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Apache Dream Bride
Joan Elliott Pickart
CELEBRATION 1000 THE MAN ON THE BEDROOM FLOOR… was straight out of Kathy Maxwell's dream.But she could only stare at the lone Apache, wearing nothing but formfitting buckskins and a scowl, who rose to stand at the foot of her bed. "I am Dakota," he said. "Why have you brought me to this strange place?" Kathy was astonished at the sight before her.Somehow during the night the Native American dreamcatcher that hung above her bed had snuck into her sleep, stolen her dream man out of the 1870s and transported him here, into her present-day bedroom! Gee whiz, what was a twentieth-century girl to do?CELEBRATION 1000: Come celebrate the publication of the 1000th Silhouette Desire, with scintillating love stories by some of your favorite writers!
Table of Contents
Cover Page (#ue7cb2279-ef02-5d9d-a0d0-46e306112bd5)
Excerpt (#u63a5a41c-5909-5415-b768-b09be867d456)
Dear Reader (#u69ee9f40-0062-5cc6-ad65-90fc0c88dca9)
Title Page (#udd56a3c6-008a-52e1-b7b4-0ecb01ebc7c6)
Dedication (#u4bad8252-13d1-5439-af88-5643acc6f623)
About the Author (#u0f235dbb-1c6a-5548-9f54-63d23703d58f)
Dear Reader (#ua6860737-9c70-5040-ac8a-0572da7db104)
Chapter One (#u22437738-94d0-5f95-b29c-eff05ae86c40)
Chapter Two (#u7bb621c2-3dde-5b6e-9995-52ba270fb094)
Chapter Three (#ub4c14ee1-ffbf-5255-96d6-2da0be95174a)
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)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
“Kissing Was An Excellent Discovery,”
Dakota observed, appearing extremely proud of himself. “We’re moving closer to the time of joining.”
“No, we’re not,” Kathy said, her voice rising. “Yes, okay, I want you, I want to join with you. It’s called making love, if the proper emotions are involved. But it isn’t going to happen between us, Dakota.”
“Why not?”
She folded her arms over her breasts. “Listen to me carefully. I do not take the act of making love lightly.”
“Nor do I.”
“Fine. Then you should be able to understand that it’s too risky. What if I…Darn it, what if I fall in love with you and then you zoom back to 1877?”
Dear Reader,
It’s the CELEBRATION 1000 moment you’ve all been waiting for, the publication of Silhouette Desire #1000! As promised, it’s a very special MAN OF THE MONTH by Diana Palmer called Man of Ice. Diana was one of the very first Silhouette Desire writers, and her many wonderful contributions to the line have made her one of our most beloved authors. This story is sure to make its way to your shelf of “keepers.”
But that’s not all! Don’t miss Baby Dreams, the first book in a wonderful new series, THE BABY SHOWER, by Raye Morgan. Award-winning author Jennifer Greene also starts a new miniseries, THE STANFORD SISTERS, with the delightful The Unwilling Bride. For something a little different, take a peek at Joan Elliott Pickart’s Apache Dream Bride. And the fun keeps on coming with Judith McWilliams’s Instant Husband, the latest in THE WEDDING NIGHT series. Our Debut Author promotion introduces you to Amanda Kramer, author of the charmingly sexy Baby Bonus.
And you’ll be excited to know that there’s more CELEBRATION 1000 next month, as the party continues with six more scintillating love stories, including The Accidental Bodyguard, a MAN OF THE MONTH from Ann Major.
Silhouette Desire—the passion continues! Enjoy!
Senior Editor
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
Apache Dream Bride
Joan Elliott Pickart
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For Herm Harrison
Professional Football Player!
Super Star!
Hero!
But most of all…my friend.
JOAN ELLIOTT PICKART
is the author of over sixty-five novels. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys watching football, knitting, reading, gardening and attending craft shows on the town square. Joan has three daughters and a fantastic little grandson. Her three dogs and one cat allow her to live with them in a cozy cottage in a charming, small town in the high pine country of Arizona.
Dear Reader,
When I was first published as Robin Elliott with Silhouette Desire back in June of 1985, I was delighted to become a member of the Silhouette family.
Through the years, Silhouette Desire has become a favorite of readers across the country and around the world, a fact that doesn’t surprise me. The Silhouette family has grown, and I have the privilege to be surrounded by very talented writers.
What does surprise me is how quickly the years have passed since that first Robin Elliott book was published. I feel as though I’ve traveled forward in time just as Dakota does in Apache Dream Bride.
To be chosen to be a part of the celebration of the 1000th Silhouette Desire novel is a tremendous honor. I salute the authors, who have contributed to the success of the Desire line, the editors, who have been those authors’ partners, and I salute all of you who have been steadfast readers of our books through the years. You, too, are members of the Silhouette family.
While I began my Silhouette career as Robin Elliott, I am now writing under my own name of Joan Elliott Pickart.
Many thanks to all of you for your loyalty and support.
With warmest regards,
One (#ulink_44b02a5c-b694-5b7f-9768-c722746061f1)
The June day was so perfect, Kathy Maxwell decided, it was as though Mother Nature had reached an agreement with the Prescott Chamber of Commerce to present the small northern Arizona town at its very best.
Kathy took a deep breath of the clean, cool air, and marveled yet again at how clear the bright blue sky was at an altitude of five thousand feet. The lack of smog and exhaust fumes was just one of a multitude of reasons that made her extremely glad she’d moved to Prescott from Chicago a year ago.
“Hi, Kathy,” a woman called from across the street. “Are you playing hooky this afternoon?”
Kathy laughed. “You caught me, Beth. Sally is covering the store. I’m going to the craft show on the plaza with Lily.”
“Enjoy yourselves,” Beth said, waving as she went into a shop.
The people here were always so friendly and warm, Kathy thought as she smiled.
She had spent several summers in Prescott with her cousin, Lily, and had loved every minute of the visits. During her last trip west, she’d found herself consumed with an ever-growing sense of dread when envisioning a return to her life in Chicago.
The violence at the inner-city school where she taught increased each year, making it necessary to spend more time attempting to maintain order in the classroom than teaching the belligerent students.
During the previous school year, she’d lost weight, developed what were diagnosed as stress headaches and had difficulty sleeping. Admitting that she was burnedout had been difficult and had given her a feeling of failure. So, she’d hightailed it to Prescott, certain that a relaxing summer with Lily in the peaceful little town would render her as good as new. But by the end of August she realized it was not to be.
Not a risk-taker, and preferring order in her life, it had taken every ounce of courage Kathy possessed to quit her teaching job just weeks before the fall term began. Gathering that courage, as well as her savings, she had made a permanent move to Prescott and opened her store, The Herb Hogan. Her longtime hobby of growing herbs and studying their various uses had provided her the means to start her own business, which was thriving.
“Kathy, I’m coming, I’m coming,” a voice said, bringing Kathy from her thoughts.
She turned to see Lily waddling toward her, moving as fast as anyone who was eight months pregnant could. Her cousin was short, and very round at the moment. She had carrot red hair and a generous supply of freckles.
“Whew,” Lily said, stopping next to Kathy. “I’ll be so glad when this baby isn’t getting free rides anymore. I swear he weighs more than the other three did, despite what the doctor says.”
“You didn’t have to rush. We have all afternoon to ourselves.”
“What a heavenly thought,” Lily said as they started down the sidewalk. “Brad was making lunch for the girls when I left the house. Oh, mercy, I don’t even want to think about what my kitchen will look like when I get home. Brad is wonderful with the kids, but he’s a disaster on cleanup detail.” She paused. “So, tell all. How did your date with Roy go?”
Kathy wrinkled her nose. “Ask me anything you ever wanted to know about rodeos. I had a four-hour dissertation on the subject.”
“Oh, dear, another dud. That’s not good, not good at all.”
“Lily, I’m going to say this…again. I’ve lost count of how many times we’ve discussed the subject. Are you listening?”
“No.”
“Yes, you are. I’m happy in Prescott, very contented. Granted, there are adjustments to make when moving here from a large city like Chicago, but I’ve settled in quite nicely over the past year. This town is as close to perfection as a place can be.
“However, because it’s so small, there isn’t an abundance of eligible men. I’ve accepted that fact, and I’m aware that there’s a very good chance that I’ll never marry and have children. I’ll spoil your kids rotten and be their eccentric spinster aunt. I’d rather live here alone than in Chicago where there were beaucoup men. And that, Lily Benson, is that.”
“It certainly is not,” Lily said with an indignant sniff. “There’s a man for you in this town…somewhere. It’s simply a matter of staying alert. Prescott is growing, you know. There are people moving here all the time.
“I made Brad promise to tell me if any bachelors retain him as their attorney. You’ve got to work on your attitude, Kathy, or you’re liable to miss seeing a real hunk of stuff when he’s right in front of your nose.”
“Lily…”
“And,” she went on, “let us not forget your many attributes, my dear. You’re tall, disgustingly slender, have naturally curly blond hair, gorgeous blue eyes, and not one freckle, because I have your share. You’re twenty-seven, intelligent, have your own business, adore children…The list goes on and on. You’re a super catch, Kathy Maxwell, and a fantastic man is going to come out of the ether and realize that.”
Kathy rolled her eyes heavenward but kept silent, knowing it was useless to argue the subject further with her lovable and stubborn cousin.
The plaza, also called the square, was located on the main street and was a block long on each of its four sides. A majestic courthouse sat in the center, surrounded by trees and lush green grass. A charming gazebo had been built on one section of the lawn. Ongoing activities took place on the plaza, Kathy’s favorites being the craft shows.
Handmade items were on display in the seemingly endless number of booths edging the grass of the square. Some of the people manning the booths were local citizens, others had come from across the country.
Kathy was slowly collecting items with Southwestern, as well as native American, themes to decorate her tiny cottage, which she adored. The one-bedroom house had a white picket fence, a tall juniper tree on one side, and a large backyard, where she grew herbs. Her home was “cozy and cute,” she often told Lily, and it suited her needs perfectly.
“My stars,” Lily said, “would you look at all the people on the square? What a crowd. See? I told you that Prescott is growing, and there’s the evidence of it. Well, let’s plough in and ogle the goodies.”
“Did it ever occur to you that a majority of those folks are tourists?”
“Hush. Don’t be negative. Mark my words, they live here.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Kathy said, laughing. “Anything you say, ma’am.”
Late that night Kathy stood next to her double bed, a hammer in one hand. She cocked her head to one side, then the other, finally nodding in approval. She was delighted with the purchase she’d made at the craft show, and now it was properly placed on the wall just above her pillow.
“A Dream Catcher,” she said, smiling. “I love it.”
The native American creation was comprised of a three-inch circle covered in soft pink felt. Minute, taut webbing crisscrossed the interior of the circle, leaving a small hole in the center. Several felt streamers, six and eight inches long and decorated with beads and feathers, hung from the circle.
The legend of the Dream Catcher was enchanting, Kathy mused. Hung above where a person slept, the ornament would catch dreams that floated through the night air. Only good dreams would be allowed to pass through the hole in the center, while bad dreams were snared in the webbing and would perish at dawn’s light.
“Pleasant dreams guaranteed,” she said with a decisive nod.
She put the hammer away, locked the doors, then went to bed. She looked at the Dream Catcher once more before turning off the small lamp on the nightstand. With a sigh of contentment, she snuggled into a comfortable position.
What a lovely day it had been, she thought. As more and more time passed, she was emotionally reassured that she’d made the right decision when moving to Prescott. Her life was once again in order and her health restored. Everything was fine.
