Her Father Forced Her to Marry a Penniless Servant — Then She Discovered the Secret Beneath His Wedding Vows

Elizabeth felt her chest tighten.

He continued.

“But I don't regret offering you somewhere safe to go.”

Her eyes filled.

She nodded.

“Good night.”

Daniel smiled gently.

“Good night, Elizabeth.”

Then he climbed into the loft.

She closed her bedroom door.

Changed into the simple cotton nightdress.

And lay beneath the quilt.

The bed was smaller than the one she'd slept in at Hawthorne Hall.

The mattress was firmer.

The walls were rough.

And the only light came from the candle beside the window.

But she could hear Daniel moving quietly in the loft.

She knew he was there.

Not as a threat.

Not as a man waiting to demand something from her.

As someone who had promised to respect her choice.

Elizabeth closed her eyes.

For the first time since Victor's proposal, she slept without dreaming of her father's anger.

The next morning, she woke to the sound of an axe striking wood.

Sunlight entered through the curtains.

She sat up.

For a moment, she forgot where she was.

Then she remembered.

The wedding.

The wagon.

The cabin.

Daniel.

She slipped from the bed and approached the window.

Outside, he was splitting firewood beside the porch.

He wore dark trousers and boots, his shirt hanging open at the throat, his muscular arms moving with effortless rhythm as the axe rose and fell.

Elizabeth watched longer than she intended.

She had never seen someone work like that.

Not with the easy confidence of a man performing a task he'd done thousands of times.

He split another log.

Set the pieces aside.

Then wiped his forehead.

Elizabeth stepped back from the window.

Her cheeks were warm.

She felt ridiculous.

He was her husband.

And she had spent the previous evening insisting that marriage meant nothing more than an arrangement they would have to endure.

Now she'd been caught staring at him through the bedroom window.

She changed quickly.