by Renee Ryan
“Are you going to accept the deputy position he offered you?”
Mary looked up at him, and he smiled down at her. “I’d like to, but that’s a decision we need to discuss as a family.”
A family. One that Will had gladly accepted as his own when he’d asked Mary to be his wife. He understood about Mary’s need to help take care of her siblings; but where she’d once thought she’d have to do it all on her own, now she knew what real family meant. No more carrying their own burdens on their own shoulders. Now, sharing and discussing with one another, it seemed almost inconceivable how they’d managed before.
His eyes twinkled, and again, Mary’s heart filled with gratitude that this fine man was going to be her husband.
“I think you’d make a fine deputy.” She gave his arm a squeeze.
The look Will gave her in response made her heart want to burst. How could she have ever believed anything less than this deep love was the real thing?
“I want to be sure it won’t be an imposition on Joseph and Frank.”
“But you already have your first case.”
Will stopped, released her arm and turned to look at her. “What do you know about that?”
“If you and the sheriff didn’t want me to overhear your conversation in his office, you should have closed the door.” She grinned at him and took his arm again.
“Finding Daisy and keeping your promise to Mel is important. She died helping us save my sister. How could we do less for her?”
He shook his head slowly. “We are not going to do anything. Jasper has already left with a party to follow up on the latest lead.”
After a quick glance at his pocket watch, Will turned his attention back to her. “They should be about halfway there.”
Then he gave her the kind of stern look he usually reserved for Daniel. “And no, we are not following them. You can go help Emma Jane work in the women’s home if you need something to do. But you are not putting your safety at risk. Not again.”
The intense expression softened, and he pulled her a little more closely than was proper, especially in public. “You’re too dear to me. I love you, Mary, and I aim to keep you safe for the rest of our days.”
A lump clogged Mary’s throat as she recalled that horrible night. Her worry hadn’t been so much for her own safety as it had been for Will’s. The level of anxiety she’d felt for him was far too much to bear again. No, she wouldn’t have him have to endure that again, either.
“And I love you. Which means I won’t give you cause to worry.” She gave him a reassuring squeeze, then pulled away into a more respectable posture. “I’ll go help Emma Jane so she has someone to keep her company instead of worrying about Jasper.”
“I’d kiss you right about now, but we wouldn’t want to get the town’s gossips wagging.” Will nodded in the direction of a group of women in front of the mercantile.
“I’ll take you up on that later.” Mary winked at him as she gave a small wave to the women.
They waved back and tittered among themselves. She could almost hear their words. “That’s her. She’s the one who burned down that horrible place.”
The citizens of Leadville had agreed that burning The Pink Petticoat down had done the community a great service. Everyone had gotten out safely, and the only harm done was the destruction of the building. While some of the ladies had found work in other houses of ill repute, Frank had opened a women’s home that helped the women find other positions that didn’t involve compromising their morals. In the end, the true story of what happened did come out, and Mary enjoyed a little notoriety of her own.
No one had cared that it was an accident. Nor that the real culprit was a box of explosive powder Ben had been storing in the room. No, all they saw was Mary Stone, the woman who brought down one of the most notorious houses in the West. She’d been invited to tea with all of the town’s most prominent women. But unless those invitations were extended also to Rose and Emma Jane, Mary politely declined.
After all, what was the sense in being notorious if you couldn’t use that power for good?
And then, partially out of the confidence of her notoriety and partially because she recognized the impatient look on Will’s face, Mary stopped. She stood up on tiptoe and gave the man she loved the kiss he deserved.
Let people talk. Mary’s real confidence wasn’t in her reputation, but in a man who loved her, and a God who loved them both.
*
Dear Reader,
When I began thinking about which Leadville character I should write about next, I couldn’t let go of the idea of writing about Mary Stone. I kept wondering what was so interesting about a seemingly perfect sister who’d sacrificed so much for her family. After all, perfection doesn’t make for a very interesting story. As I dug deeper, I thought about the things a young lady would have had to have given up, like love, and that’s when the rest of Mary’s story came to me.
So many times, we look at the perfect exterior of another person, not realizing the secrets they carry or the past they may have overcome. Fortunately, the Lord knows all these things, even the darkest places in our hearts, and He loves us anyway. That was a lesson Mary needed to learn—that God loved her, and she didn’t have to do anything to make up for her past sins.
I hope you find encouragement in Mary’s story. If there’s something in your past that you’re struggling with, take it to God. He already knows, and He loves you just the same. You’re precious to God, and He doesn’t want you to have to carry that load.
I love connecting with my readers, so please, stop by danicafavorite.com and say hello.
Blessings to you and yours,
Danica
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ISBN-13: 9781460384978
The Lawman’s Redemption
Copyright © 2015 by Danica Favorite
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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Captain of Her Heart
Sold into slavery by her jealous sisters, Ada finds herself captive on the ship of a Greek merchant. Expecting a harsh new master, she’s surprised to find the captain compassionate—and attractive. Yet she can’t fall for the man who owns her—not when she watched her enslaved mother pine after her unyielding father.
Nicolaus only wants to rescue the beautiful, mistreated wom
an from the auction block. He plans to free Ada, just as soon as he secures his inheritance. Which means racing the ship back to his homeland to best his brother. If he loses, all his cargo will be forfeited—including Ada. But as perilous storms reveal her courage and grace, the question becomes, can his heart stand to let her go?
“I should let the sea have you.”
She stiffened, frightened he would carry through with his threat. However, she would not respond, would not give him the knowledge that she knew his language, a language her father often spoke when conversing with traders.
“Save me the trouble. Good coin spent on saving you from disgrace. Should have let the procurer have you. I would have been richer.” He halted beside the ladder leading to the room and deposited her onto her feet. “Foolish, foolish woman, I’ll bind you to the mast if need be.”
Before she knew what she was about, she drew back her hand and slapped him.
Nicolaus furrowed his brow. “You do understand me.”
Her eyes widened and he smiled. “It is as I thought, but how?”
A wave sloshed over the boat. Her pallor did not look well as his ship rocked back and forth.
“Come along, then.” He lifted her into his arms and tucked her head beneath his chin. Her slight frame nestled perfectly against him when she wasn’t pushing her palms against his chest. That part of him that had been cold for so many months began to beat, to breathe and to hope for a better future than the one he’d resigned himself to.
Christina Rich is a full-time housewife and mother. She lives in the Midwest with her husband and four children. She loves Jesus, history, researching her ancestry, fishing, reading and of course, writing romances woven with God’s grace, mercy and truth. You can find more about her at authorchristinarich.com.
Books by Christina Rich
Love Inspired Historical
The Guardian’s Promise
The Warrior’s Vow
Captive on the High Seas
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles
Captive on the High Seas
By Christina Rich
I will extol Thee, my God, O king; and I will bless Thy name for ever and ever. Every day will I bless Thee; and I will praise Thy name for ever and ever.
—Psalms 145:1–2
To Ami Jo, Jordan, Logan and Katie,
I love you much. Thank you for blessing my life.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Chapter One
Ashkelon
668 BC
The shadow from the high mud tower loomed over Ada. Its shade broke the heat of the sun, causing her overheated skin to cool, stealing her anger. However, she knew the shivers racking her body had nothing to do with the coolness and everything to do with the fear coursing through her veins.
A young boy tugged on the lead bound around Ada’s neck and hands, causing her to stumble. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out when her knees hit the wooden stairs. Before her bound hands hit the wood, a hand gripped ahold of her tunic and yanked her to her feet.
“You, there.” The large brute released her and jabbed a finger into the boy’s chest. “Take care with the merchandise.”
The deep Philistine accent grated along Ada’s nape. Waves from the great sea thrust against the port, filling her ears, roaring in her head. Breathing in through her mouth and out through her nose, she fought to calm the fear vibrating her limbs and risked a glare at the man through the mass of hair veiling her face.
“Come now, we don’t have all day. These men would like to go home before the wind shifts again.”
If she delayed the process, perhaps her brother would arrive and rescue her from her sisters’ folly. Their jealousy had always been contained to biting words and foolish antics. Their last, a viper in her bed, had proven vicious, but selling her to an auctioneer in exchange for a gold band was beyond Ada’s comprehension. How could her oldest sister, Dina, be so cruel? Because her sister, only half her blood, believed Ada nothing more than a daughter of a slave. All her sisters seemed to despise the way their father treated her as their equal, a daughter of a wealthy merchant. However, none treated her as poorly as Dina.
She shook the hair from her eyes and jerked her hands back. The rough rope cut into her wrists as the boy clung to the other end. The child stumbled and fell to his backside. His flushed cheeks, and beady black eyes quickly turned fearful when his master snatched him up by his tunic. The Philistine narrowed his eyes and Ada thought he’d clout the child, but he righted the boy and then patted him on the head like an obedient pet.
“See to the others.” The Philistine’s gaze settled on Ada. The corners of his mouth slid upward, revealing rotten teeth. He grabbed a handful of her hair and moved closer to sniff. The foul odor of his breath slammed against her cheek as he bent close to her ear. “If I did not need to feed the boy, I’d make you my bride just to teach you humility.” He stepped back and swung his arm wide toward the gathering before them. Ada tried to jerk away, but the man kept a fisted grip on her hair. “Well now,” he bellowed over the crowd. “Haven’t we a lioness.”
His thick arm snaked around her shoulders as he pulled her close. He made another show of smelling her with distaste. “And clean.”
Ada was thankful for the platform she stood on as men of all likes surged forward. Their hands reached toward her feet, touching her toes. She scooted closer to her captor as she searched the crowd for her brother. Almighty God, if You have mercy grant me rescue.
“One piece of silver,” a voice called from the crowd. The taunt was followed by a roar of laughter.
Ada glanced at the man who’d made the offer and sucked in a sharp breath. He was a short, burly man with a matted beard and a bevy of brightly dressed women clinging to his person. Their thick kohl and painted lips were tale enough of why the man would purchase her, but it was not their profession that left Ada shocked and even more angered. It was the five onlookers who stood behind the man. Her five sisters. Dina perched on the edge of a well; her hand propped on one hip, one corner of her mouth curved upward.
“Come now, certainly the girl is worth more,” her captor roared.
“She is too thin.” A man in the crowd spat as if disgusted with her appearance.
The Philistine gripped a handful of her tunic at her back and pulled it tight. “There now, not so skinny.”
“Two, then.”
Tears of anger fought their way to the back of Ada’s eyes. As if losing her mother had not been enough… Dina’s jealousy had gone too far. The gold bangle around her sister’s upper arm sparkling beneath the sun was worth more than two pieces of silver. Her captor no doubt knew this, which filled Ada with hope. Perhaps, the Philistine would fight for a higher bidder, especially since she’d cost him that gold band. Perhaps, the wicked man would pass.
“Throw in your best cow,” her captor yelled.
Dina tilted her head, her gaze considering the lone bidder before glancing at Ada. Her sister ran a finger down the intricately woven shawl that had once covered Ada’s shoulders and crown of glory, as her father had called her hair. A smile t
eased the corner of Dina’s lips. Her nose curled as she squinted. Ada’s other sisters paid her no heed. Their little elbow nudges and giggles told Ada they thought it all a game.
If only it were true. However, it seemed Dina was bent on revenge.
Why had she not listened to her mother’s warnings? Because she wanted Dina to love her, wanted all her sisters to love her as she loved them. Loneliness filled the cavity within her chest. One tear welled. It filled her eye, but Ada refused to let it fall.
“What say you, man? My dinner grows cold.” The Philistine pushed Ada forward. His fingers tangled in her hair. She pressed her lips together to keep her scream from pleasing Dina any further. The bidding man drew his hand over his beard. “Why spend so much on a weak and spoiled vessel? It is obvious she knows not of hard work. I keep my cow and give you one—” the man held up a small jar “—drink of wine.”
Scanning the crowd, Ada looked for her brother Asher, or anybody willing to save her. “Please, God,” she whispered.
The Philistine leaned closer. His disgusting breath wafted over her. “No god will save you, sweet. Not even the goddess our city honors with such a magnificent shrine.” Her captor motioned toward the mud-brick tower reaching into the darkening sky. “As you have no other bidders…”
The Philistine’s words disappeared as Ada caught sight of a man pushing through the crowd. He was tall, even taller than many of the warriors patrolling the city gates, and imposing. A large gold pendant rested on one sinewy shoulder, holding together the pieces of his tunic. Besides the gold bands circling his upper arms, his other shoulder and both arms remained bare. A wide leather belt cinched at his waist revealed just how massive his chest was. His skin was gold, bronzed from the sun. Dark curls sheared at his nape framed a chiseled jaw. His body bore the marks of war, such as she’d seen on her father and Asher, but his clothing told her he was not a man of humble means.