Yankee Wife Read Online Free PDF Page A

cheek, and the wind brought a taste of saltwater to her lips, faintly reminiscent of tears. Lydia could not remember the last time she'd really cried; perhaps it had been at her mother's funeral, when she was a small child.
    She stood a bit straighter in her accustomed place at the railing of the steamer San Francisco , and even managed a smile for Polly, who beamed upon the crude little country town as though it were Paris.
    Apparently, the new bride had found marriage to a complete stranger to be all she'd hoped for. Polly had formed a habit of humming cheery little tunes under her breath, and there was a pinkish glow to her cheeks and a bright shine to her eyes.
    The small party transferred to another boat at Seattle's busy harbor, and the last leg of the journey began. In an hour, Devon had told the ladies, they would reach Quade's Harbor, across the Sound.
    Â 
    â€œ You brought me what ?” Brigham Quade would have bellowed the words, but shock had knocked the breath from his lungs, and a furious rasp was all he'd been able to manage. He stared at his brother in horrified disbelief, praying he'd misunderstood.
    Devon was perched on the edge of Brigham's enormous cherrywood desk, a valuable piece that had come from China aboard a trade ship. “I brought you a wife,” he said placidly. “Believe me, Brig, you're going to like Lydia.” He held out one hand, palm downward. “She's about this high, with purple eyes and yellow hair, and she's healthy.”
    â€œNext you'll be telling me she has good teeth!” Brigham burst out, nearly upsetting his chair when he stood. “Good God, Devon, you make this woman sound like prize breeding stock!”
    His younger brother, generous to a fault but often misguided, shrugged. “Lydia is no brood mare, of course,” he allowed, “but she would produce strong children. I have no doubt of that.”
    Brigham rounded the desk. “I already have children, Devon,” he pointed out. “Two. Or has that fact escaped you?”
    Devon's eyes were clear of any guilt or guile. “Charlotte and Millie are girls,” he reasoned. “They'll marry and set up households of their own. You need sons to take over the timber business when you get old and—”
    â€œDevon,” Brigham broke in quietly. It seemed to him a miraculous thing that he hadn't strangled his brother already. “I've still got a few good years left to me, believe it or not.” Beyond the windows of his study a soft summer rain shrouded the view of the snowy mountains, the dark indigo water, the thick, seemingly endless carpet of evergreen trees spilling over the land to the horizon. He stood looking out at the spectacle, which was beautiful to him even in that gloomy weather. “We built the company together, you and I,” he said finally. “And we'll run it together.”
    He heard Devon's sigh behind him, knew what was coming next.
    â€œ We didn't build this business, Brig—that was your doing. My only contribution was some fetching and carrying, and we both know it. I want something of my own.”
    Brigham's disappointment came out as impatience. “A general store,” he said, with a touch of mockery to his tone, as he turned to glare at his brother.
    Devon was the one man he'd never been able to intimidate, and it was plain that nothing had changed in that respect. “A general store,” Devon confirmed, raising one eyebrow.
    â€œDamn it, Quade's Harbor has no need of a mercantile,” Brigham insisted, shoving a hand through his dark hair in frustration. “There's a company store!”
    â€œAfraid of a little competition?” Devon asked, grinning now.
    God in heaven but the man had balls, Brigham reflected—walking away from a half interest in one of the largest timber outfits in the territory, starting up a business no one would patronize, bringing a strange woman home for a wife and another to