Dacey: Bride of North Carolina (Amercan Mail-Order Bride 12) by Shanna Hatfield Page A

release.
    She hadn’t cried when the horrible man took over their home, when he lost the ranch, or her mother died.
    Sentiment wasn’t something she’d had the time or energy to express when Luther tossed out his despicable threats. Before he could make good on them, she poured all her efforts into running away.
    Tears were kept in check as she traveled across the country to start a new life, only to lose her job a few days later when the factory burned.
    With dry eyes, she’d accepted the proposal of a stranger and found herself in Asheville, North Carolina. Even when she’d discovered Beatrice’s deception and no husband awaiting her, she hadn’t cried.
    Yet, she struggled to maintain her control with Braxton holding her so caringly and telling her she had every right to be upset with the stupid choices her mother made. Choices that left her homeless and at the mercy of strangers.
    From deep inside her soul, the fear, frustration, anger, doubt, and heartache bubbled to the surface, spilling out in salty tears and anguished sobs.
    Unable to stop, Dacey clung to Braxton as she cried out the bitterness, pain, and disappointment.
    Nearly undone by her raw emotion, Braxton lifted her in his arms and carried her to a bench in the hall where he sat with her across his lap. He let her cry until she’d soaked the front of his shirt with her tears.
    Upon hearing the heart-wrenching sobs, Beatrice hurried toward them, but Braxton gave her a look that let her know he would handle the situation.
    Soundlessly, she retreated to her bedroom, secretly pleased by her son’s affectionate care of Dacey.
    Although she hated to see Dacey in such a state of distress, Beatrice smiled as she thought how well the evening had gone. Just as she planned, the bothersome presence of Ernie Howell and his blatant interest in making Dacey his next conquest had stirred every protective instinct Braxton possessed.
    With a little more effort on her part, Beatrice was sure he would realize what she’d known all along — Dacey was the one meant to be his bride.
     

Chapter Eight
     
    Leisurely stretching in her bed, Dacey slowly opened her eyes, feeling better than she had in a very long time.
    The weight that had pressed against her very soul seemed to have dissipated as she sat up. Without the burden of it, she hopped out of bed, skipped across the floor, and pushed the button that bathed the room in soft light.
    Continually amazed by the wonder of electricity, she jigged her way to the closet. As recollections of the previous evening flooded over her with sudden clarity, she tripped on the rug and caught herself on a chair.
    What had she done?
    Not only had she shared the whole story of her past, but she’d also soaked Braxton’s shirt with her tears, sobbing like a helpless baby.
    He’d held her and crooned words of comfort until she was so spent, she slumped against him in exhaustion.
    With great care, he’d carried her into her bedroom and summoned Cornelia to help her undress. Once she was ensconced beneath the warm covers, he returned to the room and tenderly brushed the hair back from her face, staying with her until she fell asleep.
    Mortified that she’d broken down in front of Braxton, of all people, and let him tuck her in like a needy child, she didn’t know how she’d face him.
    “Good gravy,” she muttered, sinking down on the chair and holding her head in her hands. “I sure enough stepped in it this time.”
    The last person she wanted to see her as weak was Braxton Douglas. In the weeks she’d been at Bramble Hall, she’d come to admire him for his strength and kindness, as well as his gentleness.
    What would he think of her now? Now that he knew she was an emotional wreck, resentful of the fear-driven decisions her mother had made.
    Only Dacey didn’t feel like a wreck. She didn’t even feel as resentful of her mother.
    Perhaps she’d needed to release all the emotions she’d bottled up for so long so she could move