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The Unlikely Wife
Cassandra Austin
She'd Grown Up In Frontier Forts, so if she couldn't handle a harmless kiss with a soldier, who could?Rebecca Huntington blithely declared. But she hadn't planned on her heart being captured by the likes of officer Clark Forrester, a gentleman whose "casual" kisses were anything but! If Lieutenant Clark Forrester wasn't careful, he would find himself marching down the aisle with Rebecca Huntington.And while a woman who could ride astride, beat him at chess and unnerve him just by deepening her dimples was a fascinating pastime, wooing the boss's daughter and a court-martial could go hand in hand!
Table of Contents
Cover Page (#u2e60ec2d-4acc-5bb2-b4fc-2b809a2c11fa)
Excerpt (#uf3bd13be-c7ec-5a0c-bdea-38e3a4e259ea)
Dear Reader (#u51dfc3c5-dc20-53ba-aa73-585270ffb7a0)
Title Page (#u0a0c1a94-acee-50f3-8ca3-83ce7ab03a47)
About the Author (#uab129d81-8308-5ebf-adf1-ad9a02cb83f0)
Dedication (#ubfa94782-6ce0-53c8-b3d7-18571ee615f4)
Chapter One (#ufb72dd91-78c3-561b-a07e-5672de42cec3)
Chapter Two (#ue20fa20e-2069-51e8-bbb2-10195f8e2fb8)
Chapter Three (#uda8607b9-20de-52d3-a82d-5f2fc14f7b31)
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)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
This was not the lady’s first kiss.
Something in her blood responded. He tasted it on her lips, smelled it on her perfumed skin. Suddenly he hated the game; he wanted this to be real.
Raising his head, he let the breeze cool his face. He would have stepped away from her, but the tight space made it difficult. He waited for her eyes to open, then grinned down at her. “I pity the poor man who marries you, my dear.”
The saucy smile returned. “I should be deeply wounded by those words, Lieutenant, but with that drawl, you could say just anything. Now, tell me why you pity my future husband.”
“Because he’ll never be able to let you out of his sight.”
The dimples deepened. Her hands went around his neck, pulling him toward her as she whispered, “Why would he want to?”
“Good question.”
Dear Reader,
Entertainment Escape. Fantasy. These three words describe the heart of Harlequin Historical novels. If you want compelling, emotional stories by some of the best writers in the field, look no further.
Cassandra Austin made her writing debut in 1993 with Wait for the Sunrise, which earned her scores of fans and set the tone for her tender and emotional Westerns. Critics have described her work as “charming,” “enlightening” and “not to be missed.” Her latest, The Unlikely Wife, is all that, mingled with a delightful humor that only a heroine like the confident, flirtatious Rebecca Huntington can evoke. She is the very unusual bride of army officer Clark Forrester, and is his colonel’s daughter. Don’t miss the sparks flying!
A roguish nobleman and a shy chatelaine forced to wed prove that opposites do, indeed, attract in The Welshman’s Bride, another terrific medieval story by the talented Margaret Moore. Author Janet Kendall makes her writing debut with Hunter of My Heart, an exciting Regency tale about two Scottish nobles bribed into marrying to protect their past secrets.
Rounding out the month is Maggie and the Maverick, the last of Laurie Grant’s DEVLIN BROTHERS books. Wounded in the war, single dad Garrick Devlin reconstructs his life with the help of a dainty Texas Yankee who wins his respect and teaches him to love again.
Whatever your tastes in reading, you’ll be sure to find a romantic journey back to the past between the covers of a Harlequin Historical® novel.
Sincerely,
Tracy Farrell
Senior Editor
Please address questions and book requests to:
Harlequin Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
The Unlikely Wife
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-tonearly-grown children. Her husband farms, and they live in the house where he grew up. To write to her, send a SASE to: Cassandra Austin, Box 162, Clyde, KS 66938.
To Jonathan, Eden and Paul
For all the times you let me write when you would rather have had cookies. You turned into fine adults anyway.
Chapter One (#ulink_d2c22dc7-dd64-5439-893f-5a0c6c1cff98)
Kansas, 1867
“The window’s so dirty I can barely see out,” Cousin Alicia Evans said.
“There’s nothing to see anyway,” responded Aunt Belle.
Rebecca Huntington’s only response to her companions’ conversation was a muttered “Hmm,” which she assumed they took as agreement. She didn’t agree, however. She leaned slightly into the aisle, quite pleased with the view. Since the train had pulled out of Kansas City that morning, she had been keeping close watch on the activities of a very good-looking soldier. His uniform told her he was a cavalry lieutenant. He was clean-shaven, something slightly unusual in the West. She thought his choice to shave could have been vanity; he had the most magnificent jaw she had ever seen, strong, square and welldefined. It would have been a shame to cover it.
He had left the car some time ago and had only just returned, stopping to talk to someone in a forward seat and giving her a wonderful opportunity to admire his profile. One hand rested on the back of the seat as he bent slightly forward. Rebecca marveled at how easily he braced himself against the train’s erratic rocking.
He ended the conversation and straightened, turning toward the rear of the car. Rebecca jerked upright but continued to watch. Three steps down the aisle, his eyes met hers. His were gray, quite a charming contrast to the tanned face and charcoal lashes.
She thought his step might have faltered when he caught her watching him, but it could have been the jerking of the train. His face didn’t register surprise, even when she refused to turn demurely away. He tipped his campaign hat, and a dark lock slid free to settle against his brow. “Ma’am,” he murmured.
Rebecca smiled, well aware that the dimples that appeared in her cheeks had a devastating effect on some men. “Lieutenant.”
He didn’t stop, and in two steps he was past. Rebecca was wondering what excuse she could use to stand and look behind her when a sharp pain on her knee made her jump.
“Don’t do that!” Aunt Belle snapped open her weapon and fanned herself briskly.
Rebecca tried not to scowl. The woman, of course, felt compelled to act as chaperone to both girls. At twenty, Rebecca considered herself fully grown and had for some time. Alicia might need her mother’s restrictions, she thought, since she was still a child of sixteen.
“Don’t do what?” Rebecca asked, feigning innocence.
Belle hissed, “Don’t smile at strange men.”
“Oh, Aunt Belle, he’s an officer. I’ve been around them all my life. Most of them are gentlemen.” She gave her companion a dimpled smile, afraid it would have little or no effect on her.
“Don’t smile at strange gentlemen, either.” With this pronouncement of decorum, the older woman returned her attention to the nearly opaque window.
Rebecca wasn’t ready to let it go. “He’s a soldier. He deserves a civil greeting.”
Belle didn’t glance at her. “That wasn’t a civil greeting.”
Pretty little Alicia was eyeing her with a combination of fear and awe. Alicia rarely defied her mother, and she never, ever flirted with men. While the look begged her to behave, Rebecca knew Alicia would be disappointed if she did.
She stretched, a most unladylike activity since it would have been impossible to accomplish if she actually wore the corset the other women assumed she did. “It’s quite stuffy in here,” she murmured. “I believe I’ll take a breath of air on the platform. Would either of you care to join me?”
Both women stared at her. Aunt Belle found her voice first. “Is that safe? Why, the train’s moving so fast you could tumble off.”
Rebecca blinked innocently. “It does happen occasionally. Still, if one is careful…” She let her voice trail off as if she were doubtful. She looked from one shocked face to the other. “No? Well, I’ll only be a few minutes.”
She stepped into the aisle and, pretending to take a moment to gain her balance, searched the rear seats for the lieutenant. She was lucky on two counts. He faced in her direction, and he hadn’t put his hat over his face to try to sleep. It took no effort at all to get him to notice her. She walked slowly past, smiling sweetly. As she opened the door at the rear of the car, she cast a glance over her shoulder, pleased that he was watching.
Lieutenant Clark Forrester enjoyed the view of swaying hips as the young lady left the car. Her message couldn’t have been clearer if she had sent a telegram. He relaxed, giving her a minute to wonder if he was coming. He knew the game. First she must pretend to be shocked at being alone with a man, then she would relent and agree to talk for a few minutes. If he said all the right things, he might be lucky enough to win a kiss.
Of course, if they were caught, she would have to slap his face and he would have to take it to save her pride. That was the gamble. He didn’t have to wonder if it was worth it. No man who had ever been stationed on the frontier passed up a chance to spend time with a woman, let alone a beautiful one. The next chance could be months away.
Deciding he had left her in suspense long enough, he glanced toward her companions. They weren’t watching, and he rose, placing his hat in his seat so it wouldn’t be blown away, and slipped out the door. The gallant soldier-to-the-rescue was always an acceptable image, he thought, but, before he could express his concern for her safety, she turned from the railing and smiled.
“The hills are lovely, aren’t they, Lieutenant?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am.” The hills? The hills were lonely and barren and, though it was only June, already burned to a yellow-brown by the sun. But she was most certainly lovely. “It’s hard to even notice the scenery when I have you to look at instead.”
“Charmingly said. Come stand beside me so we don’t have to shout above the wind.” She turned away to gaze at the passing hills.
Clark hesitated. She wasn’t following the rules, and it left him unsure of his next move. The wind was blowing, of course; it was always blowing on the prairie, but, even with the constant clatter of the train, in such a small space there was no need to shout to be heard. The edge of the platform with the lovely young lady was only a step away and narrow enough that if he stood beside her, he would be standing against her. He took the step.
“I’ve been gone for six years. It’ll be wonderful to get home,” she said. “Where are you from, soldier?”
“Virginia, ma’am.”
“I thought I heard it in your voice.” She was now directly in front of him, her upturned face only inches away. He wasn’t sure how much longer he ought to wait, how much longer he could wait.
“And what would take you away for six years and leave you homesick for the prairie?” He put one hand gently on her waist, ready to remove it at the slightest sign that he was acting too quickly.
“The war first. And an education,” she said, still smiling.
Clark grinned. Now he knew the game. “Did they teach you everything you wanted to know?”
The young lady shook her head, her smile gradually fading as her whiskey-colored eyes darkened. Time to call or fold.
He lowered his head slowly, watching her eyes drift shut before his lips found hers. He kept the touch as gentle as possible, allowing her the choice of pulling away. When he felt no hesitation on her part, he brought his free hand up to her neck, urging her closer.
Her lips parted sweetly, and her tongue met his. This was not the lady’s first kiss. But he wouldn’t hold that against her. His arms tightened and felt warm, firm flesh beneath several layers of cloth. No whalebone or steel cinched this slender waist The realization made his pulse leap.
Something in her blood responded. He tasted it on her lips, smelled it on her perfumed skin. Suddenly he hated the game; he wanted this to be real.
Raising his head, he let the breeze cool his face. He would step away from her, but the tight space made it difficult. He waited for her eyes to open, then grinned down at her. “I pity the poor man who marries you, my dear.”
The saucy smile returned. “I should be deeply wounded by those words, Lieutenant, but with that soft Virginia drawl you could say just anything. Now, tell me why you pity my future husband.”
“Because, he’ll never be able to let you out of his sight.”
The dimples deepened. She leaned against him, standing on her toes. Her hands went around his neck, pulling him toward her as she whispered, “Why would he want to?”
“Good question.”
Clark took the willing lips again, knowing that she had all the cards stacked in her favor. He would take only the liberties she allowed, and when she decided to cash in her chips, the game would be over. She had picked her time and place well. He wasn’t fool enough to think he was anything more than her idea of a little adventure.
After a long leisurely kiss, she sank away from him with a trembling sigh. “I really must go back,” she whispered.
He nodded. “I’ll stay out here a few minutes, of course.”
“Do be careful,” she said, slipping away from him. In a moment she had gone inside and closed the door.
