Liberty Hill (Western Tide Series) Read Online Free PDF Page B

costly and completely unnecessary. You are young and strong and perfectly capable of caring for yourself.”
                “I shall be the only woman in the whole of California! Who is to protect me from all those men who have left their wives at home, hmm? They will be ravenous for female company and God knows you shall not look after me, Lucius Flynn. I shall be devoured!”
                Lucius was amused by her unabashed arrogance.
                “And you believe Beatrice could rescue you?” he wondered.
                “A lady does not travel without her maid.”
                And by God, she was spoiled.
                “There are many things you will have to learn to do without, Miss Brennan.”
                “Why not do as the other miners have done? Leave me in New York. Have Beatrice look after me.”
                “And suffer unnecessarily? Who knows,” Lucius stopped, taking a lingering glance over Evelyn’s body, “your pretty face may be useful.”
                Evelyn wrenched herself away.
                “Your lack of propriety disgusts me, Lucius.”
                “I intend to spend every waking hour digging gold from the ground,” he said. “Why should I throw my fortune away on cooks and seamstresses and launders when I have a perfectly good wife to care for me?”
                Evelyn scowled.
                “Oh, I see,” she muttered. “So I shall be your servant. How silly of me not to think of it.”
                “Indeed,” Lucius agreed. “Tis a woman’s place, of course. It’s a pity the other lads left their girls behind. They shall be green with envy when they see you on my arm.”
                “Under your heel, rather.”
                “Whichever your prefer, my lady.”
                It was not really Lucius’ intention to enslave his new wife, but it was impossible not to torment her with the idea when she was being so preposterous.
    Flabbergasted, Evelyn returned to her room in a rage. Lucius watched after her, one hand pulling at his hair. It was a light, reddish-brown and tended to shoot off in every direction unless he greased it. He had thick, unruly curls of which he was quite proud, for they had made many a woman swoon. Evelyn, however, had never been one for swooning. 
    Not that Lucius cared.
                Besides, it was never his intention to make Evelyn like him. He knew he hardly stood a chance of that. But if their marriage was to be composed of senseless squalls, Lucius might as well have a bit of fun now and again. He had nearly forgotten how amusing it was to tease Evelyn Brennan, a fact he would do well to remember from now on.
               
    Beatrice helped Evelyn into the many folds of fabric that composed her wedding gown by smoothing and frilling the yards of silk and lace, fastening the corset, and slipping the buttons into their corresponding holes. When the young bride was fully dressed, Beatrice worked her hair into a perfect arrangement of curls, and a little rouge was applied to her cheeks and lips, with a stitch of black paint to line the tips of her eyelids.
    Despite the weight of the gown, Evelyn could feel her back straighten, her shoulders roll back, her chin lift, her arms drift regally to her sides. Her fingertips tingled. Her belly tightened.
    She forced every visible part of her body into an adaptation of grace, while each hidden muscle remained tight as a wire.
    As she peered into the looking glass, she searched for any sign of Emmett Brennan, yet she only saw a lady, an image of a mother she had never known.
    It was her wedding day, and her beloved father remained nowhere to be found.
    She steeled herself against a tide of tears and turned away from her reflection. 
                           
                The