Claire, Angela - Heart of Stone (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Angela Claire

  Heart of Stone

  Widowed Colorado cowboy Jake Stone has a baby to take care of. But when he asks his aunt to come west to help, she sends Melinda O'Chauncey instead...a walking, talking inspiration for sex if Jake ever saw one. But Jake has no intention of ever marrying again, so he vows to keep his hands off the sexy new nursemaid. Easier said than done!

  As skittish as Jake is about matrimony, Melinda couldn't marry the handsome cowboy, even if he got down on his knees and begged her. She has secrets of her own that she hopes are far, far behind in Boston.

  Add to that a rash of mysterious happenings on the ranch that make Jake's wife's death a question mark, and a wedding may turn out to be the least of Melinda and Jake's problems. In fact, it looks like a funeral might be in store for them instead.

  Genre: Historical, Western/Cowboys

  Length: 31,372 words

  HEART OF STONE

  Angela Claire

  EROTIC ROMANCE

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED: Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to only ONE LEGAL copy for your own personal reading on your own personal computer or device. You do not have resell or distribution rights without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, for free or for a fee, or as a prize in any contest. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden. If you do not want this book anymore, you must delete it from your computer.

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Erotic Romance

  HEART OF STONE

  Copyright © 2011 by Angela Claire

  E-book ISBN: 1-61034-206-2

  First E-book Publication: March 2011

  Cover design by Jinger Heaston

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2011 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of Heart of Stone by Angela Claire from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

  The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

  This is Angela Claire’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Claire’s right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  www.BookStrand.com

  DEDICATION

  To my dear friend, Elizabeth Church, who has such a generous spirit and who always gives me encouragement when I need it.

  HEART OF STONE

  ANGELA CLAIRE

  Copyright © 2011

  Prologue

  The cowboy crept into the ranch house. Stone had ridden away hours ago, but the old man assured him the woman would still be in bed. Sure enough, though he heard no noises from the bedroom when he stood in the doorway, there she was, asleep. Well, not asleep precisely. Her eyes were open, but she was just lying there, like a little blond rag doll. He smiled. He bet he could make her move right quick. His cock perked up at the thought. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen. The old man had warned him not to touch her.

  Except to kill her of course.

  It was supposed to look like a natural death. She looked white as death already, the bones of her pretty little face stuck up against that white, white skin. Gal must have never ventured out once under the Colorado sun to stay that pale. She sure was pretty, though, even listless and skinny as she was. Too bad he couldn’t take a little more time with her, but you didn’t cross the old man.

  He approached the bed, and the woman didn’t even seem to register it. He held the pillow over her face, and swear to God, she didn’t even put her arms up to struggle. It took no longer than it would to wring the neck of a chicken.

  When he took the pillow away from her face, she even looked real peaceful like. He felt a pang of remorse, completely foreign, but dang if it wasn’t there. Whoever this little gal had been, she didn’t deserve to die so young. But the old man had plans, and if you knew what was good for you, you followed along.

  If you didn’t want a pillow over your face one day real soon, that is.

  Chapter One

  Colorado Territory, 1869

  The train was late again. Big surprise. Jake Stone stood on the platform and pulled his hat down farther as a shield from the glaring sun. October was supposed to be a little cooler, seeing as how snow in Colorado could make its introductions as early as the first of November. No matter. The ranch house was cool enough, even in this unseasonably warm weather. Aunt Lil wouldn’t find it intolerable. Now when the snow came, well, that would be another matter. But as long as he could convince his aunt to stick it out a year or two, the baby would be old enough to work out some other arrangement. Then Aunt Lil could head on back to her precious Boston. He hated to ask his only kin to put herself out so much. Lord knew this rancher’s life was not what his genteel aunt was used to. No more than it had been what Victoria was used to.

  His picture-pretty wife had never cottoned to the dusty summers and isolating winters of a rancher’s life. He should have sent her back to Boston when the baby was on its way like she’d begged him to, but he’d been selfish. He’d thought it would work out, that the baby would be fine. And little Ginny was fine, more than fine. As perfect a little creature as he’d ever seen with all her ten toes and fingers and the sweetest little smile when she looked up at her daddy. Victoria, however, had not been fine. The birth had taken too much out of her, and for months after, she remained listless and uninterested in anything, even Ginny. It got so she wouldn’t get out of bed in the morning or even feed the baby unless Jake put the hungry little infant’s mouth up to his wife’s breast. After a while, Jake was plumb afraid to leave the baby alone with her.

  For a time, his neighbor’s wife, Annie Wilson, had sent over her oldest girl to mind the baby while Jake was out on the ranch. Though a twelve-year-old girl, even one with a half dozen little brothers and sisters, was no substitute for a mother, it was the best he could do under the circumstances. But when Victoria’s milk dried up altogether and the baby was still too young to w
ean, there was no choice but to take Annie up on her offer to nurse Ginny along with her little Scott. So the baby had gone over to the Wilson’s, and then Victoria, with even that tenuous grasp on responsibility gone, had given into whatever melancholy gripped her. One evening, after riding the herd hard, Jake came in dusty and short-tempered only to find his wife truly gone. At first he thought she must have taken her own life, and in a way she had, but with nothing as crude as a knife or a hangman’s noose. No, in her own stubborn way Victoria had just drifted back to Boston. She died in her sleep, leaving Jake suddenly alone with a baby to raise.

  It was fine for Ginny to stay at the Wilson’s while she was still nursing, but she’d been eating oat mush and crackers for a month now, old enough to wean, and Jake wanted his child with him. The last time he’d been over to see his little girl, she’d cried when he took her out of Annie’s arms, like she didn’t even know her daddy anymore. That just wouldn’t do. She was a Stone, and by God, he would bring up his own child. So he swallowed his pride and wrote to his Aunt Lil, explaining the situation and asking her to come out west and help him out until Ginny was a little older. He’d expected to have quite a correspondence with his strong-willed aunt, most of it centered around giving up this fool idea of ranching and coming back to work in Boston. He figured eventually he’d manage to convince her. But, to his surprise, Aunt Lil had acquiesced right away, sending a letter telling him to meet the train two weeks hence, which was today, as a matter of fact.

  So here he was on this dusty, sunny platform waiting for the answer to his domestic dilemma to arrive. A shout from the railroad office, if the little shack that stood for one could be called an office, told him that the train was approaching, which he could see for his own eyes now that the smoke was in sight and the distinctive chugging audible. The whistle that signaled its shrill stop darn near broke his eardrums as he took his hat in hand, waiting humbly to meet his aunt. Even if she’d come readily without a fight, he knew his Aunt Lil, and he expected a lecture or two had come along with her. As the few passengers who were getting out at this tiny town climbed down, he scanned the faces for his aunt’s stern features and rigid posture. But all he could see at first was a tough old cowpoke surely looking for work and a dandified bald-headed fellow from the railroad, if he had his guess. Then she stepped down onto the platform.

  Not his aunt. No, she was something else altogether. Tall and shapely, even in her plain dress, with blonde curls tumbling down her back, not kept in place by the staid bonnet she wore, she was quite simply every man’s fantasy. Her big blue eyes searched the platform, lush pink lips pursed as if to call out any minute. Jake looked her up and down for a minute and then resolutely looked away. It wouldn’t do to greet his aunt with the kind of thoughts in his mind that that little filly inspired. Lil’d see right through him, just as she had when he was scant man enough to shave, but plenty man enough to satisfy the lusty upper chambermaid in his aunt’s home. He smiled as he remembered what a licking the old lady had given him for that one.

  He continued watching the passenger car’s exit, hoping his aunt hadn’t fallen asleep or some fool thing, until he felt a light touch on his arm. He turned to see his dream girl staring up at him. Man, close up, she was even more delectable with her creamy complexion that looked cool even in this heat and a moist mouth that looked made for kissing. For one hopeful moment, he wondered if she was one of Sally’s new girls, come west to work in the saloon, fresh and eager to make her fortune bedding desperately lonely cowboys. Jake had never been one for whores, but after his wife died, he’d made the occasional trip to Sally’s. Fucking was just like eating as far as he was concerned. A man could go only so long without it. If this girl was joining the ranks at Sally’s, he’d be indulging a bit more frequently for sure. Even as he held the faint hope, he knew by looking at this girl that she wasn’t a whore. She was too proper and pretty. No, she was undoubtedly somebody’s sweetheart or young wife come to join her man in this harsh world. He felt a little sorry for her and very sorry for himself that he wouldn’t ever get to see how well her long lovely frame fit underneath his as he plunged into her. Whores were one thing, but a man didn’t poach on another man’s woman.

  Not that there was anything wrong with a little looking though. Without meaning to, he glanced discreetly down to see if her neckline covered that entire delectable bosom or if he could get a peek or two of white flesh. So preoccupied was he that he missed what she’d timidly said to him.

  “Pardon me, ma’am,” he said politely. “What was that you said?”

  “I said, are you Mr. Stone?”

  “Yes, I’m Jake Stone.”

  “This is for you then.” She dug into her reticule and fished out a letter. With a sense of foreboding, he saw that the handwriting on the envelope was his aunt’s distinctive scrawl. Without a word, he tore it open and read it with incredulous dread, his gaze darting down at her every once and a while.

  Then he began to swear. Not even under his breath either. Right out loud. He crumpled the letter in his fist. “The old bat has finally gone insane.”

  * * * *

  Melinda O’Chauncey bit her lower lip as she listened to the tirade coming out of the big man beside her. She thought she’d heard every version of a swear word ever invented in the orphanage where she had grown up, but Mr. Stone had a few new ones in his vocabulary. She tried not to shrink back. Old Miss Stone had said the only way to deal with her headstrong nephew was to stand up to him.

  “If you don’t,” the kindly old lady had warned her, “he’ll put you on the next train back to Boston.”

  Melinda took the threat very seriously, and now that she had met Miss Stone’s nephew, she saw that the old woman wasn’t kidding. Miss Stone hadn’t given Melinda a physical description of Jake Stone, just a psychological one. “Bullheaded as they come. Dragged that poor, sweet, delicate wife of his out west with him when any darn fool could see she wouldn’t be able to take root in all that dusty soil, would just wither up and pass away. So she did, just one year out, but left him with a baby to care for, darn fool that he was. Should’ve kept his hands off his wife until he saw whether she could make it out there, but my nephew is not one to exercise discipline in that area, my dear.”

  Melinda had blushed at such plain speaking, although she’d heard plenty of it in the rough-and-tumble world she’d grown up in.

  “So now he’s saddled with a baby. But will he just marry some young miss out there to solve his problem or even come back to Boston and hire a proper governess to take care of his daughter? Or even send the child back to Victoria’s parents to bring up, heartbroken as they are? Of course not. He has to do things his own way. So he comes up with this fool idea of dragging me out west to help him. Darn boy always did have more faith in me than any right-thinking person should. Doesn’t he realize I’m pushing sixty-four and too old to care for a baby? Lord knows, I was too old even to raise him to begin with, but without another soul in the world to claim him as kin, and all that money to tempt others to claim him for their own reasons, I had to step in. Boy’s looked up at me like I was some kind of fairy godmother ever since then. But I’m sorry. I just can’t help him now. So that’s why I’m going to send you.”

  Miss Stone had offered to pay her wages for a year, upfront, if she could just stick it out with Mr. Stone and care for her great-niece until her nephew came to his senses. With hardly a dollar to her name, and too old at nineteen to stay in the orphanage, she had no other prospects. Well, she guessed she had one or two rightly distasteful ones, if you counted the leering offer made by one of the trustee’s husbands or the veiled hints of the orphanage’s married doctor, fifty if he was a day. But Miss Stone had always been a fair-minded trustee, and when she approached Melinda with this proposition, she had jumped at the chance. Besides, Melinda had one very good reason why staying in Boston was not such a smart idea, one she hoped Miss Stone herself would never discover.

  The train ride in itself had be
en a wonder. Melinda had never imagined how big and sprawling and just plain beautiful this country could be. Though Miss Stone had booked her a sleeping compartment, Melinda had spent much of the long train ride sitting in a seat by the window just watching the panoply of greens and blues and browns. After years and years of the closed dark environment of the orphanage, she finally felt like she could breathe again.

  So if she had to put up with this big man breathing a little fire at her to do that, she could handle it. Especially since Miss Stone had neglected to mention how handsome her nephew was. He was tall, making her normally too-tall-for-a-girl five foot eight seem downright dainty, and his hair was coal black and wavy. She’d noticed, before he started swearing at her that is, that his eyes were a deep mesmerizing green. A bonny man, the old Scottish cook at the orphanage would have said. Only it was a touch hard to enjoy his good looks when he was scowling at her so.

  “Really, Mr. Stone, I’ve no idea why you’re carrying on so. I’m perfectly capable of caring for an infant. Why, at St. Michael’s, I cared for a dozen of them at a time.”

  “St. Michael’s? Good God. Did she send me a nun just to torment me, that crafty old biddy?”

  “St. Michael’s was an orphanage, not a convent, Mr. Stone. I grew up there. And I am quite familiar with babies, so you needn’t worry that your aunt sent someone who was unsuitable to care for your daughter.”