Chastity's Angel (Wild Rose Country Book 3)

by Linda Ford

  She knew he wasn't referring to another balloon ride. "I believe I am," she murmured, her thoughts scattering as she took in the rugged line of his jaw and his golden lashes. The musky scent of his nearness filled her senses until she could think of nothing else.

  Slowly he lowered his head, his lips touching hers in the barest hint of a kiss. As he drew back, she strained forward, longing for more.

  He gave a low-throated chuckle and pulled her into his arms, taking her lips in a breath-stopping, satisfying kiss that seemed to last forever yet ended far too soon.

  She nuzzled her face into his shoulder. She could feel his breath sifting through her hair. She didn't want the embrace to end, but he sighed and lifted her face.

  "We need to discuss some things."

  She smiled into his eyes.

  He lifted her chin. "Are you really ready for this?"

  She knew what he meant: Was she ready for the sort of life he offered? But she pretended to misunderstand him and, closing her eyes, tilted her face, offering her lips.

  He drew her to him and kissed her again.

  Finally he pulled away. "Let's try again," he muttered and, guessing she would again misinterpret his meaning, drew back another inch. "And I don't mean that." His eyes darkened. "We'll save that for later."

  She smiled again, relishing the promise. "What did you mean?" she inquired, her voice full of pretended innocence.

  He looked beyond her. "I won't make any promises I don't intend to keep. There will be times I go on trips either to show my work or to see something." He looked deep into her eyes. "Though I can't imagine ever wanting to leave you, even for a minute. You'll simply have to come with me."

  His confession went straight to the depths of her heart, and she cradled it there, knowing she would forever remember the way he looked at her.

  "I promise you this, Chastity LaBlanc—I will love you forever with all my heart. And if I have to travel for some reason and you can't accompany me, you have my assurance I will hurry home to you as fast as I can."

  "Adam Silverhorn, I love you."

  Light flooded her gaze until the rest of the world vanished, and she saw nothing else but Adam.

  He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her gently and reverently.

  "I have dreamed of this for so long," he murmured between kisses. "What made you change your mind?"

  "I suppose you could say I grew up." She smiled, thinking of the path her maturing had followed, the role Colin had played. "I've learned security isn't found in a place or a position or even promises. It's found in God and the love He provides. Love protects, perseveres, trusts, hopes."

  His expression was hungry, asking for more.

  "I understand about your having to travel. I can live with it, knowing you will hurry back. I believe my love is strong enough to accept that. Just as your love was strong enough to wait for me."

  Her heart was so full. She had so much she longed to say to him, but she could not find the words. Then his lips found hers again, and she knew sometimes words were unnecessary.

  * * *

  Chastity lay on the bed beside her mother, only half listening. Her thoughts lingered on Adam's good-night kiss. They had agreed they would delay their marriage until after Christmas to give them time to sort out the details of their lives. But sometimes it seemed impossible to wait.

  "We need to discuss the boardinghouse," Mother said.

  Chastity gathered up her thoughts. From the day she had told her she and Adam were to marry, her mother had wanted to know their plans regarding the boardinghouse. Chastity had been honest. "We haven't planned that far ahead." Now she rolled to her side so she could look into her mother's face.

  "I don't want you worrying about it, Mama. Adam and I are both content to leave things in God's hands."

  Mother nodded. "I've come to a decision. I'm going to sell the house."

  Chastity sat up straight. "Sell?" She gulped. "You always said you wouldn't."

  "Doc and I have been talking. He says I might as well accept the facts. Chances are I'll never get well enough to run this place on my own again." She held up a hand. "And I saw when you were thinking of marrying Michael that making the house your responsibility would never allow you to have a normal married life."

  "But, Mother, Adam is not Michael. We've discussed it and feel sure things will work out."

  Mother smiled serenely. "And they have. Gordon has made me a very pleasant offer." She nodded. "I've accepted it."

  Chastity fell back on the bed. "Gordon Simpson?"

  "He's an astute young man. He'll run the house efficiently, and I've no doubt he'll make a tidy profit."

  "Emma?" Was there another wedding in the future? A tiny thought troubled Chastity. Would Emma end up being worked to death?

  "No one has said anything, but I've got eyes. Emma is very capable, and Gordon has already shown himself to be useful."

  Chastity relaxed. "You're right. He doesn't seem to mind helping."

  He had peeled vegetables, washed lettuce, iced cakes. Until now Chastity thought it had been simply a way of spending time with Emma, but now she could see he truly liked the work.

  "He's good at fixing things too." He had saved Chastity a call to the handyman by repairing the washing machine and fixing the front step. "He's perfect for the job, Mama."

  "I thought so myself."

  They laughed together, but one thing still troubled Chastity.

  "What about Mrs. B?"

  "Why, that's the best of it. Gordon has made inquiries about a little house for me. He says the Mellon house on the corner is for sale. He's going to make an offer for me. Mrs. B will live with me."

  Chastity thought of the cozy house, tucked away behind some trees with a front veranda close enough to the street to visit from the front gate. "It's lovely." She sighed. So many changes. All good, but so much to deal with.

  "I think it will be good for Mrs. B. I'll have more time to spend with her. Perhaps I can get her to sit outside on the veranda on nice days. She'd enjoy that."

  "And it will also make it easier for you to leave the boardinghouse."

  Mother took her hand and squeezed it. "I'm looking forward to the move."

  * * *

  Two weeks after she had told Adam her mother's decision, he came to the house to ask Chastity if she had time for a walk.

  "Go ahead," Emma said. "Gordon and I can manage."

  "Thanks." Chastity smiled, but Emma had already turned back to Gordon.

  The days had been filled with making arrangements for the sale, deciding what to take, what to leave, painting and preparing her mother's house. Through it all, Emma and Gordon had shown themselves more than adequate to run the boardinghouse.

  She and Adam sauntered along the streets. Autumn had made her flashiest show and now seemed spent. When Chastity would have followed her regular pattern and headed past the big houses to the white picketed yard, Adam turned toward the street paralleling Main Street. Chastity was too busy telling of the packing and arranging to give it more than a passing thought.

  "I want to show you something." He pulled her to a stop.

  "What?" She searched his face for a clue.

  "This," he said, pointing. "This house," he added when her expression remained puzzled.

  "What about it?"

  "I want to buy it, but I want your opinion first."

  She lifted her gaze to the house. It was large, two full stories. Her first thought was that it was large enough for boarders. Her spirits dropped.

  "I know it's not the little white house with the picket fence, but come inside and let me tell you what I have in mind."

  She followed, waiting as he unlocked the door. He closed the door behind her and pulled her into his arms. "I've discovered how much I want to be close to you all the time, so I thought of moving my shop to the front of the house." He trailed kisses along her cheek, sending waves of delight through her. "That way I can slip out and kiss my sweet wife whene
ver the shop is quiet."

  She nestled closer.

  "The rest of the house will be ours and ours alone. Except"—he paused to shower more kisses upon her face—"except for the little ones who will fill the rooms."

  Tears welled up in the back of her eyes at the thought of little Silverhorns.

  "Do I get to see the rest of the house?" she asked him, smiling.

  "In a minute." He kissed her soundly.

  It took much longer than a minute to see the house with their having to pause for a kiss in each room and to congratulate themselves on how happy they were.

  Then he led her to the backyard. She gasped. The yard was so sheltered by trees that it was entirely private. Tucked away in the far corner, surrounded by almost bare bushes, stood a tiny gazebo, still shining with newness.

  "It's perfect," she murmured.

  He pulled her back into his arms. "My sweet Chastity, I will love you forever and do everything in my power to make you happy."

  She cradled his face in her hands. "Adam, all I need to make me happy is you."

  She kissed him gently and then took his hand and led him to the gazebo. Under the latticed shadows, the now leafless vines crackling merrily around them, she faced Adam, their intertwined hands pressed to his chest.

  "There's something I want to do," she whispered. "Something I promised myself I would do if I ever had a place like this."

  He smiled down at her, waiting.

  "I want to dedicate this place and our marriage to God. I truly believe He sent Colin to guide me, to show me how to go ahead in my life."

  "'Chastity's Angel.'"

  "That painting will always have a prominent place in our home."

  "Let's dedicate ourselves and this place to God. I owe Him my deepest thanks for your love." He took her hands, adoring her with his eyes, and then they knelt side by side in the damp leaves.

  She closed her eyes as Adam prayed aloud. A whisper of warm breeze swirled around them. She knew it was only the wind, but for a moment she felt as if Colin stood beside them, smiling his approval.

  "Thank You, God," she said softly.

  Sneak peek of Cowboy Bodyguard

  This message from Harrison asking for help, was Clay’s chance to pay back his debt to Harrison. He patted his saddle bag and hoped whatever Harrison asked of him wouldn’t require the use of his pistol.

  Clay’s dog, Mutt, lay with his head on his paws watching Clay’s every move.

  Clay swung into the saddle. “You coming, Mutt?”

  The dog sprang to its feet and trotted at Buck’s side, looking up with a grin as if Clay didn’t bring the dog every time he left the cabin.

  Harrison’s message had been urgent but Clay knew better than to gallop over the rough ground. He kept up a steady pace as he rode down the hills, the rugged Rockies to his back. He’d only visited Harrison’s home twice before, once when Harrison dragged his sorry body out there and once to deliver a stack of furs for Harrison to sell.

  He passed the corrals, the outbuildings, a bunkhouse with the floor of the verandah well-worn from the passage of many pairs of booted feet. A cookhouse stood next to it with a cabin behind. The flowers at the two windows of the cabin made Clay think a woman lived there.

  A cowboy peered at him from the barn. Mutt growled.

  “Quiet. We’re visitors here.”

  Mutt hunched forward, offended even though Clay had spoken kindly.

  They continued onward to the ranch house. His keen senses took in every detail. The trees growing along the nearby river. A scattering of cut flowers along the path to the garden, a well-kept garden with plenty of thriving vegetables, the wide porch surrounding the house swept clean as if a wind had blasted through. A breeze rippled the curtains at the window.

  Harrison’s wife had died some time back. Clay couldn’t say exactly when, only that it was before Clay had taken up residence in the little line shack. Seems Harrison must have found a woman to run his place because he knew Harrison had neither time nor skill to present such a welcome.

  A horse stood before the house, dusty from having been ridden.

  As he dismounted, Harrison came to the door. “Glad to see you. Come on in.”

  Clay motioned for Mutt to stay with Buck and followed Harrison, ducking his head as he crossed the threshold. He removed his hat. The delicious scent of roast beef made his mouth water. He straightened to look directly into a pair of brown, watchful eyes belonging to a woman probably close to his own age of thirty-two. She wore her blond hair pulled back in a severe bun, making her brown eyes seem large and full of caution.

  “Birdie, this is Clay Fisher,” Harrison said. “Clay, meet my sister, Miss Birdie Howe. She takes care of Megan.” Beyond Miss Howe was a table surrounded by six chairs, where the child sat watching them all.

  The child had hair the color of faded old grass tied in two bundles on either side of her head. Her blue eyes sparkled like sunshine on water, and the grin she gave him was so full of mischief and joy and life that he couldn’t help but smile back at her.

  “You remember my daughter, Megan,” Harrison said.

  Clay didn’t really but thought it best not to admit to it.

  “We need to talk.” Harrison waved Clay forward. “Have a seat.” Harrison’s voice held a steely edge.

  Miss Birdie stepped to the cupboard in the small kitchen. “Would you care for coffee? Supper will be ready shortly.”

  “Coffee is fine.” He pulled out a chair and sat, glad to know he’d get to taste the savory meat he smelled.

  A cup of steaming coffee was set before him. Clay took a couple of swallows, wondering again why Harrison had summoned him.

  Harrison pushed aside his cup. “This afternoon someone tried to take Megan.”

  Megan scooted forward. “He did take me.”

  “She got free,” Harrison added, his voice hard.

  “I bit him,” Megan said.

  Harrison wrapped his hands about his coffee cup, his knuckles white as old bone. “Megan, would you go to your room and play?”

  Megan looked ready to argue. Then she pushed to her feet, put her little fists on her hips and turned with a huff. As she marched away, she said, “A body could die in her bedroom and no one would bother to care.”

  Clay ducked his head to hide his smile. No need to wonder how she felt about being excluded from the conversation.

  Harrison waited until the door closed behind his daughter to continue. “Like I said, someone grabbed Megan this afternoon. But that’s not all.” Harrison went to a cupboard and pulled down a rag. He handed it to Clay. “Found this nailed to the door.”

  Clay blinked as he recognized it as a doll, slashed to shreds. “Someone hates you?”

  “There’s been a few things out on the ranch too. A steer killed and left to rot. One waterhole poisoned. The men noticed it before any harm was done. Seems someone wants me to know they’re mad, though I can’t say why or who.”

  “You want me to ride the range and see what I can discover?”

  “No.” Harrison put the torn doll back on top of the cupboard out of sight. “I want you to guard my daughter and my sister while I go find the person or persons responsible.” His jaw muscles bunched. “I’ve already searched around the place but I’ll be looking farther afield starting tomorrow.”

  Clay sat back as if someone had nailed him to the chair. Play nursemaid to a woman and child? No way. Not after losing Mary and the baby.

  Miss Birdie bolted to her feet.

  “I don’t need a man following me around. I can look after myself and Megan.” Her eyes fair blazed with resolve.

  A smile tickled the back of Clay’s thoughts at the idea of seeing a gun belt around her hips. Oh, how he admired a woman with some grit. At least, he once had. But now he knew how dangerous grit could be in a frail female.

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  Copyright © 2017 by Linda Ford

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