as if she’d been struck. She must be wondering why he didn’t speak. She’d just heard him declare he’d be married or else. She’d laid out the terms of their bargain. She wasn’t expecting undying devotion. He wasn’t offering anything more than to protect her from her brother. And he gained the land his family needed.
“I will,” he said. But the twist in his gut belied the confident words.
* * *
Nora nearly collapsed in relief. For a moment there, she’d feared it was all a horrid joke. He’d turn and shout, April Fools’! even though it was early December. Her life had been like that.
But this marriage would put an end to that life. No more must she please her brother and Meredith. She drew in a deep breath as the minister asked her the same question, then she firmly said, “I will.”
Mr. Bagley took both their hands and held them together. She could feel Simon’s calluses rubbing against her skin. Could he feel the nicks and scratches from her sewing? Did he care?
The minister gave them more vows to say, all about plighting and giving troth. She wasn’t entirely sure what troth was. Then Mr. Bagley released them to hold out his hand, gaze on Simon.
Simon frowned at him.
“The ring?” he prompted.
Nora glanced at Simon. Her groom shook his head. “No ring. That isn’t required for a legal marriage.”
Mr. Bagley’s mouth thinned a moment before he drew back his hand and continued with the ceremony. She supposed if she had been terribly in love she might have minded that she would carry no ring on her finger. But as it was, she just wanted to get this over with.
Finally Mr. Bagley came to the end.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” he declared, his voice ringing in the nearly empty church. Nora sucked in a breath. It was done. She was married. Charles had lost his hold on her. Forever. She was her own person at last.
Then she noticed Simon’s brothers waiting, watching.
Had she forgotten something?
“Is there more?” she asked the minister.
Mr. Bagley glanced between them. “I believe it is customary for the husband to offer his wife a kiss.”
Nora swallowed, her stomach fluttering. She’d never been kissed, but all the girls in the boardinghouse floated in with bemused smiles after saying good-night to their chosen beaus. Still, Simon wasn’t a suitor. She hardly knew him. Did she want him to kiss her?
Those firm lips looked rather unforgiving at the moment. He gazed down at her, unmoving, as if he were studying her face. It was the same face she’d worn when she’d asked him to marry her. She wasn’t sure why it was so important to him now. He wasn’t in love with her. And physical intimacy, of any kind, was not part of their bargain.
But then he bent closer, and she found herself closing her eyes, pursing her lips, her heart thundering once more as she drew in the cool, clean scent of him.
She felt a gentle pressure on her cheek, the faintest brush of skin. Then she opened her eyes to find him pulling back, his face still solemn. That was it? Somehow she’d thought a kiss would be more momentous.
“Congratulations, Mrs. Wallin,” Mr. Bagley said.
“Welcome to the family, Nora,” said Simon’s brother John.
Simon put a hand to her back, the touch so proprietary, a shiver ran through her. “We should be going.”
“Yes, of course,” she agreed, chiding herself for her reaction. He wasn’t Charles. He wasn’t ordering her about. He was merely being practical. They had a ship to catch, after all.
She preceded him down the aisle, paused only long enough to pick up the carpetbag of her overnight things and slip on her cloak, then started with him and his brothers down the hill for the pier, where Puget Sound glistened gray.
Simon reached out his hand. Nora frowned at it a moment, then realized he was offering to carry her bag. Blinking in surprise, she gave it to him.
How nice to have someone else do some of the carrying.
He had stamina too. His long legs ate up the muddy ground. He moved with such purpose, such determination. Charles would like him. He always said there was nothing worse than an aimless fellow.
Nora shuddered, scurrying to keep up. No, no. She didn’t want Charles to like Simon. She wanted Charles to respect him, fear him and leave her alone. She was looking forward to the day when Simon and Charles locked horns. She was fairly certain who would win.
She wasn’t sure what ship Simon had found to take them on the journey, but she couldn’t help smiling at the long, lean lumber schooner that lay at anchor near Yesler’s pier. It wasn’t nearly as large as the Continental, which had carried her away from New York, but she would always have a special place in her heart for this ship. The Merry Maid had rescued her and some of the others in San Francisco and brought them the rest of the way to Seattle.
“You’re just in time,” the burly mate told Simon as they reached the ship. “Get aboard and stow your things.” He glanced toward Nora. Eyes widening, he tugged off his cap in respect. “Miss Underhill, an honor to be traveling with you again.”
“Good to see you, Mr. Chorizon,” she said. “I noticed the jib sail is holding up.”
He grinned at her. “Those stitches you took were just the thing, ma’am. The sailmaker in San Francisco claimed he couldn’t have done better. Captain Collings says you’re welcome to travel with us anytime.” He nodded to Simon. “No charge for you, seeing as you’re friends with Miss Underhill.”
“Mrs. Wallin,” John corrected him with a look to his brother.
Mr. Chorizon grabbed Simon’s hand and shook it. “Good for you, Mr. Wallin. She’s a fine lady. I wish you both happy.”
Simon inclined his head, but he retrieved his hand and reached for Nora’s to help her up the gangplank and onto the ship.
“What did he mean?” Levi asked as they settled themselves along the bulwark, where they’d be out of the crew’s way.
“The Merry Maid brought us up from San Francisco,” Nora explained. “They had a little trouble with that front sail there.” She nodded toward the triangular canvas at the front of the schooner. “I was able to patch it up.”
“She’s a sailmaker?” Levi demanded with an accusatory look to Simon as if annoyed he hadn’t been told his new sister-in-law had skills few men boasted.
“I’m a seamstress,” she told him.
“And she’s obviously a good one, if she could fix a sail,” Simon added with a look that made his brother move down the rail a little ways. With an apologetic nod, John went to join him.
“Thank you,” Nora murmured, leaning against the polished rail.
Simon frowned. “For what? It was only the truth. My mother sews quilts and made most
