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The Black Sheep Heir
Crystal Green
THE CHIVALROUS STRANGERWhen Lacey Vedae discovered a big, brooding stranger hiding out in her isolated cabin, the enchanted Kane's Crossing town outcast soon found the soul mate she'd been searching for her whole life. But harboring a dark, shameful secret, dare Lacey believe in happily-ever-after?With her haunted eyes and air of fragility, Lacey possessed the intoxicating allure of a princess locked in a tower. But Connor Langley was here to dig up information on the nefarious Spencer clan–not play Prince Charming. Still, powerless to resist sweeping Lacey into his arms for one magical kiss, he knew there was no turning back. Now staking a claim on his rightful inheritance could shatter his beloved's heart into a million pieces….
Dammit, he shouldn’t have taken advantage of her like he had.
He didn’t know where he’d be next week, much less the next hour. His whole life could change at this cocktail party, and where would that leave Lacey?
Would he be part of that family?
He couldn’t say anything for a second when she entered the room. Her crushed blue gaze and the flowing buttercup sheerness of her dress with the wispy material misting over her shoulders, waist and legs took his breath away.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“You’ve always been so beautiful but, right now, it’s painful to look at you.”
Taking a step back, her hand drifted up to her hair, where a few curls fought to stay corkscrewed. Already they were wilting, softening her features more than he thought possible, making her eyes more doelike, her lips more full and vulnerable.
“You know what to say to a girl. Don’t you?”
“Not too often.” Awkwardly, he made one attempt, two, to offer her his arm. Just like a gentleman would, he hoped….
Dear Reader,
Well, the new year is upon us—and if you’ve resolved to read some wonderful books in 2004, you’ve come to the right place. We’ll begin with Expecting! by Susan Mallery, the first in our five-book MERLYN COUNTY MIDWIVES miniseries, in which residents of a small Kentucky town find love—and scandal—amidst the backdrop of a midwifery clinic. In the opening book, a woman returning to her hometown, pregnant and alone, finds herself falling for her high school crush—now all grown up and married to his career! Or so he thinks….
Annette Broadrick concludes her SECRET SISTERS trilogy with MacGowan Meets His Match. When a woman comes to Scotland looking for a job and the key to unlock the mystery surrounding her family, she finds both—with the love of a lifetime thrown in!—in the Scottish lord who hires her. In The Black Sheep Heir, Crystal Green wraps up her KANE’S CROSSING miniseries with the story of the town outcast who finds in the big, brooding stranger hiding out in her cabin the soul mate she’d been searching for.
Karen Rose Smith offers the story of an about-to-be single mom and the handsome hometown hero who makes her wonder if she doesn’t have room for just one more male in her life, in Their Baby Bond. THE RICHEST GALS IN TEXAS, a new miniseries by Arlene James, in which three blue-collar friends inherit a million dollars—each!—opens with Beautician Gets Million-Dollar Tip! A hairstylist inherits that wad just in time to bring her salon up to code, at the insistence of the infuriatingly handsome, if annoying, local fire marshal. And in Jen Safrey’s A Perfect Pair, a woman who enlists her best (male) friend to help her find her Mr. Right suddenly realizes he’s right there in front of her face—i.e., said friend! Now all she has to do is convince him of this….
So bundle up, and happy reading. And come back next month for six new wonderful stories, all from Silhouette Special Edition.
Sincerely,
Gail Chasan
Senior Editor
The Black Sheep Heir
Crystal Green
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Grandpa and Grandma Green, with my love.
CRYSTAL GREEN
lives in San Diego, California, where she writes full-time and occasionally teaches. When she isn’t penning romances, she enjoys reading, overanalyzing movies, risking her life on police ride-alongs, petting her parents’ Maltese dogs and fantasizing about being a really good cook.
Whenever possible, Crystal loves to travel. Her favorite souvenirs include journals—the pages reflecting everything from taking tea in London’s Leicester Square to backpacking up endless mountain roads leading to the castles of Sintra, Portugal.
She’d love to hear from her readers at: 8895 Towne Centre Drive, Suite 105-178, San Diego, CA 92122-5542.
And don’t forget to visit her Web site at: http://www.crystal-green.com!
THE KANE’S CROSSING GAZETTE
Mystery Man Hiding in Siggy Woods!
by Verna Loquacious, Town Observer
Greetings from your friendly neighborhood grapevine!
I’ve just received word that a stranger who suspiciously resembles Kane Spencer, our town founder, has been seen skulking about the streets. Scuttlebutt has it that our own Lacey Vedae, who has some skeletons in her own closet, is helping this mystery man by cooking him exquisite gourmet dinners and warming him with her home fires. Hmmmm. Sounds like more of a courtship than an innocent neighborly interest to this observer. What does Spacey Lacey know that we don’t? Read tomorrow’s column to find out….
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
S omeone had been sleeping in her bed.
Lacey Vedae stepped over the threshold of her deserted cabin—the one located on her property in the thick of the snow-frosted woods—and shut the door. The sudden lack of chilled air caused her to shiver, more from a sense of foreboding than anything else.
A fire danced and snapped in the grate, sending waves of shifting light over the simple oak furnishings: two bony chairs, a square table, the rumpled bed…
What in the world was going on?
She removed her fuzzy pink earmuffs, hardly believing someone had broken into this dilapidated structure in the middle of nowhere.
None of her possessions had been filched or vandalized, not that there had been much to tamper with in the first place.
Shoot. If those darn teenagers from town had come back to use her property as a love shack again she’d—
Lacey grabbed one of those iron thing-a-ma-jigs from the fireplace, just to bolster her confidence.
The door burst open behind her, swirling a blast of whistling, flake-laced wind into the room. A voice, the tone chipped with a low, flat-plains drawl, iced her more than the weather ever could.
“Who the hell are you?” it asked.
A mix of shock and anger spiraled through Lacey, and she brandished her fireplace tool while turning to meet the intruder. “I’m the woman who’s going to call the sheriff if you don’t keep your distance.”
The figure slammed the door shut, the altered light changing his mysterious silhouette into that of an actual human being. Half abominable snowman with drifts of light snow powdering his heavy jacket, pants and boots. Half cowboy dream with the smooth motion of a wide-brimmed hat being swept off his head in apparent respect. The gesture revealed shoulder-length blond hair and a grim, if not downright sheepish, almost-smile.
“Damn,” he said, beating the felt head wear against a thigh. Melting bits of ice flew to the planked floor with every thump.
“Damn what?” Lacey asked, jabbing her weapon in his general direction to make sure he didn’t come any closer. “Damn, you’ve been caught in my cabin?”
He stepped nearer, sending her a few stumbles backward. Dang. It wouldn’t do to run away like a fluttery chicken. She’d faced her share of bullies during her life in Kane’s Crossing, and she wasn’t about to lose her courage now—especially since she’d worked so hard to win it back over the years.
She’d learned to overcompensate in the control department. Learned that, every time she asserted herself, the past grew more distant and less threatening.
Lacey sauntered forward, wearing her most ornery glare. The ready-to-rumble demeanor, as her stepbrother Rick liked to call it.
Yeah, definitely in control.
“Well?” she asked, making it clear she expected a straight answer.
Something quick and explosive shot across his gaze. Something bluer than the shade of his eyes, warmer than the sputtering fire. She almost wished she could interpret the visual pause as interest, as a “Damn, I’m not sorry I got caught in this cabin. I’m saying, ‘Damn, you are a mighty hot little number.’”
Excellent, Lacey, she thought. No wonder most of the town thinks you still need to be institutionalized.
She blinked, erasing those negative thoughts. Think positive, think sunshine, think…
Control.
The stranger cleared his throat, startling her. “I didn’t mean any trouble, ma’am.”
Ma’am? Didn’t he know she was too young for a “Ma’am”? Jeez. Twenty-seven years old and she was already eliciting matronly respect.
“Don’t ma’am me,” she said, narrowing her eyes and clutching her makeshift weapon.
He lifted a brow, barely sparing a glance at her war-like stance, his mouth slanting to an angle that belied his exasperation. “How about addressing you as ‘missy,’ then?”
“You’re pretty cocky for a guy who’s about to get thrown in jail for trespassing. Sheriff Reno doesn’t take kindly to that sort of crime.”
He shrugged, tossing his hat onto the table as if he owned the place. “Cocky never did me any harm.”
Oh, what a voice. If she wasn’t so suspicious of him right now, that calloused tone might’ve already talked her into a million things—all of them bad, too.
“Whether or not you meant trouble by commandeering my property, you need to scoot out of here.” She peered around, again noting the canned goods piled on a counter near the stove, a spurt of woolen shirts peeking out of an extra-large leather duffel bag on the floor next to the bed. “Seems as if you’ve already gotten cozy.”
As he ambled closer to the fire, he spread his hands toward the heat. His hesitation in answering gave Lacey the welcome opportunity for a second lingering once-over.
Simply put, he was gorgeous. As still and breath-stealing as a cold night settling over dusk-burnished badlands, with blue eyes, chisled cheekbones and a full mouth. Sharp-edged, rough-and-tumbled. Lacey’s heart hopped away from her.
Hold on to it, girl.
“So…” she said. “You’re not going to tell me how many moons you’ve camped out here?” She paused for him to answer.
Silence, of course.
He slipped off his jacket, revealing a homespun beige shirt that emphasized broad shoulders and a wide, muscled back, crisscrossed by a pair of sturdy suspenders. As he draped the clothing over a chair, Lacey drew in a breath, her pulse beating faster at the sight of his long legs encased by rugged tan pants that covered most of his boots.
How had a man like this ended up in her own backyard?
Lacey gathered all her common sense. In spite of her flighty reputation, she very capably ran the family feed business; she was even embarking upon a risky project that would soon raise more money for the town’s Reno Center—a home for foster children. She was a woman who could preside over an efficient meeting, a woman who was strong enough to show Kane’s Crossing that she was no longer the waif who’d spent time in that “clinic for disturbed girls,” as her mother had called it.
She and the iron pointy fire thing definitely had the upper hand here.
“Listen, I need answers. Know what I mean? After all, here I was, taking a nice late-afternoon walk through the woods on my property when I saw a light burning in the window of this supposedly empty cabin. A historic cabin, built back in the days when Kane’s Crossing was first settled. No one has stayed here for years, not since those teenagers sneaked in and—”
He’d glanced over his shoulder to acknowledge her words, then, after a moment or two returned his attention to the fire. He acted as if the mute flames were far more interesting than her town lore.
“Mister?” It was making her mad to realize she wasn’t compelling him in any way. Since returning to Kane’s Crossing, she always had the situation in hand—with business, with her family, with her reputation and image.
He didn’t stir from the flames. “Yeah?”
Heck, at least he wasn’t comatose yet. “Imagine my surprise when I saw that someone had taken up residence in a hovel that’s about to fall down around our ears.”
“Then I suppose if I were a couple decades younger I’d be Goldilocks.”
Touché.
“This must be a real laugh riot for you,” she said. “How amusing to turn your back on a woman with a dangerous weapon.”
His hands dropped to his sides, and he finally turned around. The fire cast a sheen around his blond hair, tickling its length with softness and shadow. “It’s an andiron, and I’m sorry.”
The words were few, but obviously sincere. She could tell he was being truthful by the way he’d shrugged his shoulders slightly, enough to be brusquely awkward.
