Northern Light Read Online Free PDF Page B

hair of his dreams. Her skin looked soft as satin and smooth as porcelain china. “Miss Margaret, I understand yer the one who came to my rescue. I’m much obliged to ye, ma’am.”
    “You’re welcome, Mr. Murphy. I hope you understand that I don’t make it a general rule to go saving the lives of blue-bellied Yankee sailors, but according to my mama and papa, it was the right thing to do. Now if you don’t mind, I have cookies to bake. Good day, sir.” The words were spoken in a lovely, melodious voice. His stunning savior whirled around, her skirt flaring wide at the bottom as she rushed from the room.
    Her mother and younger sister gasped in unified disbelief.
    “I am so sorry about Margaret’s rudeness,” Mrs. Logan apologized.
    Mother and daughter abruptly left the room. Mrs. Logan was obviously angry.
    The gorgeous young lady’s words were definitely some of the harshest Thomas had ever heard, and yet he longed to hear her beautiful voice speak them once again.

5
    Margaret slammed a huge ball of dough onto the kitchen counter and a cloud of flour exploded from beneath it. Thomas Murphy…so that’s his name. She picked up Mama’s rolling pin and hammered the crushed ball before rolling it flat as a piece of paper. Mr. Murphy, shall I go fetch the authorities so it will be easier for you to turn us all in for treason?
    Little June pushed one of the kitchen chairs to the counter, climbed up, and watched her big sister. “Can I throw the dough ball, Margaret? I wanna make flour go everywhere too!”
    “No! Now get down from that chair before you fall and hurt yourself.” Margaret scraped up the flattened-out dough and rolled it back into a ball. She grabbed a handful of flour and threw it onto the counter in a huge white puff.
    “Do it again, sissy! Make the flour go way up in the air!” June waved her hands above her head.
    Heavy footsteps came up behind Margaret. Mama and Elizabeth would be hot on her heels…primed for an ambush. She pelted the counter with the ball of dough again.
    Her little sister clapped her hands together and squealed with glee.
    Mama stepped up behind June and lifted her out of the chair. She pulled it back to the kitchen table and patted her on the behind. “June, go to the front room with your brother.”
    “But, Mama, I wanna see sissy make more flour clouds.”
    “You heard me, now go!”
    June poked out her bottom lip, crossed her arms, and stomped out of the room.
    Margaret cast an uncaring but cautionary glance to her other side.
    Elizabeth stood with hands on her hips, an imposing look on her face. She tapped her foot as though she had some kind of power over Margaret.
    Margaret glared and the haughty look melted from Elizabeth’s face.
    Mama twirled Margaret around and pointed a finger squarely in her face.
    Margaret grabbed hold of the counter she was backed up against. Childlike fear welled up inside.
    “Margaret Frances Logan, I don’t ever want to hear you talk to a guest in our home like that again, no matter who they are. Do you understand me?”
    Papa chose that very instant to come through the back door. He took one look at the situation, shook his head, and headed straight for his chair and the newspaper he’d read at least a half-dozen times.
    Mama made eye contact with Papa and then removed her finger from Margaret’s face. She backed away and released a long, huffy breath.
    Margaret placed her hands on her hips. “He’s not a guest, Mama! He’s a rotten, stinkin’ blue-bellied Yankee who doesn’t belong in our home!”
    “What on earth is wrong with you, Margaret?” Elizabeth approached Margaret, gesturing toward the front bedroom. “Don’t you even realize the most handsome man on the entire peninsula is right here in our house?”
    Margaret and Mama jerked their heads toward Elizabeth.
    A rosy glow crept onto Elizabeth’s cheeks as her hands covered her mouth. Her eyes widened.
    June came back into the kitchen.
    Margaret hardly noticed