Poppy_Bride of Alaska Page 5

  “So what’s the next step, dear husband?”

  He blinked at the term of endearment, searching her cool blue eyes for a hint at her meaning. Masses of bodies jostled past them — dozens of Indians trying to sell their baskets and carvings, fishermen bringing their morning catches ashore, other passengers hurrying home. Then he understood. She was keeping up appearances in case anyone from the Presbyterian Home Mission Board was within earshot.

  Of course.

  A grim determination set in. He’d spent the last four nights lying awake, worrying whether Vinchenko would still be in Sitka and wondering if Poppy still hated him. From the fierce glares she’d cast at him whenever he dared to approach her on the ship, the answer was obvious. Her chilly demeanor only confirmed his suspicion. It didn’t sit well with him, but there was little to do about it.

  “We’re to be met by someone who will take us to the mission school.”

  What she didn’t need to know was that, once there, he’d make inquiries, maybe take a trip to town. Poppy would be safe and sound at the school, so her welfare would no longer be his concern, and he could finally — finally — focus on finding the villain who ruined his family. Maybe it was a blessing that she hated him so fiercely.

  He ignored the way his chest seized up, and focused on the crowd gathered on the wharf. An older couple dressed in dark clothing scanned the crush of people. When the man locked eyes with Matthew, he smiled and waved them over.

  “Reverend and Mrs. Alonzo Austin,” the man said, shoving a calloused hand at Matthew. “You must be Dr. and Mrs. Turner?”

  Matthew itched to glance at Poppy to see how she reacted to the title but managed to control his curiosity.

  “Indeed. Pleasure to meet you both.”

  “We’ll have our man take your bags to the school while we give you the tour, if that suits you. We had a light snowfall last night, I’m afraid, but we brought the carriage so Mrs. Turner won’t have to walk through the cold mud on her first day.”

  “That’s very thoughtful of you, Reverend,” Poppy chirped, her excitement contagious. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve yearned to see Sitka for myself.”

  “Really, dear?” Mrs. Austin hooked her arm into Poppy’s and led her toward their carriage.

  “Oh yes, ever since I first read about Mr. Muir’s expeditions. When I was younger, I daydreamed about foreboding Russians and otter-fur coats.”

  “Ah,” Mrs. Austin sighed. “Alas, both have all but disappeared from these parts.”

  “Is that so?” Matthew interjected. The woman couldn’t have given him a more perfect opening to starting making his inquiries. “I would have thought a few might have stuck around.”

  “Only a handful, really. Mostly those who married Tlingits, and a few who had successful enterprises.”

  From what Matthew knew of Vinchenko, he was a bachelor but he once overheard a discussion about a family business. The temptation to ask directly about the man nearly overwhelmed him, but the last thing he wanted to do was tip off the scoundrel that someone was looking for him. Better to bide his time and be less forward…for the moment.

  “My husband has a keen interest in the people of this lovely town,” Poppy said, casting him a knowing glance. Anxiety cut into him like a knife that she might reveal what she knew of his secret. Did she hate him that much? The knife dug deeper.

  Desperate, he tried to divert attention away from himself. “Is that the famous Baranof Castle? Not much of a castle, if you ask me.”

  And so began their tour of the town, such as it was. The ‘castle’, built by Russian governor Alexander Baranof on a promontory overlooking the town and harbor, looked more like a run-down country hotel, not some grand mansion that had played hosts to many of the world’s leaders. He couldn’t deny that the view from Castle Hill was most impressive, though.

  “Oh, it’s magnificent,” Poppy breathed once they reached the top of a treacherous staircase, plumes of steam puffing from her lips. Indeed, the clouds that had obscured Mt. Edgecumbe’s peak quickly dissipated, allowing a full view of the extinct volcano’s crater.

  “How long has it stood there and been forced to watch man’s evil ways?” she mused to no one in particular.

  A shudder wracked her small frame, and Matthew immediately shucked his heavy coat to wrap around her shoulders.

  “We’re not all evil, Poppy. We may not be perfect, but that doesn’t mean we’re evil.”

  Her lips pursed, as if about to argue, but a quick glance at their hosts stilled her tongue. Instead she muttered a ‘thank you’ and spun in a slow circle to take in the rest of the vista. The mountains of Baranof Island rose high behind them like a green-black wall.

  Below, forms bustled along the wharf and through town, the thin layer of snow not doing much to slow anyone’s pace. Rising from the center of town, the incongruous sight of St. Michael’s Cathedral, the famous onion-domed Russian Orthodox Church, drew the eye. Large warehouses mixed with smaller homes in a surprisingly delightful way. All in all, despite the grey skies, it was an appealing place.

  “I can see why you’ve been so eager to visit,” he told Poppy as they inched their way back down the stairs to the waiting carriage on Lincoln Street, Sitka’s main thoroughfare. Her look said she didn’t believe him. Perfectly understandable but still disappointing.

  “This is the Rancherie, the Indian village,” Reverend Austin explained with a wrinkled nose as they made their way past shabby, dismal dwellings dotting the waterfront. “Many of our students come from here. We give them a better life.”

  “Oh really?”

  Matthew jerked at Poppy’s sneer. What had gotten into her? Mrs. Austin looked just as puzzled as he felt.

  “Why, yes, dear. They live in squalor here, but at our mission, they’re well-clothed, well-fed, and well-educated. Wouldn’t you agree that’s a better life?”

  “Not if they’re torn from their mothers’ loving arms.”

  Mrs. Austin gasped.

  “We would never do such a thing! Where would you get such an idea?”

  Confusion and uncertainty filled Poppy’s sparkling blue eyes.

  “I just thought…Eddie said…um…” She trailed off, her cheeks burning pink.

  “I apologize for my wife, Reverend and Mrs. Austin. She’s tired from the voyage, and I’m afraid she must have misunderstood some comment or another.”

  Poppy bristled and opened her mouth to object, but his warning glance shut it quickly. Alienating their hosts on the day of their arrival wasn’t the smartest thing in the world to do, the glance said. It also said, shut that pretty mouth of yours.

  “Of course, you’re tired, dear,” Mrs. Austin said kindly, patting Poppy’s knee. “Reverend, perhaps we should postpone the rest of the tour for a few days. There will be plenty of time to show them around their beautiful new home.”

  Sitting in the front without a coat, Matthew agreed wholeheartedly.

  “That’s fine, Mother. I’ll bring Matt back to town tomorrow for a little shopping and to meet some folks.”

  The little carriage trundled down the road past the Rancherie, warehouses and curio shops. Matthew could almost see how crowded the street would be during the summer tourist season, packed with wealthy Americans just off the steamships buying all manner of silly souvenirs from the natives. And, of course, the row of shops that dotted the road.

  A man stepped out of one, leaning his large frame against the doorjamb. Dark eyes peered out from a bushy black brow as the man sucked on the edge of his mustache, watching a young boy of about twelve play with a dog in the street, dodging carriages and horses.

  Matthew’s heart lodged in his throat as his eyes bore into the man. Could it be him? The last time he’d laid eyes on Vinchenko, he’d been leaving for college. This man was thicker than he remembered his father’s old business associate being, but time had a way of doing that to people.

  The man laughed and called to the boy, waving him inside. It was awfully cold o
ut, but the chill wasn’t what caused a shiver to race up Matthew’s spine and straight to his heart. It was the gritty growl thick with a Russian accent that Matthew would never forget.

  He’d found Vladimir Vinchenko.

  Chapter 6

  Several round faces the color of bronze peeked at the new arrivals from behind the safety of a wall. Curiosity turned their dark eyes into saucers as they tracked Poppy and Matthew’s every step. At her smile, one ducked away and three continued to stare, stoic and unimpressed. But the tentative smile on one boy’s sweet face warmed her heart.

  “You boys go back to your classroom,” Mrs. Austin commanded. The boys disappeared but the echo of their feet on the polished wood of the main building’s floor followed their path. “This is the way to the married couples’ quarters.”

  Poppy’s stomach lurched at the words. She’d spent so much time on the ship ignoring Matthew that she hadn’t thought about what their situation would be once they arrived in Sitka. How foolish! Of course they would put happy newlyweds in the same room. How could she possibly ask for separate rooms now? There had been no one on the ship they needed to fool, but here…

  A quick glance at Matthew gave her pause. He looked angry. But why? Did the thought of sharing a room with her repulse him so much? Pain and insecurity threatened to take root in her heart but deep down she knew that couldn’t be it.

  He’d grown sullen halfway through the ride down Lincoln Street, and had barely made a peep since. Could he be angry at her gaffe in the carriage? Anything was possible but he seemed fine immediately afterward. It wasn’t until moments later that he turned into a statue. Poppy had followed his fiery gaze but only saw a swarthy middle-aged man ushering a child into a dry goods store. Nothing that should cause such a reaction.

  “It’s small,” Mrs. Austin said, opening the door of a room and pulling Poppy out of her thoughts, “but I hope it will be suitable for the time being. Naturally, once you’ve settled in, you’re more than welcome to find alternate lodging in town, if you so choose. Many of our married couples do. Of course, you may also stay here for the duration of your contract.”

  “Thank you,” Poppy muttered as she passed the threshold.

  Both her and Matthew’s bags sat at the foot of a large bed, the mahogany footboard catching her breath with its simple beauty. On either side of the matching headboard stood delicate wrought-iron nightstands, a small oil lamp on each. A standing wardrobe loomed in the middle of one wall while two dressers — his and hers, presumably — were tucked into the corners on either side of the door. A tall window dressed in a delicate lace curtain let in an absurd amount of light. Tears sprang to her eyes at the sheer prettiness of the room.

  “Please rest and take your time unpacking. Dinner’s at six.” With that, Mrs. Austin eased the door shut and they were alone.

  “Well, what do you suggest we do about this situation?” Poppy asked to Matthew’s back.

  He stood at the window, staring out across the school’s property and into the distance. Something more than their sleeping arrangements was troubling him, and she intended to find out what it was, once and for all. After a moment of silence, she tried a different tack.

  “So, Matthew…now that we’re here, don’t you think it’s time to tell me what your business is all about? I am your wife, after all.”

  He spun around, his brown eyes flashing black. Eureka! That got him.

  “If you were my wife, you wouldn’t be asking me about where we’re going to sleep. You’d know that I would be right by your side in that bed you’re sitting on so prettily.”

  The mere suggestion pinked her cheeks, not from outrage but because the image of them snuggling in bed took root in her head. Taking a deep breath, she willed the image away and calmed herself.

  “At least you’re talking to me. Now what’s got you so worked up? Maybe I can help. We’re in this together, remember. And the sooner you finish your business, the sooner you can go back to Boston. Isn’t that what you want?”

  It’s not what you want, a voice in her head whispered. It was the same part of her that turned to jelly whenever Matthew smiled. It was also an idiot that didn’t know what was good for it.

  “Of course.”

  Was that a hesitation? No, couldn’t be. All he wanted was to finish what he set out to do, and all she wanted was to find out what that was and be rid of him once and for all.

  “So tell me. By now you should know that your secret will be safe with me.”

  Grey light filtered through the lace, speckling his drawn face. Poppy dug her fingers into the homey quilt that covered the soft bed, resisting the urge to go to him, to smooth the frown lines from his brow, to kiss his spasming jawline until it eased.

  “Fine,” he sighed, settling himself into a hardback chair next to the window. A pang of disappointment that he didn’t sit next to her on the bed drew a small frown to Poppy’s lips for a moment before she willed it away.

  “My family was once one of the most prominent among Boston’s elite. But a few months ago, my father’s old business associate, a man named Vladimir Vinchenko, ran off with all our money. We were left destitute and humiliated. At last word, he called Sitka home. That’s why I’m here.”

  The thudding of her heart echoed in Poppy’s ears. Where she came from, if a man had done such a thing, the victim would hunt him down like a rat and, almost certainly, that would be the last anyone ever heard from the scoundrel. Had she unknowingly married a murderer? Or a future murderer?

  “W-what will you do when you find him?”

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer, but she had to hear it from his own mouth. Fear pulsed through her as his lips pulled back from his teeth in a grim sneer.

  “Oh, I’ve already found him. And you know what I’m going to do?”

  His gaze grew distant, as if he was envisioning himself chopping the man to bits and pieces. What have I done?! She should have known better. Wasn’t she the one who vowed to never marry, to never put her life in the hands of a man? What a fool!

  “What, Matthew? What are you going to do?”

  His gaze shifted to her, flashing dark. Goosebumps pricked the hairs on her arms and neck at the terrible scowl twisting his normally handsome features. Knots roiled around in her tummy and she couldn’t stop herself from gnawing on her lower lip.

  “I’m going to sue him!”

  * ~ * ~ *

  It felt so good to tell someone about what Vinchenko had done. No, he had to be honest with himself. It felt good to tell Poppy. After all the lies, a weight lifted off his shoulders as soon as the words left his lips. There were no more secrets between them, and no more need to lie. What a relief!

  So her bray of laughter hit him like a punch to the gut.

  “What are you laughing at?” he demanded, pouring all his fury into a scowl. She only laughed harder, doubling over until she nearly fell off the bed. Then she had the audacity to point at him.

  “Y-you!” she giggled, unable to breathe properly. “I thought…but you…sue!”

  A fresh bout of guffaws filled the room. Well, he didn’t have to sit there and be laughed at. He’d had more than his fill back home when all his friends found out about the family’s situation. With one long stride, he launched himself at Poppy, looming over her like Mt. Edgecumbe about to blow.

  “Stop laughing right this minute!”

  But she wasn’t the least bit intimidated by him. His command only caused her to dissolve into another fit of laughter, which only fueled the flames of his anger. There was only one way to shut her up.

  In one swift move, Matthew dragged her upright into his arms, pulling her body tight against his, and took her lips with his own. Her small frame stiffened in his arms, and he fully expected her to start beating at him with her tiny fists, as he probably deserved. It was quite a shock when she relaxed into him, her fingers splayed against his chest, and responded to his kiss.

  The air sucked out of the room and hea
t seeped up from his toes all the way to the top of his head. He couldn’t help marveling at the softness of her lips. They felt as soft as he’d imagined. Did she use a special ointment to make them so supple? The light scent of rose water judiciously applied wafted up to him as their kiss softened and lengthened. He’d never noticed her wearing any perfume before, but this suited her. A few hair pins must have come loose because a stray curl escaped the tight bun and tickled the hand cupping her cheek.

  Pulling back from her welcoming mouth was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. Gazing into her soft blue eyes, he loosened his hold on her, giving himself a little space so he wouldn’t be embarrassed by the way his body reacted to her. The smile she gave him was intoxicating, until her whole body jerked and pain shot up from his foot through his body.

  “Ouch!” He hopped back from her on one foot, while clutching the other. “Why did you stomp on my foot like that?”

  Her once-beautiful eyes narrowed into a fiery glare.

  “I don’t recall giving you permission to lay your hands on me, much less kiss me. You’re just lucky I didn’t make good on my promise at the train station.”

  Matthew thought back and had to agree. At least she kept her attack to his foot, as painful as it was. He winced at the idea of the damage she might have done.

  “I’m sorry, okay? I just wanted you to stop laughing at me and it was the only thing I could think to do.”

  At her silence, he pulled his attention from his throbbing foot to her blinking gaze. Her lower lip was firmly clamped in her teeth.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” she said, moving to put the width of the bed between them.

  That hurt more than his foot. For a moment, he thought she was responding to his kiss, and the excitement that washed over him had confused him. But her message was loud and clear. Stay away.

  “I apologize for laughing,” she finally conceded. “I wasn’t really laughing at you, though. It was just such a relief to discover that you aren’t out to kill the man.”

  “Kill…? What kind of animal do you think I am?!”