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Blaylock's Bride
Cait London
MEN of the YEAR MAN of the MONTH THE BLAYLOCKS"When and if it comes my time to add to the Blaylock clan, I want a marriage certificate over the bed." - Roman Blaylock, rancher and executor of the Llewylyn estate The women of Jasmine, Wyoming, had long ago given up on taming Roman Blaylock - and that was just the way he wanted it.But a deathbed promise was about to bring him face-to-face with the one woman who made him long for a family of his own - the one woman he could never have. Unless he could convince the tempestuous Kallista Bellamy that the man of whom she was most suspicious was the one person she could trust… .Some men are made for lovin' - and you'll love our MAN OF THE MONTH, the first of three new Blaylock brothers!
Letter to Reader (#ua63ad36a-428e-5033-83df-98ed856a29c8)Letter to Reader (#u3b8b152d-7282-5121-af65-74c12cacfe64)Title Page (#u09910db9-ec83-5d1f-9cef-29bb583a0d65)Acknowledgments (#u12046086-d431-5dda-9416-a9c148c3a23c)Prologue (#u5a26eba6-f3a3-5e9e-8fd4-fbccee23e202)Chapter One (#u6cd37f02-c0c6-537f-b604-f9a91d873997)Chapter Two (#u854158fc-7875-515b-9111-e56c5cbd168b)Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)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)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader-Friend,
I am so pleased to be a part of Silhouette Desire’s 10th anniversary MAN OF THE MONTH promotion, and to return to the Blaylocks, the family in Midnight Rider (SD #726) and The Seduction of Jake Tallman (SD #811). Readers have often requested a return to the Blaylocks. Jake is a Blaylock cousin, and we met the Blaylock family in Dan’s book, Midnight Rider. The bachelor brothers were just too tempting, and Blaylock’s Bride, Roman’s story, reopens the saga of the Blaylock family; Rio’s story is next. The setting is unique: smalltown Jasmine, Wyoming (similar to the towns I travel through every summer), filled with ranchers and farmers from the valley, stuffed with wonderful characters and surrounded by the Rocky Mountains.
Poor Roman. A darkly brooding hero, he’s given up on love, hoarding himself in his work and ranch. He was just too fascinating to leave moldering. So I tossed Kallista—an exciting, furious woman out for revenge—into his lap and, as a writer, enjoyed the fireworks.
I hope you enjoy the Blaylock family, bound by love and land, and I look forward to hearing from you, my reader-friends.
Dear Reader,
April brings showers, and this month Silhouette Desire wants to shower you with six new, passionate love stones!
Cait London’s popular Blaylock family returns in our April MAN OF THE MONTH title, Blaylock’s Bride. Honorable Roman Blaylock grapples with a secret that puts him in a conflict between confiding in the woman he loves and fulfilling a last wish.
The provocative series FORTUNE’S CHILDREN: THE BRIDES continues with Leanne Banks’s The Secretary and the Millionaire, when a wealthy CEO turns to his assistant for help in caring for his little girl.
Beverly Barton’s next tale in her 3 BABIES FOR 3 BROTHERS miniseries, His Woman, His Child, shows a rugged heartbreaker transformed by the heroine’s pregnancy. Powerful sheikhs abound in Sheikh’s Ransom, the Desire debut title of Alexandra Sellers’s dramatic new series, SONS OF THE DESERT. A marine gets a second chance at love in Colonel Daddy, continuing Maureen Child’s popular series BACHELOR BATTALION. And in Christy Lockhart’s Let’s Have a Baby!, our BACHELORS AND BABIES selection, the hero must dissuade the heroine from going to a sperm bank and convince her to let him father her child—the old-fashioned way!
Allow Silhouette Desire to give you the ultimate indulgence—all six of these fabulous April romance books!
Enjoy!
Joan Marlow Golan
Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
Blaylock’s Bride
Cait London
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CAIT LONDON lives in the Missouri Ozarks but loves to travel the Northwest’s gold rush/cattle drive trails every summer. She loves research trips, meeting people and going to Native American dances. Ms. London is an avid reader who loves to paint, play with computers and grow herbs (particularly scented geraniums right now). She’s a national bestselling and award-winning author, and she also writes historical romances under another pseudonym. Three is her lucky number, she has three daughters, and the events in her life have always been in threes. “I love writing for Silhouette,” she says. “One of the best perks about all this hard work is the thrilling reader response and the warm, snug sense that I have given readers an enjoyable, entertaining gift.”
Together again—To my new editor at Silhouette,
Joan Marlow Golan. Thank you, Joan, for giving me my
start in writing, for your patience in teaching me how to
write many moons ago.
Thank you, Melissa Senate, for being you, for being
supportive, for building my career and for the wonderful
years we’ve had together.
A special thank-you to my dear readers, who have asked
to see more of the Blaylock family after reading
Midnight Rider and The Seduction of Jake Tallman.
Author’s Note: The research for the Bisque Cafe was
done at the Paint Cafe in Springfield, Missouri, where I
painted my first smiling, belly-up hippopotamus.
Prologue
“You’re safe here with me, little bit...here on Llewlyn land,” Boone said to the little girl holding his hand. The wind sweeping across Llewlyn land was chilly, Wyoming’s early September ablaze with fiery quaking aspens amid the fir and pine trees; fur thickened on the animals now, a natural preparation for winter. On the Rocky Mountains above Llewlyn Ranch, the bears were fat with summer berries and fish and honey stolen from wild beehives.
Boone Llewlyn lifted his head, letting the wind—filled with the scent of the land, of the pines and earth and fields—now through his shaggy gray hair and caress his leathered skin.
He was old now, bent by age and shame. Boone kept the little girl’s fragile hand cradled in his large, rough palm, his scarred heart filling with love.
This was his grandchild, Kallista May. Her green eyes and sleek silky hair came from his mother, that stubborn edge along her jaw from Llewlyn blood. At six, and dressed in her favorite red jacket and boots, she was too thin, and had seen too much of life’s dirty ways.
To remind Boone who had the legal claim to the little girl, her mother would come to tear her away soon, and Boone’s wounded heart would weep. The cruel game used the girl as a pawn, to assure monthly payments to her mother and to Boone’s son, her father.
Boone swallowed the emotion tearing through him. He treasured his inheritance, his parents, and the land that had been left to him. But in his thirty years away from this valley, he’d amassed a fortune and spawned two irresponsible sons...bigamists and careless, lazy men now—Boone couldn’t bear to have them near his land.
So he paid them all—his sons and their harem of wives, married illegally under different names—and in return, they kept his secret from the good people of Jasmine, the Blaylocks and the rest. He’d bought his sons free of bigamist charges, because he couldn’t have his grandchildren publicly named as illegitimate.
As a young man, he’d been in love with Garnet Marie Holmes, but she had wanted to stay in the valley. He’d turned to another woman and the world—and both had shamed him. Sara had been knowing, cultured and totally devoted to creating the picture of success that Boone had wanted then. Still in love with Garnet, he hadn’t asked for love or comfort, and had chosen his glittering, cold wife to suit his needs for power and money. When the babies came, they had less of her than Boone and still hunting his fortune, he’d left them to survive in her care. Sara had burned out her life long ago, mourned by no one. In his pursuit for money, he’d forgotten that a child was a precious gift, and that it took care to make a child feel proud and strong. And so his sons were weak men. Their wives were—Boone didn’t want to think of the greedy, immoral women his sons had chosen.
After a time, Garnet Holmes had turned away another suitor, Cutter Lomax. Because Boone wouldn’t lend money to Cutter and had stopped his land schemes, Cutter believed that Boone had caused the ruin of his life. After that, Cutter bitterly blamed the loss of Garnet on Boone, and a longterm feud began. Garnet soon married Luke Blaylock, a fine man, and together they’d had a beautiful family. Boone had always loved Garnet Marie, and wished her well; he couldn’t bear to let that dear sweet, honest woman—or the rest of the valley—see inside his black shame.
He had to protect the land from his sons. Llewlyn land was for his grandchildren, if they came back...
Boone studied the Herefords grazing in the field; he barely noticed the deer moving along the fence. He’d created legalities to protect himself and Llewlyn land, but he mourned his grandchildren...The Innocents whom he wanted to claim for his own. Yet he couldn’t shame his parents...or truth be told, himself. His pride and his shame had made him weak, though he loved his sons.
He held the girl’s hand and kept her safe—while he could, this tiny precious part of his blood, though she didn’t know it.
There were other Llewlyn children who didn’t know he was their grandfather, and when they came to him, dropped off by a careless parent, he treasured every moment. The children all believed him to be a friend of the family.
“You remember to come home, here to Llewlyn land, when you want... when you’re grown, and you remember how beautiful you are, how much I love you,” he said to Kallista May and watched her trusting, freckled face turn up to his. He knelt beside her, enfolding her in his arms, and wished he could protect her.
Ten thousand acres of Llewlyn land would belong to his grandchildren. If they decided to live in the valley, they would each have their portion. If they did not, trust funds would be set up for them, and every one—when the time was right—would know who they were, and the proud blood that ran in their veins.
He held the little girl closer; she was a Llewlyn, already proud and strong. He’d given her that, and if she needed him through the years, he’d come for her.... “You remember, Kallie-girl, to come back home, to Llewlyn land.”
One
“If there is one thing I don’t need, it is that sassymouthed, high-nosed female. Big Boone wanted her back. I don’t. I haven’t seen her for four years, and that’s fine with me. But I promised I’d get her here, just like the rest on his list—back on Llewlyn land, then she can fly off on her broom when she wants.” Roman Blaylock rubbed the cheek Kallista Bellamy had slapped four years ago, with enough power to send him reeling back against the shelves loaded with ceramic bisque, waiting to be painted.
High on the Rocky Mountains behind the combined ranches of Roman and Boone Llewlyn, a lone wolf opened his throat and bared his aching soul to the moon. The sound suited Roman’s brooding mood; he settled into the shadows of Boone Llewlyn’s sprawling front porch.
The sound of the shattering bisque echoed in the April Wyoming night as Roman scowled, recalling the scene four years ago. He remembered the shattered ceramic shop and the big dragon that had crashed down on his head. He’d caught the broken tail, uncertain what to do with the furious woman who had just shoved his chest again. As a piece of shattered bisque bumped down his cheek, he’d wanted to kiss her, wrap her so tight against him that all that heat would burn away the cold years stored inside him.
Kallista had glared up at him. “Go ahead. You beat your wife. What’s one more woman?” Her green eyes had ripped down his dusty denim-clad body to his Western work boots; then her gaze had burned a slow, insulting path up to his face. “You’ve just destroyed my shop and terrified your wife. You’ve been drinking...you’re a mess...and you are a bully. You are not shoving your wife around in my shop. Get out.”
He had forced himself to let go of the dragon tail. As it crashed, he realized that he was clutching a smaller dragon in his fist—when he uncurled his fingers, it smiled cheerfully up at him. As his usually mild temper soared, the dragon had shattered on the floor. The remnants of white bisque around his Western work boots had been symbolic of his dreams long ago. He’d pushed his face down the good twelve inches to hers and spaced out the words. “I do not beat my wife.”
Kallista had flipped back her long, sleek black hair and leaned forward to meet his glare with her own. “Debbie said you were rough and things between you were not good. I assume that meant—”
“Me? Rough?” The implication that he’d hurt his wife, perhaps sexually, was a hard slap to his pride.
“You are a violent man and now you are drunk.”
The scorn in her tone had hitched Roman’s temper higher, at the same time feeding his need to taste those red, moist lips. The woman was raw passion, steaming, noholds-barred. He wanted a taste of that undiluted emotion and it bristled from her—he had wanted to reach out and take...
Boone had just served him two shots of whiskey and a careful reference to Debbie’s ongoing love affair with Thomas Johnston. Roman had not been aware other people knew of Debbie’s affair and he’d tossed back another whiskey at the exposure of the lie he’d been living in his less than perfect marriage.
“I have never hurt my wife,” he’d told Kallista firmly.
“She can’t bear for you to touch her, and she’s frightened of you—I saw it just now, when she ran away.”
Debbie’s lies, her deceit and his own, had covered the reality of their tortured marriage. Her withdrawal of then savings to pay the bank’s mortgage could cost him Blaylock family land, his heritage. He’d mortgaged the land tc build the house she’d demanded. “She’s got reason tc run,” he’d said before he’d stepped from his leashes, snagged Kallista in his arms and kissed her hard. When he was finished feeding on her mouth, he’d stepped back and promptly received another hard slap.
“Out.” The memory of Kallista’s voice, icy and accusing, still stung Roman four years later.
With the April night fragrant and still around him now, Roman leaned his chair back into the night shadows covering Boone Llewlyn’s massive front porch. Lights twinkling, the city of Jasmine, Wyoming, sprawled down in the valley.
Deer slid silently through the field, coming down to water at the stream, and Roman knew he’d fight to keep Blaylock family land. In another century, Boone’s ancestor, a second son of an English lord, had found a lasting friendship with Micah Blaylock, a rough woodsman descended from an Apache princess and a passing Spanish conquistador. The unlikely friends, Blaylock and Llewlyn, had settled in the valley; they had wagered who would marry and produce the first child. Llewlyn had sent for his fiancée while Micah had gone bride-shopping down the Natchez Trace. Micah had rescued a French seamstress from her first night in a brothel, and they were married. Both women produced sons, born so closely together that the friendly argument about who was the firstborn was never settled, and through the years, their friendship deepened. While the Blaylocks became a huge robust family, the Llewlyns dwindled until there was only Boone.
Boone. A man who treasured his inheritance, his land, haunted and fearful that he could not make amends for his tragic errors....
After Boone’s illness two years ago, Roman had moved into the Llewlyn House and had joined his spread with The Llewlyn, making them easier to manage. He’d plowed through the mountain of paperwork that had accumulated in Boone’s illness...and had been shocked by what he’d discovered—the children who had stayed at Boone’s ranch through the years had been his grandchildren. As executor of Boone’s estate, Roman had sworn to draw those children back to Llewlyn soil and their heritage. Kallista and the rest had been protected by Boone Llewlyn; he’d threatened to cut off the payments to their irresponsible parents if anything happened to the children. Boone’s bigamist sons and their shallow, coarse ex-wives used the children to torture and bleed money from him. When he came too close, loving the children, the parents swooped in and reclaimed them. Big Boone couldn’t stand the thought of his grandchildren knowing that he couldn’t protect them, so he became their safety, their friend.
Ashamed of failing his sons, Boone would not have them desecrate the Llewlyn name—not in Jasmine, at least. His pensions kept them away and Big Boone’s shame had been a terrible secret that Roman had sworn to keep.
Roman’s own shame ran deep; he’d hidden his empty marriage from his family, deceiving them. In a family whose foundations were rock solid in marriage and love, Roman had discovered on his wedding night that his petite bride couldn’t bear for him to touch her. In public, Debbie had cuddled him, but behind bedroom doors...
Roman again rubbed the cheek that Kallista had slapped four years ago; the stubble was as rough and the memory burned, insulting his honor—his family’s honor. The Blaylocks were known as loving family men and Kallista’s accusations had scored his pride.
Across a small slope Roman’s dark empty house stood in the moonlight. Built years ago for his bride, a home for their daughter until she died, Roman Blaylock’s ranch home had been swept clean of his dreams. In the distance, the moonlit silvery squares of the windows taunted him, the Rocky Mountains rising sharply behind it. It was now an empty monument to what he had wanted—a family as close and loving as his parents’. His marriage had been a lie from the first, and Debbie’s child wasn’t his. She’d been his only teenage sweetheart, but Roman had felt more like a big brother than her beau. When she became pregnant with another man’s child, Roman had come to Debbie’s defense, giving her the protection of his name.
Roman slammed the emotional door shut on his pain. He had enough to think about, managing his own ranch, The Llewlyn, and acting as Boone’s executor.
The sprawling two-story, turn-of-the-century house was stuffed with collections and antiques and memories of the beloved children—The Innocents Boone used to call them—who had passed through its doors. Roman surveyed the vast farm, covered with goats, pigs, sheep and cattle grazing in the moonlit pastures and thought of Boone.
As a young rakehell, Boone had left Jasmine to see the world. Thirty years later, a changed and worn Boone returned permanently to his family’s land and began building his secret empire. Whatever he’d done in the past, Boone was determined to make amends. A big man, he was nevertheless gentle, beloved in the town and yet alone, as if the shadows were his safety.
Roman understood loneliness; perhaps that was what drew the two men together—lone wolves sensing pain in each other.
As executor of Boone’s estate, Roman had promised Boone on his deathbed to bring Kallista back to the land. Spoiled, fiery, and strong-willed, Kallista was the last woman Roman wanted to deal with—but he would, for Boone.
Roman ran his hands through his shaggy black hair. It had taken a year to find her, and tomorrow she’d arrive.
He ripped off his shirt and boots and to unwind the tension in his body, began the slow series of strenuous Tai Chi exercises Boone had taught him.
Kallista turned her key in the Bisque Café’s lock and stepped into the shadowy interior, closing the door behind her. For reassurance, she touched the dangling silver half-moon earrings Boone had given her. “Remember who you are. Remember me and this place as your home. Come back to me, Kallie-girl, and the land where you’ll be safe.”
Troubleshooting for Boudreaux Inc. at a French resort in Nassau, she was too late to see Boone one last time, but she’d come back. She spoke a variety of languages, skimming from one position to another as easily as shedding clothes and putting on new ones. And in her lifetime, the only home she’d known was with Big Boone Llewlyn.
She owed Boone Llewlyn her life and her soul. Roman Blaylock’s takeover of Boone’s beloved land and animals was obvious to Kallista; Roman had moved in with Boone before he died, and he’d taken over....
Moonlight skimmed through the big windows and settled upon the white ceramic bisque, shaped into tiny animals, plates, cups, statues and lamps. A row of dragons on the top shelf reminded her of Roman Blaylock’s big hand wrapped around a broken dragon tail, the shattered remains on his dirty Western boots.
He’d been rawhide rough that day, a six foot three cowboy with leather gloves tucked in the back pocket of his jeans, raw with dust and sweat and leather chaps, tracking down his petite wife and calling her out.
Debbie had been managing Kallista’s shop—began on impulse and on the advice of Hannah Blaylock, an interior decorator and a friend. While Kallista did not often visit Jasmine, she’d created the shop to please Boone, and he’d backed her financially. It pleased him to help her, and the Bisque Café in Jasmine was more his dream than her own. He’d once said it was like having her near—but she wasn’t finished seeking a sense of belonging that had always eluded her.
Boone had kept the books on the café, pleased that it made a small profit, and through the years, various managers had taken care of the daily business. Kallista had built the shop six years ago, and Debbie, Roman’s wife, had run it until four years ago, when Roman Blaylock had torn it apart in a brawl with his wife’s defender.
On one of her infrequent visits to Jasmine, Kallista had come out of the back room just in time to see Debbie’s wide-eyed horror and the smaller, slender man punch Roman’s rock-hard stomach. Roman had easily shoved him backward, blocking the next punch. The whole shop had seemed to pop and crackle as all the shelves, laden with unpainted bisque, quivered and toppled.
The other man had reached for Debbie, huddling over her, protecting her as would a lover. Roman’s burning black eyes didn’t flinch as pieces tumbled down upon him, hitting his head, his broad shoulders and bouncing off as if nothing could hurt him. He’d ignored the thin trickle of blood from his forehead as he’d said one word to Debbie and the man, “Go.”
The word sounded like a whip cracking and an icy shiver had shot up Kallista’s spine, instantly followed by rage. His head had snapped back from her slap, more from pride than from the blow and she’d remembered the fiery hell in his black eyes. Then that quiet, solemn cloak had ripped away and he’d looked like his Mescalero Apache and Spanish conquistador ancestors—untempered by civilization—jutting, blunt bones pressing against his taut dark skin, black brows drawn into a fierce scowl, gleaming black hair dusted with bisque chips.
“You’re not keeping Boone’s land, Mr. Blaylock. Not while I am drawing breath,” Kallista promised, tearing away her memory of Roman four years ago. She leaned against a wall, years of traveling lodged in her body, draining her. She dropped her flight bag to the floor and freed the tears burning her lids. Boone was gone. The man who had always been her anchor.
Through her childhood, she hadn’t known her father and her mother had dropped her on Boone Llewlyn, the man she’d come to love for a lifetime. A big rangy man, with a huge heart, an ugly face and gentle hands, Boone had shadowy ties with her mother, lit by thunderous emotions that young Kallista couldn’t understand. He was always there, waiting for her with a bear hug. She was safe then, in Boone’s strong arms, while her mother met yet another lover, married again, and came to collect Kallista once more. Fury had raged between Boone and her mother; violence and hatred sprang from her mother, while Boone’s emotions ran to frustration and pain. As a girl, Kallista understood none of it—only the safety that her mother would repeatedly rip away. As a restless adult, she’d always come to Boone, salving herself against the world until she was ready to seek again.
She should have come back more... taken care of the only man she’d loved, who had shown her that men had hearts and loved. She should have come back sooner... now Roman Blaylocks, as executor, had his big, greedy hands on Boone’s ranch.
Kallista moved through the shadowy shop, lined with ceramic bisque on the shelves. The tables and chairs were empty now, but according to Hannah Blaylock who had managed the shop with others, the people of Jasmine loved painting their own designs on the ceramic bisque. Kallista picked up a dish lettered in a childish scrawl. “For My Mom. Patty Blaylock.”
Patty was Logan Blaylock’s ten-year-old daughter, and Else, the Blaylock’s eldest sister, had painted a big cup and saucer in an intricate design, duplicating a high priced Italian manufacturer’s. Kallista replaced the plate on the shelf and began checking the names on the bottom of the fired and painted ceramics. The Blaylocks, a close family, liked coming to paint their designs, though the male Blaylocks were conspicuously absent. The huge Blaylock family wouldn’t like her shaking Roman’s tight-fisted grasp over Boone’s estate.
An experienced troubleshooter who knew she was in for a fight, Kallista began making mental lists. First, she would check on the care and feeding of Boone’s beloved pigeons, his goats and sheep and the rest. She skipped her usual cool logic and hurled herself into the passionate dislike of Boone’s executor. Somehow, she would rip the estate away from Roman; she would expose his greed and—she glanced at Boone’s house, overlooking Jasmine, the lights glowing in the April night. Kallista stooped to jerk her small birdwatching binoculars from her leather flight bag and aimed them at Roman Blaylock’s house, which sat on the other hill. The house was dark, proof that Roman still lived in Boone’s home. From Hannah, married to Dan Blaylock, Kallista had learned that Roman had moved into Boone’s house when the old man became too ill to care for himself... and Blaylock hadn’t moved out when Boone died a year ago.
