Second-Chance Bride (Dakota Brides Book 3)(54)

“I certainly will.” She leaned over and kissed him.

Milo and Kit ran to them. Ward managed to get to his feet then hugged his family. He had finally found a love he could trust and he gladly shared it with his two sons.





Epilogue





Both Freyda and Ward had wanted their wedding to be a small, intimate affair. Only a few close friends and family were in attendance. Anker, Lena, and Charlie were there. The Nillsons. The Hoffmanns. Freyda wore a new grey silk dress for the occasion.

She glanced around the house. Wildflowers filled a dozen containers. She smiled at the bouquets of purple “weeds” as Ward insisted on calling them, though he did so with a smile. She would always love those purple flowers.

Ward waited for her and she went to his side. They stood hand in hand before the preacher. Ward was as handsome as she’d ever seen him, his hair slicked back. He wore a crisp white shirt and a black string tie. She swallowed hard at the admiration and love that swelled up her throat.

Milo and Kit, in matching brown long pants and new pale brown shirts were in front of them. Lena and Anker were their witnesses.

“Dearly beloved,” Reverend Sorrow began.

She listened carefully to each word. The English wedding ceremony was different than Norwegian customs, but she had insisted she belonged in a new country. Silently she added, with a new husband who saw her the way she had long desired to be seen—capable, but still wanting tenderness.

Mr. Nillson brought out his fiddle and Anker danced like only he could do—traditional Norwegian dances. He kicked out his legs, bounced up and down. The others clapped in time to the music as did Freyda, but she couldn’t wait to have Ward to herself.

The ladies had baked traditional Norwegian treats and served them with pot after pot of coffee.

Later, their guests departed. Anker and Lena took Milo and Kit home with them.

They had decided to live part time in Freyda’s house and the other in Ward’s in order to prove up both homesteads. They’d been married at Ward’s and he carried her over the threshold into his home.

“It seems strange to welcome you into a house you’ve been in so much already but, Mrs. Rollins, welcome home.” He set her on her feet. “My house is your house.”

She reached up and kissed him and for a few delicious moments they forgot all else.

She broke away. “And my house is your house. My farm is your farm. And most importantly, my heart belongs to you.”

“And mine to you.” He chuckled softly. “Welcome to America.”





Dear Reader





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Sneak peek of Reluctant Bride





Agnes Bland is alone and anxious to keep it that way. She’s learned the hard way just how crushing it can be to trust in someone else. She has a second chance at family when she is made guardian to three little girls. But when the boarding house refuses to rent to them, Agnes and the girls have nowhere else to go.

Nels Hanson has an empty house. Built for his intended--who jilted him and married another--the house sits empty. Until Agnes and the girls fill up the structure--and his life--with their giggles and tears. Nels never expected to feel like this again. Alive. Maybe even in love. When tongues start wagging about Agnes living in his house, he decides a marriage of convenience isn’t the worst thing in the world. Until Agnes rejects his proposal.

Agnes would do anything to keep the girls. Anything but marry Nels. Marriage would make her too vulnerable. She can’t trust Nels with her heart… can she?





Coming soon!





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Temporary Bride (Dakota Brides Book 1)


Lena Stevens huddled on the cold ground and clung to her eighteen-month-old son, trying to silence his screams of terror as flames licked up the roof of her house and poured down the walls like a boiling pot.

Back and forth she rocked, pressing Charlie to her chest, whispering, “Hush, hush. Stop now.”

Dark shadows leaped and danced around her like someone in agony. Her nostrils filled with the smell of burning wood and wool, vegetables and sugar. It was the odor of despair.

She and Charlie had nothing left. No home. No place to get away from the bitter wind filling her veins with ice. No food. Nothing but the clothes they wore and the thin blanket about them like a shawl.

A horse reared to a stop at her side. The rider hit the ground running and skidded to the trough to pump water like mad.

She glanced up and saw Anker Hansen, her neighbor. The man who had been at her husband’s side last winter as he lay drawing his last tortured breaths. The man who had promised Johnson he would take care of her and little Charlie. He took his vow seriously, often coming by to make sure she was all right and to offer help. But she didn’t want taking care of and had frequently been rude to the persistent man.