Love Inspired Historical October 2015 Box Set Read online

  He’d been careful not to push her to make plans for their future. She’d faced a lot of changes this year. They weren’t in any rush to make more.

  She tugged his elbow and he followed her willingly, bemused when she did it again moments later, and then again, leading them in a circle. Or, when he looked back at the pattern their footprints had made in the snow, a rectangle.

  With the copse behind her and the sky as blue as her eyes… “You are a picture,” he told her. He leaned in for a kiss and she obliged him, her arms coming easily around his neck, his settling about her waist.

  But she broke away too soon, a mischievous smile playing about her lips. “I didn’t bring you out here only to steal kisses,” she said.

  “No?” He grinned lazily.

  “And I didn’t need to escape your family that desperately.”

  He quirked an eyebrow at her.

  “I suppose they’ve grown on me. Especially the children.”

  He’d noticed how the little ones seemed to gravitate toward her.

  Catherine gestured to the path they’d broken in the pristine snow. “I also brought you out here to see this.”

  She seemed almost as excited as his young nieces and nephews would be tomorrow morning, bouncing on her toes.

  Of course he would humor her. “And what am I seeing?”

  “Well, if you picture a front door here, a kitchen here, bedroom…” She paced and pointed across the rectangle she’d made and his chest got tight all of a sudden.

  “It’s a house?” he asked, voice gone hoarse.

  She looked up at him almost shyly. “It could be. You said your brothers would help us build…”

  “I thought you’d want to build on the homestead.”

  He let the horse’s reins go. The animal was placid and not real interested in going anywhere at the moment and he needed both hands to catch Catherine’s waist.

  She looked up at him, her eyes clear. “I think I’d like to be closer to…our family.”

  It warmed him from the inside out that she’d begun to think of his family as her own.

  “And Daniel promised to teach me to read if we lived closer.”

  He buried his nose in the crown of her head. “Oh, he did, did he?”

  She nodded, the movement brushing his chin against her hair.

  “And…”

  Now she trailed off. He felt a tremor in her hands as they rested on his shoulders. She pushed slightly back and he watched her face, concerned.

  “And…I don’t know much about babies. So it might be nice to be close to Penny. And Sarah. And…and Rose.”

  “Babies?”

  He knew he must appear stunned. He felt stunned, his hands frozen spanning her waist.

  Something in her eyes shifted, a shadow, and he didn’t want her to think for one second that he wasn’t happy.

  He whooped, the sound echoing off the layers of snow. The horse neighed his displeasure with the unexpected noise, but Matty had already swooped Catherine into his arm and twirled her.

  They kicked up snow as his fervor slowed and he set her feet back on the ground.

  “So you’re…happy?” she asked tentatively.

  “Incredibly so.” He took her lips again in a brief expression of joy, then hugged her to him as they looked out over the snowy landscape.

  Who could’ve guessed that God would use a storm and an injury to open his eyes to Catherine’s need? And her love.

  He’d been searching for contentment with his job, thinking he’d never find it isolated on a small homestead, but he couldn’t be any happier than he was now.

  God had blessed him immeasurably. A hundredfold, until his cup spilled over.

  “Merry Christmas,” she whispered, her words warm against the skin of his cheek that had grown cool in the elements.

  “Merry Christmas,” he returned. “Our first one together, and you couldn’t have given me a more precious present.”

  “Hmm.” She looked up at him coyly. “Then I suppose you don’t want the gift I snuck into the sleigh for you while you weren’t looking…”

  His eyebrows rose of their own accord. “Are you kidding? Let’s get back to Ma and Pa’s place right now. We’ve got celebrating to do.”

  She laughed as he hoisted her onto the horse behind him, the sound pure joy.

  God had definitely sent a rainbow after the storm.

  *

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you enjoyed this visit to Bear Creek and the White family. My family has always enjoyed playing games together, from Candy Land and Monopoly to card games and dominoes. We’ve also found Settlers of Catan for when we have a grown-up game night! Now that I have kids of my own, they also enjoy the simple fun of a game of Eye Spy, which is where I got the idea to have Matty play that game with Catherine. I found historical references to Eye Spy that fit the timeline of my story—and that makes it kind of fun to think that someone was playing the same game I play with my children over one hundred years ago.

  I would love to know what you thought of this book. You can reach me at [email protected] or by sending a note to Lacy Williams, 340 S Lemon Ave. #1639, Walnut, CA 91789. If you’d like to keep up with the Wyoming Legacy series and find out about all my latest releases in an occasional email blast, sign up at http://bit.ly/lacyw_news.

  Thanks for reading!

  Lacy Williams

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Historical title.

  You find illumination in days gone by. Love Inspired Historical stories lift the spirit as heroines tackle the challenges of life in another era with hope, faith and a focus on family.

  Enjoy four new stories from Love Inspired Historical every month!

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  ISBN-13: 9781460388952

  Her Cowboy Deputy

  Copyright © 2015 by Lacy Williams

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.

  www.Harlequin.com

  Daddy Lessonse

  Arthur, Lord Trelawney, is an expert at carrying coded messages for the government—and a complete amateur in caring for children. Before courting a widowed acquaintance with two babies, he decides to practice with the rescued orphans sheltering at his family estate. A practical idea…until he meets their lovely nurse.

  Maris Oliver is drawn to the principled, handsome nobleman, even if he’s expected to woo another woman. Both have secrets that threaten their safety and their fragile trust. But if Maris’s sweet charges have their way, Arthur won’t need to venture beyond his own front door to find a wom
an he’ll risk all to protect and love.

  “Must you always obey the canons of Society?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You are always polite to the point it can become aggravating.”

  Her eyes widened. “Would you have me be otherwise?”

  “At times, yes! The ton did not collapse when the children began to address me as Arthur. It feels absurd when you continue to call me ‘my lord.’ Why don’t you do as they do?”

  “They are children. They are excused from making such a faux pas.”

  “How can it be a faux pas if I ask you to address me so?”

  Maris had no quick answer to give him. To let his name form on her lips… If other servants or members of his family heard, would they be as accepting as they were with the children?

  As if she had aired her thoughts aloud, he said, “It would be only when we’re with the children or when we are having a conversation like tonight. Could we at least try tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  He raised a single brow.

  “Yes, Arthur,” she said with a faint smile. How sweet his name tasted on her lips!

  Jo Ann Brown has always loved stories with happy-ever-after endings. A former military officer, she is thrilled to have the chance to write stories about people falling in love. She is also a photographer, and she travels with her husband of more than thirty years to places where she can snap pictures. They live in Nevada with three children and a spoiled cat. Drop her a note at joannbrownbooks.com.

  Books by Jo Ann Brown

  Love Inspired Historical

  Matchmaking Babies

  Promise of a Family

  Family in the Making

  Sanctuary Bay

  The Dutiful Daughter

  A Hero for Christmas

  A Bride for the Baron

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

  JO ANN BROWN

  Family in the Making

  For there is no man that doeth any thing in secret, and he himself seeketh to be known openly.

  If thou do these things, show thyself to the world.

  —John 7:4

  For my dear son Peter and his beautiful bride, Meghan

  You are beginning your lives together as a family

  May you always be as filled with joy and love as you are on the day you say “I do.”

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader

  Chapter One

  Porthlowen, Cornwall

  October 1812

  Another inch. One little inch, and she would have it.

  Maris Oliver stood on tiptoe on the chair and stretched her arm across the top shelf, groping for the box she had seen from the floor. When she had asked the cook about a box of small cups, Mrs. Ford told her to look in the stillroom. She wanted to retrieve the cups that were decorated with nursery rhyme characters to use in the nursery.

  “Just another inch,” she muttered to herself as the stool wobbled under her toes.

  She could have waited and asked a footman to help her, but she wanted the cups for the children’s next meal. She had read the rhymes to them, and they would be excited to see the characters. Making the youngsters smile always was a delight.

  The four tots and tiny baby in the nursery, as well as the little boy who lived with the parson and his wife, had been discovered floating in a jolly boat in the harbor. Brought to Cothaire, the great house on the hill overlooking the cove, they were taken in by the Trelawney family. Its patriarch, the Earl of Launceston, had given his children carte blanche to provide for the youngsters until it could be discovered who had put them into that boat and set them afloat and why.

  Shortly after their arrival, Maris was offered the position of nurse to oversee the children and the nursery. The position would end once the search for their real families proved fruitful. She should worry about where she would go next, but she spent her time focused on the children, guiding them, teaching them manners, playing games with them in the nursery.

  She doted on the adorable urchins. When she was with them, she could forget why she had run away to West Cornwall in the first place. She had found a haven in Porthlowen, and the children had found a way into her heart.

  A perfect solution…at least for now.

  Her fingers brushed the edge of the box she sought. It rocked.

  “C’mon,” she murmured. “An inch more.”

  Could she stand higher on her toes? She tried and managed to push aside the box beside the one she wanted. It bumped into others, and one toppled onto another. She held her breath, but nothing fell to the floor.

  One more try.

  Extending her arm and hand as far as she could, she hooked one finger over the side of the box. She drew it back carefully. It moved an inch, then stopped.

  “Bother!”

  She was not going to give up. She gave another tug, then a harder one.

  Too hard. Her finger popped off the side of the box. The motion propelled her backward. She windmilled her arms before grasping the edge of the shelf. The stool stopped rocking beneath her. She let out her breath in a soft sigh. That had been close.

  Suddenly, an arm wrapped around her waist, yanking her off her feet. A shriek burst from her throat. The moment her toes touched the stone floor, she was shoved against the lower shelves. As she was held there by a firm chest, terror took control of her. No! She would not let this happen. Not again! She tried to pull away, but broad hands tightened on her.

  Exactly as hands had at her dear friend’s house that evening when Lord Litchfield refused to let her escape him as he squeezed her to the shelves behind her. The brash, flirtatious young lord had proved he was no gentlemen when he had chanced upon her in the book room. The echo of her own screams burst from her memories, his breath hot against her face, the screech of ripping fabric…the laughter of his friends.

  Not again! She would not let it happen again.

  She drew back her arm and drove her fist into her captor’s gut. Air whooshed out of him, but he did not release her. She aimed her fist at him again. She froze when boxes cascaded down beyond her captor. They struck the stone floor and broke apart. Wood splinters flew in every direction. He pushed her head to his chest. His face hid in her hair. Glass shattered, and metal clanged.

  Silence except for her uneven breathing…and her captor’s. No, not her captor. Her rescuer!

  Voices rang through the room. She started to raise her head, but the man pushed it against him again. She opened her mouth to protest. Anything she might have said vanished as another storm of boxes fell from overhead, crashing and splintering.

  The man holding her recoiled toward her. Had he been struck? She did not move until he lifted his head off hers as silence returned.

  “Are you hurt?” called Mrs. Ford from the direction of the kitchen.

  Maris opened her eyes and closed them as a cloud of dust and debris swirled around her. How many boxes had fallen? There had been more than a score on the topmost shelf and many others on the lower ones.

  Mrs. Ford’s voice grew more frantic. “Are you hurt? Miss Oliver? Lord Trelawney?”

  Lord Trelawney?

  In horror mixed with dismay, she looked up at the man who still held her close to the shelves. She was accustomed to looking down when she spent time with the children, so it felt strange to raise her eyes to his. Arthur Trelawney, the earl’s heir, was strikingly handsome with his ebony hair that curled acro
ss his forehead. She had seen him on occasion in Cothaire’s hallways, but never this close. His face was tanned, for he often rode across the estate on the family’s business. Because his features were sharply drawn, when he moved changes of light and shadow played along them intriguingly. His dark navy coat, which accented his broad shoulders, was cut to his specifications by a skilled tailor. His crystal blue eyes were bright as his gaze moved up and down her.

  She tensed, too conscious of how close they stood, for she was aware of each breath he drew in. She must look a complete rump. Her apron was stained with food from the children’s luncheon, and her hair was escaping from its sedate chignon to wisp around her face as if she were a hoyden racing across the garden.

  “Are you hurt?” the viscount asked.

  “No.” She hastily looked away. Why was she gawking like a foolish chit when she should be apologizing? “My lord…”

  He waved her to silence, stirring the cloud of dust, then called, “Mrs. Ford, we are unharmed.”

  “I will send Baricoat for footmen to clean up the mess,” the cook said, then ordered one of her kitchen maids to take her message to the butler. “I am relieved to hear you are not injured, Lord Trelawney.”

  His name was an awful reminder that Maris had struck the earl’s heir when he was trying to keep her from being hurt. She must hope that he would not give her the bag for such outrageous behavior. Where could she find another safe place to hide?

  Again she began, “My lord, I am sorry—”

  “One moment.” He vanished into the brown cloud, and she heard china crack under his boots.

  A burst of damp autumn air swept into the room, and the dust was flushed out through the stillroom’s garden door. Blinking, Maris coughed as she breathed in fresh air to cleanse her lungs.

  When a handkerchief was held out to her, she took it with a whispered, “Thank you.” She dabbed her watery eyes, then faltered. Blowing her nose on Lord Trelawney’s handkerchief did not seem right, especially if he expected her to return it to him.