by Regina Scott
Judge not, and ye shall not be judged; condemn not, and ye shall not be condemned; forgive, and ye shall be forgiven. Give, and it will be given unto you, a good measure, pressed down and shaken together, and running over.
For the last ten years, he’d waited for someone to call his bluff, tell him how he’d failed—Drew, Ma, Simon, God. But they never had. Perhaps they’d never seen the need. They’d given him the good measure of their love and friendship. Perhaps they didn’t blame him.
Perhaps the person whose forgiveness he needed was his own.
A flurry of movement forced his eyes open. Davy had climbed to his feet and was pointing his gun toward the road.
“Someone’s coming.”
Nash rose as well, weapon at the ready.
Rina glided out of the woods. Her silky hair fell past her shoulders in a curtain of gold. Her cloak flowed past her lithe figure outlined in a pair of trousers and...his dress shirt? Her gaze was serene, her steps steady, as if she walked down the hall of a castle. His call of warning died away. She was simply magnificent.
The outlaws seemed just as mesmerized, for they stood openmouthed until she was only a few feet away from the fire. The light flickered about her, making her seem even more unreal. Her gaze was clear as she looked from one thief to the other. Percy nickered a greeting, and Lance bobbed his head as if doing her homage.
“Ain’t that the woman he had with him afore?” Davy muttered to his partner.
Nash nodded, aiming at her. “You ain’t getting the horses or your man, missus.”
She planted her staff in the moss as if claiming the area for president and country. “I think you’ll find you are mistaken, sir,” she said, voice echoing in the woods. “You have no idea whose wrath you have incurred. I am the Princess Alexandrina Eugenia of the Kingdom of Battenburgia, and I demand that you release my royal escort at once.” She swung the staff and pointed to James.
James wanted to shout with delight at her confidence, but he knew that would only ruin her presentation. He kept his head down and eyed the outlaws through his lashes.
Nash and Davy were staring at her.
“Never heard of a princess in the woods,” Nash said, but James could hear doubt in his voice.
“Never seen a woman dressed like that afore neither,” Davy murmured to him. “And remember all them fancy dresses she had with her?”
Something tugged at James’s bonds, and he stiffened.
“Hold still,” Simon whispered from behind him. “I’ll have you free in a moment.”
So that was the plan. Simon intended to cut him loose, and Rina was the distraction. While he applauded her bravery, he didn’t like her making herself a target. The outlaws could only take so much before they reacted, badly. But perhaps he could help convince her audience of her ruse.
“Don’t humble yourself for my sake, your highness,” he called. “I’m not worth your trouble.”
Rina inclined her head regally in his direction as if acknowledging her superior position. “I refuse to see one of my loyal servants mistreated,” she said. Now the staff, which she held like a scepter, swung toward the outlaws. “By stealing what is mine, you have committed an act of war against a sovereign nation. Surrender now, or face retribution.”
Nash and Davy exchanged glances. James could see sweat on their brows even as he felt the strands of the rope parting.
“She’s telling tales,” Nash said, turning to Rina once more. “If you’re a princess, where’s your crown?”
Rina regarded him as if he were mud that speckled her slipper. “No princess wears her jewels around thieves.”
Davy started, then nudged Nash with his boot. “I knew I seen her afore.”
“You already said,” Nash grumbled. “She was with him in the woods.”
“No,” Davy said with a shake of his head. “She was in that picture!” He lowered his gun to dig out the miniature and shove it at Nash.
Rina took a step forward. “That’s mine!”
Would she give herself away? James strained at the rope and felt it give a little more. He had to protect her.
Nash glanced between the miniature and her, eyes narrowed. “So you’re a princess, eh? What about your army, then? Don’t princesses usually have a whole flock of fellows to do their bidding?”
She seemed to recall her role, for she lifted her staff as if summoning her loyal subjects right then. “Sir John of the Vale,” she called. “Are you in position?”
The bushes to the north rattled as if a regiment awaited her word. “Aye, your highness!”
So John was in on it, too. Another strand parted, then the rope went slack. What had happened to Simon?
“Sir Simon de Mont,” she called again. “Are you ready, as well?”
“I and all my retainers are at your service, your highness,” Simon called from a little ways away.
Davy dropped his gun and held up his hands.
Nash backed away, gun trained on Rina. “Don’t shoot, or I’ll kill your princess.”
James wrenched at the rope. He had to reach Nash before that gun went off.
Rina didn’t betray the least fear. “You,” she spat out, head high and eyes blazing, “wouldn’t dare. Every law officer in America, Canada and the Continent would hunt you down.” She strode forward, staff outstretched. “Now, kneel!”
Nash knelt.
The last strand snapped, and James pulled the rope from his body even as he scrambled to his feet.
“Sir John, Sir Simon,” Rina called. “Secure the road and then tie up these men. I grow tired of their presence.” Turning, she motioned to James with her staff. With her back to the outlaws, James was the only one who could see the laughter in her gaze.
“Come along, Mr. Wallin,” she said, mouth twitching as if she fought a smile. “The Kingdom of Battenburgia has further need of your services, and so do I.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“You should have seen her,” John crowed to the rest of the family the moment they returned to Wallin Landing. “She had those thieves cowering from the moment she walked out of the woods.”
“Our Miss Fosgrave has a presence,” Beth bragged.
“So I said from the beginning,” Catherine agreed.
As the rest of the Wallins crowded around John to hear the story, Rina slipped away. She knew how the tale ended. They had loaded the horse thieves into the wagon, and Simon had driven them back to Seattle after dropping off James, John and Rina and picking up Levi as a guard. John and Drew had plans to go after the dugouts in the light of day.
James had made sure to retrieve the miniature from Nash and return it to Rina before Simon or John saw what it portrayed. “This is yours,” he murmured. “Only you have the right to share it.”
She had tucked it into her cloak for safekeeping. Someday, she’d confide the whole story to the other Wallins. Right now, however, the only voice she wanted to hear was James’s.
He had hung back on the porch when they’d entered the main house as if unsure of his welcome. She’d hoped the conversation she’d overheard on the way back might have changed his outlook. True to his word, Simon had spoken to James about the death of their father and assured James he did not blame him.
“Though I may never see life as you do,” Simon had admitted. “Something to joke about.”
James had clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about that, Simon. You’re serious enough for the both of us.”
Now she found him leaning against one of the porch supports, gaze out into the starlight.
“Everything all right?” she asked.
In answer, he slipped an arm around her waist and drew her close. Her head rested on his chest as they stood, listening to the sounds of the night—the low of the oxen, the coo of a dove, t
he whisper of the wind through the trees. For a moment, she thought his heart beat in time with hers.
He reached for her hand, threaded their fingers together. “Thank you for talking to Simon.”
Rina studied the shadows of their hands. “How did you know Simon and I had talked?”
“He seemed to see things differently. You have that same effect on your students. And me.”
Oh, but she hoped so. “Then why did you stay out here?”
She felt him shrug. “It was your moment. You deserved to shine without any jokes or any of my family worrying about me.”
“They worry about you because they love you,” she told him.
“I’m beginning to believe that now. I had some time to think there at the outlaws’ camp. I’ve always craved forgiveness, when I already had it. I was the one who had to let it go, to believe. I didn’t fail them.”
Rina gave him a squeeze. “You couldn’t fail them. You care too much.”
She felt his head brush hers. “I do care, Rina. About them. About Lance and Percy. About you.”
Rina gazed up at him. He was a darker shape against the night, but she could hear the awe in his voice, the same awe she’d seen on his face when she’d walked into the clearing and demanded the outlaws set him free.
“I’m not a princess, James,” she said. “I’m a schoolteacher, and that’s enough for me.”
He gave their joined hands a swing. “Do you want nothing else from life, Rina? A home of your own, marriage?”
Hope blossomed inside her. “Only with the right man. But the man I love has yet to ask me properly.”
He pulled back. “Ask you properly? I went down on bended knee, woman!”
Of course he would assume she meant him, the rogue! “That’s how you propose to a princess you admire,” she said, heart beating faster. “How do you propose to a lady you love?”
In answer, he bent his head and kissed her, softly, gently. The sweet pressure of his lips set her to trembling. When he pulled back, she could feel him gazing down at her.
“Alexandrina Eugenia Fosgrave,” he intoned, “dear Rina, I don’t care if you’re a princess royal or a penniless schoolteacher. I love you. I am only my best when I am with you. And so I offer you all that I am or ever will be. Will you marry me?”
Tears were warming her eyes, but she didn’t care. “Now that,” she said, “was a proper proposal. Yes, James, I will marry you. You make me laugh, and you made me believe in myself when I wasn’t even sure who I was anymore. How could I fail to fall in love with you?”
“It’s a mystery, ma’am,” he said, laughter spoiling his serious tone. He held her close and kissed her again, and, for the first time in a long time, Rina knew she was right where she belonged.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from THE TEXAN’S COURTSHIP LESSONS by Noelle Marchand.
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading Frontier Engagement, the third in my Frontier Bachelor series. I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for rogues and rebels, and James Wallin is a little bit of both. I knew nothing less than a princess would do for him. And he was perfect for Rina, who needed a little frivolity in her life! If you enjoyed the story, please consider leaving a review on a major retailer site or reader site like Goodreads.
And if you’d like an excuse for frivolity, join me at my blog at nineteenteen.com, say hello on Facebook at facebook.com/authorreginascott, or visit my website at reginascott.com, where you can sign up to receive an alert when the next book is out.
Blessings!
Regina Scott
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Historical title.
You find illumination in days gone by. Love Inspired Historical stories lift the spirit as heroines tackle the challenges of life in another era with hope, faith and a focus on family.
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The Texan’s Courtship Lessons
by Noelle Marchand
Chapter One
December 31, 1888
Peppin, Texas
He’d found her.
Every false start, every mistake, all of the embarrassment of his previous failed attempts at courting and years of waiting faded away in that moment because he knew this was the woman his heart had been hoping for. It didn’t matter that she, like everyone else at the masquerade ball, was wearing a mask and he didn’t know her name or have any other clue concerning her identity. He was going to marry her... Probably. Maybe. If he didn’t mess things up like he usually did.
Rhett Granger kept his gaze riveted on the woman he was certain was his future wife as he crossed the crowded hotel ballroom toward her. She wore an emerald sheath dress belted at the waist with a braided golden rope. Heavy gold jewelry draped around her neck and delicate wrists while a low crown encircled straight black hair that looked to be a wig. Cleopatra, Queen of the Nile, had more than her fair share of admirers hovering around, hanging on her every word. He’d be able to dispatch them with ease if he was half the swashbuckling buccaneer his tricornered hat, black leather pants and gray poet shirt portrayed him to be. He wasn’t, but he still managed to cross the room.
The closer he got, the more something about the woman seemed unerringly familiar. Then again, something about everyone at Peppin’s New Year’s Eve Ball seemed familiar. That was probably because Rhett had met most of the folks who lived in this town at some point during the two and a half years since he’d moved here. He probably already knew or had at the very least met “Cleopatra” at some point before. Perhaps that meant there was a reason they weren’t already a couple.
His courage faltered slightly along with his steps. Then, she glanced up and caught him staring at her. Her eyes widened before her thick, dark lashes lowered demurely. The soft light from the gas chandelier hovering above the dance floor did nothing to hide the slight blush that appeared just below her gold mask. No way was he turning back now.
He swallowed hard, squared his shoulders and continued on. He lingered near the outskirts of her circle of admirers to observe her. She was putting on a good show, but he could tell she was uncomfortable with all of the attention. The tension was there in her smile. Eyes that should have sparkled looked dull with disinterest. Her slim fingers hovered near her temple before coming to rest behind her neck as though a headache was starting. Her gaze gradually lifted back to his, revealing her deep green eyes. She tilted her head as though to ask a silent question. Was he there to join the fray or free her from it? Her rosy lips lifted in a hesitant smile that said she hoped it was the latter.
His heart began to pound in his chest. He opened his mouth to ask her to dance so that they could fall in love and get married. No words came out. He clamped his lips shut. He swallowed. He tried again. Not even so much as a grunt. Fine. Not a problem. Or at least, not an unusual one. He was accustomed to finding himself tongue-tied around beautiful women. This time it wouldn’t stop him. He didn’t need words to ask her to dance.
He unclenched his suddenly moist fist in preparation to offer his hand, already envisioning her taking it and him leading her onto the dance floor. Instead, another man brushed past him to stand in the middle of the circle. He was dressed as a roman warrior though he’d opted to wear pants under the kilt-looking part of the outfit. The Roman removed his helmet and gave a deep bow before Cleopatra. “Mil
ady, may I have this dance?”
She glanced at Rhett then back to the Roman before speaking in an accent that sounded like a strange mixture of a Southern belle and an English lady. “And you are?”
“Mark Antony.”
Her mouth fell open. Pursing her lips closed, she narrowed her eyes in what seemed to be suspicion. That didn’t stop her from placing her hand in Antony’s and allowing him to lead her to the dance floor. The small gathering of her suitors disappeared like bees around a wilted bloom, leaving only Rhett to stare after the woman in disappointment. Why wasn’t he surprised that another man had swept in and taken the woman of his dreams while he stood around like a bumbling idiot? Oh, that was right. It had happened before—several times.
The last time had been the most embarrassing because he hadn’t bothered to hide his interest in Amy Bradley from the town. He hadn’t felt the need to. After all, they’d been paired on the infamous Bachelor List—a list of matches created by Ellie Williams, the town’s most successful matchmaker. What could go wrong?
Him. He’d gone wrong precisely as he always did anytime a relationship took a turn toward romance. Not that he could call what had happened with Amy a “romance” even if it was the closest he’d ever gotten to one. All they’d shared were a few drawn-out glances and several laborious chats after church on Sunday. Still, it had been enough to give him hope.
That hope had been most decidedly and publicly destroyed when Amy eloped with a not-so-former suitor more than two months ago. Did that mean that Rhett had lost his only chance at love? He’d rather think that just this once Ellie had been wrong, and Amy wasn’t the woman he was supposed to end up with.
That meant his true love might still be out there. He wanted to find her, but what would happen if he did? The same thing that had happened with Cleopatra—nothing. Absolutely nothing.
A heavy sigh filtered through his lips as Cleopatra and Mark Antony floated past him in a waltz. Why wouldn’t God take away whatever stupid affliction he had that changed him from an intelligent, personable and confident man into an ineloquent, dull-witted, insecure boy at the first sign of romance in a relationship? Perhaps he was destined to be alone for the rest of his life and this was merely God’s way of showing him that. In that case, the kindest thing he could do for himself would be to stop getting his hopes up about something that would never happen.