Bride by Mail. Katy Madison

the bank. He set her down. Hacking and choking, she fell to her knees.

      Cold stabbed him. His toes stung. He hadn’t noticed the iciness when he’d been trying to pull Olivia out, but he sure as hell noticed it now. Soaked through and through, Olivia had to be worse. Hell, if she didn’t drown, she’d probably die of exposure.

      He heaved in a couple of deep breaths. “Are you all right?”

      He didn’t really expect an answer, but she lifted a hand. A flash of white caught his attention. He leaned closer. She held her soap. Merde, had she plunged into the water after a bar of soap?

      His heart thundered. He should toss her back out in the churning stream. “What were you thinking?”

      She coughed and then pushed up slowly to stand. Scowling, she straightened her spine to the rigid erectness of her normal posture. “I was thinking I’d like a b-b-bath.”

      A bark spewed from his mouth. He couldn’t have said if he was amused or angry. Both, perhaps.

      Did his wife have a sense of humor under all that frosty hauteur? God help him if she was serious. He stared at her and she stared back.

      “C-c-could we go b-back to the f-f-fire?” She turned and took a dragging step toward the lantern. Thank God it hadn’t tipped and started a forest fire.

      He had to get her dried and warm. The wet cotton would suck the warmth out of her faster than a deerfly could suck blood. She’d end up with pneumonia or worse. Olivia took another slow step. The sodden wet weight of her skirts tripped her.

      Olivia squelched a couple of awkward steps away from the frigid stream. Her soaking-wet dress, nightgown and petticoats dragged. She gathered the brown twill hem in numb fingers. Shaking uncontrollably, she wrung out water.

      She couldn’t feel her feet. Not daring to look at Jack for fear of the disappointment she’d find, she wished herself far away.