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Hero Of The Flint Hills
Cassandra Austin


He Hadn't Wanted to Like A City Girl -Much Less Love One, but Christian Prescott found himself on the horns of a dilemma: his yearning for Lynnette Sterling, his brother's intended bride. But she had corralled his heart and spurred him to a decision that would change his life forever… !Lynnette's eyes were finally opened when she met her future brother-in-law. For she knew in a prairie heartbeat that Christian Prescott was the embodiment of the rugged West - and the unattainable realization of her every dream of love!









Table of Contents


Cover Page (#u58cfa965-ceac-57ed-9122-d4b1a057ca8f)

Praise (#ucd9b18ce-794c-5b59-a366-6df6e2375d13)

Excerpt (#uea37cd6e-57fa-554f-835a-8c1dbcb7153b)

Dear Reader (#u869c250b-e3f3-5651-b77a-9907da879edf)

Title Page (#u98471efa-d5c6-5659-aeba-3194d74df345)

About the Author (#u51923d86-9d26-571b-b5b5-f5e6de54ed8e)

Dedication (#ucdf3d8c8-e1b2-560a-b9f9-78b8cf63aca0)

Chapter One (#ubf33af9c-4e17-5930-b8a6-a8e11b970f75)

Chapter Two (#u9768ae7a-46d4-50b3-9508-6fb942dfed72)

Chapter Three (#uf078bf43-af10-5bd7-b092-cf53f2c05aa4)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)




Praise for Cassandra Austin’s previous titles


Trusting Sarah

“…a truly heartwarming story of love, betrayal and redemption…”

—Award-winning author Anita Mills

“…a rousing western romance…”

—Affaire de Coeur

Wait for the Sunrise

“…a stirring, emotionally moving work…exceptional characters…Wait for the Sunrise is not to be missed…”

—Affaire de Coeur

“…a beautiful story of growth and change and love…characters who latch onto your heart…”

—Romantic Times

“This first-time author has a winner here…Enjoy this worthwhile tale…”

—Rendezvous




Christian discovered Lynnette descending the ladder slowly above him.


It was a most intriguing view. One he shouldn’t be enjoying. He looked away quickly, but his eyes were drawn upward again. Lynnette’s tight pants showed him just exactly how slender her legs were, how rounded her little bottom was. He felt his groin tighten and took a hasty step backward.



Then her toe slipped off the rung, and Christian found his hands had wrapped around her narrow waist.



If she had let go, he could have swung her to the ground…or into his arms. But she didn’t let go. She caught her balance and continued down the last few steps. His hands didn’t leave her waist until her foot touched the floor. He stepped back and let her turn around.



“Thanks.” She was breathless. The climb down, he supposed.



But what was his excuse?


Dear Reader,



At the death of her father, a young woman agrees to marry an up-and-coming politician, but when she moves to the family ranch and meets her fiancé’s rugged half brother, she realizes she has made a mistake in Cassandra Austin’s new ranch story, Hero of the Flint Hills. Don’t miss this tale from an author whose reputation for emotional depth grows with every new book.

In A Wish for Nicholas by Jackie Manning, a young woman who has been draining the income from her profitable land to improve the lives of the crofters must protect her secret, and her heart, from the dashing naval war hero who has been given her estate as a prize. And Margaret Moore’s popular WARRIOR SERIES is still going strong, as you will discover with this month’s A Warrior’s Bride, the wonderful tale of a peace-loving knight and a fiery noblewoman who make an unlikely match in a stormy marriage of convenience.

We are very pleased to have USA Today bestselling author Merline Lovelace back in our midst with her new Western, Countess in Buckskin, the passionate story of a Russian countess who falls in love with the rough-hewn American lieutenant who has been forced to escort her through the untamed mountains of California.

Whatever your tastes in reading, we hope you enjoy all four books this month.



Sincerely,



Tracy Farrell

Senior Editor




Hero of the Flint Hills

Cassandra Austin













www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




CASSANDRA AUSTIN


has always lived in north central Kansas, and was raised on museums and arrowhead hunts; when she began writing, America’s Old West seemed the natural setting. A full-time writer, she is involved in her church’s activities as well as the activities of her three grown-to-nearly-grown children. Her husband farms, and they live in the house where he grew up.


To Joe, my own special hero




Chapter One (#ulink_c028b728-df13-5a5f-a36d-e12df6a432c5)


Kansas, 1876

Christian Prescott hurt all over. He longed to soak in a tub of hot water. Instead, he sat on the cold hearth where his dirty clothes wouldn’t ruin the furniture and listened to his younger brother extol the virtues of some young woman he had briefly met in Topeka and had evidently promised to marry.

“But you’ll both love her, too,” Arlen said, aiming the current argument at Christian more than their father, presumably because Hugh needed less convincing. “She’s educated and refined. Beautiful like…like a china doll, delicate and pale.”

Christian wanted to groan. When his brother’s buggy had driven up to the house a few minutes earlier, he had been more than happy to turn the ill-mannered mare over to Jake to rub down. Now he wished he was back at the corral having his joints systematically dislocated. It was damn hard listening to Arlen without saying something he would regret.

“She’s educated,” Arlen repeated, pacing across the braided rug like an actor on a stage while the kerosene lamp provided limelight. “Cultured. A lot like Mother, actually.”

“Your mother left us, Arlen. She hated the ranch.” Christian knew he should have bitten his tongue, but if neither Hugh nor Arlen had thought of that, it was time they did. He risked a glance at their father to assess the damage.

“Yes, well,” the older man said, straightening slightly in the big leather-covered chair. “She won’t be here much, will she? Once Arlen’s elected to the legislature, they’ll be in Topeka all winter. That’s the worst time, Felicia always said.”

“Perhaps she’ll like the ranch if we make her feel welcome,” Arlen said, avoiding eye contact with Christian. “She’ll be taking the train to Cottonwood Station next week. I’ve told her she could be our guest for the summer.”

This time Christian did groan. “What’s she going to do here all summer? You’ll be gone half the time, you know.”

“Mother’s sending Emily out with her.”

Christian tried to imagine Arlen’s cultured china doll enjoying the company of their thirteen-year-old sister. Even Emily was increasingly bored by the few social events of the neighborhood. Now they were to have two bored females with them for three months.

Arlen moved to what Christian had begun to think of as center stage. “Her name is Lynnette Sterling,” he soliloquized. “Lynnette.” His features took on a look of enchantment. “She floated into Mr. Ditmer’s office like a spring breeze.”

“And it was love at first sight.”

It seemed to take Arlen a minute to snap back to the living room. He cast an annoyed glace at Christian. “Mr. Ditmer was helping her settle her father’s estate. He introduced us then, and that night I discovered Mother had met her once or twice and knew her situation.”

“Which is?” Hugh asked.

“Ira Sterling was one of the early settlers in Topeka. From New York State, I believe. Strong abolitionists.”

That had to be worth a few points with Father, Christian thought, tempted to smile for the first time since Arlen had started relating his “wonderful news.”

“Her mother’s family goes back to the Revolution,” Arlen went on.

“That’s her pedigree, son, not her situation.”

Arlen hesitated. “She’s got no place to go.” Abruptly he changed from the fast-talking lawyer to the boy who had found another stray. “Her mother died when she was a child, and her father’s final illness cost her everything. She’s even had to sell her home to pay the debts.”

Christian nodded, coming stiffly to his feet. At least now he understood. He still didn’t like it, though. “Did you have to promise to marry her, Arlen? Couldn’t you simply have helped her find some kind of work?”

“But she’s beautiful, Christian. I can’t think of her working.”

Christian shook his head. No, of course not. Not a fragile china doll. With a sigh, he offered a hand to Arlen; he couldn’t quite bring himself to congratulate him. “It’s good to have you home, little brother,” he said. He wanted to pull Arlen into an embrace, but his brother wore a fancy suit while he was in dirty work clothes. It seemed to describe the distance that had opened between them a few years before and had been widening ever since.

He started out of the room but turned for another look at his brother. Arlen had knelt beside their father’s chair and launched into further descriptions of the girl’s many talents. Arlen had inherited his mother’s fine bone structure. Christian’s own rugged features more resembled their father’s. In fact, he had often thought of Arlen as his opposite, with big brown eyes to his narrow blue ones, curly brown hair to his straight blond thatch, stringy now from sweat and wind.

They were opposites in more than appearance. Christian supposed that was the secret to their close friendship; they had never wanted the same thing so they were never in competition. Or perhaps the seven-year difference in their age had worked to their advantage. When Felicia had taken the then-five-year-old Emily away, Christian had been a grown man already aware that ranching was what he wanted to do with his life. Arlen had been only seventeen. Christian had helped his younger brother through some difficult times while their father was too hurt and angry at his wife’s desertion to notice the boy’s need.

And for Christian, Felicia hadn’t been the first mother he had lost He had been three when his mother died of pneumonia. Neither woman had been strong enough for the solitude and hardships of ranch life. And Lynnette Sterling didn’t sound as though she was either.

Christian laughed at himself as he turned toward the washroom. Arlen’s wife wouldn’t be a ranch wife, as their father had pointed out. He needed a political wife, which was something else altogether. Still, what kind of woman became engaged to a complete stranger? Arlen was handsome and certainly as cultured as his china doll. In all probability, Miss Lynnette Sterling was at this moment singing the praises of her future husband.



“A handsome young attorney! I’m so happy for you, Lynn.”

Lynnette Sterling watched her friend do a gleeful little dance around the study. She had interrupted the sorting of her father’s books when Amanda Norberg arrived and had thought to continue as she told her friend her plans, but Amanda was in no mood to help.

“The house and all the furniture are sold,” Lynnette said, lifting another stack of books from the shelf and placing them on the floor beside the step stool. She sat down before she added, “I have to get my personal belongings out and leave next week. Mr. Prescott was nice enough to offer me a place to stay for the summer.”

“Oh, Lynn, I will miss you terribly.” Her serious expression didn’t last. “My Bill has known your Mr. Prescott forever, you know.”

Lynnette grinned at her friend. “Why didn’t you fix me up with him instead of Julian?”

Amanda cringed. “I’m sorry about Julian.” She took a book from the shelf and read the title before adding it to Lynnette’s stack. “And I would have gotten around to Mr. Prescott sooner, but he’s in and out of town a great deal.”

Instead of going for another book, Amanda sat on the floor in front of her. “I can hardly believe it, Lynn. And to think you told me a hundred times how useless husbands are!”

Lynnette had to laugh at the memory. “That was before I was about to be thrown out on the street. Suddenly one seems very useful.”

Amanda leaned away, obviously shocked by her words. “That’s cold, Lynn. You should love your husband.”

Lynnette watched her friend scowl at her. Relationships came easy to Amanda. Lynnette had always been less confident of her own appeal. When Amanda tossed a brown sausage curl over her shoulder, Lynnette smiled. Her own brown hair would never have held a curl like that and tended to turn red when it was exposed to the sun. Amanda had known since childhood that she would have her pick of men.

“I do love him,” Lynnette ventured. “Or I think I do. He’s really very sweet.”

She meant to be a good wife to Arlen, but she couldn’t help wishing something she wrote would sell. She would be bringing something to the marriage that way. It occurred to her that if she could sell her writing she wouldn’t need a husband.

She mentioned none of this to Amanda, who considered her ambition to be a writer foolishness. As far as Amanda knew, nothing Lynnette had ever written had earned her a penny. Praise, occasionally, but no money. Lynnette’s one success she hadn’t shared with anyone. The dime novel, Passion’s Secret, by Silver Nightingale had paid a great many bills and helped her keep her home nearly a year longer than she would have otherwise.

Lynnette lifted the rest of the stack of books onto her lap, but Amanda took them and moved them back to the floor. “Does his touch make your blood sing? Does his voice speak to your very soul? Do you look into his eyes and feel yourself floating up to heaven?”

Lynnette couldn’t resist laughing. “You should be the writer.”

Amanda squeezed her hands. “I’m serious, Lynn. If that’s not what you feel, you shouldn’t marry him. I’m afraid you’re going to be miserable.”

“You’re afraid I’m going to argue with him until he’s miserable.” Amanda didn’t laugh. Lynnette rose to her feet pulling her friend up with her. “If that’s what you and Bill have, I’m thrilled for you, but I suspect that kind of joy only comes to a lucky few who believe the moon makes plans for young girls.”

“I quit believing that years ago,” Amanda said, pulling Lynnette into her arms. When she let her go, she continued. “But I still believe in love.”

Lynnette stepped away. “I believe in love as well, Amanda, but perhaps most of us have a different kind of love.”

Lynnette listened to Amanda’s deep sigh and knew her friend had given up. “Just remember, if there’s anything I can do…”

“You’re already helping me so much. I can’t thank you enough for letting me store some things at your house. Now, you’d better hurry home to Bill before he starts to think you’ve decided to run away with me.”

Lynnette saw her friend to the door, then returned to her father’s study. It seemed too soon to be going through his books, deciding what to save, sell or take to the country for the summer. Several volumes had made the rounds to all the piles. If she couldn’t decide what to do with a book, how could she decide what to do with her life?

With a sigh, Lynnette sat on the step stool, placing a stack of books in her lap. Her decision had already been made, and she would honor it. And the books had to be sorted. She vowed to be ready when Mrs. Prescott and her daughter came to take her to the train station.



Early Wednesday morning, Lynnette stood in her nearly empty front room beside the large trunk and two small valises that were to make the trip to the ranch. More of her belongings were stored away in Amanda’s attic. She tried not to look at the things she was leaving behind forever.

Amanda had come to see her off. “Write me every day like you did when you were in college,” she said, pulling the curtain aside to look out the front window.

“I won’t be able to post a letter every day,” Lynnette reminded her.

Amanda dropped the curtain and turned toward her. The sorrow on her face told Lynnette the carriage had arrived. Amanda gave her a quick hug before letting Mrs. Prescott’s servants in and directing them to the trunk.

Amanda sniffed into a white handkerchief as the two women followed the men out the door. Lynnette tried for a brave smile. “I’ll send you all my stories.”

Amanda’s laugh was a choked sob. Lynnette gave her friend a parting hug before climbing into the coach with Mrs. Prescott and her daughter, Emily. One last look at her home and a wave to Amanda, and Lynnette was on her way.

“I’m sure you’ll have a lovely summer, both of you,” Felicia Prescott said, reaching across to pat Lynnette’s hand. “I feel certain that you’re perfect for my son. I’m so happy for you, I almost wish I were going, too.”

Emily’s head snapped up. “Do come, Mama!”

“No, dear.”

The older woman’s attention turned to the buildings visible through the window. Emily watched her a moment and shrugged. Lynnette smiled sympathetically at the child. Of course she would want her parents together. It must be confusing to shuttle back and forth. From Arlen’s conversation she knew the breakup had come a long time before.

At the station, Felicia sent the driver to see to the trunks and turned to say goodbye to her daughter. Lynnette looked away to give them some privacy. In a moment, Emily stepped to Lynnette’s side, and they walked to the train together. Just before they boarded, Felicia called, “Give Christian an extra hug from me.”

“I will, Mama.” Emily climbed to the platform and turned to blow her mother a kiss.

Lynnette waved as the whistle blared. “We’d better find some seats,” she said.

The car wasn’t crowded. They were able to find an empty pair of seats, and Lynnette flipped the back of one so they were facing each other. It wasn’t until they were settled in and their valises stowed on the floor between the seats, that Lynnette gave any thought to Felicia’s last request. She knew that Christian was the older brother, who ran the ranch with their father. Was he so openly the favorite that Felicia didn’t care if her other children knew about it? Poor Arlen. It seemed strange, since Lynnette was sure this was the first she had heard Felicia mention him.

She had known Felicia socially since she, at sixteen, had begun attending functions at her father’s side, her mother having died when she was a baby. She had, in fact, met Arlen a time or two in the past, though she was sure he didn’t remember.

Emily’s voice brought her out of her speculation. “Do you like to ride horses, Miss Sterling?”

“I’ve never ridden.” She smiled at the girl. “Please, call me Lynnette.”

“Lynnette.” Emily seemed pleased. “Riding used to be my favorite thing, but I’d rather go to dances now. They hardly ever have any in the country, though. Do you like games—checkers and cards, I mean?”

“I haven’t played much. I suppose because I had no brothers or sisters growing up.”

Emily seemed disappointed. “Do you like books?”

“I love books.”

The girl’s face didn’t brighten. “Then you’ll love Papa’s library. I bet he’ll let you read anything you want.”

“Are you afraid I won’t find enough to keep me busy?”

Emily screwed up her face. “Arlen says I’m supposed to keep you company, but I’m bored often enough myself. I was hoping we could do some things together.”

Lynnette laughed. “You can teach me all your favorite games, and we can take turns reading while the other sews.”

Emily cringed. “Sews? Like embroidery and needlepoint? You like that?”

“Only if there’s a good story to listen to.” Lynnette reached across to pat the young girl’s knee. “Don’t worry, Emily. I’m sure we’ll have a wonderful summer.”

“I know. I didn’t mean to make it sound so dreary. I always have fun, especially with Christian.”

This was the second time he had been announced as the favorite. Emily didn’t seem to notice anything unusual about her statement. Perhaps this was common among siblings.

Emily blithely removed her hat and placed it on the pile of valises, claiming one of her bags to serve as a pillow, and curled up to sleep.

Lynnette closed her eyes and tried to follow Emily’s example, but two young girls across the aisle burst into giggles. Drawn by their merriment, Lynnette turned to watch them. They were about Emily’s age and looked very much alike. One clasped her hand over her mouth to quiet herself while the other craned her neck to look over the back of her seat. Their parents, Lynnette guessed, sat behind them with two younger children. The adults gave the girl reproving frowns.

Lynnette smiled to herself. How early the spontaneous pleasures of youth were stifled by. convention. She had very few memories of that kind of gaiety from her own youth. She felt a vague sense of loss but dismissed it as grief over her father’s death.

The girl who had turned to gauge their parents’ reactions settled back into her seat. Her sister leaned toward her and drew a small book from beneath her skirts. They put their heads together and returned to their reading, but not before Lynnette got a glimpse of the cover.

Lynnette started in surprise. She glanced toward Emily to see if she had seen it too. The girl slept peacefully and Lynnette sighed in relief, then wanted to laugh at herself. There was nothing on that dark red cover that anyone would connect with her.

She leaned her head against the seat and tried again to rest. Passion’s Secret had been so much fun to write and such delicious revenge on an editor who had ignored all her other stories. She wasn’t ashamed of the story; it was just that no one would understand. She wasn’t prepared for the public censure that would result if her authorship of the story became common knowledge. And so far no one knew, not even Julian Taggart.

Thinking of Julian made her skin crawl. He had seemed nice enough when she first met him. When she had caught him reading through some story notes in her parlor, she had told herself she should be glad he took an interest in her writing, but it bothered her that he hadn’t felt he needed permission. When she decided she no longer wanted to see him, she discovered how possessive he could be. Little things that were hard to describe made her wonder if the man was unstable. She was certainly happy to be away from him.

Lynnette forced herself to relax. She should put Julian out of her mind and rest. She had a long day of travel ahead of her. She closed her eyes, but the train stopped every twenty minutes or so and the conductor’s calls made sleep impossible. After an hour, she found the book she had packed in her valise and lost herself in it.

Emily alternated between sleep and chatter. At noon she found the lunches her housekeeper had packed for them. Lynnette wasn’t particularly hungry, but Emily managed to eat her meal and talk at the same time.

“We’re still a couple of hours from Cottonwood Station,” she told Lynnette as she packed away the remains of her lunch. She settled back for another nap.

Lynnette tried again to rest, but never gave in to more than a light sleep, fearful of missing their stop. She needn’t have worried. Emily roused herself, stretched and began collecting her bags a moment before the conductor called for Cottonwood Station.

“You’re quite an alarm clock,” Lynnette said, gathering her own things.

“I’ve done this so often I think I know every curve in the tracks.”

Lynnette led the way into the aisle with Emily right behind. They were nearly to the end of the car when Emily turned back. “I’m missing my hat!”

“Shall I help you find it?” Lynnette tried to turn too, but a man had entered the aisle behind her and seemed reluctant to let her pass.

“No, I’ll just be a minute,” the girl called.

Lynnette stepped into the sunlight and got her first look at Cottonwood Station. She knew the town of Cottonwood Falls was across the river, but perhaps there would be a chance to explore it later.

The porter gave her only a second to study her surroundings before he reached to help her with her bags, tossing them unceremoniously on the platform below. Lynnette thanked him as he helped her down the narrow steps.

Out of the way of other passengers, Lynnette took a better look around. Surely this was a place full of stories. A couple with three small, quiet children and a pile of luggage waited for their turn to climb aboard. A young woman in provocative finery watched the passengers disembark. Was she waiting for someone in particular or for a potential customer? An elderly man in a top hat leaned on a cane, ignoring a woman’s chatter. His wife?

As Lynnette’s eyes roved the area, they lit on the most interesting person of all. A young man with blond hair to his shoulders lounged against an open wagon. His long slender legs and hips were encased in dusty denim. His blue shirt was open at the throat, its sleeves rolled nearly to his elbows. He thrust his hands into his pockets, pulling the black suspenders taut. His chest and shoulders looked far more muscular than the men’s she saw in the city. Were theirs simply hidden by their dress jackets?

She felt the curl of excitement in her stomach that meant she smelled a story. My, but he was interesting, she thought, then realized he was watching her just as intently. She turned away, but not before she noticed that his expression was more than slightly unpleasant. She glanced at the train and considered going back after Emily, but realized it had only been a couple of minutes since she had disembarked and there was still a steady stream of travelers exiting the car.

What could she represent that would make the young man scowl at her? Sure, her dress was slightly out of style and well-worn, but it was tasteful and clean, or had been this morning. It must have been her imagination. She looked back at him to see. No, he was scowling. Well, frowning at least. His hat was pulled down too far to see his brows so she couldn’t say be was actually scowling.

But I’m definitely staring. She turned away but movement brought her eyes back again. He straightened, pulled his hands from his pockets, and broke into a dimpled smile. Lynnette was astounded. It was several seconds before she could turn to see what had caught his attention.

Emily, overloaded with bags, had emerged from the car, her hat held precariously between two fingers. Lynnette hurried to help the porter lighten her load. Emily suddenly seemed like a vulnerable child. That strange man looked at her as if he wanted to devour her. Lynnette considered asking the porter to stay with them until Arlen arrived.

When Emily jumped to the platform, Lynnette drew her close, keeping herself between Emily and the stranger. “That man,” she started, giving the barest nod in his direction.

Emily leaned around Lynnette, then squealed. “Christian!”

Emily flew across the platform, down the steps and into Christian’s open arms. He lifted her off the ground as if she were a small child and spun her around. The wind finished what the nap had started, and Emily’s hair fell down her back. Christian’s hat hit the ground and for a moment their faces were blurred by straight blond hair and dark brown curls.

Lynnette was too stunned to follow. She stood beside their collection of bags watching the brother and sister. It had never occurred to her that family would actually greet each other this way. She had expected a warm smile, a handshake, perhaps a kiss on the cheek. She was envious.

Christian finally let the girl go, and they walked together toward her. They still had their arms around each other, and Lynnette wondered how his long legs kept from becoming entangled in Emily’s flowing skirts.

“Lynnette,” Emily said when they reached her. “This is my brother, Christian. Christian, meet Miss Lynnette Sterling.”

“Hey! Good job, Muffin,” Christian said, unwrapping his arm from his sister’s shoulder to stretch it out toward Lynnette. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Lynnette Sterling.”

Lynnette took the hand, hoping her face no longer registered her surprise. “How do you do,” she murmured. She couldn’t quite forget that this same man had been scowling at her only moments before. Frowning at least. It seemed a little hard to believe now, he was so obviously happy.

She realized they had both looked at each other a little too long, measuring, she decided. She pulled her hand free and reached for one of the bags.

“Mama said to give you an extra hug for her.”

A hesitant quality in the girl’s voice made Lynnette straighten to see his reaction. For a moment he was completely still. She thought she saw pain in his eyes, then it was gone and the dimpled smile was back. “Well, let’s have it,” he said.

Emily giggled and jumped into his arms. He swung her around again. Up close, Lynnette could see how tightly they held each other, how their cheeks pressed together. The envy she had felt before was replaced with a longing not quite so sisterly. She was staring again. Even as she turned to reach for the bags she had a feeling he had noticed her interest.

A moment later, Emily was on her feet and all three were gathering up the bags, with Christian taking the largest share.

“You ladies ever hear of traveling light?” he asked, leading the way to the wagon.

“Not me,” said Emily. “We each have a trunk besides.”

Christian let out an exaggerated groan as he set the bags down beside the wagon and retrieved his hat. “Come show them to me, Em.” He tugged on one of Emily’s curls. As they walked away, Lynnette heard his teasing. “I better braid your hair before we head home. Wouldn’t you like that? Two nice little pigtails like you used to wear?” Emily squealed and tried to pull her hair out of his reach.

Lynnette watched them as they found the trunks in front of the luggage car. She tried to think of a word to describe the way he moved. Lithe, she decided, and wondered if he knew how to dance. When Christian hoisted Emily’s trunk to his shoulder and started across the platform, Lynnette turned away, pretending to study her surroundings. She didn’t want him to look at her and guess she had been imagining herself dancing in his arms.

He dropped the trunk to the wagon bed and pushed it forward, then turned to lean against the wagon while he caught his breath. “Real tight pigtails,” he said to Emily, as if carrying the trunk had only been a momentary interruption in his teasing. “So you always look surprised.” He raised his eyebrows to demonstrate, and Emily hit him in the stomach.

He merely grinned and headed back for Lynnette’s trunk. Lynnette hadn’t been certain what she would need on the ranch and, along with every imaginable type of clothing, she had packed several books and lots of writing supplies. It hadn’t occurred to her until she watched Christian try to lift the trunk just how big and heavy it was.

He didn’t waste time struggling with it but got the porter to help. When the two men had shoved the trunk into the back of the wagon, Christian gave the man a coin. “Thanks for the help,” he said. “You know how it is. You go away for the summer, you just have to take your favorite anvil.”

Lynnette tried to swallow her embarrassment. She felt a need to apologize, but before she could, Emily applied another blow to Christian’s stomach. “Quit teasing!” The girl walked demurely to the front of the wagon and waited, one hand out limply, for Christian to help her in. Christian tossed Lynnette a persecuted look before following obediently. He reached for the hand as if to assist the girl, but grabbed her waist and lifted her instead. Emily giggled.

He held a hand toward Lynnette, indicating she was \\ next. She was almost afraid to approach him. He grinned a challenge. She stepped forward with no small amount of trepidation, but he merely steadied her as she climbed aboard.

The seat seemed rather narrow, and Lynnette was uncertain how to make room for Christian. The wagon rocked as he sprang into the bed behind them. She retreated to the side, pulling her skirts out of the way, as he climbed over the seat to sit between her and Emily.

Emily seemed less concerned about her skirts. “Why didn’t you bring the buggy?”

“And do what with the trunks?” He reached across Lynnette to untie the reins from the hand brake and release it. Lynnette tried to shrink out of his way and wasn’t entirely successful. It somehow embarrassed her to be this close to a man she had just met. Doubly so when he seemed capable of ignoring the contact.

“You could have taken our trunks in the wagon, and Arlen could have driven us in the buggy.” Emily emphasized Arlen, making it sound like a preferable arrangement.

“Arlen’s off shaking hands and kissing babies.”

Lynnette felt a twinge of guilt. It hadn’t occurred to her to question why Arlen hadn’t met the train. In fact at that moment she could barely call up an image of Arlen’s face. She wished she could see Emily; she and Arlen looked so much alike. When she tried, she ended up studying Christian’s profile.

He looked nothing like either of them. One sandybrown eyebrow arched above an incredibly blue eye. Well, she knew there was a matched set, but she could only see one. She knew also that the tanned cheek could crease into a charming dimple. His strong, lean jaw contrasted with his full lips. Exactly what color were those lips? Carnation? No, not quite so bright. Rose, then? Perhaps. A pink rose at dusk.

The lips curved up into a grin that revealed white even teeth. Lynnette jumped, her attention quickly shifting to his eyes—both of them. When had he caught her staring? She couldn’t have been more mortified if he had winked. The humor in his eyes made her think he would do it. She pretended to look beyond him toward Emily, but he had to know she couldn’t see her. Emily was talking, she realized, but she couldn’t concentrate enough to make any intelligent response. After a moment, she turned away.

Lynnette thanked God she wasn’t prone to blushing. He could be debating between scarlet and crimson. She resolutely turned her attention to the countryside. Their route wandered a little through rocky hills, climbing ever higher, and Christian’s leg pressed against her own. She was sure she felt its heat soak through her heavy skirt. She tried to scoot farther away, noticing how the trees seemed greener and fresher here than in the city.

She took in a deep breath of the summer-ripe air. She identified the scent of wind-tossed dust, growing vegetation, a faint hint of horse, soap and sun-dried clothes. She wanted to groan. She had never been so preoccupied with a man before.

She only noticed everything about him because she was a writer, she told herself. She looked for details. She liked to try to describe what she saw and touched. Possible descriptions of the man sitting next to her made her fingers tremble.

She would block him out. It was much more useful to describe the countryside. The…hills…grass…

Christian cleared his throat.

Lynnette closed her eyes for a moment. She had to get her imagination under control. It was fatigue, of course, that made it so difficult.

“Arlen should be back sometime tomorrow,” he said.

Lynnette turned toward him; she really had no choice without being rude. My, but he was attractive.

After she’d gazed for a moment into sky-blue eyes, his words found their way to her brain. Arlen. Tomorrow. He expected a response. She wasn’t sure what she should say. That she was dying to see Arlen again? When she couldn’t remember what he looked like except he didn’t have full lips or dimples or blue-blue eyes? Besides it didn’t sound quite proper.

“I’m grateful to your family for letting me visit this summer,” she ventured.

He eyed her oddly for a moment then turned his attention back to the team. Lynnette supposed it hadn’t sounded particularly romantic.

“How’s Papa?” Emily asked. “Catch me up on everything.”

“Well,” Christian began, “Papa’s fine. Nothing much slows him down. Perry broke his leg last winter, but he’s healing.” He turned to Lynette. “Perry’s our hired man.”

Lynnette nodded, too rattled by their earlier exchange to think clearly. He must have taken her lack of response as lack of interest. He made no further effort to include her as he described the health and activities of several people whom she did not know. She hung on every word, trying to associate each name with each situation. She wasn’t merely captivated by his voice.

When Christian mentioned Elayne was due to foal in a few weeks, Emily leaned forward to inform Lynnette, “I named her. Elayne was Sir Lancelot’s mother.”

Christian turned to Lynnette. “You know what she was reading the summer we got the mare.”

“It’s a great name,” Emily said, scowling at her brother.

“I suppose if the foal’s male we’ll have to name it Lancelot.”

Lynnette thought he spoke to Emily, but his eyes were still on her. It was easy to gaze into those blue pools and forget to speak. She thought of a mouse hypnotized by a snake. Emily rescued her by mentioning Tyrant, pulling Christian’s attention away from Lynnette. Tyrant turned out to be a cat who had the run of the house.

They had been steadily climbing into the rocky hills and at the top of one, Christian stopped the wagon. “I thought you might like to stretch your legs.” He reached across Lynnette to set the brake and tie the reins. He stood and, placing one foot on the dashboard in front of Lynnette, leaped to the ground.

Emily didn’t seem particularly surprised by this rather athletic feat. “You’re the one with the stretched legs. Lynnette and I are fine.”

Christian grinned and offered his hand to Lynnette. She knew she hesitated a moment before taking it and hoped he thought it was because of his sister’s words. He held her hand no longer than necessary and stepped away. Still in that one moment she had felt his strength and warmth. And his calluses, she reminded herself, as if that would make a difference.

The wind played with Lynnette’s heavy skirts as she turned and stared. “You can see forever up here.”

The green hills tiered below them to the valley and the cottonwood trees that hid the river. Hazy hills were visible beyond, complementing the pale blue sky.

“This is the worst part of coming to the ranch,” Emily said.

Lynnette turned toward her, laughing in surprise, then realized what Emily was talking about. The girl had pulled her hair together and held it at her shoulder in one fist while tendrils whirled around her face. Lynnette could feel her own small hat being tugged loose from its numerous pins. “We have wind in the city, too,” she offered.

“Not if you don’t go outside.”

Lynnette turned to Christian and caught his playful grin. “She should have let me braid her hair.”

Christian’s conspiratorial tone disconcerted her. “Perhaps we should go,” she suggested. Christian pulled a basket out from under the seat and handed it to Emily who balanced it on her lap. After one last look across the valley Lynnette let Christian help her aboard and waited as he resumed his former place.

As soon as the wagon was moving again, Emily opened the basket It contained three pint jars packed in straw. “Tea,” Christian said, handing one to Lynnette. “It isn’t hot, but it’s wet.”

“Why didn’t she send lemonade?” Emily was clearly disappointed.

“Martha seemed to think tea would be more proper.”

Emily snorted her disagreement but soon began plying Christian with questions about the summer activities planned for the neighborhood. Lynnette opened the jar, grateful it wasn’t full. She was afraid she would spill it on her dress and look a fright when she met Arlen’s father.

Perhaps Emily was used to drinking from a jar in a moving wagon. Her conversation never faltered. Lynnette was only half-listening when a tall rock house became visible. It dropped from sight as the wagon dipped into a valley then reappeared, looming over the countryside.

“Thank goodness.” Emily sighed. “We’re almost home. I’m so-o-o tired of traveling.”

“Poor little Em,” soothed Christian. “Didn’t you get to nap on the train?”

Emily’s elbow landed firmly in Christian’s ribs, causing him to jolt into Lynnette. He gave her an apologetic smile, but he didn’t exactly look repentant.

“I slept some,” Emily said, “but there were two little girls giggling the whole way.”

Lynnette felt a twinge of apprehension. She hoped Emily didn’t relate the source of the girls’ giggles. Even if Emily had seen the book, even if she remembered the title and author, no one would guess it was hers.

She stole a glance at Christian and found his eyes on her. Had he sensed her unease? She concentrated on breathing slowly, willing her hands to remain still in her lap. She didn’t want her reaction to make him curious enough to ask Emily why the girls had been giggling.

Another glance told her he still watched her. Perhaps he was vain enough to take credit for her nervousness, to believe his leg pressing against hers made her heart beat loudly enough for him to hear, to believe his arm against her shoulder made her fingers tremble.

And of course, that wasn’t it at all.




Chapter Two (#ulink_ba2d0e39-f2fa-5add-8fd2-10fe33527f7f)


The wagon was almost even with the house before Lynnette was able to relax. And it wasn’t because of the man sitting so close beside her. Or at least it wouldn’t have been if she wasn’t certain that he watched her.

“Mostly we live in the top two floors,” Emily said. She seemed to take Lynnette’s effort to keep her face turned away from Christian as interest in the house and leaned around Christian to talk as the wagon jostled up the slope. “The bottom floor’s for entertaining, which we don’t ever do.” She scowled at her brother.

Lynnette stole a glance at Christian. He was smiling fondly at Emily. Deep dimples in his cheeks made her long to test the texture of the fine blond stubble visible where the sun struck his face. Shocked by her thoughts, Lynnette turned her attention back to the house.

It had been built into a hillside, allowing ground-level entrances to the bottom floor in front and the middle floor in back. The first floor sported corner bay windows and a porch at the front door. These became three balconies for the rooms above. The top floor consisted of a mansard roof with two large dormers, each with its own smaller balcony.

Christian drove the wagon past the house and turned up a graveled path that led between it and the barn. Lynnette had been so enthralled by the house that she had scarcely noticed the barn. It too had ground-level entrances on two floors and a ramp that led to the third. She looked forward to a chance to explore the massive structure.

The wagon turned again, and Lynnette got a glimpse of a wide valley below before her view was blocked by the house itself. The back had the same quiet grandeur as the front, though it was less imposing with only two stories visible.

The two gables had the same small balconies, and she turned to see what their view might be. The ground sloped upward gradually from the house for barely twenty yards then rose sharply. A trail meandered up a hill that dwarfed the house, and Lynnette could only guess what the view would be from there.

“Welcome to the Prescott Ranch.”

Lynnette turned to find Christian regarding her quizzically. Was she acting like a city girl, studying her surroundings so intently? There was no need for her to feel defensive. She was a city girl. Besides, she had no reason to impress this man.

“Thank you,” she murmured, hearing the chill in her voice.

Emily had already climbed down from the wagon and run around it. Christian jumped down from the dashboard and turned to offer Lynnette a hand. She was about to grasp it when Emily’s shout caught their attention.

“Papa!”

A tall thin man with fine gray hair had come through the door. Emily flung herself into his arms, and he swung her around much as Christian had done. “It’s good to have you home, Em,” he said once she was back on her feet. He sounded slightly out of breath. “Help the lady down, Christian.”

In a moment she was on the ground, and Christian’s callused hand was slipped out of hers. Instead of stepping away, he took her arm lightly and led her forward. “Miss Sterling, let me introduce Hugh Prescott. Pa, Lynnette Sterling.”

“We’re happy to have you, Miss Sterling,” Hugh said, his arm still around his daughter. “I’m sorry Arlen isn’t here to make you feel welcome. The rest of us will do the best we can.”

Lynnette smiled. “That’s most kind of you.” He looked so much like Christian she had to turn and compare their faces. But Christian wasn’t smiling. She turned back to the elder Prescott quickly. “Please, call me Lynnette.”

“Christian, get Jake to help you with the trunks. I’m sure the ladies would like to get out of the sun.” He turned and walked Emily to the house, releasing her only as they came to the door. He held a hand toward Lynnette, encouraging her forward.

She resisted taking a backward glance at Christian. Why had he been watching her so seriously? Was he judging her suitability to marry his brother?

She decided to put Arlen’s strange brother out of her mind and walked resolutely through the door. Emily had crossed a small room lined with benches. Hooks on the wall held coats and rain gear. Several pair of boots were shoved under the benches. At the end of the room, the door stood open.

“That way’s the washroom and the kitchen.” Emily pointed to the left when Lynnette had caught up with her. “This is Pa’s study,” she said, indicating the room to the right of the entry.

Lynnette followed Emily through a door across the hall and stepped into the living room. There was a rock fireplace, groups of comfortable-looking chairs, small tables, shelves and an open stairway leading to the top floor.

Across the room stood double glass doors. The view of the valley beyond was breathtaking. Lynnette walked toward the doors trying to think of words to describe the shades of green in the grasses and trees, the sheer distance that one was able to see.

She opened the doors and stepped out. The round balcony was larger than it had appeared from below. With the breeze on her face and nothing in sight to ground her on the hillside, Lynnette felt as if she were floating over the valley. Her fingers and toes tingled with adrenaline, and she gripped the rail.

“I’ll tell Martha to bring some lemonade.” Hugh had spoken softly, and Lynnette turned in time to see him leave his daughter’s side. As she walked back inside, he disappeared around the stairway. A large black and white cat entered from the same direction and sat inspecting the new arrivals.

“That’s Tyrant,” Emily said, motioning Lynnette into a chair. “Don’t try to be his friend.” At Lynnette’s raised eyebrows, she continued, “He’ll make up his own mind, and you’re better off ignoring him. He loves Arlen and Papa, but barely tolerates the rest of us. Martha despises him, but I think he loves her the best, maybe because she smells like the kitchen.”

Tyrant walked past them as if they were unimportant and sprang into a brocade-covered chair, making himself comfortable. “Come here, Tyrant,” Emily coaxed. “Don’t you remember me?” Tyrant gazed at her, blinked and proceeded to wash his paws.

Christian came through the door backward, carrying one side of Lynnette’s trunk. The other end was supported by a boy only slightly older than Emily. “Welcome home, Miss Emily,” he said, giving her a smile that could only be described as teasing.

“That’s Jake,” Emily said to Lynnette. “He works in the barn and does simple tasks around the place.”

Lynnette bit her lip and tried for a pleasant smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Jake.”

Christian gave an exaggerated sigh. Jake, of course, had stopped walking as soon as he saw Emily. Christian set his end of the trunk on the floor, causing Jake to drop his, then seated himself on the trunk, crossed his arms and watched his younger sister. Her hair was a most unsophisticated mess around her shoulders, making her look younger than her thirteen years. In contrast, she sat demurely on a wingback chair, modeling her pose after Lynnette’s. Miss Sterling, he corrected himself. He hadn’t been invited to call her Lynnette.

Emily cast poor Jake a twinkling smile. “Miss Lynnette doesn’t really mean it, Jake. She’s just being polite.”

Christian turned his attention to Lynnette as the young people continued their teasing. Her eyes traveled from one to the other, amusement evident in the soft curve of her mouth. If he wasn’t mistaken she deliberately avoided looking at him. Fine. It gave him time to study her.

Arlen’s “china doll” came to mind, but it didn’t quite fit There was too much life under those porcelain features. That, more than her beauty, made her attractive. She had perfect manners, as Arlen had said, was quiet and reserved—reserved to the point of being embarrassed by his display of affection for his little sister, a sister whom he hadn’t seen in nearly a year.

Once or twice he had found himself trying to measure her reaction to this land, his home. What did he care whether she liked it here or looked down her nose at their way of life? He wasn’t looking for a wife. And if he was, a woman like Lynnette wouldn’t even be in the running.

But that wasn’t why he studied her. He felt a need to protect his brother. Arlen was young and could be easily taken in by promises from those pretty lips. And she didn’t love Arlen. He was sure of it. She hadn’t asked about him once, not when Arlen had failed to meet them at the station, not during the long ride to the ranch.

Had she committed herself to Arlen out of desperation? Arlen had indicated that she was practically destitute. Was that the truth? Her dress certainly seemed older than the latest fashion, but had she chosen it carefully for effect?

Christian gave himself a mental shake. Her actual situation wasn’t the point What kind of a wife would she make Arlen? His eyes narrowed as he watched her laugh softly at one of Emily’s quips. She was a beauty, all right, just as Arlen had said. What was inside, however, remained to be seen.

He stood abruptly. “Are you two done bickering?”

“I believe so, sir,” Jake replied. “The poor girl’s starting to repeat herself.”

“Only because it’s so hard for you to understand things,” Emily replied airily.

Christian and Jake lifted the trunk as one and headed for the stairs. Christian stepped aside at the bottom, allowing Jake to back up the stairs, taking most of the weight himself. Jake was strong, but he was seventeen, a boy yet.

A grinning boy, at present. The grin didn’t leave Jake’s face all the way up the stairs. They put the trunk down and Jake opened the door to the room Lynnette would be using. “This is one heavy trunk.” The boy grunted as he lifted it again.

“I think the lady plans to stay awhile.”

“You reckon she’s got a different outfit for every day?”

Christian chuckled. They walked down the stairs and met Martha at the bottom with a tray of lemonade. Christian reached for a tall glass. “Why thank you, Martha. You read my mind.”

She carefully swung the tray out of reach. “These are for the young ladies.”

Christian threw his arm around Jake’s shoulder as they walked through the living room. “Fine thing, Jake. We do all the work, and they get the refreshment.”

“It’s the way it always is, boss. The way it’ll always be.” Christian noticed he cast a sidelong look at Emily as they passed. These two had been teasing each other since they were babies. Eventually, one of them would outgrow it. He hoped.

By the time they came back with Emily’s lighter trunk she, Lynnette and Hugh had taken their drinks out on the balcony. Christian noticed Jake’s disappointment and wondered if an end to their childish relationship was a good thing after all.

“You know, Jake,” he began as they set the trunk on the landing and opened Emily’s door, “you can tease my sister all you want, but remember she’s a child. And remember whose child. I’m afraid if you lay a hand on her, your father and mine will take turns making you wish you hadn’t.”

Jake shuddered. “Not to mention what she would do.”

Christian laughed. “Let’s get those bags up here, then find our lemonade.”

A few minutes later Christian, lemonade in hand, stepped out onto the balcony. Martha had insisted Jake stay in the kitchen and not “interfere with the family.”

Emily and Lynnette were sitting on folding chairs while Hugh leaned against the rail. Christian took a place on the far side, not wanting to block the ladies’ view of the valley.

“In spite of all that, school isn’t too bad, Papa,” Emily said, smiling an acknowledgment of Christian’s arrival. “I have lots of friends there. None so nice as Rose, of course. Will Rose be able to stay sometime this summer?”

“I’m sure she’s planning on it, dear.” Hugh had nodded a greeting to Christian but hadn’t interrupted his daughter’s chatter. She was evidently catching him up on the past year.

As he sipped the lemonade, Christian reflected on his family. They had remained close in spite of Felicia. Did she ever miss this sense of belonging or had she found something she valued more? Of course, Felicia had Emily nine months out of twelve. And Arlen nearly half the time. What Christian really wondered was if she ever missed her husband or stepson.

He shook off the thoughts and studied their guest, Arlen’s addition to the family. She appeared to relax, dividing her attention between Emily, Hugh and the view below.

Perhaps sensing his scrutiny, her eyes turned in his direction. He knew he should give her a friendly smile and turn his eyes elsewhere, but it wasn’t that easy. She was lovely to look at. Small perfect features were surrounded by shining chestnut hair, upswept and anchored so securely only a few stray wisps had come loose during the wagon ride. Hazel eyes, almost green in the sunlight, watched him questioningly, as if she tried to read his thoughts and failed. If she was after Arlen for his money, he was the one she needed to worry about. Had she recognized that already?

“Did you put Lynnette’s trunk in my room, Christian?”

Christian pulled his gaze from Lynnette to Emily. “Arlen’s room,” he answered.

“Arlen will be gone a great deal,” Hugh interjected. “When he’s home, he’ll share his brother’s room.”

“I didn’t know which bags were whose so they’re all on the landing,” Christian said.

“Thank you,” Lynnette said. “For moving my things and for making room for me.”

Christian caught himself gazing at her again. He drank the rest of the lemonade quickly, setting his glass beside Emily’s chair. “Great to have you home, little sister,” he whispered, bending close to her ear. He kissed her temple, stealing a glance at Lynnette over the top of her head. As he expected, she averted her eyes, embarrassed that he would kiss his sister. Poor Arlen, he thought, as he left the balcony.

Lynnette chewed on her lower lip, trying to quash her reaction to Christian’s presence. The atmosphere had changed the moment he entered the balcony. He was different from the businessmen she was used to. His manner of dress, his long hair, these made the writer in her curious.

She had been trying to explain away her interest in him when he kissed his sister. The sight of those full lips as he bent toward Emily sent butterflies loose in her stomach. She couldn’t remember when she had ever had such a reaction. Surely it was the long trip, the upsetting change in her situation.

“Are you ready to see your room and unpack?” Emily asked.

“I believe so,” she answered gratefully. “Just let me return my glass to the kitchen and thank Martha.” She stood and turned toward Hugh. “I can’t thank you enough for letting me stay the summer.”

“That’s quite all right. Leave your glasses on the tray. I’ll take care of them. You two run along and rest before dinner.”

“Thanks, Papa.” Emily ran to give him a hug before leading Lynnette into the house. The stairs were all that separated the living room from the dining room, and, as they started up, Lynnette looked over the banister at a lovely simple table with six straightback chairs.

“The stairs are in the center of the house,” Emily explained. “There are four rooms upstairs, one in each corner.”

The stairs emerged onto a narrow landing. A railing that matched the banisters circled the stairwell. “That’s your room.” Emily pointed to a door to the right. “Papa and I get the great view. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Lynnette said.

Emily paused by the collection of valises, picking one to take to her room. “I’m over here,” she said. “If you need anything, just knock.”

“Thank you, Emily. Have a good rest” She watched the girl go into her room. If Christian and Arlen’s rooms were to the back of the house, that must be Christian’s door. She quickly turned and noted Hugh’s door as well. She didn’t care which room was Christian’s.

She turned the knob to Arlen’s door and pushed it open. Her trunk stood just inside. She gathered up her valises and brought them in with her, plunking them down on top of her trunk before she turned to look around.

The room was large, as she had expected. A star quilt in shades of pink and green covered the four-poster bed, giving the room its only color. The tops of the dresser and writing desk were bare except for oil lamps. The drapes that could be drawn across the balcony doors were an eggshell white. Only two pictures were on the wall, one a family portrait, the other a garden scene in hazy, subdued colors.

Did this colorless room reflect Arlen’s tastes? She was sure the pink and green quilt wasn’t his. She decided she shouldn’t make too much of it. Perhaps the quilt replaced one of even brighter hues. She crossed to the writing desk, opening the top drawer. It was stuffed with items that normally would have cluttered a desktop. Lynnette smiled to herself as she closed the drawer. He had cleared the top for her.

A quick check of the dresser revealed that he had emptied more than half of the drawers for her belongings, evidently moving his necessities to Christian’s room. She went to work, unpacking her bags and the trunk. She tried to conjure up some feeling of intimacy with Arlen as she put her undergarments away where his had recently been stored, but she didn’t feel any different than she would moving into a hotel room. She brushed it off as a result of his items having been removed before her arrival. There was very little here to remind her of Arlen.

She left a few of her things in the trunk for storage and shoved it against the wall. Once everything else was put away, she went to the balcony. It was smaller than the one downstairs, probably no more than five feet square. She stepped to the railing and let her eyes follow the twisting trail to the top of the hill.

To her left and right was the roof itself, with Christian’s balcony rails visible beyond. She looked quickly in the other direction. She could see the corrals where the ledge, upon which most of the house was built, widened to accommodate them. Nearest the house was a square pen with a lone post of mysterious purpose in the middle. She could see part of the barn. Fascinated, she considered going down to explore but knew dinner would be served shortly.

Turning back into her room, she eyed the quiltcovered bed. She should lie down and rest before dinner as Hugh had suggested, but it didn’t sound attractive. Closing her eyes would bring forth images of her father dying, her lost home, her friend, Amanda, so far away. She felt a need to stay busy.

A china basin with matching pitcher sat on a shaving stand. Relieved to find the pitcher full, she quickly washed her face and fixed her hair.

Coming down the stairs was a marvelous experience. She could look down on the rustic living room or the simple dining room or out the tall glass door a few feet from the base of the stairs onto the valley below. The latter commanded most of Lynnette’s attention. She couldn’t resist stepping out on this center, square balcony and looking across the valley again. She wasn’t sure if it was the colors, the feeling of flight, or the sheer openness that most attracted her. If she would be allowed to spend all summer on one of these balconies, she knew she would be happy here.

“It’s quite a view, isn’t it?” Hugh’s voice startled her, and she turned to find him on the corner balcony off the dining room.

“It’s lovely,” she said.

“That’s precisely why I chose the back of the house for my study. I’d never get any work done as long as I could see this.”

“To me this seems like a lovely place to work. I can imagine bringing paper and ink here and writing to my heart’s content.”

Hugh laughed. “You might watch all your papers fly across the valley with a sudden gust of wind.”

Lynnette looked out, trying to picture it It was so lovely and peaceful. She shook her head. “I’d take my chances.”

“Be my guest I’ll have Jake move a desk out for you, if you’d like.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage something simple.” She heard footsteps in the dining room. Martha setting the table, she guessed. “I should leave you to your contemplation,” she said.

“Shirking,” he corrected. “Merely shirking, my dear.”

She smiled. “Whatever. I leave you to it.”

Lynnette closed the balcony doors behind her and moved toward the table. She returned Martha’s shy greeting. “May I help with dinner?” she asked.

“That’s not necessary, miss,” Martha said, unfolding a crisp white cloth on the long table.

Lynnette caught one corner of the cloth and helped her spread it evenly. “I’m not used to being waited on. I’d really like to help. That is, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not, but you’re supposed to be resting like Miss Emily.”

Lynnette followed Martha to a beautiful china cupboard. “I won’t tell if you don’t,” she whispered.

Martha showed Lynnette where the dishes and silver were and which four places to set, then returned to the kitchen. In a few minutes, the table set, Lynnette followed. A man, several years older than Martha, was laying plates out on a long plank table. He worked effectively in spite of a crutch under one arm.

“You must be Perry,” she said.

“You must be Arlen’s Miss Sterling.”

Lynnette shook the callused hand he offered, pleased by the friendly greeting. Martha was at the stove and seemed surprised to see Lynnette actually in the kitchen. “What can I do now?” Lynnette asked her.

“There’s a bowl of wildflowers on the counter that can go on the table.” She nodded toward them.

Lynnette smiled, taking the hint. Martha was efficient and there were no jobs left this late in the preparations. She took up the bowl of flowers, sniffing their pungent odor. “It was nice meeting you,” she told Perry on her way past. He nodded in response.

The flowers on the table contrasted well with the fine bone china and crystal. Refined, yet simple. She cocked her head to one side, studying the table, searching for better words to describe it. Comfortably elegant, she thought.

“Do you approve?”

Lynnette’s hand flew to her heart as she jumped. Christian stood at the base of the stairs, one hand on the banister. His hair was damp around his face. He looked comfortable enough to have stood there for several minutes.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” she said, when she found her voice.

He smiled, but it wasn’t the unrestrained smile she had seen him give his sister. “That’s because I was here first.”

Lynnette laughed, hoping to break some of the tension that seemed to exist whenever he looked at her. “I was too intent on the flowers, I suppose.”

He nodded. “Is Emily down yet?”

She shook her head. “I could get her, if you’d like.”

“I’ll do it.” He turned and went up the stairs two at a time. Lynnette realized she watched him until his legs disappeared.

“Whom shall I annoy next?” she mumbled.

Not wanting to bother Hugh on the balcony and feeling unwanted in the kitchen, she moved into the living room. The room contained none of the decorative finery that cluttered Felicia’s home in Topeka. She had discovered a shelf of Indian artifacts when she heard Christian’s boots on the stairs.

“Is Emily ready?” she asked, turning to greet him.

“She’s fixing her hair.”

He walked into the room, studying her much as though she were some strange artifact herself. She was relieved when Hugh, donning his suit coat, ambled into the room.

“Ah, you’ve found my treasures,” he said, moving to her side. “These were all found on our ranch at one time or another.” He pointed out several arrowheads, inviting her to hold them and examine them up close. There was also a piece of a clay pipe.

“This is my favorite.” He lifted a large stone ax head and handed it to her. Lynnette rubbed the cold smooth surface, surprised at how heavy it was. She set it carefully back in its place.

They heard a door upstairs open and close. “Well,” Hugh said, offering her his arm. “Bad enough to bore you with my hobbies without keeping you from dinner in the process.”

They met Emily at the bottom of the stairs, and Hugh directed everyone to their seats. Lynnette and Emily were on either side of Hugh at the head of the table, and Christian took the seat beside Emily.

Emily had changed out of her traveling clothes into a simple gown of pale green lawn. She looked refreshed and lovely with her hair piled on her head and tumbling down the back in natural curls.

It occurred to Lynnette that both Emily and Hugh had dressed for dinner. It was a custom she had forgotten since her father’s illness. She would have felt out of place in her traveling dress if it hadn’t been for Christian, at ease in his open shirt with the rolled-up sleeves.

Hugh asked a brief blessing and Martha, evidently waiting for their arrival, entered, carrying a platter piled with thick steaming steaks.

“I told Martha Miss Sterling’s—Lynnette’s—first meal at the ranch had to be our own beef.” He took the platter from Martha who returned to the kitchen. He speared a huge slab of meat and held the platter for Lynnette. She was grateful that a few pieces were cut more to her appetite. She stabbed the juicy steak with her fork as he had done and put it on her plate.

Martha returned with potatoes and gravy and then with corn and bread, all of which she set near Hugh’s place. He served the women, then passed them to Christian. “Holler if you want more,” Christian said, taking up his knife and fork.

“When’s Arlen coming home?” Emily asked.

“Tomorrow, I believe,” her father said. “I’m sure he’ll return as soon as possible.” He gave Lynnette a warm smile.

Lynnette returned the smile shyly. She almost dreaded Arlen’s return. That was foolish; he was the reason she was here.

“I think we should have a party,” Emily suggested, evidently feeling her numerous hints had failed in their purpose.

“Did you and Arlen discuss any activities for the summer?”

It took Lynnette a moment to realize Hugh had spoken to her. “No. Nothing specific.” All eyes were on her, and she added, “I’ll be content to enjoy the country air. You needn’t make plans for me.”

Christian and Hugh went back to their steaks. Emily frowned, evidently hoping Lynnette’s plans would be taken more seriously than her own. Lynnette cast the girl an apologetic look.

Emily’s frown didn’t last. She soon launched into a story of one of her classmates’ extracurricular activities, keeping the men entertained and Lynnette free to enjoy the dinner.

Occasionally Lynnette cast furtive glances at Christian. He was an extremely handsome man. In town, a man with his looks would be out to charm all the ladies. Perhaps Christian was like that in other settings; he didn’t flirt with her because of her relationship with his brother.

The disappointment she felt was most inappropriate! She turned her attention to Emily’s story, looking for an opportunity to join the conversation. Emily left her none. Besides, the girl’s story was hard to follow since she knew none of the principals. Her next glance at Christian revealed him watching her. She met his gaze. Let him turn away, she thought.

Instead he let the hint of a smile touch his lips. Deliberately, he placed an elbow on the table, planted his chin on his fist and turned toward his sister, pretending to hang on her every word.

Emily’s voice faltered. She must have caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye. She glanced at him, did a double take and slapped at his arm, slowing, but not stopping, her story.

Christian’s laughter finally silenced her. She turned to scowl at him. “Eat, little sister,” he said. “I want dessert.”

“I’m done,” Emily said. Whether she referred to her dinner or her story wasn’t clear to Lynnette.

Christian rose from the table and headed for the kitchen. Emily scowled after him. “At home we ring a bell so the servants serve dessert,” she said.

“Martha and her family are having their own dinner,” Hugh said quietly. “It doesn’t hurt us to wait on ourselves.”

Emily looked unconvinced but didn’t argue. She quickly thought of another story to share with her father and was well into it when Christian returned. He carried a tray of soup bowls heaped with ice cream.

Lynnette laughed when he traded one for her plate. “If all meals are like this, I’ll be fat long before summer’s over.”

“Perry cranked all afternoon,” Christian said. “We can’t hurt his feelings.”

“Where did he get the ice?”

“From the icehouse,” Emily offered, digging in without concern for the rarity of the treat.

“We cut ice from the streams in winter,” Hugh explained. After a moment he broke the silence left by Emily’s preoccupation with the dessert. “Christian, did you know our guest here wants to take over one of the balconies so she can write?”

“Really?” Lynnette felt Christian’s scrutiny. “What do you write?”

“Fiction,” she said, trying to include everyone in her answer to avoid looking directly at Christian.

“Have you had anything published?”




Chapter Three (#ulink_d50a03a1-abf0-5f54-b753-a0b3762e1410)


Christian’s question hung in the air, repeating itself in Lynnette’s mind until it became an accusation. “Have you had anything published?”

She opened her mouth to speak. Should she lie, keep them in the dark the way she had everyone else, even Amanda, or tell them about the book and risk their censure? The notion that Arlen might not wish to marry the author of one of those scandalous novels occurred to her for the first time. Her heart beat hard enough for the others to hear, a ringing beat like boot heels on a wooden floor. Boot heels that grew closer.

Christian’s attention turned away from her, toward the living room. It was boot heels she had heard. She almost wilted with relief.

“I believe Arlen’s home,” Hugh said.

Lynnette’s relief quickly turned to a different kind of dread. How should she greet the stranger who had asked her to marry him?

There was no time to decide, however. Arlen strode into the room. Hugh stood and extended his hand. Emily barely looked up from her ice cream.

Arlen bent to kiss Lynnette’s cheek before reaching past her to shake his father’s hand. He slipped into the chair next to her. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t meet your train, darling. I hope you had a good trip.”

“Of course,” she murmured. “And you?” He was really quite handsome with a dark curl caressing his forehead. And charming. It felt nice to have someone’s undivided attention.

“Fine. Just fine.” His gaze was almost worshipful. “It’s wonderful to see you again. I hurried away as soon as I could.”

“You eaten?” Christian asked.

“All I’ve done for two days is eat.” He seemed to notice his siblings for the first time. “I might have some of that ice cream, though.”

Christian slowly savored a spoonful, swallowed it and smacked his lips. “You know where it is,” he said. “You might want to hurry before Jake finishes it off.”

Hugh laughed. “We’re about ready to move to the living room, Arlen. Why don’t you get a bowl and join us. Bring yours along, Lynnette.” He rose from the table and a moment latter Emily and Christian followed.

Arlen detained Lynnette with a hand on her arm. “I’m truly sorry I couldn’t be here when you arrived,” he. whispered once they were alone.

“That’s quite all right, Arlen. I understand. Your family’s made me feel welcome.”

“I don’t want you to think this campaign is more important than you are,” he said, still in a hushed tone. “You’re everything to me.” He lifted her hand to his lips.

Lynnette fought the urge to squirm. She wasn’t sure if it was his kiss or his words that made her the more uncomfortable. She gave him a wavering smile when he finally lifted his head. They could hear voices from the next room, and Arlen stood, helping her to her feet. “I’ve kept you alone long enough,” he said softly. “Join the others. I’ll be along in a moment.”

He headed toward the kitchen, and Lynnette gazed after him. She should be flattered by his words. She should be falling head over heels in love with him. Instead she felt uneasy. She didn’t think she wanted to be “everything” to anyone. At least not to Arlen. She felt guilty for that thought. Why not Arlen? They just needed time.

She glanced down at the half-finished dessert and decided against bringing it. In the living room, she found Hugh setting up a chessboard while Christian built a fire. Emily stood over Christian, her hands on her hips.

“Do you have to tonight?” she asked.

“You don’t break a horse by working with it once in a while.”

“But tonight? I just got home.”

Christian rose to his feet, brushing his hands on his pants. “Go on up now,” he said. “I’ll wait for you.”

Emily turned and ran toward the stairs. She met Arlen coming with his bowl of ice cream but barely acknowledged him as she grabbed the banister and scurried up the stairs.

“What’s she up to?” Arlen asked. He urged Lynnette into a love seat and sat down beside her.

Hugh answered his question. “She wants to change for bed before Christian goes out to work with the stallion.”

“One would think she would have outgrown that by now,” Arlen said.

“Let her be a little girl when she’s home.” Christian took a seat near the fire, almost hidden from Lynnette’s view by Hugh and his chessboard.

“Do I have any takers?” Hugh asked. “Lynnette, do you play?”

Lynnette smiled. “I have played. I don’t know if I’ll be much of a challenge to you, though.”

“He doesn’t want a challenge,” Arlen said. “He plays chess at night for the same reason Christian waits until evening to break his horses. They want to catch their opponents when they’re tired.”

“In that case,” Lynnette said, coming to her feet. “I’m the perfect opponent.” She crossed to the table, and Christian stepped forward, moving a big leather-covered chair into position. She took the seat, nodding her thanks as he returned to his place. She thought she should have felt some loss at leaving Arlen’s side, but actually she was more comfortable across from his father.

He offered her the first move, which she took. This prompted him to spend a long moment studying the board as if this were a most unusual first move.

“He’s waiting for you to fall asleep,” Christian whispered into the silence.

Hugh promptly moved.

Lynnette knew only three basic strategies. She found them thwarted easily by Hugh and was soon on the defensive. “Do I have any hope of winning?” she asked at one point.

“None,” said Christian.

“Oh, I wouldn’t give up yet,” Hugh encouraged. “You have several good pieces left.”

“But I can’t seem to do anything but sacrifice them.”

“Take charge,” Christian said, leaning closer. “Make him do what you want.”

Lynnette’s eyes met Christian’s, blue and deep. She felt oddly touched that he would offer her encouragement. She tried her best to do as he said. In three moves she was able to call check instead of always hearing it. But four moves later it was over.

“I’m afraid your advice came too late,” she told Christian.

“Another?” Hugh asked.

“I think I should quit while I can still salvage my pride.” She glanced at Arlen, thinking she should return to his side. The comfort of the chair was her excuse for not wanting to move.

“Arlen?” Hugh asked. His son declined, and he waved Lynnette back into the chair, settling deeper into his own. “Tell us how your trip went, Arlen.”

As Arlen started to speak, Emily came down the stairs. She was dressed in a pale blue robe, the hem of a white nightgown and her bare toes visible as she walked. Her hair was down around her shoulders again. She went straight to Christian and handed him a brush. He moved to the edge of his seat, and Emily, turning away from him, knelt on the floor.

Lynnette heard very little of what Arlen said. The wing of the chair hid him from her view, anyway. It was much more pleasant to watch Emily’s profile as Christian dragged the brush through her hair. An occasional glance at Hugh told her he was engrossed in Arlen’s conversation.

With skillful movements, Christian began to plait his sister’s hair. He drew up lock after lock, working them into the braid. Never once did Emily’s expression suggest that he had snagged a hair or tugged too hard. Christian’s face bore a wistful expression that brought a lump to Lynnette’s throat.

It was all over in a few minutes. Over her shoulder Emily handed him a ribbon, and he tied it around the end of the braid. She stood, and he gave her the brush. When she whispered something to him and hugged him, Lynnette forced her eyes away.

Arlen seemed to be coming to the end of his narrative, and she had heard none of it. She hoped he wouldn’t expect her to remember something later. Perhaps she could claim she had fallen asleep.

“I’ll play you, Papa.”

“Have my seat,” Lynnette offered. “I believe I’ll turn in.”

“I’ll see you to your room.” Arlen was at her side in a moment, offering his arm. From the corner of her eye, she saw Christian turn and look at her before stepping out the door.

Arlen walked her slowly up the stairs and, outside the bedroom door, he wished her good-night. He bent to kiss her lips, and Lynnette felt she shouldn’t flinch away. At the same time, she didn’t return the kiss, and it all felt very awkward.

Lynnette wondered if he even noticed. He gazed at her adoringly, and she needed to break the spell. “It’s kind of you to give up your room,” she said, placing a hand on the doorknob.

“I’ll dream of the night I can share it with you,” he murmured softly. Lynnette saw his cheeks blush faintly.

She opened the door, her thoughts on escape. A cool breeze greeted her. The balcony door was open, and the temperature had dropped quickly after sundown. Arlen brushed past her and latched the door. For a moment she thought her quick move into the room had been interpreted as an invitation.

“Is there anything you need?” he asked, striking a match and lighting the lamp on the dresser. “I could start a fire to ward off the chill.”

“No thanks, I’m fine,” she said, praying that she had been wrong. How would she gently discourage him?

“Then good night,” he said, and started out of the room, only to stop short once he was past her. Lynnette held her breath. “Tyrant,” he said.

Lynnette turned to the bed to find the big black and white cat sitting disdainfully in the middle of the quilt “How did he get in here?”

“From the balcony, I imagine. Come on out, now.” He waved the cat toward the door.

Lynnette tried to picture the view from the balcony. “I don’t remember any large trees near the house.”

The cat hopped off the bed and rubbed himself against Arlen’s legs. “He climbs the chimneys,” Arlen explained. Lifting the cat in his arms, he bade her good-night once again. Lynnette followed him to the door and closed it behind him.

Picturing the cat’s athletic feats brought a smile to her lips. It wasn’t until she was ready for bed that she allowed herself to remember the things Arlen had said. He seemed to be actively wooing her. He would make a kind and caring husband, and she was unusually lucky.

She blew out the lamp, and twilight spilled into the room through the balcony door. She went to pull the curtains, but found herself stepping onto the balcony instead. What she could see of the barn was a black silhouette against the orange remains of the sunset.

She stepped to the railing to see more. A whinny brought her attention downward. A black horse was barely visible in the small corral. It was tied close to the center post. Christian slowly rubbed the long neck. Her ears, more in tune to the distance now, heard his soothing voice.

She remembered Arlen’s comment about catching opponents while they were tired, but Christian didn’t look at odds with the horse. In fact, his movements reminded her more of the way he had braided his sister’s hair. It was beautiful to watch. As he moved around the horse, it tossed its head and tried to shy away. In moments it was still again as Christian rubbed it neck, its back, its sides.

Something warm unexpectedly curled inside her. She had begun to imagine those hands running over her own body. What wicked thoughts! She quickly turned back into the room, latching the door and drawing the curtain.



Christian spoke softly to the stallion, stroking the silky coat. He had seen the light go out in Arlen’s room, the one Lynnette was using. It hadn’t helped him get his mind off the woman. This morning he had determined to spend as much time with her as possible to learn her true feelings for Arlen. Now, he was reluctant to do so and wasn’t sure why.

Some tiny sound or sixth sense told him he was being watched. He moved toward the stallion’s head and without breaking the rhythm of his strokes, glanced toward the house. In the twilight, he could make out a white-gowned, almost ghostly, figure on the balcony.

He closed his eyes, willing the figure out of his mind. The horse, sensing his inattention, whinnied and tried to pull free.

“Whoa now,” he murmured. “You can’t go till I say. You might as well relax. That’s a good boy.”

He wasn’t going to look up. He turned his back on the house to avoid the temptation. The stallion tossed his head, testing the rope. Christian calmed him again.

Hell, why should an audience ruin his concentration, especially when that audience was a little slip of a city girl he didn’t even like. No, that wasn’t true. He had decided not to like her and found it harder to do than he had expected.

He heard the click of the balcony door closing. He should be able to put her out of his mind now. Who was she, anyway, to dominate his thoughts? She was pretty, sure. Polite and pleasant. Still, she was nothing like the woman he wanted for a helpmate. She should be easy to forget.

But she wanted Arlen, he reminded himself. And he wasn’t going to let his little brother ruin his life by marrying a gold digger. It had all happened too fast to be anything else. He would watch her and expose her for what she was. If her circumstances were truly dire, his family was in a position to help her find some kind of work.

The thought brought a smile to his lips. Imagine her as a teacher or governess! The suggestion would probably make her faint dead away. Especially compared to marriage to a wealthy politician.

The stallion tossed his head and danced around the snubbing post, tightening the rope. “All right,” Christian said. “I get the message.” The animal sensed his master’s tension. Trying to continue would cause more harm than good. He untied the rope and led the nervous stallion into the barn.



Lynnette awoke disoriented. Pale light seemed to be coming from the wrong direction, and she wondered if she had turned sideways in her bed. The room righted itself quickly when she remembered she was no longer in her own bed and never would be again. She tried to toss aside the melancholy with the covers and rose to greet the day.

She washed in the basin and put on one of her favorite dresses. It was a soft rose color trimmed in deep green. The colors suited her and normally made her feel confident. It wasn’t working today. The dress was designed to be worn with hoops, which had gone out of style to be replaced by tight skirts and bustles. She had shortened the dress and substituted four petticoats. It gave it a rather casual appearance.

Until now she hadn’t regretted the lack of funds that prevented her from buying any of the new dresses; they looked immensely uncomfortable. But today she wondered if Arlen would be embarrassed by her appearance. She tried to shrug off her unease. It was still a lovely dress, quite serviceable, and Arlen knew her situation.

She gathered up the basin of used wash water and left the room. There was no one in either the living room or dining room when she came down the stairs. The table was bare, and she wondered if she had missed breakfast. It seemed quite early, but she had heard that country folk rose before dawn.

She went into the kitchen and found Martha kneading bread. The woman looked up from her work and seemed flustered to find their guest in the kitchen again. She came forward, wiping her floured hands on her apron. “Miss Sterling. I’m so sorry. I would have sent Jake after that.”

“That’s quite all right,” Lynnette said. “I was coming down anyway. Have I missed breakfast?”

Martha carried the basin to a table near a screen door. She was startled to discover Lynnette had followed her. “I can fix you whatever you would like if you care to wait in the dining room. I could bring it up to your bedroom if you prefer.”

Lynnette stood for a moment before the screen door, letting the cool breeze touch her. It was just a little too cold to eat on the balcony. “Am I the last?” she asked.

“Emily and Arlen are still asleep.”

Lynnette walked toward the counter where Martha’s dough sat, hoping she would return to her work. “I could wait and eat with them,” she suggested.

“Neither will want breakfast, I’m sure. And Emily might not be down for hours.”

“Please,” Lynnette said, indicating the dough. “If you don’t mind, I’ll fix myself an egg and toast some bread.”

“I can do that for you,” Martha said, hurrying toward the stove.

She had the skillet on the stove and was greasing it when Lynnette caught up with her. “I’m used to fixing my own breakfast, and my father’s. I really don’t mind. In fact, I’d enjoy it.” When Martha hesitated, Lynnette added, “If you don’t mind someone in your kitchen.”

“It’s not my kitchen,” Martha said, stepping away from the stove. She helped Lynnette find what she would need and set out a tray with dishes and finally, when the egg was nearly cooked, returned to her dough.

Lynnette glanced at Martha’s back as she checked on the toast She hadn’t meant to force her way into Martha’s kitchen. In her effort to avoid being an extra burden she had made herself a nuisance instead. At the earliest possible moment she filled the tray and left the kitchen.

The dining room table looked too large for her alone, and she walked through to the living room. Finding an end table near the glass doors, she set her tray down and moved a chair into position.

What would Arlen want to do today, she wondered as she sat down. She hoped he would want to take her riding. Their surroundings were so beautiful, it seemed like a perfect way to spend the day. It couldn’t be too hard to learn to ride.

She bit into the toast and frowned. She had nothing appropriate to wear riding. Perhaps she could borrow something from Emily. Though the girl was shorter they weren’t so very different in size.

She was thus deep in thought when she heard heavy steps on the stairs. She turned her smile toward them, expecting to see Arlen. Denim jeans and a loose brown shirt descended through the gap in the ceiling. She hadn’t realized how muscular Arlen was. But as she watched, it wasn’t Arlen’s face that emerged above them. It was Christian’s.

He saw her immediately—before she had time to wipe the look of surprise off her face. She decided it was better to explain. “I thought you were up already.”

“I was,” he answered, coming toward her. His smile was friendly if a little cautious. “I had to roust your boyfriend out. Jake and I need his help repairing the hay wagon.” He hesitated a moment, then took a seat near her. “Don’t let me keep you from your breakfast.”

Lynnette took a sip of coffee and watched him self-consciously. She should ask him something, perhaps something about the ranch, or about Arlen. It seemed awkward for them to sit watching each other. “I’m hoping to learn to ride while I’m here,” she blurted.

His dimples deepened. “You’ve come to the right place. Plenty of horses and plenty of trails.”

They stared at each other for a long moment. His eyes were incredibly blue, like the sky beyond the glass doors. It took an effort to turn her attention back to her cooling breakfast. She deliberately began eating again.

After another long moment, he spoke. “I’m sorry to take Arlen away from you this morning, but with Perry’s leg still mending, Pa’s out checking water levels in the pastures. And I need the wagon fixed before the first cutting of hay.”

“I understand. I certainly don’t need to be constantly entertained.”

He looked as if he didn’t believe her. It occurred to her then that he might not like the idea of a city girl staying here. She resolved to stay completely out of his way. For more than one reason. She tried to dismiss the thought. She wasn’t attracted to Arlen’s brother!

They were still gazing at each other when she heard more footsteps on the stairs. She was glad for the excuse to turn away. Arlen was dressed in what looked like discarded dress pants and shirt. He rolled up the sleeves as he descended.

“Lynnette!” He took the last steps much faster and hurrying to her side. “What are you doing up so early?”

“Flirting with me,” Christian said with a grin.

Arlen brushed a kiss across her cheek, ignoring his brother. “There’s really no need to be up and around so early, dear. Emily won’t be up till nearly noon.”

“It’s what I’m used to, Arlen,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t show her irritation.

Christian stood, giving her a polite smile. “Come on, brother, let’s get to work.”

Arlen didn’t seem inclined to leave. “This shouldn’t take long. Make use of Father’s library. Have you seen it yet?”

“Come on, brother. Tear yourself away.”

Lynnette couldn’t help but laugh. They were both watching her, one so serious, one with a teasing grin. “Don’t worry about me. Go fix the wagon.”

“It shouldn’t take long,” Arlen repeated, as Christian began dragging him from the room.

“It’ll take all morning,” Christian called over his shoulder, waving with his free hand. They were nearly across the living room before Arlen actually turned and followed his brother.

Lynnette went back to her breakfast, hardly caring that it had grown cold. She loved the teasing relationship between the brothers and the obvious affection between Christian and Emily. It would be wonderful to be part of a family like this.

And if she married Arlen she would be. Christian and Emily would be her brother and sister. She smiled at the thought, though it didn’t seem quite real.

It wasn’t until she had finished eating and took her tray back to the kitchen that she began to consider what she would do during the morning. She could go to her room and write, but the thought held little interest for her just now.

The kitchen was empty when she arrived, and she washed her dishes quickly in the soapy water still in the sink. She headed for her room feeling she had put one over on Martha who would surely have stopped her from cleaning up after herself.

In her room, she stared at the small writing desk. She considered taking a notebook to one of the balconies but felt certain that she wouldn’t get anything done. She stepped out on the balcony and looked across at the barnyard. The small corral was empty this morning. There was no sign of the men, probably working inside the barn.

As she leaned over the railing to see more of the yard, she noticed a narrow path that disappeared around the barn. Instantly she decided to follow the path. She wanted to explore her surroundings, and she didn’t need a guide to do so.

She turned back into the room, carefully closing the doors against the invasion of the cat. She slipped out of two of the petticoats to make walking easier, changed to her sturdiest shoes and grabbed her broadest-brimmed hat. She adjusted the pin through the hat and hair as she left the room.



Christian caught a glimpse of pink through the open barn door. He couldn’t help watching the trim figure as long as she was in sight. The moment he returned to work, he realized he had been caught.

“She’s lovely, isn’t she?” Arlen’s tone said, I told you so.

“She certainly is.” Christian grinned at his brother. “You’ll forgive me for staring.”

“Of course. I rather enjoyed it. Stare all you want. Just remember I saw her first.”

Christian laughed. “You won’t mind having men stare at your wife?”

Arlen seemed surprised but not offended. “That’s part of the idea,” he said. “If they don’t remember me, they’ll at least remember her and think I have extremely good judgment. Or good luck. Either way, I’m sure to get their votes.”

Christian tried not to show his shock at his brother’s words. “She’s a campaign strategy, then?”

Arlen laughed. “She’s more than that, of course.”

They heard Jake coming, and Arlen changed the subject. “This really will take all morning, won’t it?”

“That’s what I said.” Christian placed another board between the sawhorses and measured it.

“You said we were fixing the wagon,” Arlen hollered above the sound of the saw, “not rebuilding it.”

“It’s all in how you look at things,” Christian hollered back.



Lynnette followed the path past the barn and along the side of the hill. A stone bench under a huge tree caught her eye, but she was determined to walk and turned her attention back to the path. It seemed to follow a natural terrace that narrowed to barely four feet as it turned sharply with the hillside. Around the corner, the terrace widened out again. She fell into a comfortably brisk pace.

She had walked often at home, her neighborhood being only a few blocks from the capitol building and the business district. Her trips had been fewer and more rushed the past few years because of her reluctance to leave her father alone for too long.

Lost in thoughts about her father and her home, Lynnette paid little attention to where the path led. Abruptly it forked. She wondered fleetingly if it had branched out before and she hadn’t noticed. To her left the path wandered along the hillside much as it had before. To the right it dropped into the valley. Part of the path was hidden, but she could see where it crossed a little stream below. Looking back she discovered that all sign of the ranch yard had disappeared.

The stream looked inviting. The day had warmed considerably since she left the house and her only shade was the insubstantial brim of her hat. Studying the slope between her and the stream, she decided against it. Her legs ached at the thought of climbing back up the hill. She considered going back, but the sun wasn’t close to its zenith yet. She had a couple hours, she was sure, before noon. She would walk on a little farther then make her way back.

A few minutes later the path abruptly disappeared. She stood on the edge of a large grassy prairie. This, she decided, was where the path had been leading. From here a rider would turn in any number of directions to check cattle, or water levels, as Christian had said his father was doing. Or whatever else ranchers did.

Lynnette realized she had been picturing Christian on horseback riding across the pasture. She tried to change the image to Arlen, but it was too late.

She brushed the thoughts aside as an outcrop of limestone caught her attention. It wasn’t far away, and she decided to take a closer look before turning back. The ground was uneven and littered with rocks and clumps of coarse grasses. She hadn’t realized how smooth the path was until she left it. Lifting her skirts, she walked on.

The rocks were farther away than she had realized and much larger. As she approached, she wondered if Christian and Arlen had climbed them as children, perhaps Emily too, though it was hard to imagine.

Lynnette walked around the outcrop, searching for toeholds and found instead the letters C and P scratched deeply into the gray stone. She ran her fingers over the letters, trying to imagine the young boy carving his initials here. Arlen’s were probably around someplace. How different their childhoods had been from her own.

She continued around the outcrop more slowly, studying the surfaces of the irregular rock. A movement at her feet made her jump and gasp. A huge grayand-brown-mottled snake slithered away from her. There was no rattle on its tail, she noted with relief. Still, she hadn’t even considered snakes.

“Time to go,” she muttered to herself. She made her way back around the rock and started across the prairie. The sun was high overhead now and she repinned her hat to better protect her face. She hadn’t thought about any possible dangers involved in walking alone. She hadn’t even told anyone where she was going. She tried to walk faster and nearly stumbled into a hole.




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