He set out to church, keeping the horse to a leisurely walk. He might have glanced back toward the patch of road where he left Caroline a time or two or three. “Come on, Caroline. It’s your turn. Come after me.”
* * *
As David rode away, his words stayed with her. I was making decisions out of fear when I should have allowed myself to be guided by love.
Fear. Was that what she’d been struggling with? Fear of making another mistake. Fear of never having that perfect love story like her parents and Matthew had. Were those love stories perfect, though? Maybe for them, but not necessarily for her. Who wanted a fairy tale anyway? That wasn’t real. David was. No, he wasn’t perfect. It was unfair to expect him to be, especially since she wasn’t and never would be. Perhaps it was their imperfections that helped make them perfect for each other.
She had to allow for the fact that mistakes were going to be made by both of them. Maybe that was permissible—even necessary for learning and growing in this life. The problem came when a person clung to them like a comfortable old coat in the summertime. That was exactly what she’d been doing. It was also exactly what David had been trying to tell her not to do.
Where did that leave her? Loving David. That was a given. But could she trust him? To be honest, it wasn’t David she had a problem trusting so much as herself and her decisions. Yet she’d surrender her will to God’s. She’d sincerely asked for His guidance. Surely that meant He was leading her heart now and it was all right to follow it to...
“Where Lord? David or Austin?”
Before she finished speaking, she knew. Deep inside beyond the places fear was able to reach, she’d always known. She smiled at the sky that peeked through the trees above her. “Thank You.”
She carefully remounted, then spurred Annie’s mare into a canter. The trees opened up a little more, allowing her to catch sight of David ahead of her on the road. He hadn’t gone far. Peace enveloped her as the distance between them shrank beneath her mare’s gliding gait.
David glanced back, pulling his horse up short. Caroline ducked her head to hide her expression as she circled him. Bringing her horse alongside his, she came to a stop, facing him. She finally lifted her lashes to meet his hopeful gaze. She offered him her reins. He took them with no little amount of confusion. Hand free, she caught hold of the lapel of his open suit coat and tugged. She leaned forward to meet him halfway, then pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I love you, too. Let’s get married.”
He released her reins before she could take them. Her mouth fell open. “David!”
He’d already wrapped his own reins around the saddle horn. His hands settled onto her waist. She automatically removed her boots from the stirrups as he lifted her from her horse onto the saddle in front of him. She sputtered out a protest. “You’re going to break our—”
Then he kissed her and she couldn’t think of a single thing to complain about. She was too busy melting into his arms. That went on for a while, though exactly how long she couldn’t say. Finally, he pulled back with a satisfied grin. “Now, let’s go get married.”
As they neared the church, Caroline could see that most of her guests were milling in groups outside the church. One figure stood alone and apart from the others. Elizabeth Dumont. David saw her, too. Caroline watched his brow furrow with worry. This would be awkward at best and difficult at worst. A wave of compassion overcame her for both of them.
“David.” Caroline waited for him to look at her before continuing. “We’ll figure this out, but for the record, she can’t have you.”
Tension broken, he laughed, then leaned over to kiss her cheek. They surrendered their horses to their rightful owners before David took her hand. She walked over to meet Elizabeth with him. Her husband-to-be reached out to briefly clasp the woman’s hand. “Miss Dumont, I’m so sorry. There seems to have been some sort of mix-up. I sent you a telegram letting you know that I planned to marry someone else. I thought for sure that you’d receive it in time to cancel your traveling plans, since you said you would need a week to be ready to leave Boston.”
“I was able to leave much more quickly than I anticipated. Your telegram must have just missed me.” Elizabeth’s remorseful brown gaze shifted to Caroline. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your day.”
“It isn’t ruined,” Caroline said, then removed her hand from David’s to extend it to Elizabeth. “I’m Caroline Murray.”
“Elizabeth Dumont.” Elizabeth shook her hand. “You are soon-to-be Mrs. Caroline McKay, I hope. I would never want to come between a love match. Please tell me you are going to continue with the wedding.”
Caroline nodded. “We are. And what about you? What will you do now?”
Elizabeth clutched her reticule tightly. “I’m not sure yet. Going back to Boston isn’t really an option at this point. This town has a boardinghouse, doesn’t it? I’ll stay there while I think of something. Perhaps someone might need a teacher or a—”
“Nanny?” Caroline’s gaze flew to David. He caught on immediately. Reluctance filled his eyes, followed by resignation.
“Why, yes. That would be perfect. I adore children. Do you know of someone in need of a nanny?”
“We are,” David said quietly. “Caroline broke her arm, as you can see. We need someone to take care of the triplets until their distant relatives arrive to claim them.”
“Oh, but you two are about to get married. You wouldn’t want me hanging around your house. Perhaps I could keep them with me in the boardinghouse.”
David gave a slow nod. “I suppose that could be arranged. We can talk about it more after the ceremony.”
“That would be wonderful.” Elizabeth smiled at them without so much as a hint of hard feelings. “I truly hope you two will be very happy.”
“Thank you,” Caroline said as David led her toward the church. Once they were out of Elizabeth’s hearing range, Caroline rose to whisper in David’s ear. “I actually like her. She seems so sweet. She might not have been a bad choice for you.”
He stopped in his tracks, looking highly affronted. “Excuse me? There is only one woman for me. How dare you suggest otherwise.”
She giggled. “Just testing you.”
He growled.
“I do think she’s sweet, but I’ve already staked my claim on you. She’ll have to find herself another man.”
A throat cleared. She turned to find Pastor Brandon standing beside them. He glanced at their joined hands with interest. “Shall we continue with the ceremony, then?”
Caroline sent David a wink. “Yes, please.”
David grinned. Matthew slapped him on the back. Emma stood beside him with concern in her eyes that changed to relief when Caroline smiled. She caught a glimpse of Elizabeth explaining things to an uneasy Lawrence and Priscilla while Pastor Brandon herded the wedding party toward the front. The rest of the guests hurried in as they took their places at the altar again.
Caroline hardly noticed them. Her eyes were locked on David. Every bit of her attention was focused on him. She watched in fascination at the play of emotions on his handsome face, the deep love in his vibrant green eyes, the joyful curve of his smile. His vows rang out strong and clear—undisputable. She pledged herself to him in the same manner with not so much as a tear in her eye. She felt only joy, certainty and love.
Then their union was sealed, unbreakable. He released her from the kiss, but she lingered to look up at him in wonder. As the guests celebrated, she stepped closer again and whispered for his ears only. “You’re mine. Forevermore. How did I get so blessed?”
He searched her eyes as a sheen covered his. “Caroline.”
That was all he said. All he needed to say. Everything he felt for her was in that one word.
A light tug at her skirt brought her attention down to a grinni
ng Maggie. “We’re a family now?”
David lifted his daughter, settling Maggie in the curve of his arm before the other reached around Caroline’s waist. “We sure are, Magpie.”
Caroline and Maggie reached for each other at the same time to complete the hug. Over Maggie’s shoulders, their family and guests lingered. All of them, even her father, smiled at them.
She ducked her head into the curve of David’s neck. She couldn’t help smiling, too. The future stretched out before her, and it was so much better, so much more beautiful, than she’d ever imagined. This was real. Better yet, this was hers.
* * * * *
Don’t miss a single installment of
LONE STAR COWBOY LEAGUE:
MULTIPLE BLESSINGS
THE RANCHER’S SURPRISE TRIPLETS
by Linda Ford
THE NANNY’S TEMPORARY TRIPLETS
by Noelle Marchand
THE BRIDE’S MATCHMAKING TRIPLETS
by Regina Scott
Find more great reads at www.LoveInspired.com
Dear Reader,
Writing has always been something hugely personal to me. It’s also always been something rather private to the point where most of my friends and even family had no idea I was interested in writing until surprise, surprise! I had a book being published. Back then, I learned a very valuable lesson about not hiding your light under a bushel.
Five years later, I was honored to be asked by my editor to take part in this series. I am so glad that I said yes. Writing this book has taught me so much about what it means to share, to let what I create become a collaboration and to appreciate the ideas others bring to the table.
For this intensely personal and private writer, it was very much a chance to get back to the basics of the lesson I learned when I was just starting out. Writing, by its nature, is something meant to be shared. The story that begins in my imagination takes on a life of its own in yours. I think that is downright incredible.
I am so blessed that I was able to share that process with my editor, Elizabeth Mazer, and the two other authors in the Lone Star Cowboy League: Multiple Blessings series, Linda Ford and Regina Scott. Please be sure to read the other books in the series to see how the search for the triplets’ family begins and ends. I’m sure you will enjoy the other installments as much as I hope you’ve enjoyed this one.
To find out more about me and the other books I’ve written, be sure to go to NoelleMarchand.com. You can also search for me on social media sites such as Facebook, Goodreads, Twitter and Pinterest. I’d love to hear from you.
Blessings!
Keep reading for an excerpt from HER CHEROKEE GROOM by Valerie Hansen.
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Her Cherokee Groom
by Valerie Hansen
Chapter One
Washington, DC—1830
“What are you doing out here? Spying?”
Seventeen-year-old Annabelle Lang was so startled by the voice she nearly gasped aloud. Her guardian’s new wife had caught her loitering in the hallway and peeking into the parlor to look at visiting dignitaries. How embarrassing.
Biting her lip, Annabelle shook her head enough to make her flaxen blond side curls swing against her rosy cheeks and replied, “No, ma’am. I just wanted to see the Indians.”
“Well, you’ve seen them. Now stop wasting time, get back to the kitchen and help Lucy finish preparing the lemonade. I want both those new washtubs filled to the brim.” With that, Margaret Eaton swept past, skirts and petticoats belling and swishing, long, dark side curls bobbing, to make a grand entrance into the parlor and join her husband, John.
Annabelle’s heart pounded. Her feet were unwilling to carry her away. She had no clear recollection of her early years, before coming to live with the first Mrs. Eaton, yet the mere sight of the Cherokee delegation stirred her emotions and left her light-headed.
Little wonder! These men were tall and stately, some wearing the kind of tall hats, vests and coats she was familiar with. Others were garbed in turbans and long tunics with elaborately woven sashes at the waist. None was bearded, nor did they seem the downtrodden savages she had overheard Mrs. Eaton railing about. These men were regal looking to the point of inspiring awe.
Before she could turn away, John Eaton spied her peeking from behind the doorjamb.
He gestured. “Annabelle. Come here and take these gentlemen’s hats and capes. We must make our guests comfortable.”
Trembling and wondering if she was going to be able to walk steadily enough to do as instructed, she started forward. Everyone glanced at her except Margaret, an advantageous snub Annabelle prayed would continue.
Not all of these Indians had swarthy complexions and ebony eyes, she noted. Some were grayed with age, particularly the largest, most impressive old gentleman. His clothing was not only embellished with lace and gilding like that of nobility, his bearing befit royalty and inspired respect.
Several of the younger members of his party had the fairer hair and the blue or light-brown eyes of folks she saw every day. Perhaps that was because these men were the offspring of mixed marriages. She’d been told that was the way of many Cherokee, including prominent tribal leaders. They also spoke and read at least two languages, English and their own, a feat for which Annabelle admired them greatly.
One particularly stalwart young man whom she guessed to be in his twenties caught her eye. She chanced a surreptitious glance at him as she approached and found that he was studying her, too. It was as if she were a captive of his startling blue gaze, unable to break away, unable to consider anything or anyone but him.
His dark hair was fairly long, thick and slicked straight back, and he had his top hat in hand, having politely removed it when he’d entered the parlor. As Annabelle received it from him in passing she saw a tiny smile twitch one corner of his mouth. That simple acknowledgment made her insides quaver like dry leaves in a Potomac storm.
A much smaller version of that stately Cherokee emissary stood stoically by his side. The two were so similar, except for age, she wondered if they might be brothers.
She’d almost reached the doorway when Margaret let out an excited squeal. Annabelle stopped to look back. There was an expression of delight on the older woman’s face.
One of the Indians, the one bedecked with all the lace and gilding, was speaking wh
ile a younger man who bore a strong resemblance to him translated his message into perfect English. Words and phrases of both languages flowed like the impressive political orations she had heard her foster father make.
“We have brought you a fine tea service as a token of our esteem.” As his speech was repeated, the elder Cherokee gave a slight bow that was less than submissive but nevertheless did not lack gentility.
A member of the Cherokee party had first unwrapped a gleaming silver teapot. Now, her fan fluttering like the wings of a demented butterfly, Mrs. Eaton watched a matching silver tray and other accoutrements follow.
Annabelle knew little about such elaborate trappings, except that they needed constant polishing, but she could see that her new foster mother was clearly impressed with the gift. That, alone, was remarkable since Margaret was so terribly hard to please.
John Eaton offered his hand to the original spokesman and said, “Thank you, Major Ridge. As Secretary of War, I am honored to accept your exceptional gift on behalf of President Jackson.”
The Indian leader then gestured to the rear of his entourage and the crowd parted like the waters of the Red Sea had for Moses. He was pointing toward the handsome young man and little boy who had taken Annabelle’s fancy moments before.
“This child is the most valuable of our gifts, a presentation from Chief John Ross. You may call him after yourself, as well. From this day forward he is John H. Eaton Ross.”
Annabelle’s jaw dropped. The young man she had been watching so closely placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders to guide him forward. The child’s hair was almost ebony but his eyes were the color of a summer sky, just like those of his apparent supervisor.
The boy’s expression was stoic, perhaps even tinged by hostility, yet he stepped boldly and stood tall in his tailored white-man’s clothing. How brave he was. And how distressed he must be to have been given away like a stray cur’s unwanted pup.
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