A Wild Yearning Read Online Free PDF Page B

McQuaid—"
    Delia's whole body went rigid. "I don't know what ye're after, mister, but one thing ye ought t' know right off, I'm not intendin' t' lie with no man, leastways not till the 'I do's' are spoken."
    One brow flared upward, and his mouth twisted into a crooked smile. "Thank you for warning me. Now come here so I can get a better look at you. Come, come. I won't bite."
    She came right up next to him.
    A spasm of disgust crossed his face. "Jesus, you reek like a distillery. When was the last time you bathed?"
    Delia was mortally insulted. "I'll have ye know, ye nosy bastard, that I bathe once a month."
    "We must be nearing the end of your thirty days then. Open your mouth."
    "Huh?"
    He seized her chin and pried her mouth open.
    She jerked it out of his grasp. "Here now! There's no call t' be lookin' at my teeth. I'm no horse ye're thinkin' of buyin'."
    "At least your teeth are cleaner than the rest of you."
    He hooked the leg of the wainscot chair with the toe of his boot, pulling it around so that he could lean against the hearth with one foot braced against the seat of the chair, his shoulders pressed into the mantel, his thumbs hooked into his waistcoat pockets. He let his gaze move over her, studying her the way he had back in the bedroom. It made her uncomfortable to be looked at like that, yet she was acutely aware of his decidedly masculine pose and how he was making her heart thud loudly against her chest.
    At last he drew in a deep breath, letting his foot fall as he straightened. "Well, now, Delia McQuaid, you'll not thank me for it, but I'm afraid the—"
    "Is it her—that Priscilla person? Is Priscilla the one ye've picked for the post of wife then?" Not that Delia blamed him, for though the woman was perhaps a mite old for him, she was not only beautiful but also rich by the looks of her. And she obviously knew her way around a bedroom.
    His laughter was a throaty rumble that brought another blush to her cheeks. "I haven't picked anyone else. I was going to say I'm afraid the post—if you can call it that—is yours. If you want it. I've got to have somebody by tomorrow, and you're the best of a bad lot."
    Delia suspected she was being insulted again and her head jerked up with immediate defiance. "An' what's that supposed t' mean?"
    "It means that you're young and hardy and your wits are all there, although how sharp they are remains to be seen..."
    Delia's mouth fell open.
    "And though your virtue is undoubtedly questionable, you don't appear to be suffering from the great pox yet, although—"
    Delia's mouth fell open even wider. "Aooow!" she screeched, so loudly that he winced. "Ye filthy-minded bastard! I'll have ye know that just 'cause I work in a grog shop, it don't mean I'm a whore. I haven't said yes t' the post yet, no, nor will I now. Nay, not if ye was the last man on earth, would I marry ye, ye—ye—"
    He looked taken aback. Then he threw back his head and let loose a hearty laugh. Delia searched the room for something to hit him with. Nothing appeared lethal enough, except perhaps for the fire poker...
    "Delia, Delia," he said, laughing still. "Something tells me Merrymeeting Settlement would never be the same again with you around. And Nat would probably want to nail my hide to his barn door for landing you in his lap."
    "I don't understand ye," Delia said through stiff lips. She wanted to burst into tears.
    His laughter died down, but the amusement remained to give his eyes a mischievous glint. "I'm not the one in such desperate need of a wife. Heaven forfend."
    "But ye said... The newspaper..."
    "I placed that advertisement at the behest of a neighbor who lost his wife two months ago. With two young daughters and a farm to run, he needs a woman's help. But there's a sad dearth of eligible matrimonial material in The Maine," he said, naming the vast wilderness territory that lay northeast of the New Hampshire Colony. "I was coming to Boston anyway to hire a preacher for our settlement,