MARGARET: Suffragettes Mail-Order Bride (Choice Brides Agency #3) Page 9

  She didn’t want to go back to Boston and leave Will behind. Even if it meant marrying a man she didn’t love.

  “I will still marry Jake,” she said.

  Because hadn’t the plan been to marry the man whether she loved him or not? This was not some epic romance where Margaret would win the dark, brooding soul over and be swept off her feet at the climax. This was real life, and she could accept a lot of heartache if it meant that the little boy beside her kept smiling the way that he was right now.

  His whole face seemed to light up with it.

  “That’s good,” he said. “I think you’ll love Jake soon. Gran says you’re already halfway there.”

  I am, Margaret confirmed to herself. And it will take every ounce of self-control I have not to fall any more than I already have.

  They sat by the stream and enjoyed the sunlight and the sound of water rushing over rocks and tree branches. Margaret thought she could get used to this – the simple pleasures of Montana in the late spring. In that moment, with Will playing and the dog lying contentedly in the grass, Margaret could almost convince herself that she didn’t need the love of Jake MacDonald. That marrying him and knowing he loved another wouldn’t slowly kill her.

  Almost.

  “Oh no!”

  Margaret was pulled out of her reverie by the sound of Will’s dismayed shout. He had wandered closer to the stream than she’d realized, and his bear had fallen into the water. The toy had already been swept a fair way from where they stood. It had been caught by a low-hanging tree branch several feet away, in a spot where the water rushed with particular aggression, and was far too deep for Will to wade into.

  “Stop!” Margaret called, when she realized Will was planning to wade into the water regardless. “I’ll get him, Will – you stay here and watch the dog.”

  Margaret didn’t know how to swim, but she was sure she wouldn’t need to. The water was deep, but there were branches she could hold and push herself towards the trapped bear.

  Will watched as Margaret waded into the water, his lower lip trembling. Her skirts billowed around her, forming a kind of hallow around her hips as she walked. The riverbed seemed to drop off rather quickly and she had to hold onto the branch that the bear had gotten trapped in, feeling the water rushing around her torso and arms as she went.

  As she got to the bear, she heard a crack that made her freeze. It sounded disturbingly like it had come from the branch she was holding onto. Her feet couldn’t touch the bottom anymore.

  “Be careful!” Will called from the edge of the stream, watching her with worry in his wide brown eyes. Beside him, the dog wagged her tail anxiously.

  Margaret gave him a thumbs-up to hide her growing concern. Get the bear, she told herself.

  She allowed herself to take one hand off of the branch, reaching out and snatching the bear from its net. She pulled her arm back and threw it as hard as she could. It landed with a soggy splat beside Will’s feet.

  Margaret had only a single moment to enjoy Will’s delighted grin before the branch broke.

  Sixteen

  Margaret went under the water in an instant, gripping the now useless branch in her hands and kicking her legs in a desperate attempt to stay above the surface. But her skirts had tangled around her knees, constricting her movement.

  The current wrapped around her. She felt it pulling her along, pushing her hair and her dress along the stream, carrying her away in the bubbling, violent flow of water. Margaret tried not to panic when she realized there was nothing beneath her feet but more water – that there was nothing keeping her from going under and staying there.

  “Margaret!”

  She was dimly aware of Will’s shout before she went under again. She tried to open her mouth to shout back, but she took a mouth full of water in, instead.

  Water went up her nose and she gagged as she struggled to stay afloat. Her fingers wrapped around another branch and she pulled herself up, gasping and coughing, her nostrils stinging. She gazed around and realized Will had disappeared. The dog was barking on the shore, wavering as though she meant to jump in after Margaret.

  “Stay there!” she shouted. The dog still wavered. “Sit!” The dog sat, whimpering.

  Margaret tried to get her bearings, clinging to the branch like a drowned cat. She didn’t recognize this part of the stream – had the current taken her so far? It seemed as though she had been with Will on the stream only moments before. There was a massive rock in the middle of the stream, just within her reach. Margaret reached out to grab it, but the branch groaned with her movement and she quickly abandoned the attempt, clinging to the branch instead and praying it would stay intact.

  The dog was still on shore. Margaret wanted to shout at her to get help, but of course the poor thing would never understand her. Where was Will? She desperately hoped he hadn’t tried to follow her into the water.

  Oh please, God, don’t let him have fallen in too, she prayed silently as her limbs began to feel numb from the freezing water, and her lips shivered from the cold.

  “Margaret!”

  She looked up, trying to toss her hair out of her eyes and nearly slipped off of the branch. It bounced with her weight and she froze, trying to raise her head without moving too much as she turned her head slowly, looking for the voice she’d heard calling for her.

  Jake was running over the field, followed by Will who was clutching his bear, and running as fast as his little legs would take him. Jake’s hat had flown off and his hair was blown backwards as he sprinted towards the stream.

  Margaret heart lept; she wanted to shout for him – to reach out – but she was terrified of letting go of the branch. Jake came up just at the edge of the stream. Margaret could see the brief flash of terror in his eyes before his expression turned into dark resolve.

  “Can you reach the rock?” he shouted.

  Margaret shook her head. He didn’t seem to understand so she risked a shout: “No!”

  “Can you pull yourself closer?”

  “It’ll break!”

  As if to support her words, the branch groaned dangerously. Margaret gasped and tried to bury her sob. Will was watching her from beside his uncle – she could see the tears making tracks down his face – and she knew that she couldn’t show her fear. She needed to be strong for him.

  Jake pulled a long length of rope from his belt. Margaret hadn’t even noticed it was there. He pushed Will backwards, saying something to the boy Margaret couldn’t hear. Beside him, the dog yipped and danced around impatiently.

  Margaret’s branch groaned again, and she knew that she didn’t have long before it broke and sent her careening down the stream. Her mouth was full of the taste of river water, and she had to keep her head turned down stream in order not to take a mouthful in again.

  She thought she might have scraped her arm when she went under the first time – the sting was becoming difficult to ignore even though she knew this was neither the time nor place to worry about a scratch. She glanced behind her and groaned. There were dozens of sharp looking rocks and heavy logs downstream. She tried not to imagine her fragile bones being dashed against them with the strong current.

  Jake shouted at her, pulling her attention back to him. “Hold still!”

  She wanted to shout back, but she didn’t dare move. She remained as still as she could, and prayed.

  From the corner of her eye Margaret saw the circle of rope circling around and around his head before he threw it in a long arc. It landed just to the left of her – the current carried it away before she could grab it.

  Jake wasted no time. He pulled the rope back into his hands and got ready to throw again. One, two, three loops around his head, and this time the rope landed on her shoulder. Before she could overthink it, Margaret dropped the branch and grabbed the rope, pulling it around herself just as she heard the sickening snap as the wood gave way and the branch fell into the water.

  There was a moment when she was submerged
in the stream, still half-tangled in the rope with the branch pressing hard up against her. But then the water carried the branch away and Margaret, with her eyes closed against the stinging water and her lungs screaming for air, pulled the rope down so it was around her waist – just as she felt the insistent tug.

  After a few tugs, she came up for air. She gasped, sputtering and coughing, as Jake pulled her into shore. When she got up to the muddy bank, Jake dropped the rope and reached down to pull her out by the waist, pressing her to his chest as they both collapsed onto the grass.

  Margaret was shaking, scared witless and freezing, but desperate to keep it hidden. When she pulled back to thank Jake she was suddenly aware of how close they were. Almost nose-to-nose.

  “Are you alright?” he asked. He was breathless from his run, though not nearly as breathless as she was.

  “Y-yes, I—I think so,” she stuttered.

  Water from her hair dripped onto his face. His eyes flickered to her lips and Margaret froze. She was hyper aware of her hands on his chest and his hands on her waist, holding her securely, keeping her grounded and preventing her from being swept away.

  Then Will was there, still weeping.

  “Margaret, Margaret – are you okay?”

  “Of course!” she replied lightly, ignoring the pang in her gut when Jake’s eyes still lingered on her lips.

  She pushed away with what little strength she could muster, and Jake quickly helped her.

  And then the dog was there, licking Margaret’s face clean of water. Will rushed forward and wrapped his arms around Margaret’s neck, sobbing into her chest, and Margaret clutched the dear boy as close as she could. She felt larger, stronger arms wrap around the pair of them.

  “I—I’m alright,” she said again, quietly.

  She was alive. Safe, yet still cold, and so, so tired. Crouching in the arms of her future husband and nephew, Margaret let the weight of what just happened finally fall on her. As she slumped in Jake’s arms, she realized she quite liked the feeling of them around her.

  Seventeen

  “Bedrest for a day,” Dr. Elliot said, looking at Margaret over the rims of his spectacles. He was young for a doctor and had the sort of calming bedside manner Margaret really appreciated.

  She would have appreciated it more if she weren’t being held hostage.

  “I’m fine,” she said for possibly the hundredth time since Jake had fished her out of the water.

  Jake snorted. He was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, watching Dr. Elliot work on Margaret as though he were concerned that Elliot would try to eat her if Jake turned his back. He’d been hovering since he’d gotten her out of the water – it was flattering in a way, to see him so concerned about her after appearing to be indifferent since they’d met, but also terribly controlling. Margaret wondered if he planned to treat her like his property for the duration of their marriage.

  “You fainted,” he said, as though she’d forgotten.

  “Yes, I’m well aware of that,” she muttered.

  She was still red-faced from their argument. When she woke up in her bed to the news that a doctor had been sent for, she’d tried to fight her way out of the blankets, insisting she was fine, only to be physically restrained by Jake. She’d taken a moment to enjoy the way his arms had felt around her before throwing furious words in his direction.

  She’d demanded to be let out of her room to check on Will. Jake had refused. He’d told her Will was fine and that he would see her after the doctor had seen to her. That had triggered another tirade about Jake’s controlling ways which had almost had him laughing – and then the doctor had arrived to find her ruffled and furious while Jake smirked in the doorway.

  Dr. Elliot had introduced himself to Margaret as an old school mate of Jake’s. He was handsome in a cheery, boyish sort of way, with strong hands that worked deftly – taking her temperature and running his fingertips over her head, seeking lumps and bumps while he spoke in a soothing tone about how he hoped that she hadn’t swallowed any water.

  “I think I may have,” she admitted.

  He clicked his tongue. “We’ll have to keep an eye on you then – don’t want you catching anything or getting ill. Lord knows what’s been living and breeding in that stream.”

  “Did you have to say that with him in the room?” Margaret asked in dismay.

  Jake threw his hands into the air. “What do you expect me to do? Force feed you medicine?”

  “I’d like to see you try,” she challenged. Calling for an unwanted doctor was one thing – if he even tried to force her to take anything she would be on the next train to Boston.

  Dr. Elliot was watching the pair of them like a spectator at a badminton match. There was a soft smile on his lips.

  “Alright, Jake – you’re upsetting my patient. Make yourself useful and get her some food.”

  Margaret smirked as Jake barked out a laugh. Their eyes met and Margaret was surprised to see something close to tenderness in the edge of his expression. He left the room before she could analyse it properly, closing the door gently behind him.

  Dr. Elliot watched him go with a grin before turning back to Margaret.

  “Okay – the truth now. How are you feeling?”

  Margaret took a moment to consider her answer. “I feel a little bit nauseated,” she said. “But no worse than I usually get during my monthlies.” He nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t remember hitting my head, but my arm hurts.”

  There had been a scratch on her forearm. She must have caught the side of a rock while she’d been swept downstream. Dr. Elliot had seen to that already. It would be bruised, but not broken.

  Running the back of his hand over her forehead, Dr. Elliot pursed his lips before replying: “I think you’re probably fine, but like I said – swallowing that stream water certainly won’t make you feel good. I know you don’t want to hear this, but I really think you should take it easy. At least for 24 hours. Rest is the best thing to help you ward off any illness that could result from the freezing water and lowered body temperature.”

  Margaret sighed, but she accepted what the doctor told her.

  “So… what do you think of Jake?” Dr. Elliot asked with some interest.

  Margaret looked at him sharply. Then she remembered that she and Jake were the subject of much gossip in town. Dr. Elliot had probably heard about their circumstances, and as a friend of Jake’s he was probably curious. He was also, Margaret realised, probably full of insight into the man.

  “I can’t decide whether or not he even likes me,” she said. “Not romantically – just in general.”

  Dr. Elliot didn’t rush to reassure her. On the contrary, he nodded as though he’d been expecting it. “Yeah, Jake has always been a bit closed-off. Ever since his dad died. He finds it really hard to show people that he likes them. But don’t worry –” he added, leaning in conspiratorially. “He likes you. Romantically.”

  “That’s what his mother says!” Margaret replied. “But he seemed awfully happy to kiss Abigail Drake at her party last night.”

  That made Dr. Elliot frown. “He kissed Abby?”

  “I saw it with my own eyes,” she said darkly. She was suddenly feeling more than a little sick to her stomach.

  Dr. Elliot made a thoughtful noise. “I think you should ask him about it,” he said. “Jake’s never been the kind to sneak around behind a girl’s back. He’s as loyal and true as anyone I’ve ever known.”

  “How do you even know he cares about me?”

  The man shrugged. “I’ve known him all his life. I know when he cares. I also know he can be so frustrating you might want to dunk his head in the stream from time to time.”

  Margaret laughed at that. It made her belly hurt to laugh, but she did it anyway, because the alternative was to start weeping.

  Someone knocked lightly on the door. It was Jake, carrying a plate in one hand and a mug of tea in the other.

  “What’s funny?” he aske
d, looking between Margaret and Dr. Elliot with suspicion.

  Dr. Elliot winked at Margaret. “Just telling your fiancée how lucky she is to have you.”

  “Don’t do me any favors, Luke,” Jake replied.

  He left half a sandwich and the tea on Margaret’s bedside table, walking with Dr. Elliot toward the door. Dr. Elliot stopped to remind them both, once more, that Margaret should remain in bed at least until tomorrow evening, when he would return to check her over. If she started with a fever, they were to call him right away.

  When they were gone, Margaret lay back in bed for a moment, enjoying the solitude and the quiet, before pushing herself out of bed.

  She was still wearing her underclothes – and they were still damp and smelled of river. She crinkled up her nose, stripped the undergarments off and took a critical look at her reflection in the mirror. Her body wasn’t exactly ideal – not like Susan, who had a perfect hourglass, or Lydia who was short and plump in all the right places. When Margaret was little, she had been scrawny and boyish. Puberty had brought her some curves, but not many. There was a soft swell of breasts and her hips were strong, though not as wide and noticeable as Abigail’s were. Margaret’s hair was still a mess – she would have to wash it before the day was done or she would never get the tangles out.

  Margaret finished stripping and quickly put on fresh undergarments, as she began to shiver and feel cold again. But she felt cleaner already, although a bath was still in order. She sat down at the vanity and began working a brush through her blonde curls.