quickly as the fire had risen, his words quenched it.

  “No, I’m fine. I just…I just don’t like to be grabbed like that.”

  “I apologize. It won’t happen again.”

  They walked a few steps before he spoke again.

  “Now, do you want to tell me what that was all about back there? I never meant for you to come with me. The journey will be quite rough, you know. Don’t you think you’d be better off here in Seattle?”

  Poppy tried not to smirk. It was so cute how he was trying to sell her on staying behind. But she had no intention of living in Seattle, as much as she liked the city.

  “You hate it here, and you’d have me stay?”

  He had no response. They walked on in silence for another block. The rain had already soaked her threadbare coat and she could barely restrain her shivers.

  “See? If you’re shivering now, what kind of protection will that coat give in Alaska?!”

  Good grief, would he stop at nothing to make her change her mind?