“Damn
“Don’t bring me into this.” Tom grinned at his wife.
“I pretended I was you, and advertised for a Mail Order Bride in the Grooms’ Gazette.” Amy faced him, defiant. “You’ve been on your own too long. Hasn’t he, Tom?”
“You did what?” Josh Sinclair glared at his sister.it woman. You had no right.” Josh thrust his fingers through his hair, causing the curls to become even more riotous than normal. “You can damn well have that ridiculous advertisement removed.”
“It’s too late.” Amy looked pleadingly at him. “Edwina has already answered and agreed to marry you.”
“Edwina! Matrimony is not on my agenda. Even if it was, I wouldn’t be marrying some desperate spinster who has been left on the shelf.”
“She’s from Boston.”
Boston! Pain pierced his heart. Three years and Maryanne’s betrayal still hurt. He would never trust another woman. He had given her his heart, only to have it smashed to pieces. He had relinquished the captaincy of his ship, and was a loner now. Just the way he liked it.
“She accepted your marriage proposal.”
“Your proposal, Amy, not mine. Hell’s bells.” He bit back a more colorful maritime expletive. “Tell her it’s a mistake. I’m dead. I’m already married. Tell her whatever you like.”
“We’ve exchanged two letters, and she sounds perfect for you. She was quite impressed with your references. She comes from a good family …”
“No!” He would do almost anything for his sister, except this. 
“You’re a fine looking man, Josh.”
“I can recommend marriage.” Tom placed his hand on Amy’s shoulder and gave a besotted smile. “It’s the best thing I ever did, and now, with a baby on the way, everything is perfect.”
Josh snorted. After twelve months of marriage they were still making cow eyes at each other. “I’m off to my cabin for a couple of weeks.”
“You can’t.” Amy wrung her hands. “You can’t. Who will meet Edwina?” “She’ll be arriving at Hartford around lunch time tomorrow.”
“You and Tom can meet her.”
“We can’t,” Tom said. “Remember, I’m going to the Dairyman’s’ Association meeting in Glastonbury, and Amy needs to shop for baby things. We’ll be gone for a couple of nights. It’s all arranged.”
Hell and damnation. There was nothing else for it but to bite the bullet, confront this woman and send her back to where she came from. Even if I have to pay her fare home, it would be well worth it to be rid of her.
“Give me the woman’s letters,” Josh growled.
Pulling two letters from the dresser drawer, Amy shoved them into his hand. “Please Josh.” Her lips trembled. “I was only trying to help.”
“If you want to help me, don’t meddle in my affairs,”
“Now look here.” Tom stepped forward. “Amy did it with the best of intentions.” 
Turning her face into her husband’s chest, Amy sobbed.
Why was it, Amy could force his surrender with a few tears? Women and their conniving ways, a man was better off without them.” He sighed; defeat was imminent.
His sister lifted her head. “You will meet her, won’t you, Josh? Promise.”
“I give you my word. I will meet the stage and make arrangements for her return to Boston. That’s it. Then I am going to my cabin for a couple of week’s peace and quiet.” He stomped out of the kitchen, congratulating himself for keeping his temper in check. Well, almost in check.
Amy was the most infuriating woman he had ever come across. Always interfering, trying to run his life, just because she was three years older. It had been like this for as long as he could remember. The thrashings she had saved him from when their father was in one of his black moods, the way she had nursed him after he had been injured, and the way she had stood by him after Maryanne’s betrayal. He did owe her, but not to the extent that he would contemplate marrying some spoilt little hothouse flower from Boston.
He strode toward the single story white cottage Tom had helped him build on his share of the farm. He rarely stayed here, much preferring his isolated cabin where he could roam the mountains choosing the best timber for his carving. Who would have thought his maritime whittling would lead to a lucrative business, supplying one of a kind sailing ships for wealthy New Yorkers.
Dairy farming wasn’t for him. Milking cows morning and night held no appeal. The fur trade and his wood carving provided an outlet for his restlessness. He missed the wide open vista of the sea, but the wild mountain ranges surrounding his home were great compensation.
The shipping line had offered him a desk job after his partial recovery from the accident that had fractured his hip and almost broken his back. There was the vague offer of another ship after he fully recovered, but with steam starting to take off, and the majestic sailing ships going out of business, it would not be the same. For him, there was nothing like strolling the deck of a fully rigged clipper.
He pushed the door of his cottage open and entered a small parlor. The whole house smelled of bees wax polish and lavender, which pleased him. He hated the damp, disused smell some houses acquired. He would stay the night at Nellie’s Tavern on the main Hartford Road, then it would be an easy two hour carriage ride into Hartford. Nellie’s place might be isolated, but it was clean and she was a superb cook. In the morning he would meet the stage carrying this foolish city woman and send her on her way.
What kind of female would travel all these miles to marry a man she did not know. For that matter, what kind of man would be so desperate for a wife, he would advertise in a newspaper? His lips curled in derision. He would never demean himself like that.